Moses Bulamu

By Moses Bulamu

As I traveled on Saturday, far from my comfort zone, I struck up a conversation with a young boda boda rider. I asked him about his business, and he willingly shared his story. He juggled brick-making and boda boda riding, having managed to buy a plot of land and two boda bodas.

He spoke about losing his father at three and growing up with his mother and paternal grandmother. Earning a living on the road was everything to him. Despite the challenges, he seemed neat and well-groomed, wearing a clean shirt and a classy helmet.

Our conversation flowed easily, covering football, failures, and life’s ups and downs. But when I asked about his wife, his demeanor changed. He pretended not to hear, but I persisted, asking about his “babe” in a more casual tone.

That’s when the layers came off. He shared about his 10-year-old son in boarding school and the accusations that led to his imprisonment. He denied sleeping with a 70-year-old woman, but the experience left scars. His wife had given birth to two boys while he was away, and he was heartbroken.

Our conversation took a turn when I jokingly asked if he was a “sperm donor” while in prison. He reacted strongly, but I quickly apologized and restored civility. He asked, “Can’t you see my wife was having a good time while I was rotting away?” A poignant question.

As we parted ways, he asked if he’d ever trust a woman again. I replied, “Yes, your mama, your paternal mama.” These stories, filled with pain and resilience, are everywhere – on the roads, in markets, and beyond.