Thursday 21 March 2013
Soaring High - A Cab Driver’s Story: The Turbaned One’s Beheading (Almost)
Soaring High - A Cab Driver’s Story: The Turbaned One’s Beheading (Almost): We used to have two turbaned colleagues who had been in the taxi industry for many years before I joined. One was big and the other one s...
The Turbaned One’s Beheading (Almost)
We used to have two turbaned colleagues who had been in the
taxi industry for many years before I joined. One was big and the other one
small. They belonged to an indigenous Christian sect found in Kenya that goes
by the name of Akorino. They permanently
don a white turban on their heads which I am reliably informed is a symbol of
their decision to lead a life of spiritual purity. With a large number of Akorino, the turban is also an indicator
of a past that they would rather forget. Probably due to their eventful lives,
many of them have interesting stories of their dark pasts, and our two brothers
were not any different.
The two guys had relatively different personalities and the
turban was one of the few things they had in common. The smaller guy was known
for his enormous appetite. He loved roast meat and the smallest quantity he
could take was a full kilo. Whenever we went out after work, nobody could
accept to pair-up with him. It even reached a point when he preferred to just
go out on alone and order his own meat. His legendary appetite came to light
one day when the management organized for us a training workshop. They booked for
us a full day session at the Stanley, which is one of the most exquisite five
star hotels in Kenya. We were to have lunch at the pool-side restaurant located
on the second floor of the establishment.
For the majority of us, this was the first time we were
going beyond the lobby of a five star hotel. It was also the first time that we
were experiencing a buffet in any form. Needless to say, we were ill-prepared
for the experience. The first confusion arose because the buffet was set out on
a large and completely circular table. Our primitive village selves could not
tell where to start or end. We could not differentiate between starters, main
courses, or deserts. The large tray-sized plates did not help matters either.
We queued with other guests and heaped our plates. My small turbaned friend was
just in front of a lady who appeared to be an American tourist. She was
observing him closely as he crammed every item in that menu on his increasingly
congested plate. The last item on completing the cycle was ice cream which he
scooped onto his mountain of food. As the ice cream melted and flowed down his
domed assortment of food like larva from a volcano, the tourist could not help
herself. She exclaimed, “Oh my God!” Everybody was curious to see if he would
finish and he didn’t disappoint. He ate every last morsel (at least he was not
wasteful).
In addition to their head gear, the two Akorinos had another thing in common, and that was speed. They
could have passed an ambulance driving test. The speed however came at a cost.
They used to have many accidents. One time, the big guy was assigned a new car.
It was at the time when cars had started to arrive fitted with air bags. One
day he picked the new car and sped off to pick a client who was running late.
When he joined the main road, there was a small traffic pile-up. He decided to zoom
down the wrong side of the road and overtake the queuing vehicles. He never
noticed a car coming from the opposition. The result was a serious head-on
collision. The airbag instantly inflated and encapsulated him. He was not
injured but he got really traumatized. According to him, he had imagined that
he died in the crash and the airbag looked like the white sheet which the
angels must surely use to cover him as they ushered him into heaven.
The big guy was not always the one on the wrong in the many
accidents he had. Some were caused by other drivers as well. During one such
incident, a car banged into him from the rear. This happened as he was driving
down a road in the Hurlingham area in the wee hours of the morning. The
resulting jolt caused his turban to be thrown off his head. It did not
disentangle from its tight hat-like form that he used to tie tightly around his
head. It landed neatly on the dashboard and when he saw it, he thought it was
his whole head which had been cut off and thrown forward. The guy who had hit
him walked up to his window and in his obvious heavy drunkenness, he started
punching the “headless” turbaned one. My big friend thought that unlike his
previous accident, this time he had arrived in hell and was already being
punished for his errant ways.
Thursday 14 March 2013
Driving a Submarine
Following the heavy EL-nino rains in the late nineties, many
roads in Nairobi were badly damaged. There was almost no drainage on many of
the roads. This resulted in anything from mighty puddles to outright flooding
anytime there was some rain. This still happens and pedestrians get splashed by
passing cars. As a driver however, the most problematic outcome of any downpour
was the flooding which came with it the risk of the engine stalling midway in
the water. Woe to you if you drove a car with a low mounted carburetor and an
old model distributor with contact points. You would be wet to your skin by the
time you managed to get out of your predicament.
