Girl code: Never a dull day in my hood

Sometimes, as I sit alone on the balcony of my fifth floor bedsitter at Komayole, I can’t help but laugh at everything before my sleepy eyes. My hood is full of people with powerful lungs, none of them knows the meaning of whispering.

Even at dawn when no normal human being feels like making any sound, my neighbours have all the energy to give each other a high five at the bus stop as they shout about the little unending dramas in the area. It is almost impossible to peacefully shut your eyes during this hour, so I always wake up, sit on my balcony and brave the cold as I look at people rushing from all directions, including very dark alleys.

There is nothing as entertaining as looking at Kenyans from above on an early morning. Only God knows the number of times I have laughed out loud at the drama.

One moment, a bus conductor is pleading with a woman to board his bus and the next moment he is hurling insults at her as he imitates her walking style. These people can be ruthless, I tell you. Even when you have made peace with your supreme being before leaving the house, they will always find a way of dragging you into their mess. I mean, why would a man suddenly start shouting at you as he imitates the swinging of your hips from left to right? Even before they finish swinging those hips, the driver has already driven off and they suddenly start running after the bus like a deer that has just seen a cheetah.

Then there are those who spend the whole night drinking themselves silly and, by morning, they walk around like they have just invented wooden jets. Woe unto you if they say hi and you refuse to respond. That’s the time they will shamelessly start describing you from top to bottom. Women are always their targets here. Before you know it, someone is describing your lips and ears forcing you to touch them just to confirm they are what you think they are and not what a drunk is shouting to the whole world. Not even a single soul will come forth to help you; instead, they will stop and stare from a very safe distance.

As all these go on, there will be two love birds high on cheap drugs clinging to each other like a paratrooper on a parachute. These cheap drugs can turn people into marionettes! One minute they are clinging onto each other and the next they are marching, one behind the other, singing at the top of their voices how they are entering Jerusalem in style. They will even stop, salute and continue marching in unison shouting, “Twaingia Jerusalem.”

Still standing on my balcony, the group I pity most is that of people struggling to get to work in peace as they negotiate their way past all the drama. There will be that woman making huge strides as she drags her young one in uniform behind her. One hand drags the young one while the other holds tightly to her handbag. These are women one should never try to mess with. They have their whole lives ahead of them and would stop at nothing to reach their goals. Not even the stubborn makangas can dare them. One morning, a woman slapped a bus conductor so hard I could feel the heat from my balcony.

The last group you would wish to meet during this rush hour is that of stray dogs. Always running after every living thing, including their fellow dogs. You should see how drunk men and those high on drugs stop, stand on their toes, legs apart and clenching their fists in readiness to fight the dogs. They have never won the fight!

From my balcony, the things I see every morning are enough to make my day. Even if I decided to lock myself in the house the whole day, trust you me, I will never have a dull day in Komayole, my hood.