I was passing through a police check just the other day. My brother for once had let me drive though I knew he still had trust issues. He had strapped a thick helmet tightly on his head, together with a mouth guard, knee and elbow pads. I didn’t care though, it was my day to shine. My moment in the limelight wasn’t as gracious as hoped coz I kept on screaming in fear every time I saw a truck coming at us or how my hair stood on end when I tried overtaking and came face to face with a fellow probox driver. The driver honked non stop and hit me with full lights. Where is the honor among probox drivers?
Once way back I was driving with my father and we saw a guy with a similar car struggling to get in to the highway. My dad stopped and gave him way. There was a connection between them, the silent code. You drive a machine like mine, I respect you.
But noo, not the probox. There is no code. Probox will splash muddy water on you and probox will zoom so close past your window and send your umbrella skirt flying up. My people, fear the probox.
Anyway, back to the story. So we got to the traffic check point at Kilifi Bridge. A policeman came over, smiling from ear to ear. He shook my brother’s hand then shook mine. I could sense some disappointment as he shook mine but I couldn’t understand why. He went to the back of the car, checked the boot and peered through the back windows. He then returned to me and offered his hand again. Thinking maybe I didn’t do it well enough the first time, I engulf his hand in both of my palms and gave it a prolonged vigorous shake. I even ask about his family’s health as I do it. From the corner of my eye I see my brother looking at me like I’m some sort of loco. He closes his fist and points to the policeman with his chin. Message received. I offer a fist bump to the very shocked policeman at that point. He signals us to leave. I feel so superior in my ignorance. It was a proud moment for me until my brother later tells me that I was supposed to have 50 shillings in my palm when I shook the police man’s hand.
I guess we really do need to pay them some allowances. They deserve some kaluma at the end of the day to massage their painful shoulder joints and some deodorant for their ever exposed armpits as they flag hundreds of cars down to a stop.
Have a bribeful day friends!