GIRLS, BLING, CASH: How Nairobi's 'Nganya' touts revolutionized the City's transport subculture
They're not like you - in fact, they'd loathe to be as
miserably mundane as you. They're Nairobi's 'Nganya' touts, a ballsy group of
Matatu buccaneers who are in charge of not only coaxing you into riding with
them but also running the show from the bus-stop to the godforsaken end of the
trip.
At the bus stop, they're unmissable - they'll be roaring the
place down, flashily-dressed, grabbing you by your neck, ready to haul you into
their vans, spitting indecipherable sheng jargon, whistling like Mexicans and
banging furiously against the matatu's body.
Oh, and some are donning faux designer sunglasses, a gaudy
silver ring on each finger, a single earring, skin clothed in intricate
blackwork tattoos and, on a good day, a slingbag to boot.
Colloquially known as "donda", these touts are a
law unto themselves and seem to operate like they're constantly high on
ayahuasca, running the streets, commanding the routes, herding the passengers
and redefining the infrangible street culture.
It's a culture they created and a culture they so vigilantly
protect - street fierceness, language prowess, sheer machismo and erudite
financial adeptness.
To understand them, you need to first understand where they
come from.
Most of these "dondas" come from the gnarliest
parts of town where, growing up, they learned to put on a brave face, fight off
adversity, battle with the lopsidedness of the law, face up to bullies and
survive bloody slum fights and ominously dark trenches.
It's a childhood that also exposed them to the gritty ghetto
lexicon - what words to use, in which occasion, for what purpose and to what
end.
At the bus stop, they act and even dress like buskers in
downtown Covent Garden, whistling to the skies, swooping on you, flashing some
killer smiles, serenading the ladies, talking their way into your heart and
hyptonizing a traveler with the sheer fluency of their tongue.
Inside the 'Nganya', they suddenly become a totally
different crop of creatures who, now, will put down the sweet act and put up a
face that says, "I'm in charge now, I'm the captain of this ship, I'll
decide how much you pay and you're kindly asked to not ask too many
questions".
While the music thunders and the tiny screens flash, while the speed increases and the driver veers into trenches, while the speakers blast and driver maniacally glides over high bumps, you know that you're now trapped in the belly of hell, and your word, protestations, ideas and misgivings don't mean much in this frightening traveling cage.
Whatever the amount he may have muttered out there, as the
official fare, may quickly vary once you're seated and he's hovering over you,
hand stretched out, with his menacing look splitting your face.
"Nani alisema chwani? Buda gari ni 70 bob hakuna mtu
hakuskia nikisema 70 bob. Ongeza mbao buda...," He will bellow. The last
thing you want to do is slide into his dolorous hole of horror and you quickly
comply.
At the slightest traffic inconvenience, they'll expertly hop
out the 'Nganya' and, within minutes, have scouted the fastest alternative
route and before you know it, they're lost in the mass of jammed vehicles as
the driver cuts corners, does a quick reverse, swears at the frightened lady
driver next to him, blurts out a few other epithets to random drivers and
you're all now driving between rows of tiny mabati shacks in Mlango Kubwa.
Remember, there's absolutely nothing you, still, can do
about it.
If you're unfortunate (or fortunate, depends with how bored
you are) enough to end up in one of the obtrusively showy Ummoinner 'Nganyas',
or, say those on the notoriously-lawless Rongai route, you'll be in for an
extra spectacle that will see the 'donda' do some extreme death-or-glory stunts
- hang precariously by the door, do random backflips, run side by side with the
speeding matatu, hop in and out of the matatu while it's still in motion, do a
few more monkey flips and, if you're lucky, stepping on the windows of other
matatus while they're speeding past them.
Bold, flashy and incorrigibly forthright, these 'dondas'
have managed to impress the girls and bed the entire town with the mere whisper
of their name and the fleeting sight of their ersatz silver tooth.
Their propensity to talk people into their 'Nganyas' have
seen them master the art of wooing young, college-going damsels who are quickly
blinded by their serpentine tongues, smooth lingo, ebullience and perceived
idea of having money.
"There's something about them that girls can't resist,
I know a lot of my fellow college friends who have gone to bed with these
matatu touts, they seem to have money, smoothness, street skills and the charm
to pull any woman," Caren Muthoni* (not her real name) said to Citizen
Digital.
They're fierce, they're lawless, they're blunt and they're
relentless.
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