By Brainiak Thoughtz

                                                                               
To be honest, the city I’m from aint different from the city you from, I think. In Blantyre, minibus call-boys brawl over passengers and in turn, the passengers fight with minibus conductors over the minibus fare...sound familiar? Where I’m from, you’ll see the use of cunning strategy in almost everyone. Street kids will position themselves where a person is most likely to give them a little something; and dare you not pass where they are in the company of a dear one. They have a way of reading into such situations and have the guts to follow you for miles just so you can hook them up with that coin. They sometimes will embarrass you for not helping.

How about ‘afana a thaiming’i’ (the street wise people)in minibuses? Or some traffic police officers that end their inspection of every vehicle that’s road unworthy with a little ‘chat’ at the back of the jalopy with the driver? Or is it about vendors that would rather fight with the city Assembly authorities for peddling their wares along roads than to move into ‘ill-positioned’ flea markets? Still sounding familiar?

Blantyre city, where I’m from, may just be like every other city in the country…I think. That’s if you, like me, frown at the thought of going to town during every rainy season for fear of how unreliable and unsafe the road networks become in such conditions. Your city can also pass for Blantyre if you find yourself clutching your backpack tighter out of fear of getting a serious mug, and it’s barely five in the evening! Is it too familiar?

You are in my city if your friends have a walk-able shortcut to every place you want to take a minibus to. And you know you are in Blantyre if you see more than one ‘mobile’ acoustic band busting a tune or two for twenty kwacha…or less. It is also in the nature of Blantyre to stir for twenty-four hours for even when banks, hospitals, internet cafes and rest houses are closed you can be assured of having a nightclub open some place. And it sure is Blantyre when you still can get a minibus to wherever you are going at every hour of the night.

In Blantyre, people squeeze out entertainment from everything. If you are attending a soccer match in my city, forget the action on the pitch. If you are sitting at a strategic spot, you might just get more than what you paid for right in the stands. A fight might break out, a fan more zealous than yourself might decide to bust a couple of moves or another fan might just assume a coaching role; hollering instructions to the team of his choice…to your and everybody’s amusement. After the match, nearly every fan will turn into a football pundit, analyzing the match and picking flaws in every player and coach’s style, tactic and skill as they trickle out of the stadium.

Once outside, they will turn back to their real ‘selves’: minibus call-boys, street kids, traffic police officers, drivers, vendors, night mongers, football fans or me…a mere observer. If it all sounded too familiar then you are where am from.

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