Chai Na Short Skirt

Many years ago, I needed to take a driving test. Now let me start by confessing something: I already knew how to drive. My mother had taught us how to drive long before driving schools became fashionable. In our house, driving was not a luxury skill — it was a survival skill. If the car needed moving, someone had to move it.

So technically, I could drive.

But there was a small problem.

I had never gone to driving school, never done the theory board test, and had absolutely no relationship with the Highway Code book.

But life had reached that stage where you must be on the road legally. You cannot keep saying, “I know how to drive but I just don’t have a license.” In Kenya that sentence can quickly turn into a roadside sermon from traffic police.

So I decided to do the responsible thing.

I booked for the driving test.

My plan was simple.
Book the exam.
Study properly.
Attend the test confidently.
Pass like a responsible citizen.

Beautiful plan.

Except for one small detail.

I forgot about the exam.

Completely.

Days passed. Life continued. I was busy with other things until one day my phone beeped with a message.

“Reminder: Your driving test is scheduled in two days.”

Two days.

Two.

My heart skipped like a faulty generator.

Two days meant:

• I had not read the Highway Code
• I had not practiced the official test format
• I had not even seen the exam centre

Panic mode activated immediately.

I rushed to the exam centre hoping for a miracle. I found one of the instructors and explained my situation with the honesty of a desperate person.

“I have an exam in two days but I have not studied. Can you please give me a crash course?”

The instructor looked at me calmly, the way someone looks at a person who is already in trouble but doesn’t know it yet.

He waved his hand dismissively and said,

“Don’t worry about it. Just bring me chai very early in the morning. I leave home early.”

Simple instruction.

Bring chai.

In Kenya, chai solves many problems.

So I nodded confidently and said,
“Okay.”

On my way home I decided to share the story with a friend.

My friend listened quietly and then leaned closer like someone revealing secret national intelligence.

“If you want to pass that test,” she said seriously, “just wear a short skirt. The policeman will be too flattered to fail you.”

Now let me explain something important.

When you are in panic mode, even questionable advice can sound like wisdom.

So I mentally noted both strategies:

Strategy One: Bring chai.
Strategy Two: Wear short skirt.

Problem solved.

When I got home I narrated the whole story to my mother.

“Mum, the instructor said I should bring him chai early in the morning.”

My mother paused.

The kind of pause that mothers make when they are evaluating whether their child understands the world.

“Are you sure he meant breakfast?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said confidently.

Because in my mind, chai meant chai.

Tea.

Milk.

Sugar.

Maybe mandazi if you are feeling generous.

My mother shrugged and said, “Okay.”

On the morning of the exam, she prepared proper chai like we were sending someone to visit relatives upcountry.

Thermos.
Paper bag.
Everything.

Meanwhile I remembered my friend’s second strategy.

So I wore the short skirt.

I presented myself at the exam centre feeling like someone who had prepared both spiritually and physically.

I had chai.

I had the skirt.

Surely success was guaranteed.

First came the board test.

Now this part was brutal.

The questions were speaking a language I had never met before.

Road signs looked like mysterious hieroglyphics.

I answered what I could.
Guessed what I could not.

By the time I finished I already knew the truth.

I had failed terribly.

Not small failure.

A sincere failure.

But there was still the practical driving test.

And here is where things got interesting.

The traffic policeman who was examining the drivers approached our car.

He looked around, then his eyes landed on me.

Short skirt.

Confidence.

Possibly confusion.

He gave instructions and I drove.

Turn left.
Stop.
Reverse.
Move forward.

I drove carefully, praying silently.

By the end of the test he looked at the paper, looked at me again, then shook his head with a small smile.

And somehow…

I passed.

To this day I cannot fully explain it.

Let us just say the short skirt strategy did not hurt my chances.

But the bigger comedy was still unfolding.

Remember the chai?

The thermos was still in my paper bag.

After finishing the test I started looking for the instructor who had asked for chai.

I walked around the compound holding my bag like a responsible person fulfilling an agreement.

I checked the parking area.

No instructor.

I checked the classrooms.

Nothing.

I asked around.

Still nothing.

Meanwhile the other candidates had started noticing the lady walking around carrying a mysterious paper bag.

Finally someone asked me,

“Madam, what are you looking for?”

“I am looking for the instructor who asked for chai.”

They looked confused.

“What chai?”

I proudly opened the paper bag and showed them the thermos.

Silence.

Then laughter.

Serious laughter.

The kind where people bend forward.

One of them wiped tears from their eyes and said,

“Madam… when they say bring chai, they don’t mean tea.”

That is when it hit me.

Chai did not mean chai.

Chai meant a bribe.

And there I was walking around with actual tea.

The group laughed even harder.

One person said,

“You have just been saved from corruption by innocence.”

Another said,

“Imagine the instructor opening the bag and finding milk tea.”

But the instructor himself?

He had disappeared completely.

Maybe he knew I had misunderstood.

Maybe God protected me from doing something I did not even understand.

To this day those people still remember the story of the lady who came to a driving test carrying literal chai.

And every time I remember that day, I laugh.

Because when I look back, I see something deeper.

There were so many moments where things could have gone wrong.

I could have been embarrassed.

I could have been forced into bribery.

I could have failed completely.

But somehow, in the middle of confusion, panic, and bad advice…

God kept saving me.

Even from things I did not understand.

Sometimes God saves us through wisdom.

Sometimes through intervention.

And sometimes…

Through innocent misunderstanding and a thermos of tea.