Why A Fat Policeman Could Not Arrest Me

Yet again, i send my letters by, hoping that you are alive and kicking. Anything is possible these days, i hear Ebola fever is killing ”Oga” brothers….a punishment from God because they are the worst fraudsters in human history. You’ve never cared to know my condition all this time?

It’s the worst month ever, i barely can’t even raise bus fare to take me to and from town. But occasionally, i use my car when i make a few coins from my side gig-this is usually enough to buy me ”ngata” for 3 days……You should know basic maths when you live in Nairobi!

Random news: Last week i was coming from the office, driving, some minutes to 4pm, i think…..i landed an IT position at an old white man’s firm located at Gigiri, you know this place called Warwick center?

There’s a lot of construction going on lately around Agakhan hospital area. A section of that stretch is being renovated, so cars have to queue in traffic jam, the length of a Kibera cargo train.

‘Life must be somewhat boring these days’, i tell myself, so i turn my radio on….alas, it’s the voice of Nick Odhiambo on Overdrive! Like always, he’s discussing sex or relationship matters. I have always contributed to these debates occasionally….especially if it’s something that relates to my experience with Medina.

Matatus are overlapping on the rough side of the stretch, with potholes deep enough to hide a mature human being. If i had a big foot, i would have comfortably rolled my wheels on the potholes. The problem is that am driving a Probox upgrade…..say NOAH.

I can feel one of my pockets vibrating….i think it’s my phone. Whenever it picks strong WiFi signals around, it starts to update my inbox, consequently inviting a tsunami of notifications in a very very short time!

Someone is hooting behind me so furiously, and my mirror is telling me that it’s a lady driver. I was taught all the courtesies that apply as long you’re on the steering wheel, except that i missed on the part that says, i should show my ”fucking finger” to a careless or foolish driver who misses the rare bumper of my car by a prayer!

Matatus that ply UNEP route breath dark heavy fumes, i wonder whether they run of fart or diesel. Wore unto you if a KAZ is in front of you….you barely cant’ see it, only smoke as if the makanga is roasting maize with coal fire inside it.

Even if you roll up all the windows and you engage your aircon, you end up suffocating! Your lungs begin feeling like small factories on your chest……it makes you want to clear your throat every second!

I am overlapping now!

It is very rare to find disciplined drivers on Nairobi roads….and am one of those impatient drivers sometimes, yeah, only sometimes when i feel it is necessary, so i follow a smoke-bellowing KAZ Nissan matatu!

Now ladies and gentlemen, i am inches away from crossing the red line!

A unformed traffic police, the size of a pigmy in height, with a relatively protruding but hanging belly flags me down. ‘The worst day of life is here’….i say! I whisper a short prayer, then pull down, i put the car right where he has instructed me to park it. I cannot give this idiot my DL, but i am ready to bribe, the problem is that i only have 500 bob in my tattered wallet….and may be a condom!

”Kijana umefanya makosa, utajua serikali iko kazini,” he continues. I am not familiar with Kenyan corps….so i tell him, ”pole boss, wacha ukunywe chai jioni hii.” ‘Ningetaka chai ningeenda kericho, kumbafu,’ he replies arrogantly.

Motorists now drive past the scene, staring at me with dismay. ”YOU DON”T THROW STONES AT A POLICE STATION”, one makanga tells me as he pulls back his not-so-greasy matatu door, you’d think sand was applied on the thing instead of grease! Yet he pulled it back effortlessly while smiling. It made an ugly sound on my ear and teeth.

Meanwhile, am calling for help. I scroll down my phonebook, just in case someone will be willing to send me 2000 bob, on condition that i will refund at the end of the month. Finding a lender at this time is almost impossible, because guys are broke, only surviving on leftovers so as to escape buying supper every night!

It is for the first time, in a very very long time, that i think of calling my ex girlfriend Medina. She’s always kind and faithful even though she heartlessly abandoned me. I still love her because she replaced my pants every time they developed holes due to my extremely loud farts! She also came to my rescue at Java when i filled my belly with more food that my budget could accommodate! I love her.

Now let me tell you…….someone sent me a text message. When i checked, it was an Mpesa message from someone i had lend money nearly 2 months ago. He had borrowed me 4000 bob to take his wife to the maternity.

It’s now 7pm, still inside the motionless car. Someone touches my front passenger door. His shadow looks the size of Inspector Mwala. So i open and he gets into the car. I don’t want any more conversations with him, so i offer him an mpesa transfer of 2000 bob. He switches his sim card and writes his number on the palm of his hands…..so i can complete transaction.

Of course i drive away as fast as my engine can power me. The jam has cleared up and am now fury fury….as in free free!

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