The agony of being hit on by a relentless jerk in a matatu

I was over the moon when I got my first car. I desperately wanted a car. I didn't care whether it was going to be a battered old thing that would be dripping coolant and other visceral fluids as I drove it around the streets of Nairobi. I just wanted a car: Any car.

I didn't want a car to project an image of wealth. I didn't want a car so I could strut around with car keys dangling on one hand to intimidate the common folk. No, my motivation for buying a car was far less vainglorious. I didn't even want a car so I could avoid the discomfort of having to sit next to a bloke stinking of stale sweat in matatus or so I could avoid the annoying shrill voices of bus preachers. These are minor annoyances.

I wanted my own car because I couldn't take any more of the gauntlet of horror, frustration and harassment that accompanied my daily commute. I couldn't cope with the perpetual dread of being hit on in public transportation.

The fact that I seem to be a magnet for idiots, douchebags, jerkwads and assholes coupled with my social anxiety meant that a thirty minute bus ride to town was something of a nightmare. There was always a guy who decided he had taken a fancy to me and wanted to get acquainted and wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer.

I couldn't go a day without having to fight off some creep who thought that a woman boarding a matatu meant that she had signed up for the Matatu Speed Dating Service. Every Kenyan woman who has ever had to take a matatu or a bus has had to deal with these annoying jerks that deem it perfectly acceptable to demand a response from women who clearly want to be left alone.

The worst thing about being hit on in a matatu is that there is nowhere to go if things get uncomfortable. You are effectively trapped with your oppressor! If it was in a club or a restaurant you could excuse yourself and go to the bathroom or move to another table.

In a matatu, you just have to sit there and take it praying to God that you get to your stage as fast as possible so you can get away from him. It is not even a guarantee because he might decide to alight at your stage too and follow you.

I think I speak for all women when I say that the worst possible place to approach a woman in in public transportation. First of all, when we are in a matatu we could be tired, frustrated, stressed or hungover and we just want to get from A to point B with as little irritation as possible.

The last thing we want to do is make small talk with a total stranger. Secondly, just being in public transportation means we have our guard up what with the massive influx of crafty conmen in matatus. So, when you sit next to me and try to strike up a conversation, I won't take it too kindly. You may not be trying to make away with her smartphone but she does not know this and she will go with her gut instinct of shutting you out. Unless you want to be labeled "the creepy guy on the bus" let her be.