I have a boss at the headquarters up in the city who checks in on Jiji Ndogo every so often (once a week, to be precise) for a report on the goings-on here.

Once in a while, when he’s not railing me for shoddy work like incomplete reports and what-not, he throws me an encouraging word or two.

“Current events shape life, Makini,” he tells me. “Your breakfast is only as good as they day’s prices.”

Did I mention he’s a really wise guy? He is, and not in the Joe Pesci “Are you being a wise guy with me?” kind of way in Goodfellas.

As I watched the Safari Rally come to a close in Naivasha, I found myself thinking back to my boss’s statement and realising just how much marriage is like the just-concluded race. When I decided to enter the competition, I needed a navigator. I don’t know exactly how a navigator plays the part, but I know his or her job is to guide the driver through the course.

As the driver, I had to have my game right. I had to convince my potential partner that not only were we going to have a good race, we had a shot at winning the whole thing. Actually, the winning part is very crucial. No navigator is willing to risk her life next to a driver who’s only trying out his luck.

“Sophia,” I said to my now-wife, “I’m one of a kind and you’ll never find another guy like me. I’m loyal, trustworthy and the kind of man who will lay down his life for you.”

If the driver is lucky enough to have his pleas heard, the potential co-driver grants him a trial period within which to prove himself. Boy, was I good during those test drives. I took every corner carefully and kept to the speed limit and didn’t rush anything, all while keeping my wooing machine well-oiled and lubed.

Unfortunately for me, Sgt Sophia was the kind to make extra sure everything went according to her plan. The test drive lasted more than three years, but I never gave up.

The day she agreed to enter the race with me was my happiest. I imagine it must be the same for the rally drivers. Once they pen their names on the document that makes them contestants, there’s no looking back. Also, at that point, the field is quite even. It doesn’t matter whether you are Takamoto Katsuta or Karan Patel. Anyone can win it. And it was with this frame of mind that my marriage race took off.

They say hindsight is 20/20, and I couldn’t agree more. If only someone had warned me how hard the actual race would be. In the two or so years that I’ve been on the helm with Sophia navigating for me, our marriage vehicle has lost more tyres than I dare to count.

Our muffler came off around the one-month checkpoint, and despite the increased noise, we can’t seem to get it repaired. I can’t even tell you when the windscreen wipers stopped working. All I know is that the view has been foggy and muddy for quite a while now. So much so that neither of us is quite sure we’re still keeping the original course.

But as my boss will have you know, my marriage is only as good as the flow of current events. That’s why it bothers me so much to see my male neighbour ask my wife to help him get water from the recent floods out of his house. I wonder if he’s the final puncture that takes us out of the race.