A few days ago, Police held a meeting with motor cyclists to remind them about safety issues. Anyone caught in the wrong would have to see his ratings dropped and this could affect his license.

I understand how many of us really depend on motor cycles for transportation and therefore these boda boda riders had better behave themselves.

However, during the mid-90s, things were different for Aggrey and me. I mean, during those days, Aggrey and I detested the idea of mounting on top of a motor cycle. Instead, we boasted around in special hire taxis. All in the name of peer pressure!

So whenever we went out for drinks at the rowdy pubs, we always arrived in style. We would ask the taxi driver to park the car right at the entrance. He would press the accelerator to make that intimidating sound from the engine. 

We then walked out arms akimbo. The ladies would flock the area for a taste of our riches. But whenever it was time to go home, Aggrey and I would realize that our pockets were on the verge of yawning in hunger. That is why we would sneak out discreetly to look for a boda boda to take us back home in Kabeza. We never wanted the ladies to know that we use boda bodas for transport!

Then, on one crazy evening, we consumed more drinks than we could handle. Our lady companions also guzzled like there was no tomorrow. They really harassed our pockets until they became as dry as a desert. 

After enjoying our hard earned coins, they demanded for a taxi to take them back to their homes. Aggrey and I were feeling annoyed. How dare they ask for a taxi after having wiped clean our pockets? "Ladies, thanks a lot for your nice company. We look forward to seeing you soon. The motos are outside waiting for you”. The girls suddenly sobered up. "What! You mean that you want us to go back home on boda bodas? Are you crazy? So long as we live here on earth, we can never be seen traveling on a motorcycle. So give us money for a taxi right away!”

Aggrey and I stopped. We looked at each other as we absorbed the insult. How could they expect us to hire a taxi for them when they had just consumed our two-month salary advances? They had drunk the most expensive liquors and here they were refusing to board motorcycles to dispatch them back to their places of residence. Were they not crazy themselves? Anyway, things had become more than elephant for us. We had to put up some face and avoid a scene. So, Aggrey ran around the bar to look for a Good Samaritan who would loan us some cash for a taxi.

Luckily enough, we managed to raise the necessary funds for a taxi. We bade them goodbye and saw the last of them. We promised ourselves that if we were to ever bump into them again, we would have to do the right thing; Flee as far away as possible! After our last beers, we hit the road and trekked back to our Kabeza home. We did not have any coin left for climbing on a moto let alone hire a taxi driver. That was the lifestyle in the mod-90s.

But things have since changed. Everybody fancies the motorcycle. Even yours truly uses it whenever the strength to climb the Gikondo hill dwindles. I find myself hoping on top of a moto as I race to catch on my errands in town. I also therefore call on motor cyclists to behave themselves since this mode of transportation is very important to us folks.