One bright and sunny day suddenly decided to become rainy and gloomy as evening approached. As it usually used to happen on rainy days, it got very busy as everybody was frantic to get home. Traffic was so heavy that most roads resembled parking lots. At around 7 in the evening, I was sent to pick a client in the city center and drop him in an area known as Huruma. Although the traffic was relatively heavy, dropping him was uneventful. Coming back was a different story altogether.
There were two available routes back to town. One would be through Pangani which is now part of the new super highway. That way I knew I could get hopelessly stuck for the better part of the night. I opted for the second route which would take me through the Eastleigh estate, on the famous first avenue where you can buy anything, and on which several terrorist explosions have taken place recently. This route was a short cut in terms of distance but on that night, it turned out to be a very long cut.
When joining 1st Avenue from Juja road, I realized there was heavier traffic than usual but it was too late to turn back. I decided to brave it and inch forward with the rest of the traffic. A couple of a hundred meters on, I found out why the road was so congested. The drains were blocked and the whole road was flooded. We had to inch our way forward at a painstakingly slow pace since some people had started to overlap the almost stationery queue.
The water was not stagnant, it was flowing like one large river and this created an interesting illusion. At one point, I though the car in front was rolling backwards towards me. I hooted in earnest to make it stop only to realize that it was the water that was moving. That was really embarrassing. Many cars sucked up water with their exhaust pipes and conked out. I had to keep the engine revved to avoid a dead engine in the middle of a flood.
After being in the water for about an hour, during which time it was still raining, the level started rising. In the end, I could open my window and easily touch the water whose surface was just below the window. That was an awful lot of water especially for older cars which were not completely water proof. I was not worried because my car was in good condition and the seals were working perfectly. I should have been very worried if I knew what was happening.
Unbeknownst to me, the door seals had started to give way. Apparently they had been designed to withstand only a little water for a limited duration I had been literally immersed in a river and stayed there for too long. It started as slight moisture on the carpet. The next thing I knew, the whole floor pan was squishy with water. That was not even the worst, the rain water drain system appeared to have come into contact with raw sewage and you can imagine how it smelled. I was completely miserable but the level in the car kept on rising until my legs were in water up to my ankles. By the time the traffic let up and I was able to drive off, I was quite worried. One can get a myriad of infections in that kind of concoction. I managed to reach base with my sloshing load and removed the floor plugs to drain the car. It was obvious the car could not be used for any useful work until it got a thorough valet cleaning. That got me two days unpaid leave. ( and I didn't fall sick either).
One bright and sunny day suddenly decided to become rainy and gloomy as evening approached. As it usually used to happen on rainy days, it got very busy as everybody was frantic to get home. Traffic was so heavy that most roads resembled parking lots. At around 7 in the evening, I was sent to pick a client in the city center and drop him in an area known as Huruma. Although the traffic was relatively heavy, dropping him was uneventful. Coming back was a different story altogether.
There were two available routes back to town. One would be through Pangani which is now part of the new super highway. That way I knew I could get hopelessly stuck for the better part of the night. I opted for the second route which would take me through the Eastleigh estate, on the famous first avenue where you can buy anything, and on which several terrorist explosions have taken place recently. This route was a short cut in terms of distance but on that night, it turned out to be a very long cut.
When joining 1st Avenue from Juja road, I realized there was heavier traffic than usual but it was too late to turn back. I decided to brave it and inch forward with the rest of the traffic. A couple of a hundred meters on, I found out why the road was so congested. The drains were blocked and the whole road was flooded. We had to inch our way forward at a painstakingly slow pace since some people had started to overlap the almost stationery queue.
The water was not stagnant, it was flowing like one large river and this created an interesting illusion. At one point, I though the car in front was rolling backwards towards me. I hooted in earnest to make it stop only to realize that it was the water that was moving. That was really embarrassing. Many cars sucked up water with their exhaust pipes and conked out. I had to keep the engine revved to avoid a dead engine in the middle of a flood.
