Mwendokasi. Always full. Always a struggle to get in, always a struggle to get out especially during rush hour. You push through the crowd, maneuvering between tired bodies and impatient sighs, and somehow, luck places you at the very back. The last seat. The highest point in the bus. From here, you can see everything.

It is evening. The day has drained its energy from you, but you find a moment of peace to reflect. The bus rumbles forward, leaving Kivukoni behind, heading toward Mbezi. The city moves. The people move. And then a thought hits you, rush hour.

Rush hour. Rushing to work in the morning, rushing home in the evening. But what are they really rushing to?

You look at the faces around you. Some have won their day. You can see it in the way they lean back, satisfied, their eyes carrying the quiet victory of small successes. Others have lost. You can tell by the tension in their shoulders, the weight in their expressions, the silent battle between exhaustion and regret. Some are excited to go home, looking forward to warmth, to love, to rest. Others go home simply because they have to because there is nowhere else to be. Some sit in silence, eager for tomorrow. Others dread it, wishing time would pause before the next battle begins.

Different people. Different stories. Different destinations. But for this moment, we are all inside the same bus, moving in the same direction.

Some get off early, their journeys short, their destinations near. Others stay on longer, waiting for their stop, their path requiring more patience. Some push their way through the crowd when their station arrives, desperate to get out. Others step off slowly, almost reluctant, as if unsure of what waits for them beyond the doors.

And then, my stop comes. I step off, walking the familiar path home, but my mind is still inside that bus.

Because what if, just what if, that ride was not just a ride? What if I had just witnessed life itself?

A journey full of people, each carrying a different story, a different struggle, a different hope. Some reaching their goals faster, others taking longer. Some finding joy along the way, others simply enduring it. Some eager for the next stop, others afraid of where they will end up.

And yet, for all our differences, we are all just passengers on the same road, moving forward, whether we realize it or not.