This might be funny but you’ve probably heard or experienced it; that when you’re on a bodaboda, all you have to do is begin a short story on politics then sit back and hear the rider ranting on and on about thing A or B about a certain political leader, who is not likely to be voted in again and why they will fail terribly.

It’s however different in my case. So I have this client rushing to point B about 3 kilometers away and I have to outdo myself to ensure he’s there in time after all ain’t it his money that am after? Just two minutes of silence and I decide enough of it, I strike a conversation completely oblivious of how he would react to it ,anyway, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do or so they say.

This man apparently ‘knows’ a lot about politics than the little I always hear from colleague bodaboda operators at Oyani Farm Bodaboda Stage. He begins explaining to me why his MCA hasn’t delivered roads, schools, hospitals and a stadium that he’d promised and why he together with his family are going to vote for his opponent in the next general elections. It being not my nature to interrupt any speaker mid-conversation, I patiently wait for him to finish but it’s like he has no intention. It hurts experiencing such ignorance firsthand.

“Omera”, he startles me and brings me back from my reverie, “these people are ‘eating’ our money up there”. It is not until we hit a road bump that he suddenly goes silent, I actually hit the bump intentionally to cut him off which works successfully. I take this little window to try educate him on governance both at the county and national level, I talk on and on not caring whether he’s listening or not, the occasional ‘ehe’ and ‘aah’ confirms to me that he is very keen. I take care not to quote from the Constitution for obvious reasons.

That gentle tap on my shoulder moments later silences me as he announces our arrival. “Omera, I never knew all these things. Keep change”, he tells me as he hands me a Ksh 200 note,”thank you.”

I mumble a slightly audible word of thanks and watch him rush into a nearby building still holding the new note in my hand. “Hooray!”, I shout as I speed away!

Oyani Farm Institute,Nyanza is a well known dairy farm somewhere in the present day Migori County. Most of my routes circumnavigate around this place and it’s environs. Oops sorry, hamnijui, I am one of the unique bodaboda operators or so I would say around Oyani Farm; I go by different names depending on my location at that particular moment of reference. Wonder suits me well but those who refer to me as 360° or Ochieng or even Brown aren’t wrong either, the point is I am the subject. Oh and am Okumu too but this woman that insists on referring to me as Baraoni (an inflected form of Brown) bugs me a whole lot.

Anyway my day begins with the first call I receive no matter the time. It’s like this modern day taxi business. Most of the time it is always the same client that begins my day. As earlier stated, am very unique in my own view, maybe I should explain this further (not in this inaugural episode though).

My first time in business is perhaps the worst experience I’ve ever been through. Fasten your safety belt, let’s unweave our way through a ‘nduthi’ man’s hustle.