After being in the water for about an hour, during which time it was still raining, the level started rising. In the end, I could open my window and easily touch the water whose surface was just below the window. That was an awful lot of water especially for older cars which were not completely water proof. I was not worried because my car was in good condition and the seals were working perfectly. I should have been very worried if I knew what was happening.
Unbeknownst to me, the door seals had started to give way. Apparently they had been designed to withstand only a little water for a limited duration I had been literally immersed in a river and stayed there for too long. It started as slight moisture on the carpet. The next thing I knew, the whole floor pan was squishy with water. That was not even the worst, the rain water drain system appeared to have come into contact with raw sewage and you can imagine how it smelled. I was completely miserable but the level in the car kept on rising until my legs were in water up to my ankles. By the time the traffic let up and I was able to drive off, I was quite worried. One can get a myriad of infections in that kind of concoction. I managed to reach base with my sloshing load and removed the floor plugs to drain the car. It was obvious the car could not be used for any useful work until it got a thorough valet cleaning. That got me two days unpaid leave. ( and I didn't fall sick either).
Soaring High - A Cab Driver’s Story: Following the heavy EL-nino rains in the late nin...
Soaring High - A Cab Driver’s Story:
Following the heavy EL-nino rains in the late nin...: Following the heavy EL-nino rains in the late nineties, many roads in Nairobi were badly damaged. There was almost no drainage on many of...
Following the heavy EL-nino rains in the late nin...: Following the heavy EL-nino rains in the late nineties, many roads in Nairobi were badly damaged. There was almost no drainage on many of...
Thursday 7 March 2013
The State House Visits
While at Babylon base, my colleagues and I used to witness a
spectacle of “National Importance” every morning. The first time I saw it, I
almost ran away in fright. It used to be retired President Moi’s motorcade
taking him to State House to earn his pay slip. Moi never used to sleep in
State House. It is claimed that he took what was then supposed to be the
Vice-President’s official residence somewhere in the neighborhood of Kibera
slums, and made it his own. I even understand that nobody had the guts to evict
him from the house after he retired so they just let him keep it to date. That
daily spectacle became something we would always marvel at. The police car with
the screaming siren clearing the road ahead of the big black limousines surrounded
by outriders was awe-inspiring. It always made me wonder what kind of a person
the President really was. Well, I did not have long to wait.
One day I was dispatched to pick a client from a residence near Ngong road in the Kilimani area of Nairobi. When I arrived I found a softly-spoken man who appeared to be in his 50s. I ushered him into the car and asked him where he wanted to be taken to. He just told me, “State House!” I was a bit taken aback. I asked him again and he confirmed. I jokingly told him that it is not every day we get people asking to be taken to the “House on the Hill” He was a good sport about it and we really hit it off and joked about it. During the short trip, he explained that he was the President’s son in law and he was just going over to say Hi! Wow!
State House has many gates. The main one, “Gate A” is only supposed to be used by the President himself, or important visitors on official business. There is another gate leading to the grounds where outdoor functions officiated by the President are held. Then there is the one we used where the President’s private visitors go through. Like in many other places around the city, driver’s are not allowed beyond the parking lot and that is where I stayed until my new “best friend” came out (Anybody related to the President is my best friend).
After that day, the old man became my regular client and I took him to State House on many other occasions. I became quite free with him and I used to enquire from him what kind of person the president was. He told me a lot of things about the President such as the fact that he used to wake up very early, read the bible for an hour, exercise, and then take breakfast. His breakfast – and other meals as well – consisted of only traditional foods such as arrow roots and kienyeji chicken. This was a time when I like many Kenyans did not like our President that much. Talking with my friend however, made me to start viewing him a bit differently. I became curious as to what kind of person the President was. I asked my friend if he could one day take me to meet the President. After one of our State House visits, he told me that he had mentioned me to the big man and the big man had said he would be happy to meet me. I will never know how true that was because my friend passed on soon after that. Talk of an ill-timed death!
