The Night We Raced Curfew
There was this period around 2021 when COVID-19 was still very much a scary reality. It was taking lives, hospitals were overwhelmed, and fear seemed to be everywhere. In the middle of all this, our brilliant government had come up with one of the measures they believed would help fight the spread of the virus: a curfew.
The curfew started at 10 p.m. Everyone was expected to be home or indoors by then. Police officers were stationed along the roads, setting up roadblocks and arresting anyone caught defying the rules.
I never quite understood the logic. Did COVID only come out at night? Was it somewhere during the day, minding its own business, then suddenly clocked in at 10 p.m.? I suppose we will never know where that brilliant thought came from.
Anyway, one particular day, my friend had just graduated. The previous night, we had celebrated with a few friends, but by the next day, it was just the two of us. We had no particular plan except to enjoy ourselves, explore a little, eat good food and generally have a good time.
And the day started beautifully.
I went swimming in the morning, and my friend was there watching me swim and basking in the sun. It was a slow, relaxed start to the day. We weren’t rushing anywhere. We were simply enjoying the morning and each other’s company.
Eventually, we got into the house, got ready and headed out. We went to Westlands because we wanted to explore some Chinese food we had heard about. Honestly, I wasn’t impressed.
The food was fresh, yes, but I didn’t think it was worth all the hype. Even now, I can’t decide whether the food was genuinely underwhelming or whether the previous night’s celebrations had something to do with my judgment.
Maybe it was the hangover. Maybe the food really wasn’t that good. Either way, the Chinese food did not give what people had promised.
We decided not to dwell on it and headed to Two Rivers Mall, where things got much better. We rode the Ferris wheel, walked around, enjoyed the different activities and, most importantly, enjoyed each other’s company.
It was one of those days where you don’t necessarily need an elaborate plan. You are just with someone you enjoy being around, and somehow everything becomes fun.
Eventually, we left Two Rivers and drove towards Ruaka. My friend knew a place there and had been raving about their pork like it was a national treasure. According to her, the pork was juicy, tender, perfectly cooked and basically capable of changing my life. I had to experience this miracle for myself. So off we went to Ruaka.
By this point, we had drinks in the car. And I had fully embraced my role as the passenger princess.
I was sitting comfortably, enjoying the music, the drive and the drinks. But I wasn’t just a passenger.
I had also been promoted to bartender a mixiologist if you like. We had some Tusker Cider and, of course, the gin of choice: Tanqueray Sevilla.I was having a fantastic time. My friend was having a fantastic time.
We got the pork, and now it was time to head home.
Except…
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We weren’t ready to go home. We still had some time before the 10 p.m. curfew, and going home early suddenly seemed like a terrible idea. My friend also wanted to enjoy driving at night on that particular road.
And honestly, I understood why. The road was newly built, there wasn’t much traffic and it passed through an area with beautiful trees. At night, it felt almost cinematic. The road was open, quiet and peaceful, with the cool night air coming through the windows.
So instead of going straight home, we decided to kill some time. We stopped at a joint in Kikuyu, got some drinks and enjoyed the music. Eventually, the clock started reminding us that COVID was apparently about to become a night creature again.
It was time to go home. At this point, I was properly tipsy. My friend wasn’t exactly sober either, although she was still behind the wheel and very much committed to her role as the designated driver.
As we drove, I became even more dedicated to my bartending duties.I served myself. I served my friend. And because she was driving, I tried to make her drinks less concentrated. Very responsible of me. Except her cup seemed to be getting empty suspiciously quickly. So I refilled it.
We drove on. The night was beautiful. The road was clear. The music was playing, the fresh air was hitting our faces through the windows. The vibes were vibing.
We were having one of those nights that make you think, Life is actually good. We were almost at her gate when, somehow, the devil — or perhaps our own poor judgment — whispered that we still had a few minutes.
Why go home now? We could drive a little further, turn around and come back.So that’s exactly what we did. And that innocent little decision would soon become one of those memories you never forget.
As we drove back towards her place, there weren’t many cars on the road. Then another car appeared. It was moving quite fast. My friend looked at it and somehow interpreted its speed as a challenge. That car was racing us. At least, that was the story she told herself. And my friend was not about to be defeated.
She stepped on the accelerator. Suddenly, what had been a peaceful drive became an F1 race. I was sitting in the passenger seat, completely immersed in the music and the moment, with absolutely no idea that we were about to leave the road.
Then, in the blink of an eye there was a loud bang, we hit the pavement. The car went up. For a moment, we were literally airborne. Then it rolled.
Once. Twice. Again.
Everything was happening so quickly, yet somehow, in the middle of it, I could see my friend going up and down, then myself going up and down.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
I still cannot properly explain what I felt in those moments. Strangely, I wasn’t screaming. I wasn’t even in the kind of shock I imagined someone would be in during an accident. I just remember us asking each other: “Are you okay?” “Are you okay?” As if we were still checking on each other in the middle of a normal conversation.
Eventually, after what felt like several rolls, the car finally stopped. Silence. The car was lying on its side. And unfortunately, it was lying on the passenger side. My side.
I was now down on the ground, while my friend was hanging above me.The airbags had deployed. The inside of the car looked completely different from the car we had been driving in only moments earlier. For a few seconds, I think we were both trying to understand what had just happened.
Then people came running to help us. They pushed the car enough for it to shift so that I could get upright. Then they helped pull both of us out. And this is the part that still amazes me. We didn’t even have a scratch. Not one.
After the car had rolled several times, after we had gone airborne, after everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong, God had somehow kept us.
