An Encounter With Real Nairobians(PART one) by Wanda Wasike
The big city was busy as usual. People clad in suits and others in jeans and T-shirts walked faster than I had ever seen human beings walk. The streets were filled with all sorts of people walking in all directions; once in a while colliding like the atoms Mr. Kamau used to tell me about during his physics classes. Loud noises could be heard from as far as Uhuru Park. The hooting of matatus and yelling of touts only worsened the situation. You could only struggle to hear a thing from your friend. This was a rush to catch up with the njivas and the chicks they called chicken before better mouths could smash them all. I always wondered why everybody had to eat chipo na kuku.
Along Moi Avenue stood stoutly a big building with bold inscriptions that read "Universal Group of Colleges." On the ground floor were many shops that dealt in phones and accessories, and people were all over the place; each with his/her reasons. They analyzed the phones as if they wanted to buy them.
Three boys descended the stairway each of them taking three steps at a time. The first one, Onyango, a rather lean and tall boy with a complexion I once heard somebody describe as maji ya kunde, I still wonder why somebody's skin should be compared to water. He wore a white stripped long sleeve shirt and a long pair of trousers with front pockets. His sharpshooters were brown in colour. He seemed to be in control of the whole group. The next boy, Collo, was dressed in a similar manner only that his pair of sharp shooters was more curved at the peaks. On his head was an afro hairstyle that made him look like his relatives who lived two decades before him. He looked rather reserved but whenever he spoke, you could just notice the admiration on his friends' faces; his sheng was impeccable. The other two boys always provoked him to speak just to learn a few more words. At this moment, he was telling them how he had been walking kalesa every morning to save enough money for another pair of sharp shooters.
The third boy, up to this date, I sincerely don't know why he insisted on being called Chalo when his name was Kyalo, wore baggy sagging blue jeans and a similarly baggy T-shirt, yellow in color with black horizontal stripes. His white 'sporty' and a Michael Jordan-haircut made him look like an American hip-hop star. He was a real yoh yoh if you ask me.
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Once at the bottom of the building, Kyalo wanted to buy a phone but could not buy Onyango's Nokia 1110 despite the later's nugging. He had once said it was down sana; he was above that class. He wanted to buy a better phone, albeit, Blackberry. That would be more befitting.
They made a right-turn and stopped by the first shop. He looked at the phones on offer and signaled his friends to leave, and they left the shop. He did not like any of the phones; he was a man of class. A minute later, they were standing in front of a beautiful lady clad in a pink sleeveless top; it was very chilly in Nairobi but this seemed not to worry her, and green jeans ( a very funny color for a pair of trousers, but that was fashion). Her bleached face made her look like a white woman. Only the black weave on her head and her coal-black hands could help you notice that she was not a mzungu. She stood behind a glass counter with phones all over it.
"Manze this is the place." Kyalo broke the long silence.
"How is the price compared to other places?" asked Onyango commandingly. All of them knew that his prowess in bargaining was twice above average.
"Lower than almost all those other places, though not by big margins."
Collo moved closer to the counter and then turned back at the other two boys with a surprised look on his face.
" These prices are so exorbitant," he thought. Nevertheless, he did not reveal his thoughts to his friends. He always knew that his friends were spendthrifts. He always bought everything from Gikosh. At least their prices were student-friendly.
"How much is that Samsung Champ?" Kyalo asked looking at Onyango. That look was a signal to Onyango. And so, he took over. Kyalo did not even hear what the lady said.
While Collo was still drawing his moves, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see a short man in blue faded jeans. He had seen one like that going at twenty shillings in Gikomba some days before. His white shirt and khaki safari boots made him look like a middle-class man. He was not very old, perhaps in his late thirties. He dug into his pocket and jerked out an iPhone. Without uttering any word, he pressed the TV button on the phone and soon some moving pictures appeared. The three boys kept calm and waited to hear what he would say. They tried their best to hide their amusement as they knew revealing them would give them away.
*********************************************************************************
"Msee joh! Acha za ovyo. Four K ni peanuts," the seller could be heard trying to convince the boys that what he was giving them was of very high quality. Kyalo knew that things were not okay. The last thing he wanted to hear was, "kula chai na chapati na izo pesa zenu." This is what evreybody in town said whenever he/she turned down a deal that is not lucrative. He swore to do everything possible to get the phone.
"Manze Kyalo si ni kuone kando."
Onyango had done his best, but the man had been stubborn.
"Anadai manane mwisho."
