On one hand the girl with the brown dirty fingers could have removed some mud from her shoes and in the process gotten it into her fingers you know. I know I said her dirt was from a lifetime in the rural setting but maybe I’m wrong. On the other hand she was pretty so that could have clouded my judgment too. I’m not saying it did but it could have. I remember getting lost in her eyes when she had looked at me and asked to know what had been going on. I had caught myself in good time just before making a fool of myself –I realized I had been inclining towards her as if ready to plant one on her. Plant what you ask? A kiss! What else did you think? Cactus?
The Miraa chewing fellow in his failed attempt to” break the ice” had helped me do so! I told her about the Miraa chewer’s wandering hand albeit hush hush but clearly touching her thigh in my elaborate demonstration. She did not seem to mind. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? No, wait! Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.
Anyway, I wished she had sat on my right side which is my best side then she would have had the honour of seeing my dimple. I tried turning my head sideways to show her the dimple and kept throwing one or two smiles her way. I think that made her think she was dealing with another buffoon and I was wondering why she looked alarmed until she moved her leg and I realized my hand was still on her! I quickly removed my hand and grimaced my face tightly; eyes closed expecting a slap but did not get one. When I opened m y eyes I saw her putting on some earphones and then she leaned on the window on her left side and closed her eyes. The ice had freeze once again. Come to think of it her fingers were really dirty. I hope it never comes off.
We were now just over 50km to Nairobi. Back then I thought that perhaps things would change- perhaps her phone battery would go low and then she’d have to open her eyes and I would be there with my dimple ready to start a new page. For now I can confirm to you that nothing of the sort happened. I think she had a new phone.
I decided to wait for a miracle and in the meantime I pretended to be staring out the window on my left stealing glances of her in the process. It was dark outside so the most I could see was just a few spots of light here and there. My thoughts and my eyes were in two different worlds until I heard the man with the heavy leather jacket shout at the driver to stop at a center next en route where he would alight.
The drunkard seated in front was by now fast asleep perhaps finally he had found his true age in his dreams. The hat man next to him was still quite just looking ahead at the endless road and on coming vehicles. I was grateful the driver was no longer on phone. I think he had won the phone argument .He looked apprehensive which I attributed to the blinding lights he had to face every couple of seconds from the on coming vehicles.
The passengers seated behind them were all asleep in awkward poses. The balanced diet woman and the woman with the crying baby were leaning on each other like to trees supporting each other in sleep as they had in eating. The spitting woman next to them leaned in font holding on to the driver’s seat. How could she sleep holding a seat? Isn’t sleep supposed to be relaxing? Even the leather jacket man and the two “politicians” behind her looked at the 3 in awe. “The politicians” had stopped their constitutional debate after it had emerged that neither had read the draft that they had been emotionally arguing about. They had moved on to international politics mostly American and Obama related but from what I heard they did not know much about it as well.
Perhaps if they had spent as much time as the show off reading a newspaper in the dark behind them, then they would have material to argue about. But that could also have been a death knell for their argument for what’s the fun in it if you know the facts? The newspaper man was now half way through his constitution reading. He kept nodding his head and biting his lips as he went through the lines following them with his index finger. One would have thought there was an exam at the end of his destination hence his cramming. Did he know it was a draft and that changes would be made? The Miraa chewer was fascinated by his reading and seemed to chew in sync with the nodding, his hands now fully focused on feeding his mouth with more khat. He had found himself a new obsession. The woman with the weave was however still on her weave patting obsession, now alternating from her right to left hand.
Everyone seemed to have something new going on except for the guy on my right who was still coughing incessantly after every five or so minutes. But not for long for all changed. I had gone back to looking at the girl on my left so peacefully asleep when I was jerked back to life by the loud wail of the driver. (Next: The Last part)
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