Men, Why? Why?

 

I am tired,  yes,  I think I am getting weary!  These are not words being uttered out loudly for anyone to hear. 

If someone looks keenly, they might think that I have gone insane or bananas, as they say. “I am tired,  yes, I think I am getting weary!” These thoughts come again and again today.  I am left wondering why today. I have never in my entire working days felt this way. No, something isn’t right. 

An introspection, thinking really really hard. But nothing comes to the top of my brain. Nothing seems to be of the matter. I repeat the words. This time they come out much much louder. This time I seem to add a few more words “I am tired,  yes, I think I am getting weary, and I think my time here has come to an end, yes, finally I say without any hesitation. “I’m done kabisa.”

Someone coughs, then clears their throat, concentrating keenly it’s a male voice. Another person clears their throat even louder. Deep in thought, I made another audible statement.  “My time has come to an end, yea, l think I need to just go.” Shutting down my iMac laptop computer was something I could do with my eyes closed. I had been doing this for years and many many years it has been. For this organization I had done it for close to 23 years. Or could it be 25 years?” Those words came out louder than expected. Edu, a longtime friend, a colleague tapped my shoulder. “Are you ok, uko sawa?” He asks.

I look at Dauu with purely blank eyes. Then, bounce out of the trance and realized that two other colleagues were actually concerned and confused. Fiao, asked again if I was okay. “Yes, Hahaha, yes!” Tried to laugh the second time but it was so faint. “Hahahaha” I try again, this time intentionally, for Fiao to laugh as she normally would laugh at anything jokes or even a very sad situation would elicit a loud laughter. This time she is quiet, oddly quiet. I observed. Now I’m concerned, Fio is not laughing. Something isn’t good. Something must be odd. 

As I turn to my MacBook Pro, shutting it down after saving all that I had been working on during the day. I realize some blood on my shirt.  What is wrong guys “kwani I was dead man’s now I’m back, ni nini mbaya.”Fiao

laughs, the intensity increases and soon everyone is laughing. I realized that the “kwani I was dead man’s now I’m back, ni nini mbaya?” question had sounded hilarious for Fiao. Aaaah, “good,” I say. Everything is fine. Well, that’s how I encourage myself. 

Friday it was, and, as it was our norm for Dauu and I to walk to the city center. Five kilometers is quite good exercise especially when doing it briskly! “Pole Dauu, pole saana.” Apologies Dauu, I am so sorry.” Reiterating in English again my sincere apologies. How long have you been standing there? What he said shocked me, but I didn’t want to express it on my face. Over the years after studying body language, not in a class or lecture hall of course, I had mastered the art of deception. Deceiving people with my facial expressions. And I loved it when someone tried to read my mood by looking straight in my eye.

“About nine minutes,” Dauu said. This had happened to me in the past but never beyond four minutes. “Niko poa, Niko fitty saana!” I retorted meaning that I was beyond fine. “Ooooh,” I exclaimed, “today is Friday.” We need to walk.” Without looking at anyone else, 

I shut down my  MacBook Pro. Within three minutes we were out. Bid goodbye to everyone in the office including the ever-laughing Fio, and off we left towards the city center. It was our principle never to talk much when brisk walking. So we never did. wadau, mentioned is that “we shall talk at length tomorrow.”

After an hour and thirty-seven minutes,  I was in the city center.  Waved goodbye to Dauu and focused on getting to Rongai destined Matatus. 

Just about to board one that looked fairly new, looked at the number plate and decided otherwise! Went to the next one. After considering a few factors including the number plate, I boarded it. 

Naturally, individuals like me want to get to Rongai safe and as fast as possible. One other factor one considers is how many passengers are in the matatu? Yes, literally count not only the empty sits? But, also scanning for people who don’t seem likely to travel as passengers. Described as “watu wa seti. Individuals intentionally placed at strategic sits for the unsuspecting passengers to quickly board that matatu. Hoping that it’s just about to leave for it look’s almost full. 

