Why I will be walking home this christmas

The season I dread most is finally here! That time when the last thing I want to do is travel to any corner of the country. Not because I hate traveling. On the contrary, I love to travel any time.

The last time I embarked on a journey to my homeland by road, I ended up suffering ‘jetlag’ because of the means. Before you give me that side eye and brand me a slay queen for flaunting my ‘airbone’ experience, hold on and lend me your ear.

First of all, I paid tripple the fare to the nearest town to my home where the buses end their journey.

From there, I took another public transport vehicle, a Probox. To this day, I regret my decision to board the Probox. I wish I had just walked my fat legs home regardless of the number of hours it would have taken me.  

Being an aggressive city girl, I wanted to get the best position so I rushed to sit next to the driver. Ok, so I was also hoping to relax my elbow on the door frame taking selfies as the vehicle cruised through the farms. Little did I know that, in a ‘shags’ PSV, that is the worst seat to occupy. Actually, let me just say all the seats are horrible and uncomfortable.

The fact that I have a tiny body did not make matters any better, I was forced to abandon my passenger seat and share the driver’s seat with him because four passengers were made to squeeze on the other two seats!

My people, that is the day I knew the exact location of my hipbone. The gear pressed on my hipbone all through our 45-minute journey making it feel like a 19-hour flight to Shanghai, China.

Only one side of my butt rested on the seat with the rest of it squeezing in-between the two seats. My legs were pushed to the left just after the clutch with no room for any adjustments, making them numb by the time I was alighting.

My right shoulder was squeezed behind the driver whose weight suffocated me as he kept shouting into my ear all through trying to explain to me the origin of Omieri - as if I cared! I even doubt he was comfortable himself since he huffed and puffed like a pig all through.

I could barely see where we were headed since the whole murram road was filled with dust but he seemed to have mastered all bends and potholes.

He hit the potholes mercilessly but confidently as he knew their exact locations and prepared himself for the impact while the rest of us were caught unawares every time this happened making us hit the roof and fall back onto the lumpy seats.

Did I mention he was mean? Every time we complained of the sudden movements after hitting potholes, he would shout back at us telling us to alight and walk to our destinations if we felt his driving wasn’t at par with the flying squad.

As I end my festive vent, I would just love to let you know that the home of pets isn’t in these leafy suburbs you see in the city!

The people back at home are the kings of pets considering the number of domestic animals I shared my seat with by the time I got home.

From a goat all the way to a puppy, and no, it wasn’t a Chihuahua or a Japanize Spitz, it is one of those wild dogs called ‘sudhe’ in my mothertongue. This Christmas, if I have to travel home, I would rather hire a bouncer to carry me on his back!

[email protected]