New Car, New Baby

I had never driven a brand new car before. I was as excited as a small boy. The company had just acquired 10 brand new Nissan Sunny N16s and I was in line for a promotion. I got a shiny new metallic green one code named “Omega”. It came complete with polythene wrappings on the seats. My partner and I decided that since the wrappings were the only proof that the car was new, we were not going to remove them – at least not just yet. After three days however, we had to remove them owing to the sweaty backs due to the hot Nairobi weather. Our clients were also not too keen to sit on polythene just to please two naive drivers.

I was handed the new car the same month that my wife was due to deliver our second child. It was a double blessing – A new car and a new baby. The rest of my colleagues who also got the new cars were very excited. We had just proved again that ours was the premier taxi company in Nairobi and by extension, the whole of the country. The cars were different from what we were used to however and despite being Japanese, they had a European convention. Their wiper control was on the right hand side of the steering column while their lights switch was on the left. This led to embarrassing moments when a driver would put on the wipers when he meant to flash the headlights in a show-off.

New car aside, I was anxious to get my new baby. I was going through the toughest time of fatherhood. It was that time in the pregnancy where everybody is at the mercy of the unborn child. Every day as I left home for work, I would wonder whether today would be the day. I did not have long to wait. The day came one week after I had been given the new car. I was at work when I got the call from home that labor pains had set in. I was informed that my wife had been taken to a nearby hospital. I was tense but optimistic that everything would turn out well. That was not to be as I received a terse call later in the evening which completely changed the mood.

Apparently, my wife had developed a condition known as cord prolapse. I was told go to the hospital immediately and transfer her to a different hospital since the one she was in did not have the required facilities. She needed an immediate caesarian section operation. I requested the manager to allow me to take the car to go and transfer my wife and he agreed. I drove off and found her writhing in pain on a bench. She was with a friend from home who assisted me to get her into the one week old car. We drove the short distance to the better equipped hospital and the doctor was called from his house nearby.

By the time the doctor arrived, I was a bag of nerves and didn't know what to expect. When the doctor was about to examine my wife, he gave me a look that made me realize why African men are not allowed in delivery rooms. He ordered me out and for once, I didn't mind another man looking under my wife's skirt. I left the room and the next person I saw was bringing me papers of indemnity to sign. In my state at the time, I could have signed anything. My wife was wheeled to the operating room and I was left to sweat the cold night away as I waited. After what seemed like eternity, but was probably about three hours, I was called to see my wife and my new daughter. My beautiful daughter Hellen was sleeping peacefully and my wife was still groggily coming back from anesthesia.

That was the most important assignment I ever carried out in that car and it was now ready to earn me some commission to buy pampers for my baby. It did not disappoint for the few months that were remaining of my life as a taxi driver. For my wife, the whole incident was an extremely close call and I almost lost her. When I look at Hellen today however, I tend to think it was worth it. She has filled our lives with so much cheer.

The Involuntary Detoxification

Many workers in Nairobi like to treat themselves to an expensive meal from time to time and we were not any different. Across the road from Babylon base, there was a restaurant which was operated by a cheerful middle-aged lady. She would always be positioned at the door welcoming the diners and shouting orders to the army of waiters. The restaurant was in a building which had been previously used as some British settler's residence. It was a lovely wooden house which was now painted brilliant white both inside and out. The restaurant did not have a name. We used to refer to it as the Mama Customer's Place. This was inspired by her popular greeting as anybody entered the restaurant – “Karibu Customer!” (meaning, Welcome Customer!)

Mama Customer's place was not particularly high class by common standards. To us however, it had five star status in comparison to the dingy joints we frequented during normal days. This was the time before illegal structures were demolished by the Nairobi City Council. The place we usually went to was an iron sheet shack constructed over a road side trench. One could look through the cracks in the wooden floor to see the huge field rats jostling for the morsels which fell through. It was one place where we encouraged each other to manage our expectations. What took us there were the pocket friendly prices. We always looked forward to the time we would go for our monthly treat (It normally happened after payday).

Due to the nature of our work, it was virtually impossible to have a meal together as when one car came back to base, another one would leave. It would be several months before we got a quorum to have a meal together. This mainly happened at night when no restaurant would be open. On this particular day however, we were in luck. Only one guy was away and so we locked our cars and crossed the road to Mama Customer's place. We were six and after the usual pleasantries, we occupied one table. We all ordered chicken since we considered it to be the single most elegant dish for humble taxi drivers who had just been paid.

As I was eating, I realized that Mama Customer's chicken did not taste as fresh as it usually did. I only ate a small piece and could not continue. I took vegetables instead. My colleagues really dug in and were done in no time at all. I was left behind as always happened to me since am a slow eater. We all went back to work and it was quite busy up till late in the evening. When we reassembled at night, each of us had embarrassing stories of impromptu diarrhea and having to leave clients in the car to attend to the loose bowels. The guy who had missed the lunch date was really enjoying the stories and probably silently thanking God for missing out on the drama. I was not so lucky as I was affected even after the few bites.

It was rather unfortunate for us that the incontinence did not end with the day. On the contrary, it progressed right through the night. One inconvenience we had was the fact that the toilets in the shopping mall were located on the first floor. In addition to this, the escalators were usually switched off at night. Using the stairs was not going to be a viable option. We pleaded with the security men to switch on the escalators for us and they were kind enough to oblige. At any one time for the rest of the night, there were two of us on the escalators – one going up, and the other going down. These were not enjoyable escalator rides and there were no acknowledging hand waves. There were only downcast faces of wonder of how soon the next ride would be.

By the time we signed off in the morning, all of us with the exception of the lucky guy, had visibly lost weight. Needless to say, we never went back to Mama Customer's place. We heard that a lot of people got sick that day from eating stale chicken. She even got a few nasty law suits, but not from us. From there it was downhill for her business. A few months later, in an unfortunate turn of events, the restaurant burnt down from a supposed electrical fault. Even after detoxifying us involuntarily, I was really sad for her.