ALISA answered the dispatcher’s call to pick up a passenger at a Georgetown café on Middle Street and drop them off at Oleander Gardens on the East Coast Demerara. It was a Saturday, and traffic, as usual on that weekend, was heavy, but she had learnt to navigate the roads, saving time and staying within the law.
She was a young female taxi driver working from a base in Sheriff Street; not a job many women her age would opt for, given its male-dominated nature and the dangers posed by certain elements in society.
But fate had interrupted the smooth flow of her life when her father, a truck driver, met with a terrible accident. His condition had been listed as critical, and, with daily visits to the hospital to support her emotionally fragile mother, the company she had been employed with informed her she was not entitled to any more leave. Alisa, regrettably, had to resign from her corporate business manager role to dedicate her time to her parents.
Her brother and sister, living overseas, could not leave their jobs and families for too long and instead offered financial assistance, which did not come regularly enough to cover the medical bills.
Her father survived, but with extensive damage to his legs that left him reliant on crutches. He could not work again. It required months of physiotherapy and exercise, which further increased the medical bills.

That became deeply worrying for Alisa, as she considered several options for working independently and avoiding a day job. One of her good friends had teasingly suggested the taxi job to her, and Alisa, looking at the daily earnings, thought it was a great idea. Her mother, however, was worried about the dangers of the road and the possibility of hijacking.
“It’s not a safe job for a young woman,” she had expressed with concern.
“There are challenges in life, mother,” Alisa had explained, “and we have to take it in stride, set goals, and work towards achieving success to survive.”
“God bless you, my dear child, for being so bold,” her mother had said, with tears in her eyes.
Her father had cried, too, that morning when she left for her first day as a taxi driver.
“If only that accident hadn’t happened,” he rued.
“It’s okay, Dad,” she had assured him. “We do not design our lives; fate does, leaving us to fight battles.”
She went to work that morning with the second-hand car her father had gifted her for her eighteenth birthday.
“From a corporate business manager to a taxi driver,” she voiced quietly. “Here we go.”
Her first day was fine, with the dispatcher sending her on short trips. She went home for lunch, checked that her parents were doing okay, and left work at 4 p.m.
“Not bad,” she had sighed, “each day will be a different day.”
And as the days went by, she went on longer trips. Of course, there were the inevitable questions and comments from passengers:
“Why is a young girl like you driving taxi?”
“Are you married?”
“Can I have your number? We can probably go out sometime.”
And there were the sexist and misogynistic male drivers on the road who commented negatively on her driving. She took it all in stride, for it was a job she chose and had to make work, as her earnings paid all the bills and put food on the table.
She worked every day except the day she had to take her father to the doctor, and she took Sundays off. She did not have much of a social life, but met her three best friends from high school for a movie or a few cocktails.
Tricia was a detective, and Sandy worked with the Ministry of Social Services—young professionals with dreams and ambitions. Alisa could have felt down, not being in a recognised profession anymore, but she didn’t.
“It’s amazing, your positive attitude,” Tricia told her. “Happy to be your friend.”
“Me too,” Sandy joked. “Cheers.”
The girls lifted their cocktail drinks—cheers to good friends and positive vibes.
Alisa continued her taxi work and, because she was a safe driver, she got many special hires but did not take long trips. Life improved on the financial side, and so did her father’s condition, as he began walking with the crutches less.
“But you know you’re not going to drive again,” Alisa told him.
“I know,” he assured her, “but I’ll find something else to do, not strenuous.”
She smiled and hugged him. “See you later.”
That day, she had a special hire to take a couple of passengers up the Highway and had dropped them off, turning to return when she heard a terrified scream. She braked, and, looking through her rear-view mirror, saw a woman with a child in her arms, blood on her skin, running and screaming for help.
“What the hell!” Alisa exclaimed. “She’s badly hurt, who did—”
Before she could complete the question, a man appeared, charging towards the woman with a knife, shouting angrily.
People driving by slowed down but did not stop to render assistance. Alisa knew that if the man caught up with her, he would most likely kill her in his rage.
In that split second, she put her car in reverse and called out to the woman, “Jump in!”
The man pelted the knife at the car with brute force as Alisa drove away with the injured woman and crying child.
“Where do you want me to take you?” she asked.
The woman couldn’t answer immediately, gasping for breath. A few minutes later, she cried out, “He’s following us!”
The man had gone back for his SUV and was driving recklessly behind them, pushing vehicles out of his way.
“Okay, that’s not good,” Alisa said as she increased speed and called Tricia.
“I need your help. I just rescued an injured woman and child, and there’s a crazed man driving behind me to get them.”
Tricia took her directions and said, “I’ll send two traffic ranks.”
Alisa did not realise she had such driving skills to put a safe distance between her and the man.
Traffic ranks eventually stopped him, and another rank escorted Alisa to the police station.
The traumatised woman, weakened by the loss of blood, was taken to hospital, and social services, and child services were called in to take care of the mother and child. She later gave a statement to the police on her husband’s vicious attack with a knife.
News media covered the story, and Alisa was commended for her brave act.
“If this young woman hadn’t saved me,” the woman recounted tearfully, “I’d probably be dead right now.”
Alisa could not quite grasp how it all happened, but she had been at the scene and knew she had to do something.
The commendations for her act of bravery opened a door for her that she never thought would be possible.
To be continued.