London is filled with Africans of all sorts. Working, studying, hustling, struggling and straggling – always on the move. Most have to send money home. So?
That night it was raining heavily.
I was late for work so straight on my mobile phone. To my taxi app. I clicked in the address of where I wanted to go and hey presto! The Uber was by my door barely three minutes later.
A female voice called through a half opened window.
I said yeah.
“Helena?” (assumed name)
I asked and we were in sync. I had my mask on. She had her on. One of major requirements. London is in Tier 4. The Prime Minister announced (solemnly, last weekend) Christmas is “cancelled by a surging mutant virus”.
No Xmas. No Xmas. No Xmas. The biggest day of the year is again muffled and suffocated by an unseen, invincible, vile enemy.
So I was in a blue Toyota Prius taxi.
I started thinking things.
The Uber driver was young enough to be my daughter, and I wondered. Journalistic curiosity took over as my colleagues in the profession will understand. THAT endless, inquisitive instinct.
“Aren’t you afraid of driving a cab at night?”
It was around ten o’clock, dark, wet, quiet, London.
She shrugged.
And as simple as a long, deserted road, she replied: “ Of course, being female, you get worried. But we always rely on Allah to protect us.”
So she was risking ?
“Look, Frederick. I have three children. The father is not there.”
Where was he?
“Ah! A long story, but, I left him in Africa and escaped. Sorry, my brother! Sorry! I know not all you men are wife beaters, but I would rather not die!”
As I mused on the SORRY – with a lot of weight in its meaning – she carried on.
Helena: “In this city you cannot rely on you, men. You cannot rely on friends either. I had to wake up. I’m a nurse by profession, but the work is not only just heavy, it’s badly paid, and the hours don’t do justice. Then another hazard. I have seen four friends getting Covid-19. One passed away two months ago.”
She seemed to be constantly bashed by tragedies.
“Not just that. I come from a part of Africa that has not known peace. Where are you from? (I told her). You are African. You know our continent. Our leaders. Most of us are here because we could not feed ourselves. This is not a nice place. It’s cold. We live in small rented rooms. We spend our lives working, working, working. Who enjoys here? Tell me? Yet we HAD to come here...”
Yes. The woman was talking.
It is rare for a female driver to be so talkative, but she was a charismatic lady. I said to myself, I wouldn’t mind writing a story about her life.
My trip was long – at least 20 minutes, so we needed a conversation.
Now Helena was talking about Uber.
“ It’s cheaper than other taxi services. So it’s good for you passengers. But (she liked to say BUT!), we drivers get less. There might be baksheesh or tips. If you are friendly and professional and pleasant, chances of a tip are bigger than being rude. But as a woman you have to be careful you are not misunderstood. You know what I mean?”
I pretended I didn’t know what she meant. Since she had a “gift of the garb” it was not difficult.
Helena: “Come on brother! You know if you are unfriendly you are cold. If you are too friendly it might make the guy think you want him or are after sex or something. You have to balance and read people. It is a female instinct...and experience of course!”
So how old were her children? She seemed too young.
“Twelve, Eight and Five...”
Woow.
She did not even look 30 yet.
“I have to fight for my life and children. My dad used to say never give up!”
Good spirit, I thought as the blue Toyota Prius kept sliding across London’s streets, and! ... soon nearing my destination. I thought of some of the people in the city who seem down and angry. Some who get paid 80 percent (of their salaries), while staying at home and still moan and complain. Yet this African lady keeps on working and risking and ...
Helena yawned finally.
“You are my last customer tonight,” she announced. “I never work after ten! Now have to pick up my kids from the baby sitter!”
At least she was concerned about her safety.
Later I tipped her. With Uber it is done on the phone.
