Dear Traffic Police, We’re Too Stupid To Drive Without You

I wake up on Monday morning, switch on my radio and proceed to shower. The news comes up and the the first thing I hear is:

“Traffic Police to be Withdrawn From Round Abouts”


I was so much in shock, I had a near death experience.

Here’s is the thing, it won’t work. We road users – motorists, pedestrians, cyclists and handcart drawers, etc are too daft (or too smart) to drive without the police.

We are the drivers who emerged from driving schools that had driving instructors we had to bribe to teach us. And when we didn’t bribe them, they cancelled our classes or limited them to 15minute sessions. Then again, we are also the male drivers who proudly chest thump our way around town, brass balls hanging between our legs , glad that we didn’t go to driving school. We drove around the village or stole our parents’ cars and learned how to drive. And as far as the traffic code is concerned we only know that:

  • Green means go and
  • Red means stop unless of course there are no cars coming, otherwise go

We are also the stchupid female drivers who bribed our way through driving school and learned how to step on the accelerator and the brakes. Automatic cars were made for us. The rest are details. We don’t know what ATF does, and we couldn’t be caught dead fixing a flat tyre. Yes, we are the stupid female drivers who after causing an accident, or get involved in one, the first thing we say is “let me call my husband”.., because husbands come with accident covers and can get us out of our sticky situations and silly mistakes.

Yes Mr. Officer, we are the stupid drivers who think driving is part of our leisure time. That’s when we remember we need to call our mothers, and our friends, who we were drinking with last night and are not sure whether they got home okay. It’s also the time when we read the newspaper and even eat our cornflakes. Besides, we are the cocky, multi-tasking drivers. We’ve been doing this for years, surely, we can only get better at driving by doing something else while driving.

We are also the drivers that create prejudices against tiny cars and the square shaped ones. The drivers that decided that Vitzs and Proboxs are not cars and are therefore unroadworthy. And the more we hear this nonsense the more we harass these drivers, hardly giving way to the Vitz driver, unless of course she’s a hot lass.

We are the stupid matatu drivers who’ve decided that we are more in a hurry than anyone else. That we only have 24 hours in a day while the rest of Kenya has 29. Yes, we are those matatu drivers who have right of way. We can drive on pavements and push aside barriers. We are the conceited matatu drivers who think tuktuks are little ants that need to be driven in the drainage. So good are we at our trade that the gamers have created a game in our honour.

But then again, we are also the stupid pedestrians who think we have right of way. That because we don’t have a brake pedal like the motorists do, we deserve to walk as freely as stray dogs. We have a right to cross the road at any point – where the traffic lights are green, and under flyovers. Just watch us walking on the pavements. We walk like we are crippled. At that time we are not in a hurry. We walk in execution lines, creating human barriers where others would like to pass. And on the same pavements, we’ll stop abruptly and have up to 30minute conversations there in the middle of the pavement. We don’t bother to move to the side. We’ll stand at entrances to supermarkets, banks and God help us, even hospitals. We are those smart pedestrians with zero common sense. We like to rub shoulders with strangers, knocking them over and never bothering to apologize. If we can’t walk properly, imagine how we drive. On the road, where we can’t rub shoulders, we rub bumpers and get to know each other and a clueless lady’s husband.

That’s us. The smart motorists, drinking at the club while watching the news clip about the fools who died drinking Yokozuna. Just one for the road, and we’ll leave and go home. Oh yeah. We are parked between the highway infront of Galileo or Rafikiz because we must must must go to that particular club even when the parking lot is full. There’s no other place we can go have a drink.  That’s right, we are the smart ones. The flamboyant, educated, affluent, middle class with the new Subaru purchased with an unsecured loan. The lot that must be re-educated on the concept of a designated driver by a musician who jumps out of a bush like Cinderella’s fairy godmother. We smart ones can only grasp some concepts when presented in fairytale fashion.

Did I mention that we are also the mad ones? The gamers who can’t get enough of Grand Theft Auto 4. The ones that have desired to know what it feels like to hit 220, because Mombasa Road is wider and smoother and the speedometer seems to accommodate the thrill.

We are also the mad angry ones. We fought with the landlord, didn’t get any from the wife and our kids lost another sweater which we must buy. So we are pissed with the world, and we’ll take it out on other motorists. Our road rage, displayed in sneers, smirks, curse words and middle fingers. No one cuts us in traffic, or crosses the road in front of our cars. Cyclists are dogs (mbwa wewe!) and pedestrians are whores (malaya!). We are indeed the mad drivers, the stupid ones who hoot at fellow motorists who stop when the lights turn red, whether there’s on coming traffic or not. The stchupid ones who’s idea of resolving a car accident is to slap a matatu driver, shoot him with a gun or point a sword at him.

