the singing cab driver & other oddities

It was my own fault. I like to converse with cab drivers. I know they enjoy it, most of them, and so it makes me feel good to encourage some talking.Recently on a ride back from the West Side, as we call it in Manhattan, the driver was talking to his dispatcher and I heard an accent I thought might be Haitian. I wanted him to get off the “phone” because it’s really not safe, so I bribed him by saying I knew a Creole song and would sing it for him.

He disconnected. I sang him the song. “But it wasn’t Creole I was speaking,” he said gently after. “I’m from Nigeria.” I asked if he knew any Nigerian songs he could sing me, and he did, and had a quite lovely voice … I didn’t expect it since he appeared quite elderly, but then so am I and I still sing fine.

Suddenly I remembered an African song I’d learned at a music workshop at Omega Institute many summers ago. I sang it for him. He liked it a lot, but said it was not Nigerian. “Here,” he said, “I’ll sing you another.” He sang a song I liked a lot, and so I began to learn it as he sang it, and to harmonize.

In all my life, I’ve never sung with a cab driver before. That’s what this blog is about, reminding people that life is full of surprises when you’re a senior, because you can throw a lot of caution to a lot of winds.

Y’say Olewah!