Driving a
taxi was an interesting job. Every day held its own surprises. Apart from the
occasional advance booking, we never used to know who we would get to carry on
a particular day. On some days I would meet some pleasant clients with whom I
would engage in the most intriguing discussions that I didn’t want to end. On
some other days I got stuck with passengers who were quite grumpy and would
complain about everything; from the way I drove, to the route I took, and even
the way the car smelt. The most preferred clients however, were the generous
ones. These are the ones who never bargained on the fare, and they also gave
good tips. These were rare and I encountered one only once in a long while.
By now I had overcome the initial excitement of driving Romeo One and had settled down to the routine of ferrying over-laden clients and withstanding the smoky interior. One important skill I gained driving that station wagon, was packing. I could pack so much luggage in that car that if it was taken out at a road block for instance, it couldn’t be fitted back in. I was that good. The packing also gave me the added benefit of getting a free physical work-out every time I ferried luggage into and out of people’s houses and hotels. My routine involved handing over and taking over bags from hotel and apartment porters. I made friends with many of them due to the frequent interaction. Many of them are still my friends today.
Weekends used to be particularly slow and especially Saturday evenings and Sundays. It was the evening of an otherwise quiet and uneventful Saturday. All the cars were on “Base” and no work was forthcoming. During such times drivers used to be very edgy and would try to make passengers out of every person who was walking by our base. It used to be embarrassing to raise the famous taxi forefinger and shout, “Taxi!” Only to realize that it was one of the day guards from the neighboring petrol station going home for the day – after changing out of his uniform. On that day, I was still a newbie and so nobody thought of me as a threat to any serious work. That evening I was content to just lean against Romeo One and count my losses, courtesy of a slow day.
I was parked right in the middle and would have to wait until the cars in front or behind got clients before I could move my car to a more “lucrative” position. I saw what looked like a family approaching but I only paid them casual interest. There was a young black guy whose physique indicated that he used to work out. He was with a generously endowed Arabic looking woman and they were accompanied by two young boys who were Arabic as well. As I looked at them I realized that they walking straight towards me, and then I saw it. They had three big bags, the kind you drag on wheels. This was definitely Romeo One territory. No wonder they were ignoring the calls from the other drivers who did not seem to realize that this amount of luggage could fit in their “toy cars”. This was a man’s assignment and I was there to handle it. I received them and would have been perfectly happy to drop this group to the airport – only that it was even better, they were going to Eldoret! I couldn’t believe my luck.
We negotiated; I called the supervisor for this part because it was too big for me. We agreed on a fair charge and they paid up, right there and then, in cash! My, my, my, people have money in this country (That’s what was going through my mind that time). I packed the bags in the car, filled the tank with fuel, and off we drove, but not before we went to a supermarket and bought about a month’s supply of snacks and refreshments. We left Nairobi at about 8 o’clock and by 10 p.m. we were at Nakuru where we drove into the Stem Hotel. We ate a heavy supper of Butter Nan and Chicken Tikka at the Indian restaurant, and got back to the road at 11p.m. It was then that I came to experience firsthand the effect of food on human concentration. I am reliably told that all the blood in the body, including that which is in the brain, is recalled back to the stomach to help deal with the emergency called food! The result is that you sleep, or I slept (only that I was behind the wheel of a moving car)
I drove and slept intermittently until – By the grace of God – we arrived at Soi which is about 50 Kilometers after Eldoret. I could not believe I had made it, at 2 a.m. in the morning! Now all I needed was a bed – only that there was no bed. The only hotel in that village/town was fully booked, and the homestead of this “masala” family only had beds for the big woman and the small boys. The young man and I would have to make do with the car seats, with all that fatigue, and no shower. It was going to be a long night – or whatever remained of it. I parked the car in front of a wall – of a mud hut, and we slept. I slept so soundly until I had a dream, a nightmare actually. The car was moving towards the mud wall at an astonishing speed, and it was going to crash into it unless I stopped it. I pressed the brake so hard until I was literally standing on it, but the car didn’t stop. It was going to hit that wall. I tried using the handbrake. I pulled it up hard, using both hands and by the time the car stopped, the hand-brake was standing upright, at a 90˚angle.
