A city woman has narrated how she gave birth in a taxi in traffic. This is a less than ideal situation for any woman who is expecting.
The lady wrote in to Kiss FM’s breakfast show hosted by Adelle Onyango and Shaffie Weru. She narrated how her water broke at home and her hubby was not at hand to drive her to hospital. So she called a cab.
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Here is her gripping narration…
Before I know it I feel some wetness on my seat. In between being angry and embarrassed it hits me that my water just broke! I struggle to get up and yes, the pains I have been feeling now feel like actual contractions. I pick up the phone and call dear husband. His friend Brian receives the phone and says he had to use the washroom. “Tell Vick that my water just broke and I am in pain, I am going into labor I need him to come pick me up,” I instructed. Brian tries to console me, “Oh no pole sana I can relate to your pain. Remember how bad my cold was last week I couldn’t even go to work? Oh here is Vick talk to him.”
Turns out that these boys aren’t anywhere near a wedding committee but are on the other side of town watching football. We agree that I take a cab and head over to hospital, Vick will find me there. This is the part I am glad that I have a taxi app on my phone so I don’t have to speak to any other human because prison can be lonely and there is no WiFi.
I quickly launch my cab app, and to punish Vick I ask for a Comfort Plus car…just because I can . I haul myself to the bedroom to pack the standard bag…you know…a shawl, some baby clothes, sandals, a change of clothing for me…and just to fulfil all righteousness I packed a piece of string that my home-science teacher once talked about in our Pre-Matiang’i education era.
Within 5 minutes my ride is outside the door; a silver Voxy, must be the latest model and boy it is so clean I could eat off of the seats. The driver is just smiling. I quickly lock up, crawl into the car and look the driver straight in the face and say, “I know this is too much information but I am in labor, my husband can’t make it here to pick me so your sole purpose in life right now is to get me to hospital as fast as possible. Are we clear?” “Yes madam, we are clear. You are in safe hands with me so don’t worry.”
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We drive away quickly and I call my gynecologist to alert him. Yes I said him.
At the junction of Popo road and Mombasa road, we find a long tail back of vehicles. Some president is coming to visit so all traffic joining the highway has been stopped. In my mind I think it is Vick’s fault. All of it. How can he get me pregnant and fail to notice when roads are about to be closed and warn me? I ask the driver to try find an alternative route to get us to Parklands.
We turn around and try to use the back route through South C. At this point I am so happy to have gotten the Comfort plus ride because I can have the seats folded to give me space. We go down Popo road nicely, get to the right turn and boom! Crazy traffic at a standstill. It looks like everyone (apart from my husband) knew of the road closure and tried to use an alternative route. We are stuck, I am in so much pain and the contractions are getting closer and closer. I have made countless calls to Vick and I can hardly find any more English words to scold him.
My driver turns round to me and says, “I’m sorry for your pain but we will get through this together. I meant it when I said you are in safe hands.” I give him a side eye wondering what he is on about. He goes on, “I have experience in conducting child birth and if need be I will step in to assist you. For now I would like you to get off your phone and get your breathing pattern right.” At first that idea sounded so silly and I almost threw my bag at him. But realistically speaking at that point he was my best chance of getting the baby out. To ensure that my people can find me just in case anything went wrong, I made use of the ‘share trip’ functionality on the Little app. Vick and his boys start heading towards me as the driver pulls into a nearby estate.
This guy was a professional. I still can’t believe he is a taxi driver. He was very gentle with me, addressed me with so much respect, and he went out of his way to make sure I am very free and comfortable enough to push the baby. He gave me his national ID and NHIF cards to keep in my bags so that should I feel unhappy I could use them to report him to Little taxi’s management. This made me trust him completely. He requested the security guys at the gate to get us someone’s compound where we could go in and get this baby in privacy.
He pulled out his car’s safety box (and now I know how important it is to have these things in your car), put on gloves and asked if I had any shawls. Pointed to my bag and we got straight into business. Within 20 minutes, my baby boy was gently crying in my arms neatly wrapped. We had agreed to name him Steve, but I couldn’t help add the name ‘Elvis’ in memory of this amazing cab driver that put our lives first.
Vick got to me about an hour later full of emotions. He was so happy the baby came, so sorry and disappointed that he wasn’t there to witness it, and a little scared of the impending bill he had to pay. I handed the driver back his documents, and decided to head to the hospital to have us admitted for monitoring and the usual injections. Elvis, the Little cab driver, bought us a car seat for the baby a week later in a surprise visit.