If not very keen you may end up spending more time at the bus stop than normal. Today, I thought I did a good job of quickly scanning through the passengers and made a quick calculation, the number of real travelers seemed more  compared to “watu wa seti.” Well, I was actually looking forward to a fast-paced drive to Rongai. 

If I get to the matatu stop late from Rongai, I might not get transport to my place. Well, as mentioned earlier,  I thought I did a good job of quickly scanning through the passengers, making a quick calculation about the number of real travelers. I was super wrong. As passengers boarded, individuals kept alighting. For every three that boarded one stage passenger got off. 

Half past Seven in the night the driver hadn’t started the engine! Frustration started creeping slowly into my head. Thought about alighting and look for alternative options, but this would have been a mistake. Every single matatu at that point was repeating the same scenario. So, I stayed put, though, I changed the sitting position twice for comfortability! 

At eleven minutes past eight in the evening. The driver turned on the engine ready to go. The conductor observed an empty sit. Shouting and hitting the frame of the matatu for about fourteen minutes,  the last passenger boarded. Now the matatu was full. The gentleman as he looked like, went to back the sit. Sat bang in the middle. The sit ferries five passengers at the back.

At the Nyayo stadium roundabout, an audible voice of the conductor beamed stating, “kama una lip na M-PESA enda POCHI LA BIASHARA, alafu, weka nambari 07006310000” in English, “if you want to make a payment via M-PESA, click POCHI LA BIASHARA, then key in this number, 07006310000”. Not the real number for security reasons. 

Please make the payment now so that when I get close to you, a message is what you’ll show me. Well, according to my hearing, which is relatively perfect, I obeyed his plea, for I don’t carry cash. I made the payment. When the conductor came, I simply long-pressed the screen where the M-PESA proof of payment was displayed. It popped up and the message was visible. The conductor took three seconds to verify my payment. 

Every other passenger who hadn’t paid cash showed displayed a message as proof of payment. Or that is what I assumed. Wuuuuuueeh? Two individuals seemed to be competing on who will be more audible. I turned and looked at the back, since I was sitters right at the door next to the exit. The conductor was arguing with this gentleman man. He seems like one as mentioned earlier.

“Show me your text wacha kunisbua.”

“Show me your text wacha kunisbua.” Said the conductor. This dude let’s call him “Mwanaume,” didn’t even lift up his head to look at who was talking to him. “ Show me your text tafadhali.” “Mwanaume” didn’t even bother, in fact, slid an earphone in his right year, and full blast went his music. I could hear it since the other side of the earphone was dangling around his chest. 

All of a sudden “Mwanaume” stood up, shaking his head as if he had been aggravated by everyone in the matatu! “Kwanini, unanitafuta mambo wewe, unanijua vizuri?” The conductor politely asked him to, calm down and urged “Mwanaume” to sit down. The man obviously not a gentleman anymore told the conductor if he had played any part in helping him up. 

“ Ni keti, kwani wewe ndio ume nisaidia kusimama?” “Wuuuuuuuueh,” I exclaimed quite loudly I think if not wrong every one in that vehicle heard me. Or so I thought. My sit neighbor asked what was going on? “Why are you making unnecessary noise, I’m on an international business meeting.”  I almost told her, that she wasn’t in the right environment for such a meeting then realized, what will I gain with such a response. 

“Mwanaume” now visibly angry, queried the conductor, “kwani? Eeeeeeeh? Kwani gari haina simu? You gave me a number, no, no, you actually typed the number with your own thick rounded short finger. Right?  The conductor didn’t answer, not even a facial muscle twitched.  “Mwanuaume” asked the send time, then the third. By this time the consul was annoyed. Everyone could tell that she was angry. Angry at herself since she is the one who forced the man to board this particular matatu.

The conductor, let’s call her Peggy, not her real name posted a valid question. “Hawa wengine wote wamelipa na M-PESA and all except you showed me a confirmation text message.” How unique are you? My sit neighbor shouted from her occupied sit “Kama ame lipa wachana na yeye madam even mad men have their own money.” Now “Mwanaume” shoved Peggy the conductor sending her straight to the floor, she actually banged her head on down. 

