It’s good to be back home, and if you haven’t noticed, I am on wordpress.com again. Working on site upgrades will take me some time and money, and it’ll be done as soon as I settle down.
Have you ever felt the sudden need to slap people senseless in a vehicle? To unfasten your seat-belt and start giving everyone a piece of your mind using your palm, like pow-pow-pow and then settling back into your seat and plugging your earphones to the cool sound of Sauti-sol and Micasa? It happened to me on Friday and yesterday.
I traveled from Kisumu to Nairobi on Friday and this driver kept playing some rhumba music. I have my tastes but why would anyone want to listen to sleep music while driving non-stop for six hours? To make it worse, the CD he was playing got stuck on replay when we were approaching Naivasha. It played the same song until we got to Nairobi! I had some chords stuck in my mind way past midnight as I tossed and turned in bed.
When I got into the shuttle for Kisumu yesterday, it got worse, I was hit by the scent of lemons! Look here, I love lemons. They are green beautiful devils. They can be used to detox, to sanitize, to add flavor to food and drinks. Anyone who loves tequila can attest to the love they have for a slice of lemon, or lime and salt- but hey, I digress.Lemons are adorable little things, you can squeeze them in your enemy’s eyes and feign innocence. But too much lemon in the form of cologne is a complete turn-off. I was hit by the scent of too many lemons gone bad. It was like someone was rubbing lemons on my nostrils while another was forcing the nasty little creature down my throat. The seat I had chosen was next to the door and the guy who was killing me was seated right beside me! It does not matter how cute you are, but if the scent of you drives me to my grave, you are being exorcised like the demon you are. Six hours of that revolting scent, and when I thought my day could get better, the driver turned up the volume, filling the vehicle with the same CD I had been treated to on my first trip.
The best part was I had enough leg room to stretch out and sleep! I did wince whenever he hit a bump or two, or slowed down for the police, but the urge to slap everyone was so strong, it made for a great dream, because I would not do that in real life. The guy seated beside me could definitely hit back and send me to the morgue.
The first rule of war: you always win in your dreams, in real life, you can be slapped senseless!