Rain begins to fall, and the scene from the 18th floor of View Park Towers is pleasing to look at. The droplets of rainwater fall gently on the roofs of the cars in the parking lot. At this moment, I am speaking to Victor, he prefers to be called Oito. He is showing me an aesthetically pleasing seat on his phone. As I admire the seat and rethink the black hole in my bank account, Sandy calls. Sandy is my childhood friend, a lawyer working at a law firm located in Utalii House, which is just a block away from View Park. I told her I am around, and since she is a lawyer and lawyers rock suits, I am eager to make her one or a beautiful collection.

After the rain, I pick her up from the ground floor, and we head straight to Louise Carre’s humble offices on the 18th floor. Louise Carre is the company name, and yes, we tailor suits. We agree on the fabrics and styles, and as we wait for the rain to stop since it’s started again, we talk about our childhood and catch up on how easy or hard life has become. Victor is glued to his phone, probably working on a quotation. When he’s done, the rain reduces, and we get going.

We walk slowly towards Downtown, with water splashing gently on my cap. Victor has a big jacket on, seemingly unaffected by the rain, and Sandy is covering herself with an umbrella that looks newer than its age. She says she’s had it since she was in form one, over eight years ago. She’s a keeper, right? What brings us together is the water splashing on our shoes and how well we dodge the puddles. We all think it’s high time we get ourselves cars.

We reach Archives, a central landmark for people unfamiliar with Nairobi. There are always people waiting around, usually with confusion on their faces, trying to find something or someone. But this evening, we see a train long line of people waiting to board Super Metro to Thika, all standing in the rain. I look at them and think, “this can never be me!” We walk a few blocks and find another huge line of people waiting for a bus to Civil Servants, the posh name for Kariobangi South. This time, I critique out loud, saying I can’t wait that long for a bus or stand in the rain for one. Little did I know what awaited me.

Around Afya House, I bid Sandy and Victor goodbye. Sandy is picking something for her mum before heading home, and Victor is catching one of those noisy matatus, commonly called “manyanga,” to Ngong’. I walk straight to Afya Center, then take a right turn towards Utimo Sacco Bus Stop because I know with this type of rain, all Ummoiner or Salty Supporters buses are not coming to CBD. I find myself in a very long line, longer than the ones I critiqued. With no other option, I decide to make the line. Thirty minutes into the queue, not a single bus has arrived. The line hasn’t moved an inch; it’s just getting longer as more people come and complain about the lack of buses to Umoja.

I’m eavesdropping while minding my own business. At this time, there are a lot of thoughts in my head, like imagining a guy wearing a smaller shoe size than his girlfriend’s. These thoughts mix with the chaos around me: people pushing to pass, hawkers trying to catch customers, drunkards saying unwise things, and the rain offering us a free shower along the crowded Mfangano Street.

We wait, and it’s now two hours. We start talking to each other, looking with envy as Super Metro buses keep coming for passengers to Kitengela. We talk and notice people paying to hijack the line. As Godsent Gen-Zs, we intervene and fight for our rights to the next bus!

Long story short, I was at the bus stop at 1830 hrs, left town at 2139 hrs, and got home soaked in God-given water at 2240 hrs. I can’t believe it took more than four hours! That’s enough time for Victor to drive from Nairobi to Rongo. What an evening!

@okelododdychitchats