{"id":1820,"date":"2024-09-15T17:39:00","date_gmt":"2024-09-15T14:39:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.magaripoa.com\/?p=1820"},"modified":"2025-12-31T01:17:59","modified_gmt":"2025-12-30T22:17:59","slug":"could-not-take-their-wives-in-payment-my-own-was-in-the-car","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.magaripoa.com\/gari\/could-not-take-their-wives-in-payment-my-own-was-in-the-car\/","title":{"rendered":"Could not take their wives in payment – my own was in the car"},"content":{"rendered":"

Night Roads and Safari Kits: A Kenyan Captain’s Warning<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

By Nawaz Khan, Contributing Writer, Motoring Press Agency<\/em><\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\n

There’s a peculiar African phenomenon I’ve observed over the years\u2014we Africans seem perpetually bewitched. Beyond our tolerance for deplorable roads despite religiously paying our road taxes, I’ve learned something far more troubling: many of us simply don’t value our lives, nor those of our children.<\/span><\/p>\n

The Emali Rescue<\/span><\/h2>\n

Many years ago, I traveled to Emali scouting farmland for cattle. My host was a Kenya Army Captain named Kasironde (I sincerely hope he’s achieved General rank by now). We made the journey in my borrowed Datsun 1,600cc pickup\u2014yes, borrowed<\/em>. That’s what the poor do: we borrow vehicles from family and friends to chase our dreams and ambitions.<\/span><\/p>\n

On our return trip, as dusk settled over the landscape, we passed a group of Indians and their clandes broken down on the roadside, about 40 kilometers before Small World Country Club. They were huddled around a Pajero. One of the men\u2014taller, with a grizzled beard\u2014caught my eye. Then his name flashed in my memory: Deepak! Bloody hell. He’d already spotted me ignoring his desperate wave for assistance.<\/span><\/p>\n

Conscience gnawing, I reversed and drove back. “What’s the problem?” I asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Engine’s seized,” came the reply. “Hit a bump, damaged the sump, oil leaked everywhere.” These weren’t ordinary travelers\u2014one of the clandes was Russian, the first I’d ever encountered.<\/span><\/p>\n

I made my terms clear: “Yes, I’ll tow you back to Nairobi. But I need five people in the pickup bed for traction, one driver in the Pajero. If you get cold, I apologize, but safety trumps comfort. Grab some sweaters.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Captain Kasironde and I settled into the cab. Then he said something that’s haunted me ever since:<\/span><\/p>\n

“You know you’ve just saved their lives? I’m a Captain. I travel armed with my service pistol. When I break down, I take my family at least a mile into the bush. My people turn into hyenas after dark. I’d rather face wild animals than my own countrymen at night.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Let that sink in. A Kenya Army Captain. Armed. This was his reality.<\/span><\/p>\n

The Journey Home<\/span><\/h2>\n

The towing operation proved uneventful. We stopped at Small World Country Club for tea and a toilet break, then continued our slow convoy toward Nairobi. When we ran low on fuel, I had to sheepishly request money from them\u2014I was completely broke. Ah, the sweet innocence of poverty days, so charming in retrospect.<\/span><\/p>\n

Mr. Grizzled Indian lived in a massive house in Lower Kabete. As we approached Nairobi, I wondered about the Russian and the clandes\u2014where exactly were they headed?<\/span><\/p>\n

The navigation began: flashed headlights, hand signals. “Turn left at Baricho Road Roundabout toward NIC, then left again.” One of the Indians hopped into my cab to direct us past NIC.<\/span><\/p>\n

Gentlemen, let me tell you\u2014there exists a VAST NETWORK of immaculate “clande apartments” beyond NIC. Turn right… incredible! From the airport, head to the “Seal Honey” roundabout, go left uphill, take the first left keeping NIC on your right. Follow that road and turn right\u2014welcome to Clande Central! The area comes alive around 1 PM as residents wake up and book hair salon appointments for their “evening duties with the boss,” who’s perpetually “working late at the Industrial Area office” due to terrible traffic to Lavington-Runda-Muthaiga. Oh, the traffic is sooo<\/em> bad!<\/span><\/p>\n

We arrived at their apartment, untied the Pajero, declined payment (fuel then cost about 30 shillings), and departed.<\/span><\/p>\n

The moral?<\/strong> Even an armed Kenya Army Captain fears for his life after dark on Kenyan roads.<\/span><\/p>\n

The Essential Safari Kit<\/span><\/h2>\n

When I travel\u2014convoy if possible, but if not, I come prepared:<\/span><\/p>\n

Core Equipment<\/span><\/h3>\n

Towrope, torch, toolkit, foot pump, bicycle repair kit<\/strong> (in those days, all Land Rovers and pickups used tube tires), and jumper cables.<\/span><\/p>\n

Two functioning spare tires, a 10-tonne jack, and a TRIED AND TESTED wheel spanner.<\/strong> Not some flimsy thing that rounds off at first resistance.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then something peculiar: a hardwood block\u201412x12x2 inches, mahogany or mvuli.<\/strong> Strong wood that won’t splinter under a jack.<\/span><\/p>\n

The First Aid Kit Reality<\/span><\/h3>\n

Here’s where most people fail catastrophically. That 500-shilling Nakumatt “special” with two band-aids and a condom? Utterly useless.<\/span><\/p>\n

Have you ever witnessed a proper road traffic accident? There’s BLOOD. Copious amounts.<\/span><\/p>\n

You need:<\/span><\/p>\n