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Uber chronicles

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Uber chronicles



“Hodi hodi na zikome, chumba kimeshampata mpangaji anayelipa kodi kwa wakati”. Says Ruweida to the other person on the other side of the telephone.

She is my first client tonight. Destination, Crowne Plaza, Upper Hill.

Her twin sister is getting married tonight. She sounds broken and down. I could tell because all Swahili women I have ferried are as jovial as those GSU officers who were deporting Miguna at JKIA.

(Remember they were all smiley telling an Emirates pilot to close the door of the plane and leave yet they were standing on the staircase?).

Slight traffic at the NTSA Hq and within a few, we arrive at Crowne Plaza. Ruweida asks me not to leave. She is waiting for her mum.

As we wait at the parking, we strike a rapport and she reveals to me that today is her worst day since her ex is marrying her twin sister.

“Aje sasa?” I interject.

“Nilisusa, mwenzangu sasa yuwala” she says in a faint voice.

This is a lesson most women never learn. They are always looking for a perfect stable man to settle in with instead of looking for a partner with whom they can change the world together.

“Ukisubiri maembe yaive, mwenzako anayakula kwa chumvi yakiwa yangali mabichi”I tell her after she revealed to me that she broke up with the in-law to be since he was jobless and hopeless then.

To make her feel good, I tell her that she is the most beautiful girl I have seen after my wife. Kashunaya.

“Na hata hujaniona jamani”, she chuckles.

I switch on the interior lights and turn to look at her from the back seat where she is sitting.

Ohh Lord, she was everything I thought she was not. The real Binti Kiziwi.

Ruweida has those long Cushitic noses, eyebrows that look exactly like the Rainbow when God made a covenant with Abraham. Her eyes look like the headlamps of a VW beetle. Medium and yet so round. She has soft long silky hair, not that I touched! No. They say, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…then it is a duck not a tortoise.

Allow me not to describe the torso. (I have potential sponsors online).

She later extends her legs to my glove box. This is where my heart stopped. I died twice and resurrected even before Good Friday. She had applied heena and was looking good. Artistic.

Her mum came and the bride too. A carbon copy of Ruweida. She left me her contacts and asked me to help her settle in with a good man. Potential bachelors mpo?

I receive a request from Radison Blue Hotel, some geek looking male with a structure of a Nigerian is heading to JKIA. He is reading the Times Magazine. We didn’t talk at all.

As we approached terminal 2, I kept thinking of Miguna x2. Somehow I could hear his voice shouting ‘I AM NOT GOING TO DUBAI’ reverberating through the walls of the airport. I even found myself saying the word ‘incommunicado’ severally.


I head back to town with some two females who had just dropped some family member at JKIA. I drop them near Eco Bank, City Hall and decide to go pee at Hilton Hotel as I always do. I can never pay for those public toilets. Why should I pay to deposit filth?

This is how to do it.

Check in at the Hilton reception, say a big hi to those ushers draped in some red over coats, look confident and say you are heading to the Jokers Pub downstairs. You will use the clean loos and even shave your beards if you have any. Ladies too can even have time to apply mascara.

You can also pull the same at New Stanely, although they have tiny restrooms with half doors.

I later went to Westy with four teenage girls, 3 at the back, 1 at the co-driver’s seat. It has been a long night. Allow me to rest and will tell the story once Judas Iscariot does his thing.

Am off, ‘incommunicado’