Mr Survivor: Why I started a taxi business

Despite the initial hostility it received from Queen, which of course was planted in her mind by jealous neighbours, the car has served its intended purpose very well.

Photo credit: Igah

What you need to know:

  • From the proceeds of the business, I negotiated for a loan from Aberdare Sacco.
  • That is how I managed to buy my VW Beatle, Survivor, now renamed Concorde.
  • Despite the initial hostility it received from Queen, which of course was planted in her mind by jealous neighbours, the car has served its intended purpose very well.

When I launched the chicken and eggs merchandise, another company was born, courtesy of my ever fertile imagination. This was the Happy Valley Grill where I sold my Kienyeji chicken and eggs. Happy Valley, as it is known, is owned and operated by my financial co-dreamer, Salome, alias Mrembo. Because she paid for my merchandise in cash on delivery, I thought that I had kissed poverty goodbye.

From the proceeds of the business, I negotiated for a loan from Aberdare Sacco. That is how I managed to buy my VW Beatle, Survivor,  now renamed Concorde. Despite the initial hostility it received from Queen, which of course was planted in her mind by jealous neighbours, the car has served its intended purpose very well. Most importantly, Queen accepted it as a permanent feature in the Palace, despite offering her stiff competition for my attention. That was, however, after appointing her the procurement manager of my business, nay, our business.

The place to be

Happy Valley became the place to be for the entire county honchos. Our shared dream with Salome had come true. The number of hens and eggs required went up, but with Concorde at hand and Queen in tow, I quickly managed. Due to the amount of money involved, Mrembo convinced me to accept payments by cheque. I readily agreed. Other entrepreneurs talk the language of cheques, why not the new Sonko in the countryside?

 It turned out, however, that cheques are not documents to be written every other day. As I came to learn, the amount to be written is allowed to accumulate to a five-figure digit. When I complained, Mrembo told me that her customers from the county government ate using a meal card. Indeed, she did not credit me with a head that could understand the word voucher. She told me that she was also waiting for a cheque from the county. 

What had hit me

Before I knew what had hit me, I was swimming in debts right, left and centre. While the chicken sellers were on Queen’s neck, Aberdare Sacco had sent an auctioneer to repossess the Concorde.

I had defaulted on my monthly payments by two months. In short, things had become an elephant. 

In the meantime, the enemies of my marital bliss, who suffer from an abundance of negative fertile imaginations, had found ready fodder for a juicy rumour. I must have told you that the countryside has more than its regular supply of rumour mills. This time it was the kind that is sweet music to Queen and her variety in the country. “Why do you treat me like a dog’s kennel?” Queen confronted me. “First it was the embarrassment of the tortoise, now that Mrembo of yours has been taking the chickens for free.”

I had no words. Since promoting Queen to the position of procurement manager, I had thought that the issue of Concorde was long forgotten and buried. There she was with more lethal accusations, the kind of which no amount of Del Monte mango juice could make her listen to me, leave alone understand. No amount of pleadings could convince her that I had not entered into any unholy entanglement with Mrembo, not even in the distant world of dreams. 

The survivor in me had to act and act fast. I had to come out of the financial and marital embarrassments which hung around my neck like a hangman’s noose. I got another dream. The Concorde could be used to carry chicken in daylight and people at night. Being the only vehicle capable of eating the country roads, or what remains of what were once roads, the Taxi business was the road not taken. 

That was how I went into the business of the night, a job full of drama, but that is a story for another day. For now, my enemies should know that people who live in glass houses should not throw stones. I have come across some of them in questionable places and in companies that would attract the interests of their better ones. I am, however, more concerned with rescuing my family and business than destroying other people’s families.

The new business is doing very well. My enemies should go back to their factory of rumours. The first item in the priority list of debts to clear was Queen’s chicken supply. Although she is not fully convinced that there was nothing hush-hush between Mrembo and me, there is enough silence to allow me to operate from the Palace in peace.