Peggy on this day chose a dress to work which according to my observation wasn’t the norm. It was a very wrong attire to wear while working in the Matatu industry. 

Before she hit the floor Peggy made a huge mistake, instead of protecting her delicate head, she went ahead and tried to cover her private parts. Though both are, one is more delicate than the others. We hit her he’d on the floor, made of thick metal. Her fall exposed everything she was trying to cover. The moment her head connected with the floor, the brain communicated with the hands to shift from where they were and dash towards the head. Living everything for anyone with eyes to have a glimpse. 

Before Peggy could collect herself, coordinate her body parts to function well for her to raise herself, “Mwanaume” had already grabbed his belongings trying to make his way to the exit door. The driver couldn’t physically see what had transpired but the CCTV camera gave him a clear scenario of what had transpired., The beauty about the driver's reaction was that he decided to speed up. “Mwanaume” got to the exit door but couldn’t open it. He shouted, “fungua hii mango.” “Fungua,” he shouted even louder. “FUNGUA,” na sema “FUNGUA”

Peggy was at the door dirty and bleeding from one side of the head. Although not profusely, but, blood was oozing out of her head. She wriggled her way standing in front of the male figure who I bet everyone assumed him to be a true gentleman. “Kwanini ume nigonga? Ume niangusha? Ume  niumiza?” Swahili language expert would wonder, why couldn’t she have just said, “Kwanini ume niumiza?” That thought crept in my head, but I pushed it away very fast. Someone was hurt and I was thinking about language and how it should be done? 

The most weird thing about this is that all this time, two minutes and twenty-three seconds later, not even a single man had stood up, uttered a word or looked concerned. It was shameful and as a gentleman myself I was ashamed. For the first time in my life my reflexes failed me. “I am a FAILURE.” I thought. I shot up grabbed “Mwanuaume’s” right hand, for he was about to unleash a right jab that could have landed perfectly on Peggy’s petit nose. “Mwanuaume” wasn’t heavily built, but was tall very tall. Seeing my confidence, other men stood up, made their way casually towards “Mwanuaume.” 

Remember the matatu driver’s foot is nowhere close the the brake pedal, no, he is literally stepping on to the fuel pedal like never before. At the same time “Mwanuaume” is being overpowered by six other men me included. No one among the six punched him apart from one who was sitter next to him at the back. Two quick jabs and “Mwanuaume’s” knees have in. 

He could not support his long frame anymore. With blood oozing from his nose, a few people were able to make what he said. “ Why did you hit me you %#£€¥¥?”  “tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii” is what I heard in my head due to the fact that I’m born again, Holy Spirit filled, going to heaven perpendicularly.

The driver made a right turn without slowing down making everyone hold on to anything for balance. The ladies and children in unison screamed “ Woooooooooooiiii.” Those who didn’t find anything to clutch on were on the floor, dirty and filthy they were the first to come out of the vehicle after “Mwanuaume” and three men who held him like vices welded together. 

By this time he had recovered from the two blows on his face. Before the cops came to encore what was happening, my sit neighbor came to “Mwanuaume”  and gave him a piece of her mind.” She had cut short her international business meeting before time because her host couldn’t make heads or tail of what she was saying. 

It was too noisy and they could even hear screams and assumed she was in danger. Mrs. Smish as I came to find out was actually a trained lawyer who specialized in violence against women cases.

“Mwanuaume”  wasn’t lucky I told myself “Hana bahati,” I heard another man say. “Mwanuaume”  Enzi ya ku chapa wanawake ziisha na babu zetu.” “What were you even thinking.”  “Where is the complainant” Screamed the first cop at the scene.  “Wapi mahabusu?” Said the second one. 

Peggy has been rushed to hospital. She fainted upon getting to the police station and saw “Mwanuaume” being taken to the cell. What those to her heard was “aki maifungishe, please.” Well everyone me included were shocked at her demands.

It turns out that these two had known each other pretty well. A fellow passenger recalled aloud… “what led “Mwanuaume” to slap Peggy” was what she said. “Nitakulea had nje ya ndoa.” I didn’t pick that up at first.” Boi as I came to find out later said. Boo also mentioned that “Mwanuaume” carried himself exceptionally well, I can confidently state he had decorum..” 