When I got back to Nairobi and handed the car back to my colleague, he remarked about the handbrake and asked me what had happened to it. “I don’t know”, I replied, much to his wonderment.
By now I had overcome the initial excitement of driving Romeo One and had settled down to the routine of ferrying over-laden clients and withstanding the smoky interior. One important skill I gained driving that station wagon, was packing. I could pack so much luggage in that car that if it was taken out at a road block for instance, it couldn’t be fitted back in. I was that good. The packing also gave me the added benefit of getting a free physical work-out every time I ferried luggage into and out of people’s houses and hotels. My routine involved handing over and taking over bags from hotel and apartment porters. I made friends with many of them due to the frequent interaction. Many of them are still my friends today.
Weekends used to be particularly slow and especially Saturday evenings and Sundays. It was the evening of an otherwise quiet and uneventful Saturday. All the cars were on “Base” and no work was forthcoming. During such times drivers used to be very edgy and would try to make passengers out of every person who was walking by our base. It used to be embarrassing to raise the famous taxi forefinger and shout, “Taxi!” Only to realize that it was one of the day guards from the neighboring petrol station going home for the day – after changing out of his uniform. On that day, I was still a newbie and so nobody thought of me as a threat to any serious work. That evening I was content to just lean against Romeo One and count my losses, courtesy of a slow day.
I was parked right in the middle and would have to wait until the cars in front or behind got clients before I could move my car to a more “lucrative” position. I saw what looked like a family approaching but I only paid them casual interest. There was a young black guy whose physique indicated that he used to work out. He was with a generously endowed Arabic looking woman and they were accompanied by two young boys who were Arabic as well. As I looked at them I realized that they walking straight towards me, and then I saw it. They had three big bags, the kind you drag on wheels. This was definitely Romeo One territory. No wonder they were ignoring the calls from the other drivers who did not seem to realize that this amount of luggage could fit in their “toy cars”. This was a man’s assignment and I was there to handle it. I received them and would have been perfectly happy to drop this group to the airport – only that it was even better, they were going to Eldoret! I couldn’t believe my luck.
We negotiated; I called the supervisor for this part because it was too big for me. We agreed on a fair charge and they paid up, right there and then, in cash! My, my, my, people have money in this country (That’s what was going through my mind that time). I packed the bags in the car, filled the tank with fuel, and off we drove, but not before we went to a supermarket and bought about a month’s supply of snacks and refreshments. We left Nairobi at about 8 o’clock and by 10 p.m. we were at Nakuru where we drove into the Stem Hotel. We ate a heavy supper of Butter Nan and Chicken Tikka at the Indian restaurant, and got back to the road at 11p.m. It was then that I came to experience firsthand the effect of food on human concentration. I am reliably told that all the blood in the body, including that which is in the brain, is recalled back to the stomach to help deal with the emergency called food! The result is that you sleep, or I slept (only that I was behind the wheel of a moving car)
I drove and slept intermittently until – By the grace of God – we arrived at Soi which is about 50 Kilometers after Eldoret. I could not believe I had made it, at 2 a.m. in the morning! Now all I needed was a bed – only that there was no bed. The only hotel in that village/town was fully booked, and the homestead of this “masala” family only had beds for the big woman and the small boys. The young man and I would have to make do with the car seats, with all that fatigue, and no shower. It was going to be a long night – or whatever remained of it. I parked the car in front of a wall – of a mud hut, and we slept. I slept so soundly until I had a dream, a nightmare actually. The car was moving towards the mud wall at an astonishing speed, and it was going to crash into it unless I stopped it. I pressed the brake so hard until I was literally standing on it, but the car didn’t stop. It was going to hit that wall. I tried using the handbrake. I pulled it up hard, using both hands and by the time the car stopped, the hand-brake was standing upright, at a 90˚angle.
When I got back to Nairobi and handed the car back to my colleague, he remarked about the handbrake and asked me what had happened to it. “I don’t know”, I replied, much to his wonderment.
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