By Tongola Mate via fb
I get a call from a lady in distress. She wanted a cab to take her to the nearest hospital ASAP.
She lives in an estate just after Naivas Mlolongo. I announce my arrival and she comes out wrapped in a Masaai shuka. Alas, she has labor pains. I alight quickly to open the co driver’s door. I pull the seat behind to give her enough leg room.
I drive off faster than Karltundo. Destination Nairobi West Hospital in South C.
On reaching the Imara Daima flyover, she writhes in much pain. Her left hand in her tummy. The right one on my left hand. I didn’t know pregnant women have a firm grip.
“It is here!” She shouts.
Speedometer is 163KM/h. Am sweating profusely. Eyes wide like a mirra driver cruising a Hilux.
“We are almost…” I try to reassure her.
Twaaaaf! Her water breaks.
“Mama yangu!” I shout.
“Rub my back you idiot,” she shouts
“I am driving. Just push” I try to sound like a trained surgeon.
Listen, I have never seen anything giving birth to a new born. Not even a cat. I didn’t know what to expect.
We are at Bob Mill, Mombasa Road. Out destination is 4 kilometers away. The screens in the car can’t be measured by decibels.
I kent!
I press the gas peddle to maximum. I could hear the throttle sensor squeak. And then an idiot driving a Noah crosses in front of me. I peed on myself. Almost a litre of hot urine.
To avoid hitting the fool, I swerve left towards the Ole Sereni – Southern bypass junction.
Ohh Lord, am now on the bypass. 130KM/h. Away from the hospital. The nearest turning turning is towards Karen/Langata.
“Stop calling your mother and help me! Park this car now” she yelled.
We came to a sudden halt. Then I saw blood.
I died.
Resurrected few seconds later.
She had pushed the baby out. The baby was on the mat. I closed the window so that it doesn’t catch cold. I reached out for the safety kit. Wore gloves and adjusted my specs.
Dr. Tongola was going into theater. His main role is to separate the two mammals by cutting the umbilical cord.
Operation successful. I felt larger than life. The mother was wasted. Tired like corruption. The infant was there wrapped in my leather jacket suckling its thumb.
We went to Lang’ata Hospital where on arrival, the watchie almost scampered for safety.
The smell. Fellow Kenyans. Blood, amniotic fluid combined with my urine. You know adult urine has sulphuric acid?
The baby was taken to the nursery and I was left asked if I needed adult Pampers which I obliged.
I went offline and went to tell the new mother goodbye. She hugged me and promised to name her son Tongola Junior.
Wacha nikaoshe gari.
Tongola mate is a radio presenter (Radio Maisha)