Just the way cartoons have light-bulb moments. I sprung up went to “Mwanuaume” before anything could be booked at the “occurrence book” (OB) as it’s commonly known by those who have been guests of the state in police cells. “Afande, Afande, Afande,” I shouted. “He is the husband, ni bwana yake. “Mwanuaume” ni bwana ya Peggy.” 

The policeman looked at me with so much disgust, I could touch his hatred towards me. I can’t read minds, but I reckon he wished I was the one being arrested at that particular moment. Averagely built, he could not hesitate to pick me up by my trousers and toss me into one of the state guest-house. I repeated exactly what I said. “Afande, Afande, Afande,” this time yelling at the top of my voice. “He is the husband, ni bwana yake. “Mwanuaume” ni bwana ya Peggy.”

“Toka hapa” the policeman said. “Sheria ni Sheria.” If a husband assaults a wife isn’t that breaking the law?” Dumbfounded, together with others we looked at the policeman Kipyegon was his second name. Tried to get his number and first name, but in vain. The first three letters and three digits is what I could scantly make out. D..A..V..: 887..:

“Davis” someone yelled, I almost responded only for the authoritative voice repeated the name Davis twice, but only to add “Inspector” after the first Davis. Inspector Davis, not me of course stood as straight as a steal-ruler. I almost burst out of my laughter Fiao came to mind. 

I was laughing at a very awkward situation. The inspector glanced at me, then back at the direction of the shouting gentleman. His face looked like a box stuffed in a cylinder. “Inspector Davis” are you ok.” This heavily build gentleman asked. “Uko sawa kichwa kweli.” 

After formerly saluting and told to stand at ease, Inspector Davis narrated to his boss, the OCS Officer in-charge of the station what had transpired. The OCS angrily pointed at the cells. Grabbed Mwanaume by the collar ans shouted “weka hi mahabusu NDANI”and threw him into the guesthouse. The OCS reminded the inspector what had transpired three and half years ago.

After listening keenly, every male species walked away from the OB one by one. Everyone male, I couldn’t believe that we were leaving Mwanaume by himself. He landed on some liquid on the floor. Looking at his face, disgust is an understatement. 

Apparently had been arrested for clobbering Peggy and her two sisters. "Mwanaume" had lost his job back in the day and Peggy was the breadwinner for more than six months. "Mwanaume" did all house chores, every single one of them. Including preparing dinner for his family. Yes, the OCS continued to inform Inspector Davis. He did his chores until Peggy initiated a business project and let "Mwanaume"e take leadership in the project. 

Mwanaume started mistreating Peggy, slaps here and there. A few black eyes were reported by Peggy. But after a few days in remand Peggy, would withdraw the complaints making the cases useless and wouldn’t hold water. The state had no obligation but to stop the court cases due to lack of witnesses. 

The top cop narrated how Peggy found out that "Mwanaume" was cheating on her. When she confronted the husband though using the wrong approach of shouting matches and insults, Mwanaume decided to practice his boxing tracing antiques on Peggy. 

According to the cop she was really clobbered. Her sisters two of them tried to intervene, but as the OCS put it used the wrong approach of fighting "Mwanaume". “Ali wa NGONGA,  hmmm, ali wa gonga mangumi mengi saana.” Translated to “he hit them, he punched them heavily.” By the time fellow men gathered courage to intervene, one of the sisters was unconscious and couldn’t walk up to date.

The OCS reiterated that Mwanaume had been released from Shiko la Tewa prison a few days ago. The reason he was abreast of the info was because Mwanaume’s conduct at the jail was so good that the chief prison warden reduced his sentence by half based on the law. The judge had found him guilty of aggravated assault. Sentenced Mwanaume to seven years in jail. 

Without asking so many questions. I left the police station wondering how Peggy, will cope with Mwanaume’s arrest? Would she press charges? Would the OCS recall Mwanaume back to prison for breaking parole laws? Will Mwanaume’s life ever be the same again?

Men? Why? Why?