God's favour or stupidity

When my father sent me into the world, he had no idea his beloved daughter would one day be wandering the streets of Nairobi with the confidence of someone who had never watched a true-crime documentary.

He probably never imagined that his morning prayers mattered as much as they do. Pray for the family. Pray for himself. Pray for peace of mind. Pray for favor in every aspect of life.

I was recently in Nairobi after spending months doing my internship in Baringo. The city felt foreign. It felt like Tokyo(I've never been to Tokyo). It felt different. Archives was paved now, and everyone seemed to be walking twice as fast as I remembered.

And the women.

Goodness.

Have you seen women?

They were gorgeous. Surreal. Whimsical. Every few steps I found myself admiring someone.

On this particular day, I left the house along Ngong Road headed for town. My itinerary was neatly listed in my Notes app. Gym tights from Bus Station. Walnuts for my granola from Quickmart Afya Centre. An airtight container and cheap perfume from Dubois. Finally, phone accessories from China Ndogo.

I took my sweet time.

I wandered through town like a tourist, studying buildings, watching people and admiring the rhythm of the city. I wanted to see Nairobi and perhaps, if I'm being honest, I wanted Nairobi to see me too.

By afternoon the weather had changed. Seasoned Nairobians immediately adjusted. Their walking speed doubled.

Mine remained exactly the same.

Once I finished my errands, I headed to Archives to catch a Super Metro.

The queue was ridiculous.

Just then, the drizzle began.

"Gari ni one fifty!" the tout shouted.

One hundred and fifty?

There was absolutely no way I was standing in that line and paying three times what I usually paid.

So I walked to Kencom Stage instead to catch a Metrotrans bus. The queue there wasn't nearly as bad, but strangely, no buses were coming. Thirty minutes later, I was still standing there.

I opened Bolt.

Then Uber.

I opened both Bolt and Uber, comparing prices like my life depended on it because, honestly, an unemployed girl was trying to survive. The cheapest option was Uber Boda.

Now, I fear many things in life. Riding a motorbike in Nairobi rain, on a highway, is somewhere near the top of that list.

As I stood there debating my financial situation versus my survival instincts, the man in front of me turned around.

"Unafika Karen?"

"My stop is before Karen," I replied.

"You can join me. I'm taking an Uber."

It took me less than a second to say yes.

My first thought wasn't This could be dangerous.

It was, God, your favour follows me everywhere.

Only after agreeing did he casually say,

"The Uber is parked over there. We have to walk to international house."

That was when the sensible part of my brain, which had apparently been on lunch break, finally returned.

Carol...

You don't know this man.

This is how people disappear on Citizen TV.

Did I still follow him?

Of course I did. Si mimi huenda gym na naeza piga mtu!

Sometimes I genuinely wonder what my guardian angel's job description looks like. If guardian angels receive performance bonuses, mine earned one that afternoon.

We walked quietly until we reached the pickup point. To distract myself from the increasingly obvious fact that I'd willingly followed a complete stranger, I did what every unemployed graduate with networking ambitions would do.

"So... what do you do?"

Who knew? Maybe he worked in engineering. Maybe surveying. Maybe construction. Maybe this random encounter would become the breakthrough I'd been praying for.

"I'm a financial advisor and consultant," he replied.

He went on to tell me about his frustrating day. Kenya Power had been giving him trouble over power issues at his apartment buildings in Mlolongo and he couldn't understand why the staff had been so dismissive, considering, as he subtly implied, they had no idea who they were dealing with.

As we waited, we talked.

He spoke impeccable English.

He told me he pitied people who drank alcohol in Kenya because, according to him, most of it was fake and unsafe. He had just turned fifty, which genuinely surprised me because he looked closer to thirty. He spoke about health, avoiding fast food and taking care of himself.

Eventually he asked where I came from.

"Baringo," I said. "I'm only in Nairobi for a visit."

The funny thing about strangers is how quickly our minds complete the parts we don't know.

Somewhere between that conversation and the ride, I had already decided he was probably the kind of man who watered houseplants every Sunday morning, called his parents every evening, picked his daughters up from school himself and never complained about paying for an overpriced school trip abroad.

I had absolutely no evidence for any of this.

My imagination simply promoted him to a responsible man.

The ride was uneventful.

He dropped me off safely and before I got out, asked for my number.

Now tell me...

How do you politely say no to someone who has just shared their Uber with you?

I couldn't.

So I gave it to him.

When I got home, I narrated the entire ordeal to my best friend.

She looked at me in complete disbelief.

"Wewe msichana uko na mchezo! Na sasa kama kitu ingekufanyikia ningeambia nini babako?"

She lectured me in that adorable voice of hers, the kind that somehow manages to sound both furious and affectionate.

Before she could finish, my phone buzzed.

It was him.

The two of us leaned over the screen to read the message together.

"Carol, it was nice meeting you today. Can we have coffee before you leave for Baringo?"

Honestly, I wasn't opposed. Judge me not!

I imagined Java.

Artcaffé.

Maybe CJ's.

Anywhere with waiters and overpriced cappuccinos.

Then another message came through.

"Tomorrow can't work because my boys will be around and I wanted to make you coffee. You can come on Thursday,I make you coffee then we relax"

Haibooo!Silence.

My best friend looked at me.

I looked at her.

Then she collapsed onto the floor laughing.

I joined her.

Because first of all...

Your house?

Secondly...

"My boys?"

Sir.

You are fifty years old.

Those aren't the boys.

Those are your wazee.

To this day, I still don't know whether that afternoon was God's favor or sheer stupidity.

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Hello lovely reader! I really hope you are well fam! If you aren't please talk to someone, sending hugs, love and light.

I really hope you did enjoy this particular entry; like,share,comment and your feedback is invaluable.

This has stayed in my notes app for a long minute! "the engineer at work" would have been my next entry but it might stir some trouble at work lol.

I am trying to be consistent. Stay tuned.

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