If you’ve ever been anywhere public in Zambia then you know that we have a small problem with personal space. Chaps be pushing and touching skins like we’re all related or something. A bus conductor will be happily counting his wad of cash oblivious to the fact that his hand is touching your boob. This one time I felt a hand on my thigh, I looked up to find the owner of the hand with an innocent look on his face. Apparently he wasn’t seated comfortably and was using my thigh to support himself. A few choice words and a murderous look later, he moved his hand.

The most irritating ones are the people in queues. Especially in the banks. They move so close that you can hear their heartbeats. I don’t know if they think that will get them to the till faster. The women will be pressing their boobs on your back like their life depends on it and are not at all bothered by it. If my boob touched anyone who is not me or The Hub, I’d be jumping back so fast. They however, are comfortable with molesting your back and breathing down your neck. Which brings me to this picture:

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Meanwhile somewhere in Africa

I have tonnes of questions y’all. Who in Pete’s name is this man? Doesn’t he have touch sensors in his belly? Is his tummy too heavy for him? What’s the rush? Can’t he see that they’re just the two of them in the queue? What is the man in front thinking? Is it awkward? Are they friends? What if the man in front farts? I just don’t get it. I don’t get how some people could not be bothered by being so close to a stranger. I don’t get the rush. Wait your turn man! Mind your own space!