So…here it goes again, the alarm on my phone rings at 5:00 AM. I’ve always kept it on my right hand side of the bed, close to me so that I can have the chance of throwing it against the wall when I feel like. I still love my Samsung something (I know, tongue-twister to the Luos), I’ve never bothered with the model since I was given the phone and it’s not that high-end and “touchy-feely” as all these other new Applish and Androidish phones. But that’s besides the point…So, the phone rings at 5:00 A.M, and I decide to snooze until 5:40 A.M. The intervals are of 5 minutes. Oh the torture! Where I’m going is somewhere I really loathe and I have been loathing it for the past one year. My anticipation is therefore at zero level and I have no motivation to wake up. But hey, life goes on right? I pick my self-up and hit the showers, come back, apply deodorant and cologne, put on a fancy shirt, brush my teeth and leave the house. Why the fancy shirt? It makes me look forward to the day, I feel good when I look good and it turns the hate of where I’m going to love to other yet innocent and warm environment. It’s a routine.
I walk to the stage which is less than 200 meters from where I stay and a Matatu stops before I reach the stage. They are rather persistent. Should I walk or should I run towards it? Well, this is a rather dull day, so I decide to walk while it waits for me. It takes about 2 minutes for me to get inside the Matatu, and I find angry, irritated and annoying faces looking at me. Blame the conductor for his patience not me. Michael Jackson’s ABC is playing and I’m thinking wrong day for the song. There’s so much energy in it and me being an artist, I feel the mood of the song and I smile while looking outside the window. A baby being carried by the mother sees me and she smiles back thinking I was smiling at her. Not a bad day after all. I get to the city center, get another Matatu and head out to the place that I’ve been in for the last three years and if I’m to break it down the place where I spend three hundred days a year toiling, and planting a seed with the hopes that it will grow. Only to a certain level has it grown and I’m not satisfied with it, it explains the resentment. I get to the second Matatu and the fare is 30 shillings. When the Matatu is full, the fare changes (mysteriously) to 40 shillings, and annoyed commuters alight from the van before it moves and I’m left alone in it. Its just 10 shillings difference, I tell myself. I’m in no rush, although I’m already late. I wait for people who are willing to be conned 10 shillings just as I am, to get in the Matatu. I reach my destination 30 minutes later because of traffic. I head out to the office and sign in, one hour late. My boss looks at me and I say a casual “hi” to him as I smile. He nods his head in disagreement. Still with the smile, I head out to my work station and wait for another eight hours of mental torture. Tomorrow the same cycle repeats itself, and if it’s a good day, I might just decide to throw the phone against the wall this time.
Written by Eyan.