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In my hustles of this Nyairofi, I have landed in many places, some good and some bad. Now a few years ago, I used to live in the ‘Eastest’ side of Eastlands, where thugs were more than the common people. The hood was so bad, that there was what is called ‘chain thievery’, where the person stealing from you would also be stolen from immediately after stealing from you, and so on, until you find your next door neighbour has your leather jacket 1 day after it was stolen from you, and he bought it from the stalls. Electricity was also supplied by a supplier in the plot, who would sambaza you with strict orders not to use any electronic devices stronger than a radio. To iron clothes, you had to give a 2 hour notice to everyone because they had to switch off everything else.
The power supplier, who was mostly a dry spelled loser, would always disconnect your line if he saw you come to the house in the evening with a persons, juu ya wivu tu. I mainly used to see ‘canaan’ in darkness, only guided by the geometry of naturality. Now it was during that time that I decided to get another phone after the one I had kuchomeka due to the common power surges in the plot. It had also developed a problem of pressing itself ovyo ovyo, where I would find that I liked or joined pages that am not even aware of. That’s how I had joined Kilimani mums, Illuminati and other pages unknowingly. Luckily, I found a ninja called Otis who was willing to sell me a phone at 1500, which was a good bargain for the phone.
On the second night after buying the phone, I heard a knock on my door and on opening, I found my neighbor accompanied by four policemen, who entered my house and started turning everything upside down. Then one police saw my phone and asked the neighbor, ‘ni hii?’…of which the neighbor nodded, producing receipts and other documents to confirm the serial number. Just like that, I was told am under arrest for handling stolen property, and was a suspect in the robbery itself. Apparently my neighbor had been robbed just outside our plot gate, and after the phone being taken from him, it was in turn sold to me the following day, and the neighbor saw me with it and called in the police. I tried to explain that I had bought it unknowingly bla bla bla but I was held at angle theta and told to move. Whenever I tried to resist moving, the policeman holding the back of my trouser would tighten his grip and would therefore separate my balls side by side, which would make me accelerate like a new Subaru.
I was taken up to the station and after writing a few statements, was thrown into the cell. There were a bunch of people in the cell, some who looked like they could drink someones blood at will. After the police went away, two well-built ninjas who looked like they had fought with a lion to come here, due to the number of scars they had, came up to me and told me to give them my phone and all the money I had. By the time I was telling them that I had left it at the reception/OB, I had been lifted upside down and within 10secs, they had accessed all my pockets and confirming that indeed I had nothing. Someone would have ‘combed’ me that it’s a crime to enter the cell without anything because from there onwards, those guys showed me hell by telling me that I would not even eat that day’s supper, and was also told to stay at the corner near the very filthy toilet. They also told me that I should inhale all the smell from the toilet so that it does not reach them. When it was supper time, we were brought ugali that looked like thick porridge and half cooked cabbage.
I was told not to go close to the food, despite feeling so hungry-considering I was also feeding many other creatures in my body-read minyoos which were now a whole tribe, after 4 years without de-worming. Everyone ate and soon fell asleep. One of my biggest fears was from the stories I had heard that people can be ‘opened boot’ while asleep, and so I could not get sleep until I confirmed that everyone was snoring. I then fell asleep but was constantly woken by bedbugs that were the size of a thumb, which had invited their whole extended family and clan to come taste the blood of the new comer. By morning, I was feeling like I had donated blood to the whole of Kenyatta Hospital, and was as hungry as hell. Still not trusting the people there, I exercised my rear muscles just to confirm that I had not been ‘opened boot’. The police then called me and told me that I would be taken to court the following day, and I asked them to allow me make a call to my ‘lawyer’. They were surprised that I had a lawyer, but they should have known that lawyers are not always law graduates. That’s when I managed to make one of the most important calls of my life so far, as I called Otis, the guy who had sold me the phone, and narrated the whole ordeal. He told me not to worry, and that I would walk out of there free of any charge.
That night, my neighbor was confronted by Otis and his ‘legal’ team, and told to withdraw the charge against me, and even told to claim the phone was not his, failure to which he would be crucified upside down like St. Peter. The following morning before any other business, I was called, given the phone, and told to go home, as the complainant had withdrawn the case. My arrival home coincided with my neighbour moving, saying he could not stay in a place where he risked becoming the first Kenyan Saint.
But I also finally had to move from that place, after the phone was stolen again from me, and I found Otis himself selling it to another person. Nyairofi has shown me things.
https://www.facebook.com/benson.githui/posts/1187859041231897
:D:D:D:D:D:D
Nimecheka sana now i think nimepata asthma.