CAVEMAN ENCOUNTERS: The Green Cladded Bareback Damsel.

I was seated in the full capacity Mathree headed to town after a day of the never-ending travels and hustles. The PSV was stopping frequently on the numerous stages as it dropped and picked passengers from Karen to the CBD, Nairobi. I was seated on my near back seat, safely belted up to avoid parting ways with precious Sh.1, 000 in case the traffic police suddenly stormed the vehicle for an abrupt inspection. With my laptop back safe on my laps, tie loosened up and tired eyes consuming the evergreen mind food from Robin Sharma’s ‘The Monk who Sold his Ferrari,’ I couldn’t help but sway to the mix of songs being blared through the speakers, especially those sweet love Bongo songs from Diamond. My immediate partner in the vehicle was already in deep sleep, snoring gently and lost in his slumber-land.

Inset: Such barebacks get men crushing losing network and causing accidents in their wake…

Just before the Junction stage, the Mathree stopped and as usual, passenger hastily alighted as other quickly boarded after consulting with the conductor on the fare, stage, and route. As I looked up to sudden chatter, my eyes meet those of two ladies who had just boarded the full capacity vehicle. Both were dressed fittingly for a night of fun out, with full make-up and strong perfumes to match. Lacking seats to put their plump and tight bums down, they had to stand and shika chuma until some passengers could alight and give space. As Diamond mellow voice and his genius of an artist introduced Tetema, I noticed the sudden shift of the body as the lady almost right in front of me suddenly turned and supported herself to the seat right in front of me, as her shapely body involuntarily shook along the Tetema beats and the road bumps.

It was indeed a long trip to town as I grew restless with the free arousing view. She was all bareback, with her full body in view of the passengers behind her. I wondered if she had a bra on. I wondered how the ladies were taking it up: her bare back, plump backside, short green skimpy dress and fly killer perfume. I tried hard to pretend to read my book, look outside the window on the onrushing traffic as speed towards town on Ngong Road, but each time my eyes sneaked a view at this damn damsel and I was lost at sea…no one was talking, except the conductor who kept reminding people of the next stop, as her dutifully demanded fare and chatted with the driver. How he remembered who had paid, whom he owned balance and who had not paid remain a misery to me. I was relieved when the two bubbly damsels finally found seats and were out of view as the vehicle made way into the CBD traffic at DOD.

I quickly went back to chapter 4 of Robin Sharma’s book and read through towards the end before slamming it shut and putting it away in my book. The distraction from the bareback damsel had cost me a few sweet mouthfuls of Sharma’s sumptuous mind food that I needed. What a day this last Friday of March was! Deep inside my tumultuous mind, I kept thinking about the damsel and I made up my mind that she was rightly dressed but at the wrong place. Such clothes should be put on in private parties and dates, away from the public too busy with their business to be distracted by such skimpiness. the way she was dressed, I am sure she could cause an accident because of the distraction to men in her wake.

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