On the second day at my new work place, I planned to be more
organized. I passed by the kiosk on my way to the office and collected the
milk. I had timed the milk boiling duration the previous day and realized that
eight packets of milk took exactly fifteen minutes to boil. I set the big
sufuria (pot) full of milk on the stove and put it on. The fifteen minutes were
just enough to clean the ladies and gents toilets, and vacuum the reception
which had a wall to wall carpet. After putting the milk in the flasks, I now
had adequate time to clean three offices whose occupants usually arrived early.
After about an hour of frantic work, I was ready to face the day.
When everyone had settled down for the day, I was looking
forward to the main work in my job description – Driving. My then supervisor
had a lot of work for me. I was to deliver some letters to all embassies and foreign
missions in Nairobi. Those were a lot of letters. I however didn't have a
problem in locating the places owing to my long experience as a cab driver. I
arranged the letters according to route and wrote them down in that order in
the delivery book in which each one of them had to be signed for. I set off
with my “newly” assigned car which was an old Isuzu trooper.
With the zeal of a recently released prisoner, I got down to
work and in three hours, I had delivered more than half of all the letters. I
was on a roll when I went to deliver the letter for the Swedish embassy. The
embassy was, and I believe still is, located in Lion place on Waiyaki way. I
remember parking in the squeezed parking lot and the security guards telling me
to be out in a hurry or find my car clamped. I assured them I wouldn't be long,
banged the car door shut, and rushed to the lift just as the door was closing.
As promised, it didn't take me long to deliver the letter and have the secretary
sign my book.
Back downstairs, the impatient guards were waiting for me.
They were suggesting that I give them “something small” for letting me park at
the “executive” lot. Much as I would have wanted to be generous, I was not in a
position to do so. The only money I had in my pocket was bus fare for going
home in the evening. I politely brushed them off as I reached into my pocket
for the car keys. I got that sunken feeling when I realized I didn't have them.
As I tried to recall where I could have dropped the keys, I saw them. They were
“safely” inserted in the ignition. That was the one place where they could
never get lost. What to do now was the question. I was stuck.
When one is in any dilemma in Nairobi, people are always
willing to help – at a small fee. In a few minutes, every security guard within
a hundred meter radius was there to “help”. I knew I could not afford the help
and yet I needed assistance. Problems do not come singly and that day was no
exception. My boss called. I was needed in the office urgently and so I was
supposed to drop what I was doing and head back. I tried to convince her that
that was not going to be possible but when she insisted, I had to tell her the
truth. She was not amused. She asked me to report on any progress with my
problem.
With the office sorted out, I could now focus on the job at
hand. I looked for the kindest looking guard in the big mob that had surrounded
me and my car. When I saw one, I pulled him aside and asked him if he could
help me with a wire hanger. He went to his small cubicle and unhooked the
hanger on which he had hung his coat. I took the hanger, unclasped the coiled
end, and used it to unlock the car. I was grateful to the guard and also to my
time working in a garage where one of the skills I learnt was to unlock car
doors with a wire.
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