O'l Taxi Park

But that was long ago, that was last night...or was it this morning?


I cannot be sure. Night and morning blur as one when merrymaking begins. For that 3 am which my muzungu friend calls morning; and my African brother calls night: for it is the witching hour for all the village "Basezi" to come out and do their night business in the banana plantations.

But fear not, it was around this time that I and two pals sat on the stairs at our beloved Old Taxi Park. We sat next to an askari and a street vendor…the one who sells binyeebwa yes that one.

Ahem'… here we were, seated at the stairs at 3 am looking like lost sheep with the askari pointing out the dangerous spots in and around town as we waited for a taxi or a willing cyclist to take us to Wandegeya when here comes Mr. Scrooge.

This dude,( read skinny, tall and dark) no features whatsoever to cut him some slack, comes towards us swinging his obviously drunk package of the obvious sex and points at one of us (...read the lighter one) , " you how much you are wanted in that car" all in one drunken breathe no pauses, no stops for effect.

Silence...it still haunts me. This car by the way was dark ...that’s all memory can recall. Kidnapper, rapist is all i thought of. But wait, he just confused us for, corner gals… No words can ever explain that. Read ( We were all wearing jeans, well i had on my red high heels and one of us had a scarf we were all huddled in) was he crazy or merely daft..? I’ll never know.

For my question was never answered. Next thing I knew my mouth was opening and daring him to come any closer... “Wandegeya wandegeya” ... That lone shout from the taxi tout had all three of us sprint for the taxi like we had wings on our heels.


Ps: Wink, i love u 2 gals

             Love Pamela Orogot