For all the affluent locals, expatriate wankers and a few ladies of the night who’d chanced the $20 entrance fee in the hope of a decent return on investment, the third Saturday of every month meant one thing only. Full moon extravaganza at Mediterraneo Hotel. However, this one was like all the other beach parties on the Indian Ocean that came before it. Overrated and overpriced for that matter. Mostly spent guarding your position in the bar queue. As a British cunt who placed value the importance of a queuing up, it was nothing less than abhorrent. However, not being the fittest didn’t mean I wasn’t going to survive. Tucked into my underwear were a few sachets of conveniently packed Konyagi. Made my cock look bigger too. Take that Darwin.
As the morning sun rays were just making their scheduled appearance and there were absolutely no prospects of getting laid(without paying), it was probably time to end the misery and go home. Most people usually drove the 25 min journey. Hundreds of cars. Thousands of paralytic people. Police that you could buy off. Equalled some fucking dangerous shit. On this a occasion id been sensible and decided to take a taxi. Don’t think it could have been more than two minutes into the journey home before the uncontrollable urge to close my eyes won the battle. Lights out. I awoke as we were pulling right into my instantly recognisable pink flats in upmarket Oysterbay. Result. Nice work dude. The man deserves a tip.
Only one problem though. Where the fuck was my shit? Unsteadily, stumbling out of the car I tried to think back. Fuck. No wallet. No phone either for that matter. What the fuck? I couldn’t even begin to remember where they had last been seen. Fuck. The passenger door with the green stripe indicating it was a taxi, was still open. Let me have a quick gander, in case it had fallen down a crack in the seat. As I took a uncoordinated lurch forward, a surprising high pitch screeching sound of tyres spinning on tarmac instantly pierced the serene morning air.
What the fuck was this geezer doing? Seriously? Now the best thing to do would have been to just let the car drive off, not the end of the world. Shit Nokia phone anyway. But fuck it. Instinct took over, putting one leg inside the car right before took off down the road at a high speed. Fuck sake. My right leg in. My left leg out. Cling onto the door handle for dear life and shake it all about. The vehicle slalomed down the road. The wanker was actually trying to roller coaster me out of the moving vehicle. What the absolute fuck is the crazy fucking bastard behind the wheel doing?!
Luckily for me, unluckily for him, the road veered to the left which flung me back into the car. Jesus. I looked at him in all three versions. What a nutter. He stared back probably thinking the same thing, with a dash of partial amazement but mostly just fear. And he was fucking right to be scared. This motherfucker was going in a headlock. Disregarding the fact we were travelling at a decent speed I wrapped my arm around his neck. Thankfully for us both, it was my non-wanking arm and he managed to steer us off the road and into a nearby lay-by.
After wriggling out of my hold, he decided he didn’t want to fuck with this beast of a human and decided to flee the scene leaving his keys in the ignition. What a cunt! I quickly grabbed the keys and launched them as far as I could. Not particularly far. Suddenly we had a crowd. Where did you all come from? They formed a physical protective barrier between the taxi driver and I preventing any further escalation. Still where they came from at the time in the morning is beyond me. Thankfully, I recognised a few people as other taxi drivers from the local rank. Explaining to the crowd in drunken broken Swahili that I didn’t have my phone and asked someone to please call my mobile.
A taxi driver who looked familiar dialled my phone number. Where was that noise coming from? I could hear the Nokia tone ringing. Low and fucking behold it was in my back pocket which I hadn’t checked. Only joking. I promise. The jingle led us to the driver’s side, and my phone and wallet was located under his seat. Fucking prick. How dare he.
Filled with rage I put my head down and charged at the knobhead, Like a brown rhino. Yeah you little wanker. Run like a little bitch. Unwittingly, I chased him in the directions of his keys, he stooped picked them up in one fucking swift move and turned back around on me. Shit, I had been double bluffed. To make it fucking worse he also picked up a fucking serious-looking rock. Fuck. It was my turn to run, exactly back up the same way we had just come. Roadrunner x Coyote Tanzania edition.
As I approached back to near his car, the enthralled bystanders who had watched this all stepped in the way to protect me. They unarmed him and told him for lack of better words to fuck off. I’d kept on running a bit further down just to be sure and settled with two other people a little further up. He eventually got the message and got back in his car infuriated. Yeah fuck off bastard. A little rev of the engine indicated his displeasure. There was not much he could do but to drive off.
As i was celebrating my unanimous victory, the ashamed driver flipped the wheel at the last second and fucking drove it directly at me. Looking for Mwindi blood. To be honest, when it came down to it, it was neither fight nor flight, I just fucking froze. I know your thinking about how the fuck did my gene survive 6 million years of evolution. Couldn’t quite tell you myself. Luckily, once again these wonderful folk again used their body as a human shield, they knew the crazed driver wouldn’t hit them. What a gamble to protect a relative stranger. It fucking paid off, he braked hard and skidded back on to the main road and was then gone into the distance.
You guys are my fucking heroes. I didn’t have much in that shitty wallet to give as a appreciative tip but whatever little there was distributed to a few of the people around. Gave everyone else a big hug as my show of gratitude, whilst offering to pay them all“elf kumi”($5) each tomorrow.
They picked an outsider over one of their very own taxi brotherhood and countryman because it was the right thing to do. Salut.
Even a couple of years later i’d get random people coming up to me shouting “elf kumi” and laughing.