Close call

It was already dark by the time the taxi pulled up to our gate. The time had come for us to leave the house for good, and it felt like a huge weight was lifted from our shoulders. We'd been having complications with Mama for quite some time now, but this was the final straw. Our bags we're packed and we were heading to Jane's home, a teacher I knew from my school. She recommended a taxi driver named Gikandi, since he apparently knew exactly where she lived. Surrendering independence is a tough reality in these circumstances. As we started down the road, in a car that stalled twice in a matter of seconds, we realized we had no idea where we were going, with a man we had never before met. The road became rougher, the lights dissipated, and the anxiety started to rise in my stomach. On the third turn down a dark, rocky, and narrow pathway, I decided this was not the best situation.

"Gikandi?" I nervously raise my voice. No answer. "GIKANDI????" This really might not even be the correct taxi driver. He's not responding and I decide this is quickly becoming a bad situation. "Gikandi, is this where Jane LIVES??" Nothing. Sanne, my roommate, abruptly jerks around to meet eye contact with me. Even in the dark the look on her face matches the feeling in my gut and a sudden panic and adrenaline ensues. I grab his shoulder, "GIKANDI???" He finally turns around. In a monotone response he says, "I don't know where Jane lives but I'm taking you to a place." PANIC. Full on survival mode. Seat belt unlatched. My eyes are darting around the car to see what collateral damage I'm about to lose regarding my belongings when I make my escape. I'm calculating my ejection from this car, immediately determining how I'll unlock and open the door and roll out of the moving vehicle with minimal physical damage. Damnit, I really don't want to give up that Kenya map I just bought, can I possibly grab it, AND my backpack before I take the leap? No. No Jen, definitely not, give it up. Sanne is dialing a number, I have no idea who, but I know we're thinking the same thing. "Pull over," she raises her voice to Gikandi, "PULL OVER!"

I'm trying to determine if this is a true threat. I know I can trust Jane...but can I? In the Rwanda genocide, neighbors and friends turned on each other. In the political massacre in Kenya last year, even family members were using weapons and rocks against one another. On top of that, poverty can make people do crazy things. I'm dialing Jane's number and as I reach her on the other line she's asking where I am. Suddenly Gikandi pulls the car over and his evil grin from earlier has transformed into an entertained smile, as it seems he's aware we've been spooked and no longer wants us to worry. As quick as the situation escalated, the mood has now lightened as Jane confirms the route he's taken and the interior light switches on.
In the end we made it to Jane's house in one piece. The driver was only joking with us, the vulnerable white girls at night. Honestly, I need to get it together. My consistently heightened sense of awareness is really starting to stress me out...