Some Feel The Rain, Others Get Wet: The Stories Are In Our Lives


Just Get Wet! It’s another evening with my backpack trodding the streets. I meet people with everything and others nothing, others hope and dreams and for some; its ways and means. But we all are survivors and we should embrace the blessing and soak it in as I feel wet from the drizzle.

We hate this weather. I agree on this him who is headed for a different destination but would like a story with a stranger to unwide. I don’t intend to keep up with the conversation. Not to sound unfriendly but the music is at its warm moments and I wanna really forget the rain for a while before alighting. Can you feel that drizzle that is between a serious downpour and a light shower in the evening rush hours? Probably you are out getting your supper, left your house for a walk, left office or checking out plug. I hope you get the beat of the movement and feel the drizzle drown the flairy to pacy collisions.


Highway Madness

The bus stops are always interesting or I find them. The youths standing at the bus stops earn a living off persuasion. “Huyo Hatafika tao siste… Ingia hapa huyu ni boiz wangu.” You find this convincing often times. ‘Bakia wawili itoke bro.’ I often fall for these words but it happens to be late on most occasions. With these words the youth earns his pound and the hustle goes on till its evening time.

Its late in the evening and the Kamageras have had their feeding for the day. They feel the rain on a daily basis from dondas who do not live up to the streets ethics and the stretched arms of the government. Today they are not interested in working a service-lane car so we take longer to get out of the bus stop.

A long distance shuttle drops a stupor on the highway. He staggers his way towards the bus stop with the help of a den-mate from a different town. A case of two conscious-blind men leading one another to a place of hope. The crossing seems to take long and the youth gets tired of forcing the stupor across the road. Relieve. He unzips his trouser and faces the other side of the oncoming traffic and relieves himself the surplus juice in his system as he buys time for his elderly stupor to cross the road.

A journey


It is a short but long tipsy crossing for the two who fall resting on the caveat emptor beside the highway. The bus stop youth gets into his pocket, pulls out a brown makali kaquarter and takes a mighty gallop. You can feel his spirit go high as the spirit goes down the gut with a grimace on the face.

It takes me longer to get home. On the way I can’t help but think of the different graphic languages in the transport sector. Lorries have a way of writing short but memorable quotes on the mud guards but buses lean towards extravagance, witful and relatable quotes. The bus in front has an interesting quote on its emergency exit; a formality and a viable canvas for graphic designers. ‘Some feel the rain, other just get wet.’ As the rain drops were pounding the rooftop of the Hiace I was in, the words in that bus kept banging an echo of thoughts in my mind.

Check the weather report. Someone is trading at the bus stop with the hope of a sunny day. A doctor and a teacher woke up with the hope of breaking the mold. The man besides me wants to talk about his kids and wife on a rainy day on a ride back home without getting wet. I look in the mirror, smile and see an image of someone telling stories of our daily lives; keeping it at what I love. Get on your feet and live. No matter how cloudy it might be, you will make it out proudly and the venue will be rowdy.

By Calpas


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