My dad tells me that way before I was born, his first job was as a driver. He left home when he was 14 years old to explore a world beyond what his village could offer him. The man did not like to farm at all. So he forged some documents, added two years to his DOB and got a commercial driver’s license to pay the bills. No food for lazy man.

It is hard work being a bus driver en Afrique. You wake well before everyone else and you are usually the last to go to bed. Otherwise, how would the masses move around? In between, you deal with irate passengers, corrupt traffic police, overworked shock absorbers, dishonest mechanics and a very snarky assistant who probably skims the fare. If you’re one of the lucky ones, you actually own your bus, if not you have one paranoid owner perpetually questioning your integrity. Monkey work baboon chop.