One fine day, a bus driver went to the garage, started his bus and drove off. No problems for the first few stops, a few people got on, a few got off and things went generally well. At the next stop, however, a big hulk of a guy got on. Six feet eight, built like a wrestler, arms hanging down to the ground. He glared at the driver and said, “Big John doesn’t pay!” and sat down at the back.
The driver was five feet three, thin and basically meek… Naturally, he did not argue with Big John, but he was not happy about it. The next day the same thing happened – Big John got on again, said “Big John doesn’t pay!” and sat down. And the next day and the one after that and so forth. This irritated the bus driver, who started losing sleep over the way Big John was taking advantage of his size. Finally, he could stand it no longer. He signed up for body building programme, karate, judo and all that good stuff.
By the end of the summer, he had become quite strong. So on the next Monday, when Big John got on the bus and said, “Big John doesn’t pay!” the driver stood up, glared back and screamed, “And why not?” With a surprised look on his face, Big John replied, “Big John has a bus pass.” In another incident, a woman had been listening to lots of rumours from friends and neighbours about just how wayward her husband had become.
Day after day, week after week, there were stories, pure fiction about her hubby seeing another woman, which she took to explain some late evening arrivals, never mind that the man worked far from home and the drive home took some time. One evening, she got word that her husband was entertaining some long-haired beauty at some restaurant not far from home. Fuming, she immediately left for the perceived crime scene.
True, her husband’s car was outside the restaurant, which she took as proof of shenanigans. She set upon the car and broke the windscreen, screaming that she would teach the man a lesson. In short, she did a fine job of making the car look like it belonged to a scrap yard. She then proceeded to the restaurant, only to find the woman in question was her own sister, who had visited and the husband had asked her to have a drink on their way home from town.
But the damage had been done. Folks, if these two anecdotes sound familiar, you know the script; how we proceed to reach conclusions before we have the facts. And it leads us to all manner of grief, at times the damage is permanent. At times, we are embarrassed, at times we come out with egg on our faces. Other times we try to apologise but that cannot remove the loss, the hurt, the pain, the agony that we have caused those close to us. It is like a crack on glass: the glass may not break and may not leak but the crack is permanent. It cannot be undone.
Folks, search your own soul. In the journey of life, are you a Big John or the hapless bus driver? I rest my case. Have a conclusion-free weekend!
QUICK QUIP: In my really misty endeavour to understand why we have developed a healthy mistrust for our weathermen, and why they just can not seem to get it right, I stumbled on information I reckon is key in unravelling the mystery: There are two blokes working there who have conspired to make our lives foggy (well, even literally!). A senior guy at the Metereological Department is called (of all names!) Wairoto (where I come from that translates as dreamer) and another is called Ayub Shaka (doubt). So, now you know! - By Patrick Wachira
The writer is the Editor, The People Weekend editions
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