He is short…kinda. He is very dirty. He walks around with one raised arm and a pointed finger, and he makes a lot of noise. He is always shouting at anyone and everyone. I haven’t yet understood what he shouts about but he is definitely very infuriated. Maybe somebody did him, and did him real bad. I really don’t know.
I met him today. Or should I say,he bumped into me today. The first time I saw him, he was walking in the streets poking his fingers on the bosoms of unsuspecting ladies. It was funny at first, then scaring. Maybe he just wanted to attract attention. He did. The wrong kind of attention. People kept staring at him, from a distance.
So, today I heard him. You always hear him before you see him.Shouting, as always. Gesturing frantically and poking his fingers in other people’s faces. I was standing, waiting. But I wasn’t ready for what happened. I made a mistake. I looked at him.
There was a barrier between us, he walked round and faced me. I didn’t know if I should walk away or keep standing. I didn’t have a reason to walk away anyway. So I stood, just as I had been standing before. He looked at me, and I guess he didn’t like me that much. Before I could make up my mind on whether he liked me or not, he slapped me.
I was shocked, then irritated then angry. I wanted to fish my phone from my big hand bag and call the Chief of police. Only I don’t have his number. So I just stood there nursing my ego and watching his back get lost in the crowd. It wasn’t interesting.Not at all.
I kept thinking about him for a while. I guess that gives him too much credit. How can I, a Nairobi corporate woman, spend a second thinking about a mad man? Thank God they were not murderous thoughts, the Meru in me would have risen.
I just kept wondering why he is allowed to keep walking around, poking people and slapping them with abandon. I kept wondering why the Nairobi city council is so lenient, and why do we have Mathare Mental Hospital if lunatics are still roaming the streets. With impunity.