We are the City Hoppa drivers at Kencom who won’t move to the front of the queue. The Star Bus drivers who think Waiyaki Way was made only for them. The taxi drivers overlapping on Harambee Avenue, and will hoot at a pedestrian on the zebra crossing while that very taxi is on the wrong side of the road. We are the Asian drivers in Parklands and Highridge. The ones who only give way to “onti” and “oncle” while the Africans can fuck off to Jogoo Road or wherever it is they drive. “Parklands is an Asian territory. Go look for your African road elsewhere!”

Mr. Officer Sir, you can’t leave us especially not at the roundabouts. Coz there, right there, is where our madness, smartness and stupidity come together.

And we are forced to move in orderly fashion like synchronized swimmers. You know we can’t. We are a product of an education system that taught us that we should only do what’s right when someone is watching us.

That’s why we strap on our seat belts when we see the police on the highway. That’s why we hide the beer that was on the dashboard and disconnect the phone call we were making. We do it all for you. How then do you expect us to abide by the mere flashing of three lights? We, the same drivers who think indicators are a decorative piece in our cars and should therefore not be used, just admired. We who never service our vehicles, so we never check whether our brake lights are working. We who go out to drink in the wee hours of the night with only one functioning headlamp.

Some of us may celebrate your departure from the roundabouts, perhaps because we do not know that everyday, there’s an accident on Haile Selassie roundabout and Nyayo Stadium Roundabout. We don’t care to understand why trees cannot grow on Lang’ata Road or why there are always chipped rocks on Mbagathi Way Roundabout. If we drivers cannot see a roundabout, will we see the traffic lights? The green, red and amber mean nothing to us. The only colour we seem to respond to is blue. And you’re it.

10 Even More Useless Cars

Remember this list of cars more useless than a Vitz? I had mentioned that there were more cars that were also pretty horrid that I’d forgotten to name and shame so here they are. Starting with the one that should’ve topped the previous list: Continue reading

10 Ridiculous Rides That Should Be In Nairobi

The other day I was speed walking through Hurlingham when I saw that notorious Aston Martin DB9 that some clown paid 25 million Kenyan coins for. I stopped and stared and shook my head.
Kenya is littered with nonsensical vehicles, most of which are just cheap and/or ugly, but some go to the other extreme. There are numerous ridiculous automotive displays of wealth littering this impoverished city; from the 50million shilling Bentley GT Coupe to pretty much every car at the Concours d’Elegance that wasn’t for sale. One has to wonder why anyone would drive a car that sits so close to the ground in a country riddled with oversized bumps, potholes and matatu drivers. As far as practicality goes, none exists in the case of these cars.

While I don’t approve of people wasting buckets of money on purposelessness and ostentatious displays of opulence, I am a car enthusiast and do unfortunately ascribe to the sad bumper sticker wisdom that he who dies with the most toys wins. That said, if I were to squander Fort Knox’s holdings on a vehicle just for the heck of it, it’d probably be one of the ones below. Continue reading

Bragging Rites

I was born into a humble home run by a single mother and her son who was but a year or two older than I. As children, we never thought we were broke, but we were pretty aware that we didn’t have a whole lot.

More important than this, we knew the worth of a Shilling before we ever felt the need to ask for one. So, while mildly oblivious of our own financial state, we were deftly able to assess those around us without passing judgment.

Not judging, however, does not mean not feeling. I can’t speak for my older wiser brother, but I felt the sting every time anyone unjustly flaunted their supposed wealth in my face. From rich cousins and their new toys to schoolmates and…well…their toys. As I grew older, it was politicians that made me sick. Scam and con artist thieves that they were, they made my stomach churn audibly. And not because they were doing wrong, but because they dared rub it our faces. They dared rub their premature, soon-to-expire, undeserved trinkets in starving people’s faces; shamelessly.

I raised my chubby little 8 year old fist and shook it, swearing revenge. Continue reading

10 Cars to Drive Before I Die

10 Cars to drive before I die

Yes, I enjoy making car lists. Why? Maybe it’s the testosterone, maybe it’s that I just enjoy driving. A lot. Anyway, this is a list I actually do keep in my head because according to The Secret, if you imagine it hard enough, you can have it. So here’s hoping that one day, my garage shall contain the following monster vehicles. In no particular order, as usual…. Continue reading

I’d Rather Have A Vitz

I'd rather Have a Vitz - 10 cars more useless than a Vitz Diasporadical

For whatever reason, we’ve managed to create the illusion that we at Diasporadical have something against the Vitz. Alas, we do not. They are perfectly sound vehicles, albeit small and laughable. But nay, Vitz owners, do not fret; there is yet hope. You see, I’ve gone out on the streets of this fair city and found 10 cars that are more useless than the Toyota Vitz. And here they are in no particular order. Continue reading