Ivan Musoke

Parts Unseen; The Second

The song goes; “It’s kinda hard out here for a pimp. . .”
It says nothing about the life of a law enforcer. In fact, when you think about it, It doesn’t say anything about this particular character, whom we shall christen Andrew.

Andrew is somewhat different from your run of the mill police officers. Well, for one thing, contrary to that tag, he is in fact a Traffic Officer. He always wanted to be a Policeman, and even went as far as telling some visiting relatives so, way back when he was seven.

Things didn’t quite work out the way he’d figured and he’d settled for this. It wasn’t a bad job as such. He doesn’t mind it. Its safe, and according to recent polls, safe is a good thing to be when you’re working. The only drawback, as far as he is concerned is the fact that he has to miss out on a large chunk of his favourite show. He listens to it religiously, and this morning he will have to leave the house at 6.

I suppose a twist would be nice at this point, so here it is. Andrew makes money on the side, after all, isn’t corruption the sort of thing that’s expected. It is especially rewarding when you’re not found out. Ask a politician.

Andrew gets up at 5am and prays.

Its weird, I know, but he does nonetheless. He wants to have a great day. He doesn’t want to deal with all these annoying people that pass for drivers. In fact, he will probably let a couple of them off today. Nothing will mess up his day. In his haste, he almost forgets about brushing his teeth.

As he walks out the door, he can hear the presenter on the radio updating the listeners on just what he has planned for them. Andrew sighs as he realizes he will miss yet another great show.

He contemplates using a motorcycle to work, then lets the thought go after realizing that there is in fact a part of him that will die if he is seen.

He boards a taxi and is thankful that the “conductor” managed to procure some bathing soap. He reasons that things must be looking up in the transport sector. It’s a shame the driver has failed to evolve. He still thinks there is such a thing as interesting local presenters. For crying out loud, they can’t even pronounce the names right. Andrew wishes he’d sat upfront and schooled the driver in the Entity that is / was Dirk. A flash of inspiration dashes past and he manages to pick up the words, “Dirk Ages” before it leaves. What was that about? He wonders.

He gets to his intended destination and resists the urge to walk off without paying his fare.
He is entitled to that sort of behavior because;
He is in law enforcement
He has been cheated out of some money before and . . .

He doesn’t want anything to ruin his day so he pays up and shuts his mouth in time to prevent it from getting carried away and uttering, “Chief, keep the change…”

He looks at his watch and it reads 7 am. He performs a couple of routine checks. Makes sure that people are strapped in as they drive and are not using their cell phones.

That’s always been a bone of contention for him; Cell phones.

He stops another car and walks over to the driver’s side of the vehicle wearing a smile. If Andrew had a photographic memory he would recall that the last time he wore this smile was back in school when he lost his virginity to the goody-two shoes in the class above him.

He figures he will force some small talk with the driver of the car while “catching a listen” of Dirk Times.

Unfortunately, its not on the radio this driver is listening to. In fact, this is nothing like Dirk Times. Its one of those new-fangled stations that claim to be “listener friendly”. They generally get on his nerves. Their self righteous concern for the listeners bores him.

He looks at the driver’s permit. He barely pays attention to it. He sees that the driver is called Ced . . something. It doesn’t matter. He won’t be jotting down anything. It’s Happy Hour on the Highway.

20 minutes later, he has failed to get a rise out of his “prey”. He lets him off with a warning and then figures there’s no harm in dispensing some advice. He proceeds to lean over and as politely as he can, asks him to buy a toothbrush and some toothpaste.

It’s a simple case of a brother looking out for another brother. Or at least that’s what he wants to think.

As the driver speeds off, Andrew heaves a sigh and doesn’t register the words coming in over the static on his walkie talkie.

Time check, 7:45am.




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