A very beautiful lady entered the same shuttle that I was to travel with. Instantly, I imagined the possibilities that sitting next to her for a long-distance journey would present me. Maybe I would have convinced her to date me, or get her number. 8 hours sitting together promised a lot. To actualize the possibilities, I increased my pace to ensure that no one else sat next to her.
Just as I increased my pace, another man appeared from the opposite direction. His destination was the same shuttle that I was headed to. I imagined him having spotted the woman and having the same ambitions as mine. Rattled, I increased my pace again. Luckily, the man was walking sluggishly, like he was being forced to travel. I took advantage of his sluggishness and squeezed myself just ahead of him
‘Where would you like to sit?’ the tout asked me. I quickly peeped through the shuttle’s windows and spotted where she was sitting.
‘3B,’ I said, delighted. She was occupying seat 3A.
Elated, I bounced towards the door. Before I boarded the shuttle, the tout called me back. Had I paid less fare? I wondered. I walked back, angry that he was wasting the precious time that I would spend wooing the girl.
‘This man,’ the tout said while pointing towards the man whose life seemed to be succumbing to his mid-life crisis, ‘ is requesting if you can exchange your seat with his? He doesn’t like sitting by the window.’
‘Is he mad or what?’ I muted to myself, turned, and decided to social distance myself away from them. I wondered why such a man would want to sit next to such a beautiful girl? What chance did he stand winning the lady’s attention?
At the shuttle’s door, I was served with a rude shock. The lady had a kid on her lap. My heart ached slightly. She was alone, though, and that is what mattered.
The man’s laborious breathing behind me forced me into the shuttle. The lady moved slightly and pulled her baby firmly on her lap to create more room for me.
We held our gaze for a moment. Her eyes were restless, her lips were full-blown like a mature mushroom, her hair was neatly knitted into thick braids that resembled a black rope, and her baby hair curled on her face luxuriously.
She pouted her lips to offer me a warm grin, the one that people who are going to spend the better part of the day together exchange. I muted a “Thank You”.
Shortly after, the man, whose jacked smelled like burning chicken feathers, sat on his seat. His seat was on the same row as ours but separated by the alley.
His face looked like he wished to swallow me alive. I ignored him and readied myself to officially announce myself to the queen. To gain the mother’s trust, I winked at her kid. The kid responded by smiling. I made other funny facial expressions that earned a wicked smile from the baby.
I remembered a piece of advice I once received from a Wiseman. That the road to a mother’s heart is through the happiness of her child. The kid kept on smiling wickedly, and I thought I was doing it right. I made different faces to ensure that he laughed more and more. However, the harder I made the funny facial expressions, the more I realized that the kid was not amused by my face. I followed the gaze of his eyes, which led me to the man’s face.
Indeed, his face was funny. His forehead resembled the appearance of SpongeBob SquarePants characters. His nose was large and ugly as the character of Patrick Star of SpongeBob SquarePants. He made me understand why animation creators gave animations ugly virtual bodies.
To win over the baby’s attention, I downloaded the Baby shark doo doo dooo song. Immediately, the baby got baited and started making dancing moves to the songs. The man frowned. His hairline receded deeper onto his head, giving him a look of a low-budget Pres. Mwai Kibaki.
I wondered why he didn’t travel with his wife if he desired to sit and have the attention of a woman. When I turned my attention back to the kids, he was singing along the song. He even gestured to his mother that he wanted to sit on my lap to watch the video as well.
‘That is his favorite cartoon,’ the lady said. The intonation of her voice made me wonder if the god that gave her such a beautiful voice is the same God that gave my ex-girlfriend a voice that made her sound like Henry Desagu. The boy moved onto my laps, took my phone, and started watching the baby shark video.
The shuttle was just one passenger away from leaving. I was taking my time, just waiting for the appropriate time to announce my intention to the beauty. The man bought a newspaper and started reading it. Meanwhile, I initiated my initiative to build a bridge to her heart. While the baby watched the video, I readied myself to introduce myself. When I turned to say, ‘hi, I am Sakwah’, I lost my confidence and realized how hard it was to initiate a chat with a lady in a shuttle or a matatu. I postponed the initiative.
At around 8 AM, we left the shuttle’s stage. The baby fell asleep on my lap. To earn more admiration from the mother, I pulled off my trench coat and wrapped it around the baby to shield him from the ravaging Nairobi’s morning breeze. At the expense of winning the mum’s attention, I risked contracting pneumonia. The lady appreciated my gesture by muting a “Thank You”.
The shuttle moved like a turtle because of the morning traffic jam. In the jam, my head was burdened with thoughts about how to keep the lady engaged with endless talks. I wondered why suddenly I had lost the courage to talk to a woman. I kept on encouraging myself that I was not intimidated by her looks. Then an idea hit me; someone must have written a blog or an article on how to strike a lasting conversation with a woman in a bus. The lady was scrolling on her phone.
I skimmed through several blogs on the topic. About thirty minutes later, the shuttle had moved as far as the Koja rounder-about. At that point, I thought I had gained enough knowledge and courage to approach her. I created scenarios inside my head on how the conversation was going to play out.
