Socialization and being unblemished: boons for valentines’ trips

Socialization in travels is a boon. It had been offering me its first hand shamefully to say I have just realized this. Ninth February was the on set of my adventure to Nairobi. It must have been a sweet valentine’s trip. Late in preparations, there was a day. I hadn’t ironed, not got ticket, not an official permission from employers but I had a favour. I had a traveling document to get me moving. I struggled to only catch the wrong bus.

Well, I finally missed Dayah Express and got Eldoret Express, a bus to take me to Nairobi. “The bus goes to Nairobi express-not stopping,” said an administrator. It was a white lie the latter. We had reached Kitale at three after midnight. Those who knew climbed down; I warmed up with a chewing gum. The vehicle couldn’t go sooner. “Kong Kong,” was a knock. I threw my eyes onto the glass glaring at that Nubian I had socialized with since leaving Kakuma. If not boorish you won’t risk a boor, I tell you. I read his lips; my ears had not a single through the glass. I pushed it sideways to find out news somewhat sad or a goodie. “Passengers heading for Nairobi are in the next bus,” he spoke.

I felt sorry for the driver wasn’t ready to be sorry for me. “Give me your bags: Bring me mine,” said this social Nubian guy. It was done. Guys we were to stand in the vehicle. The bus was filled to its capacity. I felt hot. Passengers needed heat; I longed for cold. I was outnumbered. Standing: Imagine how tall you guess me right. It drove; I felt intestines mobile. Shakes, heat and crazy movements made me sick. I sat on the arm of the chair; stood to no solution at all. I could vomit water for I had not eaten anything. Just see: paying full fare to stand all the way and be sick. You can give it name.

Luck knocked on my door in Eldoret. I sat behind and began a go ahead chat with a gentleman whom I came to know being from Turkana. It wasn’t boring with this social figure. “Look,” he shouted. “That Somali old man’s sleeping for he drank water he bought on the way. I told that woman and she agreed that’s why she’s fine. I can’t buy water here. It has a lot of chemicals and these hawkers can fill these bottles and place seals to be like pure water. Buy from Kainuk back not beyond.” We laughed: interesting. He revealed that it’s because Dayah drivers are experts that they can drive from Kakuma to Nairobi. Eldoret Express drivers are changed due to the fact that one is specialized in driving from Kakuma to Kitale, the other from Kitale to Nairobi respectively. I changed seat in Nakuru placing me next to a Somali named Mohammed. “Where do you go mister?” asked I. “To Eastleigh,” he answered.  I begged him to not leave me. After tracing bus number nine which took us to Eastleigh, we descended opposite the eighth street. “This is where we go?” he said. The women who were with him nodded. “What’s your name?” “Abram,” said I. “I will find the seventh street and the lodging.” I gave a board of thanks and we diverged.

I tell you: the place was changed. Headaches kept my eyes zooming missing the lodging too closer. I could see the Mosque; I knew, buildings I knew but my mind was stirred. Sickly, I approached another Somali. “Will you show me lodging around here?” asked I.

 “Yes, come with me.” Believe me, I was that trailer. “This is where I wanted,” Shouted I. “Thanks so much.” An old administrator at the lodging was reluctant to give me the balance till the man was gone with thirty shillings he strongly wanted for the service insisting to return that evening. The fact that he liked Southern Sudanese was to let him get food as hungry as he was. “So you now are in peace?” it was funnier chat. We had chatted, so I was free minded when he had left for he seemed threat.

 

Eastleigh was boring without water. Showers were dry. I slept well phoning darling to be patient to meet the following day and present valentines gifts. The following day broke with drier showers. That couldn’t be a desperate move to avoid me attending a meeting I was invited into within the town, Nairobi. It was a call and a call in town till I felt soft hands behind me. “Hi,” said the voice. I turned and introduction brought name I was really in need of. We smiled, giggled and finally went to the meeting I attended for the first time. I was summoned by a friend, a social figure with forever living. I admired that meeting to meet new figures. By the time the meeting was over, I gave my presents and went back to Eastleigh with my luggage I had to take with me for security purpose, which were kept by that social figure.

I tell you I was totally broke. I had to embark on a journey the following day. I didn’t know the station or the city bus. Hassan admitted to take me. The thing was that I would buy him lunch and cover transport to town and back. It was sealed, a deal for if not done could have been grave. This way, we were in the station to board a Matatu he advised would take me faster. I secured the front seat. I gave money to this police man named Hassan to return.

Temptation came in. An aged lady sat closer to me. She wanted to travel past Nakuru that I would take her for being totally broke. “Take care,” said Hassan. “Take care of this child of mine,” he said to that lady too. I wasn’t entertained. She finally left asking, “Can I go to the house? What do you say? Which people do you help young man? In fact I heard about you. Do I go?”

“Yep,” said I.”You’re going to go.” Foolishly, she broke through. I got fresher air and bid Hassan farewell.  Cities are tempting in varying lengths. On the ride a foolish driver dodged other vehicles ignoring signboards advising on the dangers of calling while driving. It was done. Evening came and I was in Nakuru to meet a fight between two anonymous groups. I drew closer and stones flew closer to earn me one on the side. That was at the end of referendum celebrity for the positive outcome. It remains bad record for Nakuru to celebrate positive outcome with a fight. I moved away; then homed with the help of another figure. It was then that we left later for Eldoret to meet an encounter. It was Molo. Wind blew the sheet of the sign board into the vehicle nearly overturning. The shakes left the mirror of the Matatu with the number: KBC S49L broken as the vehicle stood still on its brakes. Good indeed we had belts tight and finally felt alive. The aftermath was arrival at Eldoret. Eight of these social figures who had settled my fare diffused into the crowd for cultural dance. Cold made me go home.

In conclusion, being unblemished gives first hand in travels.

Yes, if not brusque: your will stays cool for good health.