If an elderly woman boarded a bus that was already full, you will wonder why she did not wait for the next bus. If she was to find you among the lucky ones seated, you will sit uncomfortably in that seat that you scrambled so hard to grab. You will not be proud that you beat the crowd of strong commuters raring to grab a seat. You believe that you have earned this seat, yet you will feel somewhat uneasy seated while she stands (maybe even slouches) near you.
Maybe it is about to rain and this woman doesn’t fancy being drenched in the rain. Maybe she is not okay with traffic locking her away – as it is wont to – from her home till darkness falls. Maybe she is tired of having full vehicle after full vehicle passing her and leaving her at the same spot she has been standing for the last hour or so. So she gets into a full bus and braces herself to stand all the way home. You and I have done that several times?
The bus started moving and this woman was slouched tiredly next to me. I could not ignore her. Even if I tried to avoid eye contact I could only keep up the act for so long. I eventually stood up and offered her my seat.
Of course I wondered at some point whether I had any business offering my hard-earned seat to a person of sound mind who had made the conscious decision to get onto a full bus. Whether she looked into the depth of my soul and concluded that I was the perfect candidate for mind games. This is Nairobi after all – who can we trust?
Yet I did it anyway. I offered her my seat.
She said ‘Thank you’. I said it was not a problem. (Between you and me, my heels were killing me.) I smiled. Not a problem. It is ok, I said.
She offered to carry my handbag for me. But my handbag was not the problem; it wasn’t heavy and I didn’t mind carrying it. My shoes were the culprits.
I hesitated. She insisted. No, she was not one of those conniving women who drug people before stealing from them – let’s just say that I can read people.
It then dawned on me. It was not about my handbag. This was her way of thanking me. I promptly handed over my handbag with all my mobile possessions in it.
I handed it over not because it was heavy and I needed help carrying it. Not because carrying it was bothering me. I handed it over because I realized that carrying the bag for me was her way of saying thank you. And when someone wants to thank you, you let them.
She handed back my bag when I alighted, teaching me that gratitude does not always come in the form of words such as ‘Thank you’ ‘Danke’ ‘Merci’ ‘Gracias’ ‘Kongoi’ ‘Erokamano’ or ‘Imbuya mono’. It sometimes comes in the form of actions – a pulled chair, relieved luggage, or an extended helping hand. We should therefore learn to take it in whatever form.