A day out with the cop's wife

When she enters the car, the first word that comes to mind is 'stocky'. She resembles what a quintessential cop's wife looks like in my head. Horizontally blessed. When I was a kid, way before I discovered I was useless in academics, I used to play a game. I would spot a stranger on the road or in a bus, and I would try and describe them in a word. I thought it would do my grammar a favour. It didn't. Instead, it led to my Math teacher describing me in one word. 'Toast'.

"Hi," she greets as she buckles up and shifts vigorously in her seat. I can almost hear the sound of the asphyxiated seat as it squeals desperately for help. "I'm Jules. My husband said you'd pick me up." "Your husband was right," I say bitterly because I know I will be paying for this ride. This is my get out of jail free card. The price I pay for sleeping behind the wheel in traffic. The bribe I give the cop so as to not get fired. "My name is Jules." "Oh. Like Jules Verne?" I don't know why I ask her that. Maybe it is because she is a teacher and I want to prove that I am a brainy driver. "Yes." Her voice betrays a hint of disappointment. "Like Jules Verne." "So good to meet you Jules." I say as I reverse out of the parking lot at Pangani Girls High School. "Where can I take you?" "Westlands. We'll do some shopping there, and then you'll drive me home to Kangemi."

As I head for Wangari Mathaai Road in silence, she asks, "So what did you do to deserve this?" "What did I do to deserve what?" "I could bet my left lung and kidney that he didn't pay you for any of this and I know for certain that you aren't doing it out of the goodness of your heart. So, what traffic offence did you commit?" "He does this a lot then I suppose?" "More than you'd imagine." She chuckles. Her teeth are well lined. When she isn't smiling, she looks 50. When that mouth curls up and those teeth show, she looks 10 years younger. I find myself warming up to the ride. A smile will do that to you. "It's OK." I feel like I am comforting her now. "I probably shouldn't have dozed off in traffic." I take her to Sarit Center for her shopping. My plan is to wait in the car, but when she steps out, she leans back in and mentions with the most obvious voice in the world, "Well, aren't you coming?" With obvious reluctance, I oblige her.

"When I was a kid, my mother used to tells this story about cops." Jules narrates as she puts loads of shopping into the gargantuan trolley. "A cop gets home in the evening and finds that his wife has made some stew but there is no accompanying ugali because there is no flour in the house. So he tells his wife, "Hold on a minute darling." Then he rushes to the nearby road, flags down the first car that drives along, leans in for a chat with the driver and says, "Your left tire is as smooth as a tongue." And the driver, even knowing that his left tire is fine and thinking that tongues aren't that smooth, still dives into his pocket and yanks out a note. 10 minutes and three cars down the line; the cop walks into a shop and buys some flour."

She seems sad as she pushes the trolley to another lane in the supermarket where she grabs more stuff. "And mama would ask, 'These cops' wives, don't they ever ask where the money comes from?'" She shakes her head as she chuckles again. "Never thought I'd be a cop's wife." She doesn't talk much after that. Not right up until we get to her place in Kangemi that she digs into her purse and hands me a Sh1000 note. "What for?" I ask. "For the ride. Unless you want to pay for it yourself." I don't, so I grab the money. "Oh, and Jules Verne was a man." She smiles again, and gets off the car. As I watch her leave, I decide to start reading again. Right before my Math teacher called me a toast, she told me that little knowledge is dangerous. Like knowing the name Jules Verne and thinking he is a woman.