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Casual Disregard

 You can ask anyone who had eyes and dared to use them. You can ask them about Kituku. 

A short, plump man with short and sturdy legs. With a round face like a globe, chubby like a baby's. The thick beard tried to help him play man. But it didn't help much; it made him look like a coconut. 

His wardrobe consisted of two blue khaki trousers, three shirts, a jacket, and a pair of sandals. And then there was his daily uniform - the green reflector boda boda guys wear. 

He was as strange as they come, but a little mystery has never hurt anybody. Kituku is one of those guys you just can't have enough of once you meet. He will subject you to a deep black hole of questions without answers, and when you've mentally exhausted yourself, you'll ask, "Why the hell do I care?" and then your landlord will knock. 

He is a person who elicits all kinds of feelings from the people who look in his direction. Without saying a word. Some get angry, some pity him, some just want to look away in disgust. For me, it was intrigue that glued my eyes to that strange man. 

He is a boda boda guy. He dozes off the entire day and is awake the entire night. If he is lucky, he will find two drunk chaps to rush home at night, but most drunk people here prefer to walk home. Businesswise, that is a shitty plan. I mean, during the day, there are more than a thousand potential customers. At night, that number drops to ten. Factor in competition and security, and any sane person would choose daytime, or both. 

Not Kituku, though. 

When he is not sleeping under the scorching sun, he blacks out from liquor or engages in a verbal war with another misfit like him. But at night, it's business. One would always tell that he is there from the loud Kamba radio stations that blast the quiet atmosphere of the dark night that he loves. 

Does he have a wife? Kids? Hell, does he even have a place to live? 

Probably. From my experience, I have two theories. He might have a wife and kids, but they just don't do it for him. Maybe the wife is too much, demanding the impossible. So he is forced to acquaint himself with the cold of the night, the warm embrace of cheap liquor by day, and a soothing sleep under the merciless sun. Or he is smarter than that. He might have cracked the case of Nairobi economics open. A genius in the open. With a boda boda, nobody will ever suspect him of being homeless, not that they'd care anyway. Sleep by day, work by night to avoid thieves. 

Say what you want about the man, but I respect him. Living under his own terms, navigating this wretched thing called life with freedom - that I have to respect. He looks pretty indifferent to me, or maybe he is so above us that emotions don't bind him anymore. 

If it isn't yet obvious why I respect that strange man, it is his casual disregard for rules and societal guardrails. He doesn't break rules, he simply tosses them aside. With his short legs. Like a boss.


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