My Memorable Uber Ride
By Mukurima Muriuki
When my Uber ride arrived at the pick up spot on Saturday, I made sure to introduce myself before getting in the car
The driver had multiple tattoos on his arms and given the name that appeared on the ride hailing app; he was of Mexican descent
Once inside the car, he asked to know if I was doing okay, to which I replied I was. I returned the favor and asked if he was doing well….
“There is so much traffic today, so this is my last trip and then I head home” he replied
“It’s still early” I countered while looking at my watch. It was 2pm
Before he could answer, he went for a question that is too common in this part of the world:
Where are you from dawg, your name is different
“I am from Kenya…” I replied
“Is Kenya like a city in Africa” he asked with so much innocence
“Kenya is a country in the Eastern part of Africa. I am from the central region. I don’t want to bore you with details, but indulge me to say I am from a county called Kirinyaga known for the best coffee in the world. My exact place of birth is a village called Baricho.
“Oh shit dawg! You from Africa!” He was excited. He continued:
“Man, I have been doing Uber for 3 years. I have made about 8,000 trips. I have never met anyone from Africa. I have driven folks from Australia, New Zealand, Russia, Taiwan and all that shit. You know what I mean, but no one from Kenya, heck Africa: I have crossed that in my list!”
I chuckled. I then found myself smiling.
“Where are you from, if you are okay with me asking”
He looked at me briefly via the rear view mirror, he then signaled he was switching to the left lane. He cleared his throat and said:
“I was born in America, but my mom is from El Salvador and my father is from Mexico.”
“You earlier said this is your last trip. Why is that?”I queried
“Man, I have a brand new baby girl. She is 4 days old. I have to go home and help out.”
I could tell the joy in his heart because the tone and demeanor changed when talking about his baby girl
“Wow congratulations!” I then told him women in my village would have given him 4 traditional ululations reserved for birth of a girl.
He laughed. That man really laughed, yet I was serious
“Is this your first child?” I posed
The traffic on the 5 Freeway was now easing and the car picked up speed, going about 45 miles an hour.
“No, I have a 17 year old son and an 8 year old son. This is my first daughter and I am scared” he shared
“What do you mean you are scared? I wondered
“I don’t know how to raise girls. I am scared about being a good daddy to a girl…”
At that time I knew this was going to be a good story
“Is your wife a Latina?” I had a gut feeling this question was going to provide more information, one way or another
“She isn’t my wife yet, yeah you can call her my wife. We have been together for 8 years.”
“I am confused. You have been together for 8 years, what about the 17 year old son? “ I couldn’t contain my curiosity
“Well, I got my first son when I was in high school. I was 16 years old. My second son isn’t really mine, you know what I am saying. He is the son of my current girlfriend. We moved in together when the kid was 1 month old, so you can say I am the father because I have raised him..”
There was a pause, partly contributed by the need to switch lanes as there seemed to be a minor accident on the left shoulder. And then the conversation was getting deeper, and that’s where I asked:
“How was it raising a child at 16 years”
He stared outside of the window, as if he was looking for answers from the streets, then offered:
“Man, I was raised by two wonderful parents. They weren’t wealthy or that type of shit, but they were great parents. They wanted the best for us. But there was something about me growing up, I just wanted to be a bad boy. I wanted to be the king in the streets. I fancied that lifestyle.
We were young when we got the baby. This is what happened. A few months before she got pregnant I had cheated on her with her best friend. I think she never forgave me despite having a conversation about it and me apologizing and all that. She got pregnant a few months later: I doubt she really moved on from what I had done and this affected our relationship. After a year we moved our separate ways.”
What did that make you feel? I asked him with an empathetic tone
“Like I said I wanted to be a king in the streets, but I had no crown and I couldn’t keep a girlfriend. One thing I have to admit, being a daddy felt great though I was consumed by my desire to do bad things and mingle with wrong people..”
The conversation switched to a more lighter note:
“You are from Kenya? That’s really awesome. I have never travelled out of California. I am afraid of heights and I can’t fly.”
“Not even to Las Vegas?” I asked, well aware he could drive the 400 miles to Vegas from Los Angeles.
“I have been to Vegas. I love the slot machines over there. I like to gamble once in a while..” he corrected himself
“What about you brother, what are you afraid of” he asked
“I am afraid of hot porridge and a bullet to my butt, I offered. I am also afraid of failure.”
We both laughed, a loud laughter….
By now we were about 15 minutes to the destination. The conversation never died
“So why are you scared of raising a daughter? I asked
“People say it’s hard raising a daughter” He offered
“And what do you think?” I kept some light pressure on
“I don’t know. I am learning on the job. It’s just been 4 days, what I mean is the future, I don’t know how to be a dad to girls, I don’t know what they need from a father…”
“ I think it’s okay to be afraid, that way you are self aware. You have raised two boys and that same experience and the lessons learned is what you will use when raising your daughter….be the best father so that she will tell the world my daddy rocks”
Man, how did we get here, are you a therapist? He asked me…”
“No, I am just a guy with a funny name, born in a small village in Kenya and having the best ride, ever”
We continued talking, covering different topics. Outside, as he weaved through the onsetting traffic, the marine layer engulfing the Eastern side provided a soothing effect.
“What’s has been the craziest experience you have dealt with so far in your job? I asked my guy
“People are going through shit. I have had 2 people who wanted to kill themselves while in my car…”
What do you mean? I was curious
“I picked one gentleman in Burbank. He had gone out for dinner, and his girl dumped him. He told me he was only 21 years old and did not find a reason to continue living…
So he would open the door and try to jump out. I got scared. I pulled over and told him to get out because I don’t want no trouble. But then I thought about it and decided to give him a man talk. I shared with him my own story as a 16 year old boy having a baby,and the relationship ending a few years later. He calmed down and I managed to get him to the airport
Then the saddest story was a young lady who I picked up in Long Beach. I noticed from the rear view mirror that she was crying. I asked her if she was okay and she told me she wanted to die: I was shaken.
I asked her what she was going through. She told me she was guilty of letting her nephew die..
“He shouldn’t have died. It’s all because of me” she kept saying
So the nephew had asked her to take him to the park. But she was going to work and she did not want to call off work. So the father who was a truck driver decided to change his schedule and take his son to the park.
Before heading out, the father decided to park his truck. He told the boy to stay on one side, but boys being boys, he did not follow his father’s instructions. As the father was backing up , he did not realize the son was behind the truck. He run him over and he died
I can’t lie, I found myself crying when she shared that story. She told me when the cops came to the scene, they too were in tears.
That’s why she wanted to end her life. She had some pills on her palm, that guilt was consuming her. I kept talking to her until we reached the destination. I think she felt a little better, but I was scared as hell.”
There was a pin drop silence. No one talked for a few minutes.