Here is a story by a Kenyatta University Law Student that has gone viral. The story will scare you to the core, make you cry and make you appreciate KDF SOLDIERS in Somali.
I have just dropped a young lady off at “The Hood” when the request comes through. An unwanted request because I wanted to go home after dropping this client off.
Before I go too far, let me dispense with the introductions. My name is Daniel and I am an Uber driver. I come from Githurai 45. I wanted to go home at around 23:00h because my wife doesn’t like it when I go home past midnight.
As soon as the request comes through on my phone, it is followed up by the next client’s call which I answer reluctantly. And the client’s name is Charles.
Me: Hello
Him: Hello Daniel. I was hoping you could pick me up at the Department of Defence Headquarters ASAP.
Me: Where to?
Him: I don’t know yet. I was thinking Utawala. Maybe Machakos?
Me: Um, Charles, I was actually heading home to Githurai so maybe you could do me a favor and cancel your ride then request another one? Please? Just say the driver asked you to cancel.
Him: Home, huh? And where is home?
I guess it is at this juncture that I start recognizing the confidence in his voice. A certain kind of sharpness and metallic substance that is used to throwing orders around.
In my line of work, I meet many people. Students, lawyers, doctors, business folks, and they all talk the same. Though some lawyers can be a bit arrogant. And students can be irritating especially when they travel in groups and are collectively drunk as sailors.
And there are soldiers. These don’t make requests. They order you around if they speak. Mostly they just ride in silence. Especially those who have seen combat.
Me: Githurai is my home.
Him: Which one Daniel?
Me: Githurai 45.
Him: OK. Then that has just become my new destination. Pick me up right away.
It takes me less than five minutes to drive from The Hood to the Department of Defence (DoD) gate where I find him waiting for me.
As he walks towards me, I notice that he looks different from his voice. Whereas his voice is authoritative and intimidating, his frame is a bit small. He must be about five seven and weighs around sixty five kilograms. Considering he looks thirty, he is of a small build.
He is in a trench coat with the collar turned up, khaki trousers and brown boots like those won by the United States Marines for those who watch movies.
He walks, or rather’s marches stiffly towards my car, leans against the codriver’s side and peers in through the open window.
Him: You’re Daniel, yeah?
Me: Yes. You must be Charles?
Him: Last I checked (He opens the door and climbs in swiftly). Let’s go.
Of course I have questions because obviously, the man in my car has no clear destination. He just wants to go wherever.
I have carried thousands of passengers in my car, but I have never carried one without a destination. Is he running away from something? Is he a criminal?
Me: So where in Githurai do you want to go?
Him: I don’t know. Any sites you might recommend to me? I have never really been to Githurai before. I just see it from the comfort of a car as I drive by.
Me: No. Not really. It is just an overcrowded little place with cheap housing.
Him: Daniel?
Me: Huh.
Him: I was just joking. (He smiles. His smile seems sad. Lonely. Painful even)
Me: Oh. They must have just invented a sense of humor where you come from.
Him: (Laughing) Where I come from, they only have bullets, guns, bombs, khat and prostitutes. Humor is something they are yet to discover.
Me: Look at that. You just might be the Issac Newton of humor where you come from.
Him: Who’s Issac Newton?
Me: (Lost) Oh. (I cast a glance at him to see if he is kidding. His stone face tells me he is not) He’s the guy who discovered gravity.
Him: Daniel
Me: Huh?
Him: I was just kidding.
Me: (Smiling) Really? Coz your face told me you were bloody serious.
Him: Where I come from, we have perfected the art of a poker face.
Me: Yeah? Where do you come from?
Him: So Newton discovered gravity, huh? What does discovery mean to you exactly?
Me: Excuse me?
Him: Gravity. Surely it existed before Newton noticed that apples don’t fly around in the air when they are thrown up but they come hurtling down to the ground. All he did was give that a name. Is that what discovery means? Giving a name to something that already exists?
Me: (Wondering where this conversation is headed) I am sure it’s more complicated than that.
Him: Like this other dirt bag who apparently discovered Mt. Kenya. Weren’t there people who were living around that area when he “discovered” it? Or was it invisible to them? If memory serves, the Kikuyu people used to face it when they prayed because they believed that their god lives up there. Then comes a white guy who sees it and says; drumroll; “There lies a huge mountain that the natives don’t give a shit about. But because I’m the first white guy to see it, I have discovered it and I have named it Mount Kenya!! Yay! Now my name will be in history books forever! I’m awesome!!!”
Me: (Chuckling) Are you always this radical?
Him: Radical? No. What does discovery mean to you?
Me: Finding something that hasn’t been found by anyone else before?
Him: I would say that is kind of right. Then I must ask, have you discovered youeself?
Me: Discovered myself?
Him: Do you know who you are?
Me: (Laughing uncomfortably) I guess I’m just a normal guy.
By now I am driving globe cinema roundabout and then up to Ngara where I speed down Murang’a Road towards Thika Superhighway which starts at Pangani. It is going on 23:00h and there is no traffic around this hour.
Matter of fact, driving around Nairobi at 23:00h can be quite therapeutic.
Him: Just a normal guy, huh? With a normal job and a normal relationship and normal friends and normal beliefs, right?
Me: You question me like there’s something wrong with normalcy.
Him: I have nothing against normalcy. It is what our ancestors fought and died for all those years ago. It is what soldiers are dying in Somalia for. For the right of Kenyans to lead their normal, boring lives. Because that’s what peace involves, you know? Peace is normal. Peace is boring. You wake up from your boring bed in the morning and say “good morning” to your uninteresting wife and she smiles and says good morning to her uninteresting husband.
Maybe you have a quickie before it is time to jump of out bed and grab a shower. Which is quite normal. Or she is on her period and you’re horny so you masturbate in the shower. Which again is normal. Then you have to make sure your normal kids are ready for normally uninteresting school and then they are off.
And you have to come to your uber driving job which forgive me for saying, is pretty boring. If I had to drive around Nairobi for a living, I’d probably turn into a serial killer and follow my passengers home and kill them in their beds just to sweeten my life up. I mean, who’d ever suspect a taxi driver, right? At night, you drive back home to your wife and you’re both too tired to have an interesting shag so you just grab another shower and collapse in bed like a log.
Before you know it, you’re sixty with one foot in the grave. And that’s OK because you have lived an entire lifetime. But the thing about peace is that people forget to live, you know? I mean, when was the last time you smelled a rose and realized it doesn’t smell good? When was the last time you went to watch a performance at the Kenya National Theatre? Leave that. When was the last time you spanked your wife’s ass? When was the last time that the both of you played around like children? When was the last time you chased her around that cheap apartment of yours? Peace will do that to you. You will get comfortable with life, focus too much on earning a living, then completely forget to live. What’s the essence of living then, huh?
Me: So what would you rather we do? Go to war with Uganda over Migingo Island?
Him: No. But forget the rules every now and then. Have fun. Live a little. Because you know what, there are people dying for you to live. Everyday. Because when your life is in danger, that’s when you start appreciating it. When you discover you have cancer or other terminal illness, you start living each day like it means something.
Me: That’s deep.
We are at Survey now along Thika Road and we’re right in the middle lane. Which is why I’m shocked when he says,
Him: Stop the car. I want to take a shit. Do you have toilet paper?
Me: We’re right in the middle of the highway....CONTINUE READING>>>
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