Tales of the city

 Several years ago I used to live in the further east part of Nyairofi, where problems and life challenges first gather every morning before spreading to other parts of the city. Back then, life had beaten me m-stick completely, and I literally used to live hand to nose to mouth. If it smelled good, it could be eaten. At that time, i used to do jobs of all collars, from white, blue and even black collar. 

I used to have a banner in my house written wìra nì wìra 

(work is work).

One day I was called for an interview somewhere in Westlands, and told to be there by 7.30 am. The reason is because I knew someone who knew someone who knew the manager there. I had been instructed o go very early so that I could be given some heads up on what to expect in the interview. As most of you know traffic jam is rampant in the mornings and because of that, I had to leave home very early, around 5am. 

So on that day, I woke up and got myself ready. I took my documents and left the house at around 5am. As I left the house, satan also left his baze to start his work. A few metres from the house, there was a ki-street light. Now I don't know what we used to call it in physics, but there is a way that ki-light produces two shadows of you, unaona kuna shadow moja refu na ingine fupi. 

I think we used to call it Bernoulli effect or pythogras-one of the two. So I saw two shadows of me and thought it was someone following me or something. I almost ran then realized it was the pythogras. Little did I know that it was satan rehearsing for what he was do to me next. Just after that ki-light, i heard some steps behind me, but by the time i turned to look, i was already airborne, with a hand of steel around my neck and my legs hanging in the air. 

Before I realized what was happening, there were like five hands going through all my pockets at once. Whenever I tried to resist, the hand of steel would tighten the grip. I stopped resisting when I felt that if he grips harder, I will shit on myself right there and there. 

When they released me, 

I fell to the ground and lay still looking up, saying to myself, 

fu*k Pythagoras.

Now anyone who has ever been robbed in the early hours of the morning, knows that it is better to be robbed at night than in the morning. This is because the ones robbing you in the morning could have tried to rob the whole night unsuccessfully, and are now frustrated, and with a touch of despair, so they have to rob you clean. I realized that when, even after releasing me, they were  there still asking;

“Wewe ni mwanaume aina gani, unatembea na mia mbili tu kwa mfuko?”

as they gave me some soft kicks on the stomach. That is when i had a good look and realized it was a group of 4 very young boys, like 15/16. Still lying on the ground, I told them that I was just a common hasora going for an interview, and that the 200 was fare. The bigger one asked, 

“na hiyo kabambe yake inawaka?”

The one with my kabambe responded by lighting the torch to acknowledge that at least there was something to salvage from this miserable hasora. Those ghetto thieves are very weird. They were still not done with me. One said, 

“Maybe kimeficha doh, kwa ile mfuko pienga ya boxer..”

Just like that, one boy inserted his hand in my boxers to feel for any pockets..he only felt balls. He removed my shoes instead. After that their leader turned and said to them,

“twendeni.”

All this happened within a span of about 3 mins, but i stayed on the ground for another 5mins trying to gather strength and get some bearing of where exactly I was. When I finally had the strength to stand up, I looked like a person who had taken a soil bath. I started walking back to the house, my neck still sore because of the anvil like grip that had hugged my neck just a few minutes earlier. 

I thinking of whether or not I would still make it to the interview. That meant i would have to call people at that time of the morning, to lend me fare, right, but call them with what? Again, what would I wear to the interview? Shoes gone, new shirt-soiled. After thinking about it for some minutes, I fell asleep and woke up somewhere past 11am. 

Up to date, that person who had been trying to organize for me the job has never spoken to me again. Even when I wished him happy new year this year, he still blue ticked me. What pained me more than anything on that day is that, I was mugged by 15 year old kipiis, (uncircumcised boys) and even one touched my balls. 

May they go to hell. 

From that day, I get what in Greek we call guthirimùkwo (anxiety chills)  when I see the two shadows thing. Infact when I see that at night when high, naendanga kama upepo mpaka kwa nyumba. (I go like the wind straight to the my crib) This Nyairofi is of many goons and characters. 

I would be thrilled by your feedback on this story.

Story by IceKing, 

edited and polished by Letstoriesunfold™.