Online taxi hailing in Nairobi: The good, the bad, and the hilarious
A taxi driver in Nairobi County, on September 7, 2020, following an interview with the Nation.
What you need to know:
- Last Saturday, I was heading to the arboretum for a prayer meeting, which I always think of as a prayer and picnic meeting.
- Usually, when I get into taxis, I sit next to the driver and use my interviewing skills to get stories out of them.
The birth of online taxi hailing was an answered prayer for me because I cannot bargain to save my life. Being told ‘six hundred bei ya kuongea’ to mean the price is Sh600 but we can talk, irritates me to no end. Why can’t you simply tell me the honest price?
That being said, online taxi hailing is not always rosy, from drivers who cancel your trips because you have been awarded a discount for using the app often, to those who pick the ride and already reek of trouble from the way they coarsely ask on the phone, “unaenda wapi? (Where are you going?)” with a tone that makes you afraid they want to set up kidnappers at your destination. Thankfully, these kinds of drivers are few and far between.
Well, why am I suddenly chronicling my taxi rides?
Last Saturday, I was heading to the arboretum for a prayer meeting, which I always think of as a prayer and picnic meeting. Attendees include some of my friends from work and elsewhere. This is a monthly activity – we meet to pray for each other and for the country – gist, laugh heartily, sing, and, of course, share snacks.
I hailed a taxi to the arboretum. The driver spoke in English but I only half-understood what he was saying. His manner of speech was not coherent. I switched to Kiswahili just in case something about the way I said ‘hello’ had given him the impression that I do not understand Kiswahili. The guy stuck to English.
Usually, when I get into taxis, I sit next to the driver and use my interviewing skills to get stories out of them. I am a sucker for stories. I hear shocking and bizarre tales about taxi passengers. From those who eat and leave the whole cab littered, to those who book cabs that clearly indicate space for three passengers, but five people show up and try to suffocate the poor car.
Sometimes drivers get deep into their personal stuff, and if it is a long ride, I play therapist in exchange for the stories. Other times they tell me about wild clients, think absolutely X-rated kind of stuff. I can’t give details here – my pastor and father read this column.
However, my morning trip on Saturday ended up being a silent one because the guy insisted on speaking in English, and I could not understand what he was saying. I also realised a little too late that he did not know where the main gate to the arboretum was. Long story short, we arrived at a different gate, which I was not familiar with.
I thought of redirecting him to the main gate, but with my horrible sense of direction and the communication barrier we were already struggling with, I suspected I would confuse him further, and I’d end up upset. As calmly as I could, I asked him to end the trip. I paid him and hailed another taxi.
Still on taxi rides…
One time, I hailed a taxi in the early hours of the night, it was around 8pm. I was heading home from one of my mentors’ home (her name is Mary). Mary lives in an affluent side of town with well-maintained roads, and tastefully landscaped gardens.
Mary’s style of mentorship is: we both periodically block a Sunday afternoon which we spend together at her place. I enjoy exquisite meals, marvel at her growing book collection, we listen to music together, obviously take photos, chat with her daughter if she is around, and finally, have long, deep mentoring conversations about careers.
When the taxi driver called to say he had arrived, Mary walked me to the car and bid me goodbye. In the taxi, the driver told me he was surprised the person who came to see me off was a woman.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
He told me that when he got the request and heard my voice when he called, he was sure he was coming to pick a girl from her sugar daddy’s house, considering the location, day of week and time of day! He regaled me with stories about half-drunk clients he picks most Sunday evenings who sing for him during the rides. I suspect I am the most boring client he has picked on a Sunday evening.
Mary and I later laughed about this story. And we concluded that it was a good thing she came out to see me off, otherwise that taxi-driver would have gone around spreading damning stories about young women.
What is your taxi story?
The writer is the Research & Impact Editor, NMG ([email protected]).
