The cost of dreams

The morning sun peeked lazily over the hills of Giaki, stretching its golden fingers across the sleepy village. Kelvin stood at the dusty roadside, his battered suitcase at his feet, a tattered backpack slung over his shoulder. This was it,the day he had dreamt of for years. He was finally leaving for Meru National Polytechnic.

But before he could embrace his bright future, he had to overcome the first challenge: boarding a matatu from Giaki to Meru Town.

Now, if you had never been to Giaki, you might think matatus ran like clockwork, picking passengers at scheduled times. Wrong. Here, matatus left when full, not a second earlier. So, Kelvin stood there, shifting from one foot to another, watching as passengers trickled in like water from a leaking tap.

An elderly woman climbed in first, carrying a sack that smelled like it contained everything from onions to a dead chicken. A man in a faded Arsenal jersey followed, chewing sugarcane so loudly that Kelvin felt his eardrums vibrate. Then came a woman with a toddler strapped to her back, the baby eyeing Kelvin like he owed him money.

Kelvin sighed. The old Nissan matatu had peeling paint, a cracked windshield, and a wooden plank replacing one seat at the back. The words "God Will Provide" were scribbled on the dashboard, but from the look of the matatu, God had not yet provided shocks or new seat covers.

"Twende sasa!" Kelvin urged impatiently, but the conductor shot him a look that could kill.

"Unataka tuhepe abiria? Si uko na gari yako uende mbele?" (Do you want us to leave passengers behind? Do you have your own car to leave first?)

Kelvin sank into his seat, defeated. Time moved like a snail, and the passengers were in no hurry. A man in a dirty coat leaned out the window to chat with a friend passing by. The driver, an old man with a cap that had seen better days, sipped tea from a metal cup as if this was a family gathering, not a public transport service.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last passenger,a plump woman carrying a basket of bananas,squeezed herself in. The conductor slammed the door shut, banged the roof twice, and the matatu roared to life.

The journey had begun.

The 20-kilometer stretch from Giaki to Meru Town should have been smooth, but this was no ordinary matatu. The engine groaned like an old man climbing stairs, and the suspension was non-existent. Every pothole sent passengers flying into the air like popcorn.

Kelvin clutched his seat as they sped down the road, overtaking anything with legs. A man in front clung to his seatbelt like his life depended on it. A chicken under someone's seat flapped its wings in protest. The toddler who had been staring at Kelvin started screaming, perhaps realizing this might be the end.

At one point, the driver swerved violently to avoid a pothole, and the sack the old woman was carrying burst open. A live rooster escaped, flapping madly around the matatu, landing squarely on Kelvin's lap.

"Shindwe pepo!" the elderly woman shouted, trying to grab her rebellious chicken.

Kelvin, who had never been this intimate with poultry, screamed and tossed the bird toward the front. The conductor ducked just in time. The chicken landed on the driver's dashboard, causing mass panic. The matatu swayed dangerously, the driver cursed, and passengers grabbed onto whatever they could.

Eventually, order was restored, but Kelvin was already rethinking his entire life.

When they finally reached Meru Town, Kelvin let out a sigh of relief. He climbed out, adjusting his backpack and stretching his stiff legs. The air smelled of roasted maize, exhaust fumes, and ambition.

Just as he was about to walk away, the conductor grabbed his arm.

"Wewe kijana, hujalipa!" (Young man, you haven't paid!)

Kelvin's jaw dropped. "I gave you the money when we left Giaki!"

The conductor smirked. "Hiyo ilikuwa ya nani? Si ulete pesa yangu!" (That was for who? Give me my money!)

The passengers, who had been quiet, suddenly turned into a courtroom jury.

"Aaai! Huyu kijana alilipa!" the banana lady declared.(This boy has paid)

"Ni ukweli! Hata niliona akitoa!" (It's true! I even saw him give the money!) another man added.

The conductor looked around, realizing he had been defeated. He grumbled something about bad luck and waved Kelvin away.

Kelvin smirked. Victory.

His stomach growled, reminding him that he had not eaten since dawn. He scanned the area and spotted a small hotel with a faded sign reading "Kwa Mama Njeri". Perfect.

Inside, the hotel was… average. The walls were stained, the chairs wobbled, and flies held an emergency meeting near the sugar dish. But Kelvin didn't care. The smell of frying beef filled the air, making his stomach grumble louder.

A plump waiter approached. "Unakula nini?" (What will you eat?)

"Chapati na beef," Kelvin said confidently. In the village, chapati and beef were a delicacy only eaten on Christmas or when a politician visited.

The food arrived steaming hot. Kelvin smiled as he reached into his bag and discreetly pulled out an avocado he had carried from home. He sliced it with his spoon and mixed it with his meal. A luxury only village people understood.

After eating, the waiter brought the bill. Kelvin casually glanced at it, then froze.

400 shillings?!

His heart stopped. Back home, that same meal was 100 shillings, and you shared the table with flies.

"Nikosee? Four hundred?" he asked, hoping it was a prank.

The waiter folded her arms. "Hapa ni town, si shamba." (This is town, not the village.)

Kelvin sighed, paid, and left the hotel feeling robbed.

Outside, he needed to find Meru National Polytechnic. A group of boda boda riders stood at the corner, chatting.

"Boss, nataka kwenda Meru National Polytechnic," Kelvin said.

One of them, wearing a torn jacket, stepped forward. "Ni mbaaali sana! Shilingi miyambili na hamsini." (It's very far! 250 shillings!)

Kelvin frowned. "Si ni karibu Makutano?"(it's near Makutano)

The rider shook his head dramatically. "Wee hujui! Wacha nikushow vile ni mbali."(you don't know,let me show you how far it is)

After failed bargaining, they agreed on 300 shillings.

Kelvin climbed onto the bike. The moment the boda took off, he knew he had been conned.

The ride lasted four minutes.

Kelvin could still see where they had started from. The Polytechnic was literally around the corner. He wanted to scream.

The boda rider smelled of muguka and cheap liquor. Kelvin had held his breath the entire ride, convinced if he inhaled deeply, he'd get drunk by osmosis.

They arrived at the gate. A huge write up on the huge gate"MERU NATIONAL POLYTECHNIC."

Kelvin sighed. He had made it. But just as he was about to enter, something humiliating happened…