Brain Cell 1: Hi (smile), I am Sakwah Ongoma, and you? What is your name?’ Most of the blogs had advised to keep the conversation simple and to start with a greeting and the name. I turned to face her eventually. I met her eyes staring at me as if she was anticipating that move. Her eyes were sharp, I felt intimidated but quickly shrugged the fear off to talk to her. I pouted my lips to finally make my move.
‘By the way, it is very dangerous to operate your phone in Nairobi while sitting by the window of a matatu. Haven’t you watched the famous videos that captured Nairobi’s phone snatchers on camera?’
She muted another “Thank you” and hid her phone in one of her pockets. I lost a great chance to introduce myself. I rued the missed chance. I went back to the drawing board to gain my courage again.
One of my arms was hurting because the kid’s head was resting on it. I endured the weight of the baby just to impress the mother. After we left Nairobi into Kiambu county, she pulled out her phone and started watching TikTok videos. Meanwhile, I was burdened by the weight of a sleeping baby on my arms and building my composure before attempting to introduce myself again.
At Kimende, Limuru, one of the coldest places in Kenya, I decided to strike again. My mind was brimming with courage. On this occasion, I intended to go hard with my introduction.
‘Hi. I am Sakwah Ongoma. Do you love reading books? I am a published author. I am an author like Ngugi Wa Thiong’o with two titles under my name.’ I thought this introduction was going to move her head.
I cocked my head on her side. She stopped scrolling on her phone and faced me as if she was anticipating me to say something.
‘Say it, tell her your name,’ my brain rallied me on.
‘I have been wondering, why is Kiminde this cold? How do people who stay around Kimende, Limuru, and Lari survive the freezing all year long?’ I felt my brains click and curse at my cowardice antics.
‘I guess they are used to it. They have an extra layer of skin to protect them from the cold, probably,’ she shrugged.
‘You have her attention, now introduce yourself, you coward,’ my brain scolded me. When I opened my lips to speak again, her attention was back on TikTok, smiling at a funny clip. Her attention had crawled away from me, again.
I cocked my head on the man’s side. He quickly lowered his eyes to pretend like he was busy reading his newspaper. He must have been watching me struggle to introduce myself to the beautiful girl. He had a wicked smile on his face. Were my woes amusing to him, or was he reading an amusing article in the newspaper?
The shuttle moved slower than I would have wished. My mind was in turmoil. When the baby woke up, he grabbed my phone to continue watching his video. He started crying when I tried to resist. Such an entitled little spoiled brat! I was forced to play the baby shark song for a long time until my phone went off.
I resigned myself to my cowardly spot. Sometimes as a man, you have to accept defeat. Going head-on collision to introduce yourself to a lady to impress her is not as easy as people think. But, there was one way, get her number.
For the better part of the journey, I conceived means of getting her number. Eventually, an idea struck me.
‘I would like to call someone, but my phone is off,’ I told the woman. ‘Can I use your phone, please?’ My idea was to use her phone to call my phone. On reaching home, I would have retrieved her number from the ‘I tried to call you!’ text from her number.
While the lady was reaching for her purse to give me her phone, the man decided to kill my vibe. ‘Here,’ he said with an extended hand. ‘You can use mine. I have storo bonus talk time from Safaricom.’ His phone was already in my hands before he was done spelling out his offer. I called my number. It was off.
‘He is off. Thanks!’ I handed him back his phone. My face was lugubrious at that time. I wanted to swallow him for taking away that chance. Because of why was he doing this to me? Is it because I denied him the chance to sit next to the lady?
When I looked at the man, he had another devilish smile on his face. He was enjoying my agony.
Still, I did not give up. I thought I still had one chance to get her number. When we touched down at our destination, I felt pressed. While everyone was retrieving their belonging from the shuttle, I left my suitcase with the lady. I rushed to the shuttle’s office washrooms to relieve myself. I conceived another idea on how to ask for her number.
When I came back from the washroom, I found the lady in the company of another woman. She had come to pick the lady. As I walked back, I eavesdropped on them talking.
‘Let us go, what are you waiting for?’
‘Some guy rushed to the washrooms. He left me to look after his suitcase.’
‘A guy? Good-looking?’ her new company asked.
‘That depends on a lot of things.’ My knees weakened at this point. I tiptoed and hid behind the shuttle. Shame became my companion.
‘Why are you helping him then?’
‘He helped me with Kylian. It is fatiguing to travel with the baby on my laps for all those hours.’
‘I see. Is he hitting on you?’ The friend asked.
‘He seemed to be interested. I saw him googling some stuff on his phone. He read some blogs on how to pick on a woman you’ve met in a matatu. I expected him to make a move, but he didn’t.’
Her new companion started laughing. Hysterically. ‘He googled what?’ The beautiful girl joined her in her laughter. I was in the mud, swimming in their unforgiving ridicule. I lacked the courage to face them. Eventually, they got tired from waiting. They left my suitcase with the shuttle’s driver.
I charged my phone when I got home. I received two messages from a new number. One of them was an ‘I tried to call you…’ The next text was provocative and diabolic.
‘Hello, son. You are home yet, or you still don’t have the courage to go home yet? Coward. You should have asked for tips on how to approach a woman in a matatu instead of googling for the same.’ The man chose violence.
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