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Limbe via Kamba at night

Have you ever boarded a minibus from Limbe to Chilobwe via Kamba in Blantyre at night or late evening? Try it for once, you will be shocked, or in some instances, laugh your lungs out.
This is exactly what some of us from the Crew had experienced some few days ago.
Coming from some destination on a merry making tour, we decided to board one of the minibuses that park near Petroda Filling Station in Limbe, en-route to Chilobwe.
Of course what surprised us was that the conductor told us that other than going the normal way – which is Limbe via Nkolokosa or Manja, the minibus would pass through Kamba. Little did we know that the passing through Kamba was intended to drop some ‘cute ladies’ on their way to a duty-night-shift.
“Inu mukutichedwetsa, tachiyendetsani chi minibasi chanu chakuthachi tidzipita [you are delaying us, just start off the journey, rest you delay us]. Do you think you can pay us what we get at Kamba if you delay us? How much do you have you dirty conductor and your driver? Let’s move on, fast and fast!” shouted one lady, who the first catch of your sight may deceive you she is a professional knocking off from her respective office.
“You ladies, if you don’t want to board this minibus, just go and get another one, we don’t want the usual quarrels you are used to. Mahule inu muli ndi vuto, mumangochitira mwano aliyense [you prostitutes are a difficult lot, you are always rude],” chipped in the driver, who all along was not speaking.
“Ndiye chamba chimenecho, hule ndani? Uzikanena amako. Actually it is you men who makes us become prostitutes, without you there would not have prostitutes; and let me stress here that we are not the worst of the breed of women, it is only that we are for hire, whilst your wives in your homes do worse under the guise of ‘decent married women’; and for that I will not pay any fare for this trip, go and report anywhere I don’t care,” answers back another of the women.
Then another of the women, who appeared very young to wear the tag of prostitution added: “Actually the women you call wives are just like your personal vehicles, while we are like taxis that people hire, but vehicles are vehicles; and women are women, be they wives or prostitutes, there is no difference at all. When you marry me I will be called the wife of Mr. Minibus driver, yet if you divorce me, or even your wife, we will be tagged prostitutes.”
While we were, with interest, listening to the conversation, one of the young women started talking on the phone.
“Hello, who do you think you are? Do you think making me pregnant and my giving birth to your child should make me stupid? Send K30,000 immediately or you will face the music. What? What? Yes, I am a prostitute, so what? Is that of any concern to you idiot? Do you think you are the best of the men, umkandichedwetsa galu iwe; now I have seen real men in bed. Just send the money, wamva kape iwee!”
With that almost the all passengers laugh their lungs out; but unfortunately, we have reached Kamba bars stage, and the young women disembark.

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