Last December,
I enjoyed the opportunity to travel back from Kenya to Uganda using the night
bus from 6:00 pm – 6:00. I was dreading
the trip back given how tiring I knew it would make me, but all I could do was
walk up the stairs to get into the bus’ VIP section.
As I did, I was greeted by
a light skinned mature aged lady munching away at a chicken wing of her take
out. I was puzzled because I was sure she was in my seat so I turned around and
asked the person I was travelling with for confirmation.
Me: ‘Hey, which seats are we in?’ I asked as I turned
around to face him.
Travel Companion: ‘The 2 front seats on the left
hand side of the VIP section.’
Me: ‘Okay, well we have company.’
Travel Companion: ‘What do you mean?’ he said in
response as he peered over my shoulder as the conductor nudged us forward so we
could depart.
Mature aged Lady: ‘Eh negomba ekyenyanja,’ she shouted
across the aisle oblivious to our presence. She was shouting to a younger
gentleman we later found out was her travelling companion.
Conductor: ‘Eh bwana twendekazi, we have to
go Kampala,’ he said in a bid to hasten our footsteps so we could get seated
and leave Nairobi.
Travel Companion: ‘Nyabo you are in our seat, look
at our tickets. Can you please move to your seat?’
She ignored
us for the most part and the conductor got tired of waiting for us to get
seated so he closed the door and signaled to the driver to hit the road.
Travel Companion: ‘Madam, we really need to take our
seats we paid for VIP for a reason.’
Mature aged Lady: ‘Mubere wali ne mulinda male
enkoko yange,’ she said in response with not so much as a look in our direction.
In that
instance as she said those words I smiled and thought, even when you are miles
away from home a Ugandan will always be and act like a Ugandan. Even though they may not necessarily look like
Ugandans and you least expect to run into them.
Now at this
point we had been standing in the aisle for about 3 minutes, looking like fools
as we waited for her to get up and move into her seat. At this very instance,
the bus flew out of the parking area and we nearly toppled over so I asked my
travel companion to take her official seat across the aisle as I sat next to
her and waited for this to get sorted out. It took the lady about 20 minutes to
finish her meal as my travel companion could be heard grumbling audibly in the
distance.
Travel Companion: ‘I do not understand why we get
seat numbers if they cannot be enforced by the bus company.’
Me: ‘Calm down.’
Travel Companion: ‘Conductor, why do I pay for a VIP
seat if I am not going to enjoy it?’
He looked
in my travel companion’s direction for a moment but then turned away and headed
to the back to begin to serve the snacks to the rest of the passengers.
Travel Companion: ‘I am not using Simba coach again.’
Me: ‘Let it go.’
The ladies
travel companion (the younger male) seated across the aisle next to my travel
companion responded ‘Let her finish her food and then she will move, she told
you she will move.’ This was said in a luganda accent.
Travel Companion: ‘Yes but this discomfort could
have been avoided.’
Mature aged Lady: ‘Eh nkuse!” she said as she jumped
out of the seat next to me and I excused her as she exchanged seats with my
travel companion about 30 minutes after we hit the road.
I was glad
that my pal could now take his seat next to me, we could chat and watch a
movie, but one thing the old lady did not tell me when she moved was that she
had left me the fried carcass of her chicken at my feet. I was annoyed but
decided that I should be thankful enough that she had finally moved to her seat
and I was now able to charge my phone using the socket just below my widow.
It is safe
to say the rest of my journey back home was smooth sailing.
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