Kyalo scratched his head but seemed not to be getting a solution. He badly needed that phone. He could not allow the man to go away with it.
"Onyi umecheki venye hio tenje ni kali?"
Onyango just noded.
"Please niokolee buda."
"I only have 5 K and I have to buy this phone."
"Manze I only have rwabe, and that's my fare back home."
"Acha izo. Just find a way pliz."
"Kasaving kangu! No way. Not that."
"I will refund after two days with something small on top."
Onyango saw the desperation on his face and decided to help him out. This is how the deal had been sealed before parting ways with the seller. He had to withdraw his savings.
Five minutes later, the boys could be seen walking down Tom Mboya Street. They looked happy. Onyango was in control as usual. He seemed to be enjoying everything. He knew so well that he would be taken to Muthurwa for chai chapati. This is what he always got whenever he won a battle against sellers on behalf of Kyalo. So, he did the job like his own.
"Buda, you have angukiad this phone."
"Joh."
"Put your sim card we see how it works."
They struggled to remove the phone's battery but it could not come out. They did this for twenty minutes to no avail.
while still struggling, a burly man clad in a grey suit suddenly held Kyalo and Onyango's hands. They turned to look at him with surprised faces. Collo just looked on, equally surprised.
"So you are the perpetrators of magendo in this town?" He bellowed.
"No. We haven't done anything." Complained Onyango.
"Stupid!" the man retorted, slapping Onyango on his left cheek. "Kijana, unafikiria mimi ni mjinga?"
"I have been watching everything. Today, munalala ndani."
"Where is it? Don't keep quiet."
The two boys looked into each other's eyes dumbfounded."
I said where is the phone?"
Collo could have dissimulated behind the crowds of people in town but the man saw him in good time.
"Kijana, ukijaribu kutoroka, utanijua. Sitaki nikuweke pingu." He had to cooperate and walk along.
He imagined that he was running away from the burly policeman. He ran past Tuskys Pioneer. Down he went past the Bomb Blast Site. He reached Haile Selassie Avenue, but the human traffic crossing the road derailed his movement. The policeman grabbed his hand just before he could cross. He had never thought that such a huge man could run faster than he. Today, he saw it happen.
The big city was busy as usual. People clad in suits and others in jeans and T-shirts walked faster than I had ever seen human beings walk. The streets were filled with all sorts of people walking in all directions; once in a while colliding like the atoms Mr. Kamau used to tell me about during his physics classes. Loud noises could be heard from as far as Uhuru Park. The hooting of matatus and yelling of touts only worsened the situation. You could only struggle to hear a thing from your friend. This was a rush to catch up with the njivas and the chicks they called chicken before better mouths could smash them all. I always wondered why everybody had to eat chipo na kuku.
Along Moi Avenue stood stoutly a big building with bold inscriptions that read "Universal Group of Colleges." On the ground floor were many shops that dealt in phones and accessories, and people were all over the place; each with his/her reasons. They analyzed the phones as if they wanted to buy them.
Three boys descended the stairway each of them taking three steps at a time. The first one, Onyango, a rather lean and tall boy with a complexion I once heard somebody describe as maji ya kunde, I still wonder why somebody's skin should be compared to water. He wore a white stripped long sleeve shirt and a long pair of trousers with front pockets. His sharpshooters were brown in colour. He seemed to be in control of the whole group. The next boy, Collo, was dressed in a similar manner only that his pair of sharp shooters was more curved at the peaks. On his head was an afro hairstyle that made him look like his relatives who lived two decades before him. He looked rather reserved but whenever he spoke, you could just notice the admiration on his friends' faces; his sheng was impeccable. The other two boys always provoked him to speak just to learn a few more words. At this moment, he was telling them how he had been walking kalesa every morning to save enough money for another pair of sharp shooters.
The third boy, up to this date, I sincerely don't know why he insisted on being called Chalo when his name was Kyalo, wore baggy sagging blue jeans and a similarly baggy T-shirt, yellow in color with black horizontal stripes. His white 'sporty' and a Michael Jordan-haircut made him look like an American hip-hop star. He was a real yoh yoh if you ask me.
*********************************************************************************
Once at the bottom of the building, Kyalo wanted to buy a phone but could not buy Onyango's Nokia 1110 despite the later's nugging. He had once said it was down sana; he was above that class. He wanted to buy a better phone, albeit, Blackberry. That would be more befitting.
