“Drive off!” I say.
“What?” the prude asks, looking my way.
“Drive off! Now!”
He hesitates for a second, then he starts the engine. With his lights on, we can assess how many of them are there. It’s only two askaris.
“GO! GO NOW!” I scream.
He slams on the accelerator and we hightail out of there.
The prude is driving away in a frenzy after we were caught red-handed making love in the car by askaris in the parking lot of Nairobi Polo Club. I had done everything right, up until this point. I had gotten him drunk. I had gotten him not to use a condom. I needed just 60 more seconds, but the bloody askaris interrupted us before he climaxed. This is like a really bad movie. At least we have escaped. I’ve managed to get fully dressed and I look back at the askaris trying to chase after us. Do they really think they can catch a moving car? Idiots! I start to giggle as I turn back to face the front and then – and I can hardly believe this shit – the prude, who I’m guessing is still high as a kite – hits one of the cars in the parking lot! Holy smokes! When I say hit, I don’t mean a scrap. I mean, he has somehow managed to go headlong into another car!
I hit my head on the dashboard as the car comes to a crashing halt. What the actual hell? The askaris come alongside us, looking angry and smug at the same time.
“Sasa ulikuwa ukienda wapi? Angalia hii ujinga!” one says.
They go on to say how today we will know their wrath. You’d think they’d calm down and make sure we are alive first! I can’t believe this shit! I look over at the prude, who appears to be unharmed. The drunk ones always come out unscathed. I, on the other hand, have a nasty gash on my head.
One of the askaris finishes his tirade and runs off ostensibly to fetch the owner of the other car. This is a disaster! It was bad enough getting caught doing the dirty, but crashing into another car as we escaped?
“Why did I listen to you?” the prude asks in panic. “Stupid, stupid, stupid woman!”
“I’m the stupid one?” I ask incredulously. “You’re the idiot that crashed into a car, despite all the space in this parking lot!”
“I would have SPOKEN to those guys and GIVEN them something,” he shouts. “But now it’s IMPOSSIBLE!”
The repercussions of what is happening right now will start to sink in later. Right now I can’t think. “You’re a grown-ass man!” I shout back. “Don’t blame your BAD DRIVING on me!”
“Oh man, oh man, this is bad. This is very bad,” he mutters. “Get out of here! NOW! Before anyone else sees you.”
I get out of the car and start walking towards Ngong Road. I don’t know what else to do. It’s late, it’s dark but I can’t hang around the parking lot.
“Wewe mama unaenda wapi?” the askari asks menacingly. I ignore him. He persists, following me. “Talk to him!” I respond pointing behind me. “He’s the driver!”
He hesitates and leaves me alone as he considers the possibility that the prude may try and drive off again. He returns to the car.
I reach for my phone to try and call a cab but my battery is dead. What else can go wrong? The answer comes quickly. My heel snaps. You’ve got to be freaking kidding me! I’m now hobbling on one shoe, bleeding from my forehead with a possible concussion, running away from the mayhem behind me, with no idea how I’m going to get home. I collapse in a heap and burst into tears.