A day in the life of a VIP's driver

I suspect all big people are afraid their aide may write books
flavoured with dingy secrets about them. I wouldn't worry about that
if I were them as those who know the most damaging stuff about these
guys are the insignificant, faceless workers we never see, the house
help, gardener, watchman and driver, yes the driver is to be most
feared as he sees and hears it all.

He picks up mheshimiwa at the crack of dawn in Karen, which means he
woke up at 3am as he lives on the opposite end of town - Dandora, to
be precise. For breakfast, he poured a mug of hot water into himself.

He shouldn't have hurried though. By the time he gets to Karen,
mheshimiwa is still snoring like one of those Chinese landmovers used
in Thika road.

He waits for an hour for the big man to wake up, fool around the gym,
shower, suit up and play with his grandson over a sumptous breakfast.
"Let's go", the big man a.k.a. Mheshimiwa will then order, no
utterance of an apology or mere greetings.

They will head to meet a political contact whose name ideally belongs
to the most wanted list. Mheshimiwa's phone will keep ringing and the
snippets of information that filter into the drivers ears would
frighten even the CID boss.

He will then drive mheshimiwa to a meeting that starts with starters,
proceeds with cold meats, graduates into hot meats and ends with
fattening cakes.

The meeting lasts some two hours but the driver daren't dash to a
kiosk for a packet of milk lest mheshimiwa needs him urgently.

And it goes on until another dinner meeting is held. The dinner
meeting will proceed to yet another meeting in Ngon'g Road where the
host will be a pretty lass in a flimsy lingerie. That meeting will
proceed under much clanking of wine glasses, giggles and kisses till
three in the morning as the farmished driver warms his bones by the
watchman's fire.