They made a right-turn and stopped by the first shop. He looked at the phones on offer and signaled his friends to leave, and they left the shop. He did not like any of the phones; he was a man of class. A minute later, they were standing in front of a beautiful lady clad in a pink sleeveless top; it was very chilly in Nairobi but this seemed not to worry her, and green jeans ( a very funny color for a pair of trousers, but that was fashion). Her bleached face made her look like a white woman. Only the black weave on her head and her coal-black hands could help you notice that she was not a mzungu. She stood behind a glass counter with phones all over it.
"Manze this is the place." Kyalo broke the long silence.
"How is the price compared to other places?" asked Onyango commandingly. All of them knew that his prowess in bargaining was twice above average.
"Lower than almost all those other places, though not by big margins."
Collo moved closer to the counter and then turned back at the other two boys with a surprised look on his face.
" These prices are so exorbitant," he thought. Nevertheless, he did not reveal his thoughts to his friends. He always knew that his friends were spendthrifts. He always bought everything from Gikosh. At least their prices were student-friendly.
"How much is that Samsung Champ?" Kyalo asked looking at Onyango. That look was a signal to Onyango. And so, he took over. Kyalo did not even hear what the lady said.
While Collo was still drawing his moves, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see a short man in blue faded jeans. He had seen one like that going at twenty shillings in Gikomba some days before. His white shirt and khaki safari boots made him look like a middle-class man. He was not very old, perhaps in his late thirties. He dug into his pocket and jerked out an iPhone. Without uttering any word, he pressed the TV button on the phone and soon some moving pictures appeared. The three boys kept calm and waited to hear what he would say. They tried their best to hide their amusement as they knew revealing them would give them away.
*********************************************************************************
"Msee joh! Acha za ovyo. Four K ni peanuts," the seller could be heard trying to convince the boys that what he was giving them was of very high quality. Kyalo knew that things were not okay. The last thing he wanted to hear was, "kula chai na chapati na izo pesa zenu." This is what evreybody in town said whenever he/she turned down a deal that is not lucrative. He swore to do everything possible to get the phone.
"Manze Kyalo si ni kuone kando."
Onyango had done his best, but the man had been stubborn.
"Anadai manane mwisho."
Kyalo scratched his head but seemed not to be getting a solution. He badly needed that phone. He could not allow the man to go away with it.
"Onyi umecheki venye hio tenje ni kali?"
Onyango just noded.
"Please niokolee buda."
"I only have 5 K and I have to buy this phone."
"Manze I only have rwabe, and that's my fare back home."
"Acha izo. Just find a way pliz."
"Kasaving kangu! No way. Not that."
"I will refund after two days with something small on top."
Onyango saw the desperation on his face and decided to help him out. This is how the deal had been sealed before parting ways with the seller. He had to withdraw his savings.
Five minutes later, the boys could be seen walking down Tom Mboya Street. They looked happy. Onyango was in control as usual. He seemed to be enjoying everything. He knew so well that he would be taken to Muthurwa for chai chapati. This is what he always got whenever he won a battle against sellers on behalf of Kyalo. So, he did the job like his own.
"Buda, you have angukiad this phone."
"Joh."
"Put your sim card we see how it works."
They struggled to remove the phone's battery but it could not come out. They did this for twenty minutes to no avail.
while still struggling, a burly man clad in a grey suit suddenly held Kyalo and Onyango's hands. They turned to look at him with surprised faces. Collo just looked on, equally surprised.
"So you are the perpetrators of magendo in this town?" He bellowed.
"No. We haven't done anything." Complained Onyango.
"Stupid!" the man retorted, slapping Onyango on his left cheek. "Kijana, unafikiria mimi ni mjinga?"
"I have been watching everything. Today, munalala ndani."
"Where is it? Don't keep quiet."
The two boys looked into each other's eyes dumbfounded."
I said where is the phone?"
Collo could have dissimulated behind the crowds of people in town but the man saw him in good time.
"Kijana, ukijaribu kutoroka, utanijua. Sitaki nikuweke pingu." He had to cooperate and walk along.
He imagined that he was running away from the burly policeman. He ran past Tuskys Pioneer. Down he went past the Bomb Blast Site. He reached Haile Selassie Avenue, but the human traffic crossing the road derailed his movement. The policeman grabbed his hand just before he could cross. He had never thought that such a huge man could run faster than he. Today, he saw it happen.
Such an intresting story i could read it again and again
ReplyDelete
DeleteThanks a lot. That's the first story I ever wrote.