It’s amazing how I haven’t picked lesson from these moto rides. Or maybe I have and the symptoms are yet to be manifested! Sometimes I feel like walking all the way. I could do well with the exercise in addition to saving a decent amount. It was drizzling the other morning and I signaled to the moto rider to wipe the raindrops from where I was about to sit. I thought he would pull out a tattered piece of cloth or at the very least, his handkerchief even when you can get two small towels for a rainy or dusty day at under Rwf3,000. The man made as if to disembark only to reposition himself before rubbing his visibly dirty Jeans-clad butt over the spot to be dried. I gave him a disapproving look and would have flatly told him to buy a towel, but I was late and needed to get to office before the rain came down hard so I just jumped on. Another time, I flagged down one near home and just before I got on, I received a call and the rider decided to use the opportunity to pee. I still don’t understand how guys comfortably go about their business right in the open. I told myself: “It’s quite early and I must be his first customer. Why didn’t this man do this before he left his house?” I had a 5,000 note and I feared having to get change from him later on, knowing he would not have washed his hands. Lucky for me, another moto showed up and I headed for it amidst protests from the other guy still holding his you-know-what. I felt guilty since I had stopped him in the first place, but the other part of me felt vindicated, especially when the second rider castigated him for urinating in public. I hope he learnt a lesson. Other times, I’ve come close to giving my transporter a serious talk. One guy’s bib (those blue overcoats they wear) was so dirty it had turned brown. I doubt it would take more than 10 minutes to wash it and since the material is usually polyester or nylon, they only have to wash them at night and they would be dry long before morning. As far as I can tell, they are wash-and-wear so they don’t even have to worry about ironing. Often, you can also tell that the guy hasn’t showered in days, or brushed his teeth! I avoid looking at their hands because some have tons of dirt under their nails. Add the incessant spitting, scratching and nose picking and it really is surprising that we sit back and enjoy the ride. Then there are the helmets. Some are so worn out that you want to hand them right back and ride sans because the paint is chipping, the straps and buckles don’t hold and the sponge padding has visible tears. There’s also the fogged plastic visor at the front, the stained lining right where you’re supposed to rest your head and that musty smell once the helmet is firmly placed on your head. I try not to think about the numerous heads it has “protected”, many drenched in greasy hair oil and whatever other chemicals women use. I have thought about using a cap or scarf to protect my hair before strapping the helmet on but it’s tedious and would probably make me look weird. Too bad there aren’t disposables or better, portable helmets on the market. I’d surely get myself one. For now, I’ll stick to making as little contact as possible with the bike and the rider, and of course wash my hands the minute I get to my destination. To be continued...
