Precocious Profiteer

 

The first illegal business I remember that I took part in was back in Nursery School. You could be there wondering, 

“Ndugu kwani,

you didn't go to a play group?” 

Yes, ours was a nursery school then next it's pre unit, then you would proceed to class one, I hear now things have changed, they are calling it play group or whatever. We used to take uji at 10AM on the dot as a snack, or diluted Quencher when and if parents paid school fees.

Now, my mother, God bless her, had prepared for me chips. She packed for me a good sized portion  because she knew I had a massive appetite plus you know it was chips back then. She packed to eat with the juice because it was juice day.

Those boys and girls in my class started feeling kíwaru (jealous) because I had on me something yummy and precious. On my side, I was there happy, on top of the world shumekiaring them. Shumekiaring is present continuous for shumekia. Shumekia is just that. It will not be of any benefit to you if you ask me to interpret it for you. 

Anyway, they decided if you can't beat them, join them. They decided they got to do what they got to do, to put it plainly, they decided to do the necessary. So they decided to trade with me. They were offering what they had and in exchange I would offer countable strips of fresh fries. By the time we finished my chips, we had many hungry kids and food I could not finish. 

Because I believe in fair trade, I didn't give them back their former food for it was now mine. It took the intervention of Mrs. Kiragu to convince me to (re)share that food. She tried  to tell me Bible stories and when they did not work, she had to use her authority as an adult and a teacher.

When my mother heard about it, she wanted to ban chips in her house with immediate  effect. I told her the truth. I told her without  any fear that my fellow children had sold their food to me. I was just a trader, and I couldn't be punished for being a good businessman. Or if we are being a little  bit strict, a business boy. It was one of those rare occasions that my mother and I agreed on a bipartisan matter. 

Most times, we agreed to disagree.

Lesson: 

know your worth & the worth of your food.

Authored by NduguAbisai.

Edited by Letstoriesunfold™