My name is SM and I am a cab driver. I have been in the business for 10 years now. I finally own the cab I drive, and my grand plan is to have my own group of taxis one day. Ah, the stories I can tell you. The lives and times of my passengers range from sad to funny—with the occasional sprinkling of bizarre. Take ‘Ruth’ for instance, one of my regular customers. She is single, classy and very easy on the eye. She elicits the third, and inevitably fourth glance, each time she walks by.

The first time Ruth approached my taxi, right outside Zeep bar, it was heading to midnight and I had dozed off after an evening of inactivity. A sharp rap on the window punched me up from my haze and I peered through sleepy eyes to see a curvaceous silhouette on my window. Opening the door, a sweet sounding voice inquired: “South B, how much?”

“Five hundred,” was my quick, hopeful reply and I was glad that she didn’t hesitate or bargain. “Give me a second,” she requested and walked away towards a classy VW Touareg, parked a few metres behind me.

“I hope you have change for a thousand,” she said as she planted her luscious rear on the passenger seat. Thereafter, I was always guaranteed business from her on Fridays, Saturdays and the occasional Wednesdays. I noted, however that she would be dropped off by different cars each time. The only regular feature was the Touareg and a certain Rav

4. (I reserved judgement until I knew the facts.) Over time, Ruth and I moved from silent journeys to an occasional “Biashara iko aje?” Before long, we were talking about the rising price of fuel, selfish behaviour of politicians and the unpredictable Nairobi weather.

Over time we became more comfortable around each other and she began talking about herself. She is a 25 year-old lady that works for an NGO as a PA to some country director. She is determined to live a life of riches and will only settle down with a man that can take care of all her needs. Currently, the one that can – the Touareg owner – is married and not willing to leave his wife. The man that is single and truly in love with her - Rav4 owner - is not rich enough yet. She hangs out with men of means who can provide for her. She didn’t go into details of what they get in return, but my curiosity and imagination filled in all the blanks.

One Friday, she approached my cab and asked me for a favour. Seems she had a clash in her calendar and was to meet the second of her two “main men” barely fifteen minutes after she was done with the first. She asked that I drive her around the block until the first date had left and then drop her off at Jazz Bar on Moi Avenue. As usual, she had obtained cab fare from the first date (Mr Touareg) and he performed his usual ritual of watching me drive off with her before heading off in the opposite direction. I would usually turn left at the Moi Avenue junction next to Galitos, he would turn right.

Just like that, a new business venture was born. In return for a small cut, I would pretend to drive Ruth home and she would obtain cab fare from her various male companions. I would then double back and drop her at the next Nairobi hot spot where, another gullible cab fare provider was waiting for the oh-so-lovely Ruth.

All in all, this was a workable and profitable arrangement for me, until I started having a major crush on Ruth, that is. One evening, in drunken hysteria, she poured out her heart to me about the way Mr Touareg was taking her for granted and how Mr Rav4 was pressuring her to move in with him. As she ranted on and on, gesticulating furiously, her skimpy top shifted slightly and exposed part of her ample bosom. My beady eyes ravenously took in this sight and from then on I decided I had to have her, by hook or by crook. So began my plan to get Mr Touareg and Mr Rav4 out of the way to pave the path for my romance with Ruth.

(to be continued…)