I keep meeting odd characters each time I ride in a Matatu. Which means ‘every time’. It’s a rich culture, when you train your mind to ignore the obvious perils that come with it. Ignore the possibility of a pick pocket, in the next seat, some possible erratic driving without a seat belt on, a random drunk breathing chemical fumes in your face. Et al.
So, I take a Ruaka-bound matatu, from the Ruiru Bypass junction. It’s a slow mid-morning, just after the morning rush fever. The crew has obviously met their morning target, and are relaxed. The conductor is a jovial ageless chap – anywhere between early 20’s and late 30’s. Banter is pleasant, and easy.
He reeks of some nice soapy scent. Maybe Rexona, or Lux.
“Boss, unashukia wapi? He asks, taking my 1000 shilling note. It’s a crisp new note, new design. I hope he doesn’t fold it. He does it, right across the ugly statue on its face.
“Two Rivers Mall”.
“Sawa” He says. “Hio place sijawahi ingia….nitaleta wife na mtoi maybe Christmas”.
“Poor lady has to wait for Xmas to get a treat?” A lady riding on the front seat, with white earphones on, asks. “Hii Kenya who bewitched our men?”
“Uchumi ni noma. Tuko na deni ya The Republic of China” Says the Rexona dude.
We have just arrived at the Two Rivers bus terminus, my drop off. Am pleasantly surprised to see the shotgun lady alighting, too. She’s not tall, barely 5’2. Right away I notice her smart, well-trimmed outfit with red and blue detail on her right breast – branded Alladin ‘House of Variety’. She takes off at a brisk pace towards the entrance.
The Aqua Park, and the Ferris wheel in the background.
I try to catch up. I want to talk to her.
“Hey, sister” I venture. “You work here?” 0n Kenyan streets, ‘sister’ stands less chance of getting snubbed.
She slows down, and I breathe a little easier.
“Yeah, I work with Alladin, we sell attire, locally-made, imported and designer”.
“Oh, I know your store.” I tell her. “I saw an exciting offer last week – 300 bob for designer polo T-shirts”.
She really looks at me now, and tells me she is Lisbeth. She has some absolute, coal black eyes. For a strange reason, my mind flashes to a fictional heroine – Lisbeth Salander – starring in a thriller novel trilogy by Stieg Larsson.
The Girl With A Dragon Tattoo, ring a bell?
We reach the main entrance. Security is always top notch. There’s a short queue of cars undergoing checkup and screening, complete with a couple of sniffer dogs. A few feet away, I can see a couple of armed cops watching the exercise. I find guns fascinating, and I try not to stare too much. Don’t look ‘like a suspect’.
It so happens that a bunch of noisy school kids in a bright red school uniform are riding the gigantic Ferris wheel. It seems such a party, I momentarily wished I was in elementary school. In between intermittent carriages, I could spot a terrified teacher – one had her knuckles white – grabbing the rails for dear life!
I’ve been to Two Rivers a couple of a hundred times, perhaps, mostly for job assignments. The first time I was mesmerized by the Ferris wheel, and stood for a while. It’s an amazing sight. It’s the day I hopelessly got lost in the complex, and I had to call a friend from the mall management section. The still tease me about it up-to-date.
Over time, I got to fully grasp what the mall – Two Rivers – has to offer. It’s full of exciting features, which gets lost to first time visitors the minute they are hit in the face by the splendor of the imposing Ferris wheel. They are mind-confined to that single feature, which is utter injustice.
For that reason, whenever I escort a first timer, usually family, I always enter the grounds from the Northern Tower gates, and explore the thrills backwards. That way, the Ferris wheel becomes the climax of the visit.
At the first entrance to the basement parking, Lisbeth says she uses the entrance from the rooftop parking. I promise to visit her shop later.
I enter the underground parking with its smooth drive ways. The pillars. The unique architectural design with an intricate overhead ventilation system that keeps the car pack free of stuffy car fumes. It’s a new experience each time.
I like the ambient lighting in the underground car park. I was floored to learn that the entire complex is powered entirely by solar power. The hundreds of panels needed to power this maze is located on the top floors – specifically designed as car shades on the roof top parking. This is inspiring, considering the global activism towards Green Energy Initiatives.
I know this is nuts, but my persona immediately takes the persona of a famous film producer.
Steven Spielberg, ladies and gentlemen.
Action movie star, John Wick (file image)
I see myself producing an action movie here – starring, say, John Wick. The underground park makes a stunning set for an adrenaline packed car chase, and fast bikes. I can see the bad guys ramming into a pillar, abandon their CIT truck and open fire at my hero, running for cover in between packed cars. It’s always a great time walking through.
I’ll have to ask why none of our Kenyan movie producers haven’t taken this walk.
I reluctantly leave my movie set. John Wick needs a break. The main entrance has a galactic theme, with the sky dome, and lounging benches facing the ‘Welcome – Karibu’. The view is great for outdoor enthusiasts, and there’s always people chilling here – mostly couples.
Perhaps, when my future wife is tired of whatever she’s at right now, I’ll most probably plan my proposal right here. With the galactic dome in the background. I hope she’ll like the underground parking lot with its pillars – she has to a little insane.
I make my entrance and turn to the left. Text Book Centre, my destination. I still have a half-read book on one of their stands. They have several books without a seal, and their clients can literally leaf through books they wish to buy. Most books are fairly priced, but am interested in the Biography Section.
Am currently on page 67 of Trevor Noah’s autobiography – Born A Crime. Every time I come over, I have to read a few pages of the book – standing on the bookstand, then memorize the page, and leave for errands of the day. It’s a disgusting habit, I know, akin to intellectual piracy. I’ll buy the book one of these days.
Then, I’ll start on Tom Burgis’ exclusive expose in his latest book ‘The Looting Machine’ – Warlords, Tycoons, Smuggler’s and the Systematic Theft of Africa’s Wealth. This is too complex to read standing on the bookstands, so I’ll take a seat in the serene Artcaffe on the far side, same floor. Lattes and Espressos go well with reading.
My errand today is a simple one, but special – buy my dad a gift. I suppose a Swiss watch would do, there’s a shop somewhere. Then, I’ll shop for a while.
My sister asked for some milking salve – not that she would milk a poor cow to save her life. Or, anyone else’s. Milking salve has become a must-have on the skin care routine. It’s the biggest scam in Kenya right now. The milking jelly companies should do away with the image of a cow with a full udder on its packaging. Their bigger market is human skin use, not milking cows!
But I understand their dilemma. Pray tell, where would they get a face model blessed with the skin texture with such consistency as on a cow’s udder?
Do not be floored by the Ferris wheel, brethren, however imposing it is. There’s a trailer load of exciting places and experiences to discover at Two Rivers.
in Sponsored
