I still remember with nostalgia how the radio call was
proven time and again to be the lifeline of a cab driver. We would use it to
get work, give out work, get directions, and – perhaps most importantly – share
a joke or two. Earlier on when I joined, there was even a guy (who we used to
call Pastor) who would conduct early morning prayers over the radio call. On
many occasions, drivers who dropped a client within the city centre at night
would be sent for chips and chicken on the radio. We had a code name for
everything. Chips was “Kinangop” while chicken was simply referd to as “Kenchic”.
A chicken drumstick was “Pande ya kukanyaga” while the wing was “Pande ya
kuruka”.
Radio language was fun especially because ours was not as strict as that of the police. It was more like a normal telephone conversation with interjections of call signs. Most communication was in Swahili owing to the fact that most taxi drivers of my time were not comfortable talking English – Don’t ask me how they communicated with foreign clients. In fact, for some strange reason, the least literate drivers seemed to get the most clients. What the management made sure of was that all new joiners learnt the most critical components of radio communication.
We were taught to press the button on the microphone for two seconds before starting to speak into it. We were also advised to repeat the first words of a sentence twice. Calling base would sound like this, “Base One, Base One, do you read?” Base one would respond by saying, “Go ahead Lima Lima” The rest of that interchange would then continue in Swahili. When I was new I would press the button and speak at the same time, cutting off the first part of the conversation. I learnt but some didn’t. They continued to cut off their sentences until it became a trade mark. Like there was this guy whose call sign was “Computer”. He always said, “Puter” and said “Ngware” when he meant to say “Kawangware”.
Whenever anybody pressed the talk button, everybody else got cut off and had to listen to the guy with the pressed mic. One day the “pastor”, who was also overweight, took a heavy supper of large “Kinangop” and half “Kenchic”. When he retired into his car for the night, he fell into heavy sleep. He was snoring heavily and “breaking wind” regularly for the better part of the night. You may wonder how I and everyone else got to know this. Well, the guy used to drive a very small car for his size and during the night, some part of his massive body depressed the talk button on his radio. We were treated to a playback of every single sound that was made in that small car by that big guy. Am glad I was not in the car because with the amount and efficacy of the gases he released, I don’t think I would have lived to tell the tale.
The radio room at the office was a really small affair. There was barely enough room for the telephone sets, radio equipment, and the thick books in which every trip was recorded (This was before computers became popular). All these were placed on a narrow table which was more of a shelf. The control person had a small chair which occupied the remaining small space in the room.
Like the drivers, the control people used to sleep at night but they had to do it in their chair which I am sure was not particularly comfortable. However, I guess, after getting used, those guys could sleep and even dream in that chair which is what happened one early morning. The phone rang, and the guy woke with a start and picked the radio. He bellowed, “Taxi Cabs, good morning!” thinking he was talking to the client. This woke all of us and when we realized his hilarious error, we decided to taut him. Everybody started to respond, “Good morning Base One, so kind of you to ask, and how are you?” Somebody at Kososvo said, “Here at Kosovo we are fine, and how is Base One and Bosnia?” A Bosnian responded and said, “We are okay at Bosnia, you should be greeting us every morning, we really appreciate” This went on for a good fifteen minutes and “Alpha Three”, for that was the control guy’s call sign, was not very amused.
Radio language was fun especially because ours was not as strict as that of the police. It was more like a normal telephone conversation with interjections of call signs. Most communication was in Swahili owing to the fact that most taxi drivers of my time were not comfortable talking English – Don’t ask me how they communicated with foreign clients. In fact, for some strange reason, the least literate drivers seemed to get the most clients. What the management made sure of was that all new joiners learnt the most critical components of radio communication.
We were taught to press the button on the microphone for two seconds before starting to speak into it. We were also advised to repeat the first words of a sentence twice. Calling base would sound like this, “Base One, Base One, do you read?” Base one would respond by saying, “Go ahead Lima Lima” The rest of that interchange would then continue in Swahili. When I was new I would press the button and speak at the same time, cutting off the first part of the conversation. I learnt but some didn’t. They continued to cut off their sentences until it became a trade mark. Like there was this guy whose call sign was “Computer”. He always said, “Puter” and said “Ngware” when he meant to say “Kawangware”.
Whenever anybody pressed the talk button, everybody else got cut off and had to listen to the guy with the pressed mic. One day the “pastor”, who was also overweight, took a heavy supper of large “Kinangop” and half “Kenchic”. When he retired into his car for the night, he fell into heavy sleep. He was snoring heavily and “breaking wind” regularly for the better part of the night. You may wonder how I and everyone else got to know this. Well, the guy used to drive a very small car for his size and during the night, some part of his massive body depressed the talk button on his radio. We were treated to a playback of every single sound that was made in that small car by that big guy. Am glad I was not in the car because with the amount and efficacy of the gases he released, I don’t think I would have lived to tell the tale.
The radio room at the office was a really small affair. There was barely enough room for the telephone sets, radio equipment, and the thick books in which every trip was recorded (This was before computers became popular). All these were placed on a narrow table which was more of a shelf. The control person had a small chair which occupied the remaining small space in the room.
Like the drivers, the control people used to sleep at night but they had to do it in their chair which I am sure was not particularly comfortable. However, I guess, after getting used, those guys could sleep and even dream in that chair which is what happened one early morning. The phone rang, and the guy woke with a start and picked the radio. He bellowed, “Taxi Cabs, good morning!” thinking he was talking to the client. This woke all of us and when we realized his hilarious error, we decided to taut him. Everybody started to respond, “Good morning Base One, so kind of you to ask, and how are you?” Somebody at Kososvo said, “Here at Kosovo we are fine, and how is Base One and Bosnia?” A Bosnian responded and said, “We are okay at Bosnia, you should be greeting us every morning, we really appreciate” This went on for a good fifteen minutes and “Alpha Three”, for that was the control guy’s call sign, was not very amused.
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