So the other day I alight from a matatu and walk into the Cooperative Bank ATM at Umoja Market, I walk out with a few saosands to go and deposit in the landlord’s account. Just like how any other common and cursed firecha does at the end of every month.
You know I am a Kenyan with full knowledge that banks have employed Chege, Kimani and Nyambega to put money in ATMs. And I don’t and will never, trust these character’s with money.
So as a norm, my every trip from the bank is followed by an immediate verification process where I walk into any watering hole, spend at least one note to confirm that it is genuine. I only verify the notes at watering joints in case the notes turn out to be fake. And the reason why I chose watering joints is; You see most watering joints have employed those petite ladies who take crisps and lollipop for lunch. So in case the money is fake they will only sneer at you and lol and nkt and mcheeeew you for trying to con them. Unlike those hotels who employ Wafula and Mapengo as cooks. You see Mapengo has 2 missing teeth, whose mileage ended as a result of chewing ugali. If he gets hold of you trying to use fake money kwa hotel yao, he will remove u at least 2 teeth to balance the equation. So I don’t do RnD in such joints. Afadhali you try such uncertainties at Kempisk ushikwe upelekwe Central police and bribe your way out kuliko kujaribu at Mlo Tosha hotel where you will end up being admitted at city mortuary without intestines and teeth. Well, tari ayuo andeta igaa. Let me stick to the story.
So as I was looking around for a joint to verify the cash, I overhead 2 Kisii men talking in low tones. Low tone for Kisiis is normal conversation for other tribes. So as a certified chief mucene collector of repute, nikajua hapo kuna uhondo so I decided to follow them while my ears are 180 not to let anything pass. And to give them assurance not to sensor anything, I took out my phone nikajifanya nareceive and shouted “Nekeee mundu? Wiku? Reke Marie Visa place Mugithi” And one of them(Man A) told the other “Eyu Kenyambi chisimbiri” (He is from central)
Herebelow is the raw conversation and translated in brackets.
Man B: Aba omonto abambuatere bonsi pi ambekere etrack nkoira ndute Indian Ocean. (Nasikia Water Hyacinth Imefika Indian Ocean)
Man A: Aye ombwekaine.
Man B: Nkai bono kwaira agakungu kari kwabuate agaikoyo? Konyora gakorabokirie. (Is you girlfriend ok? I haven’t seen her for days)
Man A: Aaaah kari nagatacheti amabuta kare. Naroche ribaga nkokang’enta insibu bosa, tiga kagende gekuere. Siku hisi mbuate see, nasokia koru Samcon sipesio. Omoluhya. Lakini okoraagera weri!(Aaaah, that one went for further studies, but a man cant survive on air chakula Napata kutoka magharibi mwa Kenya)
Man B: Oyuo okorageera nere oragosokeri abana babuate afya amapopiro. Kwamoutire? (You should get serious nowadays education is free and even maternity ni free)
Man A: Yaa okong’aina moute ntarachi nimochungusa oranyora rende abuate abana bandeng’aine ginkomoseri baache gonkoya! (Putting her in the family way is temporarily suspended till EACC tables their report)
Man B: Yaa lakini ndoche nkoraika ore guatumeka obongo? Yaa rero baka nkogorere ebeer (Hapo umefikiria kidogo, you will reap from my pocket)
Man A: Yaa gwakuanire buna abasacha ekobole bare ebarasa. (Wewe ni baba yao)
Man B: Toete Moi Drive tobeke egekombe toburukani eKC nario ebeer eratobuate. (Lets go put foundation for beer at Moi drive)
Man A: Yaa otagete nchi gotiokera omokungu egekombe nainde namokani nche Tusker yoka nkonyu? (My wife doesn’t like other smells apart from that of Tusker)
Man B: Yaa tumia obongo. Koru igabu togende tonyu chibeer ibereibere togende nyomba. Totioke buna monto onde buesnsi onyuete tusker (After 2 beers each, we will be good to go home belching tusker)
Man A: Yaa buata igaa (high 5), aye ne emamba. (You are a crocodile, shake my five)
And they entered Moi Drive bar. I would not follow them in, since I had graduated from cups a number of years back. So I returned to Soulfa Lounge and perched myself at the counter to verify the landlord’s loot. It was on a Saturday evening. So I remembered the book The River and The Source, and I asked myself, what would Chief Owuor Kembo do? I answered myself. Nothing less than black label half. By the time I finished the half, I was feeling like the council of Jodongo. That is how I ended up holding a Baraza at Harry’s Tavern with equally philanthropic thugs who fear no wallet. On waking up on Sunday at mid-day I went through the pockets of my jeans at least six times each and I did a total collection of 800 bob na upuzi. I had not paid rent. I did a mistake and verified all the notes. None of them was fake. So to be in terms with the landlord. Reliable information reaching me is to the effect that the other two hooligans didn’t pay their rent too. We had to go back to the drawing board. Mwanaume ni bidii.