REFLECTING on the Tallman Tales
I learnt about the Rotaract Club of Nairobi-Muthaiga North through my dad who belongs to it’s sponsoring club, The Rotary Club of Nairobi Muthaiga North. I was eager to join, looking forward to the many connections I would make and the many community service projects I would take part in. Who am I kidding? I was just fresh out of high school and I had nothing productive to do. And who at that age wanted to go home early? Their late-night meetings were the perfect excuse.
On one particular Tuesday in January last year, I decided to attend my first meeting alone. I took my smart casual attire and man wasn’t I killing it! I could see people stealing glances on my way to the matatu stage. I then boarded a matatu from Kasarani expecting to alight at Garden City Mall and make the short walk to Roasters Inn. Being an evening, the fare charge was thirty shillings and to be honest I felt robbed for that short travel. Even before I could give the conductor his due, the driver sped off and left him at Roysambu. I thanked the gods and started salivating at the *smokie pasua I would relish later that night.
My fantasy was cut short by the realization that I might miss my alighting stage now that there was no conductor and the driver was driving fast with no signs of stopping. Talk to the driver? What of the loud music? Stand at the door and wave at the side mirror? I could barely see clearly. What would I even do?
It is then that the thought came like lightning: Jump you coward! How my mind convinced me that I’m a MARVEL Superhero is still a wonder. Anyway, my physics teacher told me short people have larger mass and that they are closer to the ground…or something like that. And I’ve always admired how the conductors do it flawlessly. You. Yes, you – reader – know you agree with me.
And so, when we approached the bumps at Garden City Mall, I made the jump. The first three seconds were epic. Man, I was flying and I had things under control. Remember the smart casual I chose? Who knew the shoes had no treads and were flat? I hit the ground hard, rolled twice and slid to a halt. My spectacles were on the tarmac, my arms were grazed and my trousers were torn all the way to the hip. The bus had stopped.
I don’t know what hurt most. That the passengers on the bus thought I was escaping so that I would not pay the fare, that the conductor was seated at the front all this time, or that a lady was telling others to help while she herself wouldn’t do it. I stood up and walked away fast. This was not because of shame. No.
The conductor was mad and was coming to me. I simply feared and my animal instincts kicked in.
I still attended the meeting, completely knowing no one, and I knew I had to stay. They had sausages, cakes and coffee. I even forgot about my accident and had a good laugh. I got to tell this story at their next meeting and they laughed.
I love those guys and I’ve stuck with them since that day. I am now a member of the club and serving in the Public Relations Docket. Despite the challenges of dealing with humans, I love it here. I learn. I would say I grow but well, check my height. It really doesn’t matter if you have the wrong reasons for joining, go on and make mistakes while at it.
Moral of the story: I got to eat the *smokie pasua and vowed to never encourage my brother to join the club. There was no way my Dad was going to pay for all those activities for two people.
*Smokie Pasua (Noun): A smokie split in two then filled with kachumbari and possibly pilipili
For the definitions of kachumbari and pilipili, register for DisCon 2020.
Article submitted by: Albert Tallman |RAC Nairobi Muthaiga North
