Of Crazies

2100 hours, Nairobi Kenya, on some Wednesday in mid-March this year. I was done with my stuff and was heading towards the bus station to catch a bus to home. I was moving fast, like a deer. Didn’t want to get home late. Now along the way, some very tall and gigantic dude stopped me. For a second there, I thought of ignoring him and moving on because 1). I didn’t want to be late and 2). He kinda scared my ass off. Not his physique, there are quite a number of men who got such hulking bodies. What made me scared though was his crazy wardrobe. He was dressed in blood red. A large red hat, a slim red silk tie, red cotton shirt  baggy red cotton suit and a pair of long red loafers too. I didn’t check his eyes well, couldn’t maintain eye contact. You see why I wanted to speed off when he stopped me? What do you want to hear from a mammoth of a stranger who fancies the color of blood so much that he dons clothes of that color from top to bottom? I also noted that he carried a small red designer bag on his left hand and had sun glasses on his right hand. He stretched out his hand to greet me after I stopped. No, I won’t shake your hand. What if you are a con who has smeared God knows what on your palm for evil purposes? It’s early evening and I have heard of cases where people get robbed or nasty things happening to them after a handshake. Just say Hi, I thought. Him realizing I wasn’t willing to shake no hand, he said Hi. ‘Hi’ I replied, hoping he wasn’t a mind reader. (I’ve always had this feeling that I might be talking to a mind-reader whenever I think of something bad about a person.) Say your shit quick! I don’t want to miss the bus….

“Do you know this place, XYZ”?


“What of ABC?”


“Have you heard of this organization, blah blah blah…..”


I said and moved away at the speed of lightning. Not that I never knew anything, I knew the places he asked perfectly well, other than me sucking at giving directions, (Trust me you don’t want to hear me give directions. I can’t point out streets or buildings well for a visitor, not unless if I take the visitor to the inquired location, which is impossible most of the time.) his choice of color made a chill run down my spine.

I made my feeble legs move at a pace they have never before, making vast strides like an athlete sprinting. Not looking back, in case he calls me again. I was lucky to catch a bus that was almost full and I left. On my way home, I thought about my encounter with that guy. Was he a psycho or something?

Never in my life have I seen a dude dressed in that manner. Bloody red from head to toe? His inner garments were probably red too. Then him stopping me to ask for directions. Was he really looking for directions? I bet he had some ill motive. Funny enough, it wasn’t February. It was flipping March! You know of this hilarious personalities who rock all manner of red on the fifteenth day of the second month? (because apparently, red symbolizes passion and all. ) It would be a different story, if the mentioned guy above could have dressed that way in February. We could have listed him under such persons. But March? I keep on shaking my head every time any time I remember that day. I doubt if any one can get any crazier.

 Hey, mental guy asking for directions, don’t clad in the same bizarre style again. That’s a horrible sense of fashion.

No, not horrible, that’s a scary sense of fashion, weird guy.