As the story continues our taximan has fallen in love with his fare... My standing arrangement with Ruth worked wonders for me. I was assured of an income of up to Ksh.1, 200 a day for three days a week, just for driving her around the block and dropping her where I picked her from. I was excited about this arrangement but my feelings for Ruth were getting in the way. The more we interacted (well, we did not really interact, but rather met), the more I felt the bond between us grow, at least in my mind. I found myself looking forward to each encounter, curious to see who was dropping her off. At times I would drive a bit faster around the block, hoping to have one of her suitors catch her in her deception. I knew this would kill the goose that was laying the golden eggs, but I could not help myself. Ruth was however always very cautious.

At times, I would try strike up a conversation with her but she generally was quick to end it; changing the topics whenever they became too personal or cutting me short with a dismissive wave of her small, dainty hand. Life aside from Ruth was quite good. The extra income allowed me to visit my home town twice a month as opposed to the single visit I was used to. Back at home, I was a hero given that my unmarked cab meant the villagers believed I was the boy who had gone and made it big in the city. My ‘mobility’, together with the tales I used to regale them with about life in the city, made me the envy of most men in the village and a target for the village beauties and non-beauties alike. But my ageing

parents were pressing me to get married and start a family. The thought of grandchildren was paramount in their minds and somehow, there was always a neighbour’s daughter hanging around the house on occasion of each of my planned visits. I had no time for these girls as my heart and mind were preoccupied with my precious Ruth.

All until that fateful December, two years ago. I had just returned from my visit home. I would leave on Monday in the morning and return on Wednesday. My busiest nights were Wednesdays through to Sundays and therefore I scheduled my trips home when I knew there wouldn’t be much work. I got back sure that I would meet Ruth within the space of three days as was customary every month, save for that one week in the month when nature reminded her of her gender (Yes, over time I could guess when this happened).

Wednesday night she was a no-show. So was Thursday, Friday and Saturday. I remember getting worked up and tense on Sunday, not wanting to imagine that she would not show up on that day also. She could not have travelled because the majority of her trips were paid for by her suitors and I was the one she would call on to ferry her to and from the airport. At 10.00p.m, I called her. The voice prompt curtly told me that the number was out of service. This was the response I was to get over the next few weeks, each time I called. After two months I had given up and assumed something drastic had happened to Ruth. Needless to say, I was back to a single trip home per month.

It was not until 5 months later that I next spotted Ruth. I was dropping off a fare at Nakumatt in Karen when a flashy BMW X6 drove by and stopped right in front of where I was parked. Out of the back seat, Ruth majestically stepped out, a conspicuous bulge revealing that she was in the family way. The huge rock on her finger provided further evidence that some lucky guy had snatched my prized Ruth from the singles club and made an honest woman of her. I was enraged, bitter and jealous at the same time. The pain is still with me until today!