By Shem Onderi
Conductor — the van is never full!
You handle the cash, the crowd, the call.
Every rider meets your gaze,
You usher them in, then out —
Be it hard notes, soft bills, or clinking coin,
You touch too much, yet take home too little.
This bus is your daily business,
Your wage rides on every fare.
You run the show — the owner trusts you.
The vehicle lives through motion,
Earning only when wheels spin.
From stop to stop, you roam,
Juggling parcels, loading luggage,
Notes stuck between your fingers,
Coins dancing in your pocket.
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No formal training brought you here,
Yet the government knows your name.
You hear it all, speak with all,
Doctors, vendors, hustlers, priests —
All ushered in by your open hand.
The taxman comes your way.
Your tongue is your trade,
Your hustle — relentless.
Rain soaks you, hunger tests you,
Repairs break your rhythm mid-road.
In maroon you stand — bold, intense —
The van never full,
Always room for one more.
But oh, conductor —
Why is the balance always late?
One day, you may take the wheel,
And miss the rustle of the fare.
Drivers never look back,
Eyes locked on the road ahead.
So keep learning.
Your journey still unfolds.
