It’s our time to travel uninsured

Tony Ngare

There is a new book in town causing consternation in the rank and file of the political class (my friend Mwangi refers to them as political crass, but I am not sure whether this is a mispronunciation or not). The feared book is titled It’s Our Time to Eat.

However, if you were a rural peasant in Makuyu or Ukambani, you probably would be reading It’s our time to starve version. If you live somewhere in the neighbourhood of Budalang’i, your MP is probably working on a version titled It’s our time to oppose. But if I were you, I would be more concerned with the perennial flooding, so It’s our time not to drown should make an urgent read. This is because the timing of the floods is as reliable as that of the underground tubes in Europe that arrive and depart not one second late.

But if you are a daily commuter in Nairobi, you probably take a matatu to work like the majority of us. What many of us don’t know is that a good number of the matatus that we scamper into daily to get to work are not insured.

Unknowingly, we read a chapter or two of It’s our time to travel uninsured daily.

Kenyans are known to take all sorts of shortcuts in their quest to make a quick buck but operating a public service vehicle without the appropriate insurance is simply taking the game too far.

Imagine travelling in a matatu that suddenly comes face to face with one of those big lorries that have been busy in the recent past ferrying maize to everywhere in the country except Turkana and Ukambani where cereals are badly needed.

Hospital bill worries

If you are lucky to survive the aftermath, you will probably make prime time news with one of your legs delicately suspended in the air in a hospital. In this situation, your initial worries will be whether you will ever walk again. But after a few weeks in hospital and upon realising walking again is a possibility, you start worrying about the hospital bill. As your leg heals, your stomach ulcers and psychological state deteriorates.

Let’s not forget you were rushing to work, but chances are that the brains at HR department are plotting on how to ease you out of the payroll with minimum fuss.

At this juncture you are not aware that you were travelling uninsured. This dawns on you when your brother accompanied by one of your cousins visits the police station.

The situation starts to look grimmer as more and more blocks pop up. However, the cops are quick to add, "investigations are going on". That must be one of the most misused statements in police circles. A visit two weeks later to the police doesn’t yield anything. The same response suffices.

World upside down

None of the HR officials from your employer have turned up yet with a bunch of bananas, let alone flowers. This is not a good sign — probably no one wants to be the bearer of the news that will turn your world completely upside down.

You begin to wish the insurance certificate on the matatu’s windscreen was as big and prominently displayed as the board informing you of the vehicle’s destination.

The Government that is supposed to save us from such unscrupulous fellows has difficulty deciding whether to cut the budget for office flowers or tea to ensure millions of children go to school.

When they are not worrying about this they are squabbling over the re-negotiation of powers to include 50:50 appointments to the military and the diplomatic postings.

To whom shall we turn for our salvation?

— tonyngare@eastandard.net