All the times I went to State House I used a side-gate. There was one of my colleagues however, who came quite close to using “Gate A”! It so happened that before he joined our company, he used to wash cars somewhere in the city center. He, like many other car wash boys, learnt how to drive by “stealing” the cars that had been left in his care and taking them for a spin. It was risky business but these guys were usually from very poor families and this was the only way they could acquire the important skill. Anyhow, after learning to drive, the guy started dropping paying “clients” in these same “stolen” cars.
One day, he was washing a relatively old car when a “client” came along. The client wanted to be dropped in the area around State House and this car wash boy-cum-taxi driver happily obliged. He was not one to refuse “easy” money. He dropped the client without incident and received his pay. On the way back however, the car stalled – just when it was positioned right across “Gate A” of State House! As fate would have it, the President arrived at that very moment. Four hefty security men rushed at the guy who was still in the driver’s seat of his ramshackle and he raised his hands in surrender. The poor guy almost peed on himself. He thought his death had arrived. The guys didn't even talk to him at all. Each positioned himself at the wheel arcs. They lifted the whole car plus the driver and threw it in the ditch just in time for the oblivious President to be driven in.
One day I was dispatched to pick a client from a residence near Ngong road in the Kilimani area of Nairobi. When I arrived I found a softly-spoken man who appeared to be in his 50s. I ushered him into the car and asked him where he wanted to be taken to. He just told me, “State House!” I was a bit taken aback. I asked him again and he confirmed. I jokingly told him that it is not every day we get people asking to be taken to the “House on the Hill” He was a good sport about it and we really hit it off and joked about it. During the short trip, he explained that he was the President’s son in law and he was just going over to say Hi! Wow!
State House has many gates. The main one, “Gate A” is only supposed to be used by the President himself, or important visitors on official business. There is another gate leading to the grounds where outdoor functions officiated by the President are held. Then there is the one we used where the President’s private visitors go through. Like in many other places around the city, driver’s are not allowed beyond the parking lot and that is where I stayed until my new “best friend” came out (Anybody related to the President is my best friend).
After that day, the old man became my regular client and I took him to State House on many other occasions. I became quite free with him and I used to enquire from him what kind of person the president was. He told me a lot of things about the President such as the fact that he used to wake up very early, read the bible for an hour, exercise, and then take breakfast. His breakfast – and other meals as well – consisted of only traditional foods such as arrow roots and kienyeji chicken. This was a time when I like many Kenyans did not like our President that much. Talking with my friend however, made me to start viewing him a bit differently. I became curious as to what kind of person the President was. I asked my friend if he could one day take me to meet the President. After one of our State House visits, he told me that he had mentioned me to the big man and the big man had said he would be happy to meet me. I will never know how true that was because my friend passed on soon after that. Talk of an ill-timed death!
All the times I went to State House I used a side-gate. There was one of my colleagues however, who came quite close to using “Gate A”! It so happened that before he joined our company, he used to wash cars somewhere in the city center. He, like many other car wash boys, learnt how to drive by “stealing” the cars that had been left in his care and taking them for a spin. It was risky business but these guys were usually from very poor families and this was the only way they could acquire the important skill. Anyhow, after learning to drive, the guy started dropping paying “clients” in these same “stolen” cars.
One day, he was washing a relatively old car when a “client” came along. The client wanted to be dropped in the area around State House and this car wash boy-cum-taxi driver happily obliged. He was not one to refuse “easy” money. He dropped the client without incident and received his pay. On the way back however, the car stalled – just when it was positioned right across “Gate A” of State House! As fate would have it, the President arrived at that very moment. Four hefty security men rushed at the guy who was still in the driver’s seat of his ramshackle and he raised his hands in surrender. The poor guy almost peed on himself. He thought his death had arrived. The guys didn't even talk to him at all. Each positioned himself at the wheel arcs. They lifted the whole car plus the driver and threw it in the ditch just in time for the oblivious President to be driven in.
Monday 4 March 2013
A Cab Driver’s Story: Hosting a Prostitute
A Cab Driver’s Story: Hosting a Prostitute: During my days as a taxi driver, we used to say that the Nairobi nights belonged to three groups of people. These were security guar...
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