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The Observer: YOUTH – It’s Our Time

Article Written By: [Ken & Speranza]

The persona in the story is an Intellect Observer.;
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It was on a Friday afternoon just after I had been interviewed at a certain prestigious corporate company. The only thing I had in my palm was my mobile phone and some bit of nervousness consuming each thought I had about the outcome of the interview. I had adorned that black suit that I usually reserved for such important days and those pitch black shoes that complemented my outlook as I walked majestically across the town.

The scorching sun and the chilly psychic wind were inflicting their arrogance on me as I paved my way to the ‘matatu’ stage whereby I could board a vehicle that would ferry me to my vicinity. The vendors were busy minding their businesses inside the flocked town. In my escapades, I actually groped under a sweaty woman’s armpit as she shouted explosively in a bid to sell her merchandise.

I approached the matatu station and met a black graffiti matatu that was almost full. I boarded it and walked straight to the back left seat [let me call it a bench; it was not worth the name seat] at the window. I always loved observing as I travelled. I can say that being an observer has made me discover many things in this young world. Moreover, I understand undeniably that the sweetness of traveling is observing. Just when I was approaching the seat, I noticed it had a hole at the center of the worn out cushions. I could not settle myself proportionately. I had to seat at a certain angle making sure not to injure my sciatic nerve in my less adorable gluteal tissue.  Inside the matatu were a whole lot of alarming warning stickers and images of those musicians we here on radios. The tout hang around shouting in tantrums as he hang around like an empty bottle of liquor. The engine started and for whatever reason, I had to stick to my seat until I arrived at my destination.

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