Eventful road trip with Bensouda

Some three weeks ago, Skastina Majani, the female headmaster of our school popularly known as Bensouda, asked me to join her on a visit to our county headquarters, on what she called a road trip. We both happened to be going there for different reasons on the same day and she wondered if I could join her in her car for her to drive us.

There was no way I was going to turn down such a golden offer – a once in a lifetime opportunity that had presented itself. 

“I can drive to town,” she had said. “All I need is company for confidence.” And you will agree that in the whole of Mwisho wa Lami, she could not get better company than mine. The moment we agreed that we will make the road trip, I became very excited. So much that every time I thought about it, I could not think!

The day before the road trip, I could not sleep. I kept fidgeting in bed, moving from side to side, wondering what would happen the next day. “Would she drive well, would we reach, what would we do once in town, what time would we return? What plans did she have for me?”

I only managed to catch some sleep when Fiolina, the laugh of my life asked me: “Are you ok? You have been turning the whole night?” Aware that I was under close observation, I dozed off. It was 4 am.

I was up two hours later, and did not even wait for breakfast. I quickly took the jerrican for carrying kerosene and left.

“You are leaving so early?” wondered Fiolina. “Msamaria Mwema leaves at 7.30,” she reminded me but I told her that I had other travel arrangements without elaborating, and stepped out into the cold. Interestingly, I was not feeling cold. The thought of meeting Bensouda that morning made me feel warm – very warm.

ROUGH START

I knocked on Bensouda’s door at  7.21a.m. She had not woken up. “Oh, you are already here Dre?” she said as she came to open the door.  She was in a free flowing old extra-large t-shirt. Only. If there was any cold remaining in my body, it disappeared instantly.

“Make yourself comfortable Dre,” she told me as she went to the bathroom. “Hapa ni kama kwako you know where everything is.” My eyes had already spotted the juice, and I took a glass and some water. I was on the third glass when she returned. It was going be a long journey and it was not wise for me to travel on an empty stomach. It was a round 8.14am when we left the house. Bensouda struggled getting the car out of the parking but eventually did. And we set off for town.

Bensouda was already a great driver. She was overtaking everything and everyone on the road – except boda boda riders and other cars that were passing us! Whenever she saw an oncoming car she trembled. But I was not prepared for her reaction when she saw a lorry approaching. The lorry switched on its lights and hooted so loudly that Bensouda was completely destabilised that she veered off from the road and hit a few holes and the car stopped.

She was sweating profusely. It took another 20 minutes to start the car. After several recitations of “Start, clutch, weka gear, toa handbrake, kanyaga mafuta…” she finally started.

We hit the road – but this time Bensouda drove slower, much slower. She was still in shock. It was a few minutes to 11 and we were approaching town, moving quite well. As she always does when upset, Bensouda was not talking. Instead the music was loud and her eyes firmly fixed on the road. Every time she saw a big car coming, she parked beside the road to let it pass.

We kept moving, slowly but surely. Until we saw the police who waved at us to stop.  Bensouda was so shaken that stopping the car was a challenge. She stepped on the brakes hard but the car was just not stopping. She nearly hit one policeman; and stopped just infront of the metal bars the police had erected on the road.

MANY CRIMES

“Unataka kutuua?” asked one policeman “Weka gari kando” Bensuda struggled to reverse the car so that she could park beside the road. The policeman we had almost knocked down also came.

“Mama hujui kundesha gari na uko kwa barabara?” he asked. “Wapi driving licence yako,” Bensouda was sweating and cursing. She was completely confused and unsure on whether to reverse or park, to answer the questions or to give the DL.

“Songa kando wewe kurutu,” a policewoman ordered. After a long struggle, Bensouda managed to park the car beside the road. “Leta licence yako.” She handed it over.

“Hii licence uli-renew lini?” he asked Bensouda.

“I can’t remember sir,” she said. “But I was given some time back.”

“Mama wacha kutushtua hapa na kingeraza,” said one officer. “Hata sisi tulisoma.” “Unajua licence yako ili-expire?”. Bensouda didn’t know a driving licence needed to be renewed. She was better than me because I hadn’t known that one needed a driving licence!

The policemen looked at the sticker on the car and exclaimed; “hata insurance ime-expire, mama wewe uko mzima?” Bensouda was blank.

“Toka nje twende tuone inspector.” Bensouda left the car and they walked to where their senior was. I was left in the car alone. After sometime I decided to join them.

“Wewe makosa yako ni nyingi hutawachiliwa,” said the inspector. “Dangerous driving, attempted murder, driving without valid licence, hauna insurance. Lazima ufungwe.”

Bensouda said that she was rushing for an important meeting in town.

“Sawa toa Sh10,000 ya bond, halafu utaenda kortini kesho ama siku nyingine,” the inspector said. Bensouda said that she did not have money. They walked far from the rest of us to talk.

“Kwani wewe haujui kuendesha gari,” one of the policemen asked me. “Unawachia mama karibu anatukanyaga. I couldn’t not answer, and I went back to sit in the car. Bensouda came to the car about half an hour later.

“Uko na pesa ngapi?” she asked me. I told her I had nothing.

“Unaweza kupata ngapi? Nimepata 6k natafuta 4k,” she said.

I told her that I had nothing. Even if I had, I had agreed to join Bensouda so that I could save the Sh300 I would have used on bus-fare, how was I going to give her Sh4,000? How?

LOSING HOPE

“So tutafanyaje?” she asked me. “Nimeongea yangu yote. Hauna kitu yoyote hata kwa M-Pesa?” she asked. I told her I had nothing. “Hebu tafuta pia mimi nikitafuta tuone nani atafanikiwa,” she said and then went out to make more calls. It was almost 2pm.  She returned to ask if I was successful. “Nimefikisha 7k, sasa nataka tu 3k,” she said. I told her I could get Sh500. Since she was not borrowing from me and would not pay back, I was not going to give more than that. I knew I could go to Mshwari and get Sh4,000 but the car was not mine, I was not the one who almost knocked down a policeman nor was the invalid driving licence mine. Those were her problems.

I sent her the Sh500. They spoke with the inspector and they then walked to the car. The policeman asked me to sit at the back and he took my seat. By then they were excitedly chatting. She drove off and stopped at the next town centre where she went to an M-Pesa shop to withdraw money which she gave the inspector.

“Chukua number yangu siku ingine ukiwa na shida barabarani nipigie tu,” he said. “Na tutafutane hii weekend tuchome nyama,” he said as he alighted. It was around 3pm. We drove for a few kilometers and the car stopped. It just couldn’t start. We didn’t know what to do.

“Uliweka mafuta lini Mwisho?” I asked out of curiosity. “Iko na mafuta ilikuja nayo, she said. “Sijaongeza tangu ninunue gari. We stopped a bodaboda which took me to the petrol station. We came back with it in a kibuyu and put in the car. The car started. By then, Bensouda was too tired and too frustrated. It was around 3.30pm. She called the person who sold her the car to complain that  insurance had expired but the person dismissed her telling her: “Insurance ni yako.”

“Let’s just go back home, offices are even closed now,” she said as she began the journey back. The same policemen stopped us and wished us a safe journey. We arrived at her place at around 6pm. As she showered, I took more juice. She then prepared supper. It was very late when I left for my house.

It had indeed been a road trip, for we had spent the whole day on the road – but we did not even reach town! Bensouda later sent me an SMS asking me if I could buy the car or get her someone to buy it.

Hii maneno ya gari siwezani nayo. I am considering buying that car.