I had to let the Carine article sit at the top for a bit because of how much love I have for this girl, but the number of complaints as to why I haven’t posted anything for a while have made me tired. In all honesty I do get carried away with life from time to time and I’m grateful to the loyal readers of this blog who remind me to write even when it’s the last thing on my mind.

I thought back to when the laziness began and realised it was the week I had the flu and knowing how I got the flu I decided the topic of personal space is an issue worth discussing today. Did I already leak something? Well you don’t know the full story so keep reading for the details.

The Nairobi Central Business District is a foe to all empowered and self-loving individuals.  Given the option, I know a large number of people who would avoid Town like the plague; huge crowds, badly driven PSV’s (and cars), hawkers everywhere, litter and street children, muggers and dust are some of the unfortunate unmentionables. We as Kenyan citizens however have to make due as so many things are done in Town, probably what makes it the Town I guess!

Riddle me this however? If all these adverse situations plague you, then why add ignoring personal space to the mix. I know we are all in a hurry walking through Town but pushing me to the side so you can overtake me like a human car will not get you to your destination any faster, neither will stepping on me in the process, as that just makes me mad, and that I can guarantee you would not like! It’s rather unfortunate that the City Council of Nairobi officers have decided to not get the hawkers off our streets as they are too busy buying mandazi (pastry snack) and a cold coke with the Ksh500 bribe they pocket daily. Believe me when I say though that I too feel your pain when the pavement is covered with onions and ngwashe (sweet potato) but rubbing against me in the name of rushing does not solve our problems.

It was such a joyful moment when the harsh January sun finally came to an end in March and normal weather resumed. Not all Kenyans believe in the magnificent power of deodorant let alone perfume, whether cheap or pricey, so when the farmers started thanking God for rain I knew the worst was over. These rubbers (random people who just decide to rub on everyone in Town to get ahead, don’t ask of what) were no longer as smelly as usual, so the personal space breech was a bit more bearable. I almost forgot to mention how much I hate rubbers, they are the absolute worst and they can be found on PSV, bank and supermarket queues rubbing on your back because they never learnt to give room to others on a queue growing up.

I got a bit carried away there, I’m sorry.

As I conclude this article, I thought to now tell the story of my flu so all the loyalists can get their read on. So one morning I took a seat next to a middle aged lady in the public transport to my workplace. There was a bit of a drizzle so everyone had kept their windows shut. (A disgusting habit but I guess now that TB ina Tiba no one really cares) I came to realise shortly that the lady seated next to me was suffering from a horrible cold but adamantly refused to even crack her window open, despite her coughing and sputtering. So I turned to the conductor who opened the tiniest crack on his window; only a coin could pass through. Long story short, (the germs were very aware) I ended up spending my Madaraka day (1st June, a Kenyan Public Holiday) nursing my flu in bed as most of my friends nursed their hangovers from their previous night’s escapades.

PERSONAL SPACEimages

The physical space immediately surrounding someone, into which any encroachment feels threatening to or uncomfortable for them.

Respect the space guys!

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