My driving and I

So today, I assisted a lady reverse park. Assisted by directing, ‘hapo, hapo, pindua miguu, etcetera na kadharika’. Needless to say, she nearly hit the wall and ruined the vehicle’s bumper, (whatever that is, I am just throwing words here so that you think I know cars). I remember my dad always telling my mom that she was a theoretical driver. I laughed and earned myself a curse while at it. She never gained enough courage to drive. So, me, who last time I drove; almost knocked down my in law, guided someone to reverse park. Reminds me of a dude in my plot who liked ‘misdirecting’ drivers while they parked. After one too many, hitting the gate or the side wall, they came to learn he was a junkie who has always high on some illegal stuff. Let me tell you a story of my driving. I call it ‘my driving’ because this kind of driving is not taught anywhere. It is unlike any other kind of driving, it has its own rules. Actually, my significant other once labeled me the worst driver ever, if I could even qualify to be called one. That was until we came across a car zigzagging on the road. I panicked, thinking that the driver was having a heart attack, or a seizure until we neared the vehicle and the lady ‘driver’ smiled at us and the car kept on staggering on the side walk. She stole my title of the worst driver that day.
Now, I’ll confess here, it’s not like I am a bad driver. I just have the concentration of an agitated chicken. My mind is always miles away. I am one of those students that the teacher always shouted at, ‘bring your mind back to class!’ I attended driving classes while on my first maternity leave. I got so bored breastfeeding and singing lullabies that I decided to learn a new skill. That was after trying my hand at selling duvets which I realized was a rather slow business. Then again omuhusband had bought the family car around that time.
Enter the mukorino instructor.
He must have known I would not make a good driver the first lesson I attended because when he asked, ‘all these drivers on the road are communicating,’ he said while illustrating using toycars, ‘how are they communicating?’ he inquired. ‘With their mobile phones’ I quipped. ‘Eh,’ he shouted, ‘mobile phones! When did they share mobile numbers, yet they are strangers?’ I was thinking of my infant son.
The practical lesson was more dramatic. We drove along a less busy road which had tea plantations planted along. Whenever one of the students was driving and started zigzagging towards the tea plantation, the instructor would ask, ‘did you carry your basket?’ The student taken aback would ask, ‘basket?’ To which the instructor would answer, ‘yeah, sure because it seems that you are going to pick tea today.’ Long story short, I did a driving test one December morning and passed. The police officer however warned that I should avoid carrying pregnant women. I didn’t bribe anyone so go slow on the anticorruption thoughts. Actually when I got my driving license, I was so synched that I requested omuhusband to let me drive the family on new years. He said I had to drive him first on a ‘kiwanja’ for him to qualify me to drive on the main road. I went back to work and only got a long leave one year later. I had already forgotten where the gas or breaks were. So now I dwell on the lifts I book from omuhusband, two days in advance and stand on the road fifteen minutes before he leaves. Otherwise he will go on without me. Until the day I get another mukurino instructor to train me, this time I will practice to perfection.

Published by jossienaito

Love writing, injecting honour into ordinary. I am a believer.

4 thoughts on “My driving and I

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