Kindness is a virtue, but it often feels out of place in a city as unforgiving as Nairobi.
Signing off Work
After a long day of driving guests around the city, I pulled into my hotel, ready to clock out. I was dropping off my last passenger, a guest returning from a meeting.
My job as a hotel driver is demanding, so no matter how late it gets, I always look forward to returning home to my wife.
I parked the hotel’s electric car, then swapped into my gasoline-powered vehicle and drove through the gate onto Nairobi’s cold, quiet, and empty streets.
From the hotel, I merged onto Likoni Road, passed the House of Manji on Lunga Lunga Road, before joining the Outer Ring Road.
My car hummed smoothly as I sped on the deserted highway towards my home in Garden Estate, off the Thika Superhighway.
City Siren
My mind momentarily wandered from the empty stretch of road, until my eyes caught a solitary woman standing just a few yards from a footbridge.
I eased my vehicle to a slow pace as I studied her. At first glance, she seemed calm and unbothered, casually swiping and tapping on her phone.
Her attire was far from startling, modest, and a far cry from the typical ‘night shift’ uniform.
“You must be looking for a ride,” I said as I rolled down my window before offering her a lift.
Joy was coming from an event and was on her way home in Lucky Summer, an estate just a few kilometers ahead.
She obliged and moments later, she was in the front passenger seat as I negotiated the Kariobangi River Valley.
Reverse Abduction
I signaled that we had reached her drop-off point and pulled over to the left for her exit. To my astonishment, Joy refused to get out, stating she had nowhere to go.
Emotions ran high and the tension dramatically escalated when Joy burst into tears begging me not to let her go. “My parents chased me away, my boyfriend has also kicked me out. I don’t have a way around this I beg you,” she said.
I had heard unsettling stories about Outer Ring Road at night; from muggings, and kidnappings, to cunning rip-offs by Nairobi’s finest fraudsters.
I strangely felt like a hostage in my own vehicle. The stubborn miss blocked all attempts to get her out of the car. There was no way of talking her into it.
Police Station
Acting on quick reflexes to undo the situation, I drove forward towards the Ruaraka Police Station. Glances at her showed an expressionless face as I went past the station gate.
I stepped out of the car and made my way to the front desk to speak with the officer on duty. His shock was evident as I recounted my story.
He seemed sympathetic, occasionally removing his ‘crown’ and scratching his head while staring at the file cabinet in the corner.
I frantically begged the police to have my passenger removed and temporarily housed at the station while awaiting a permanent solution from the government.
According to the laws I read, the government is obligated to provide refuge and sort out any citizen in distress, including safely locking them up if they’ve got nowhere to go.
My pleas, however, seemed to fall on deaf ears as the officer calmly explained that they had no extra space or resources to detain non-suspects.
Feeling defeated, I left the station and headed back onto the road, retracing our route before turning toward the Jonsaga Area, near Nairobi’s Moi Airbase in Huruma.
Hotel Room
I decided that my next course of action was to hit the decent accommodation facilities in the area since I couldn’t take the girl home with me.
I checked into the first hotel I found, and this time, Joy agreed to exit and followed me into the hotel. We reached the room, and I quickly sank into the bed, finally getting my first rest of the day.
By this point, Joy, now appearing more composed, insisted that we sleep in the same bed. My dramatic passenger threatened to make a scene if I didn’t give in to her demands. Reluctantly, I lay down, placing my head at the lower end of the bed.
As my body rested, my mind worked overtime, creating possible alibis for my oblivious wife. Fortunately, she hadn’t yet started bombarding my phone with worried messages.
I could hear Joy snoring from her side of the bed shortly after, marking my first real chance of the night to escape from my captor.
With the room already paid for, I stealthily walked out of the complex. My car zoomed out of the premises at 5.30 am and back to the Outer Ring Road.
Fuming Wife
I knocked on the door a few minutes before 6 a.m. My wife opened it and immediately hit me with the dreaded question: “Where have you been all night?”
My fake story of a police traffic stop, however, “saved the morning.” To my surprise, I was even treated to a steaming, sumptuous breakfast for my troubles. There was no chance my wife could know about Joy, the manipulative freeloader.
_________
I have no idea what happened to Joy. Not even a clue of where she is.
Again, kindness is overrated. It is seldom respected.