Nairoberry

Welcome to Nairobi, green city in the sun, Enkoro Nyorobi ...the place of cool waters but you wouldn’t know how cool it is until you have lived in its environs. With so many estates and towns one is spoilt for choice on where to live, though when everything is said and done, what matters is the pocket size. 

They say you are not a Nairobian if one, you have never gotten robbed/conned may it be a phone, handbag, laptop, money or kusafishwa hao and two if you have never lived in Eastlands; this is where everyone starts life. With planned estates the likes of Buruburu, umoja, komarock and the unplanned settlements of Dandora, Kayole, Mukuru, et al one can sum life in Eastlands as living on the edge of crime and insecurity.

After completing Campus, there was no way I was going back to the village so I crashed in my aunt’s place in Umoja with the high expectations every college leaver has of getting a job asap. I subscribed to all job sites, bought a newspaper every Wednesday and Friday, tarmacked in Industrial area dropping resumes, contacted influential people, cold-called companies...nothing!!! I was desperate. That is why I fell prey when a friend contacted me and promised me a data collection job with an NGO paying 2500 per day but owning a laptop was a must...

Quickly I called my sister who had an almost new laptop, as expected, she obliged since she too was desperate for me to get a job. Apparently a certain software had to be installed in the computer to enable you effectively collect data, so nigga told me to meet him in town at 6.00 pm so that he could install it. 

Exactly at 5.55pm I was in town, laptop mkononi waiting for him to call, as the whole day he had been mteja, I had  thought that as strange but had brushed it off, there is no way my gut feeling was getting  between me and my dream job. He called 30 minutes later gave a story of how his boss had delayed him in the office...blah blah and told me to meet him at Aga khan walk. He wasted no time. He inserted a disc which I later came to know was blank, asked for the password, punched some keys, concluded there was an issue and we had to go to the office for the IT guy to fix. The ass even faked a phone call which went something like “Mato, hii disc yako imebeat, nakam hivo uniupdatie though niko na mgeni sijui kaa guard ataleta noma” Apparently the office was at Corner house, just next to Club Bettys. We got to one of its many entrances (which I later came to know of) and Big ass goes like “Chill hapa niongee na guard” I quickly agreed knowing the only thing standing between me and 60,000 kshs p.m was a software...

Tick tock, tick tock... 10 minutes passed. I was getting impatient. I peered inside and there was no sign of him, just then my phone rung, it was him “eti uliniambia password ni” “midnight poison,” I answered “eti?”  he asked “midnightpoison, one word, small caps” lol. Probably by the time he was making that phone call he was already in a mat headed to Kinoo or wherever. 30 minutes later, I could not take it anymore. I walked up inside, something I could have done the minute I got there with Fat face. “Do you need a pass to get in here?” I asked a guard “Hapa ni mali ya uma huhitaji kitambuliso” My heart missed a beat “na kuna ofisi inaitwa “AIDS Awareness Kenya 3^rd floor?” “Hapa sijaskia ofisi ya namna hiyo.” My face started twitching. “Kuna sida madam?” I could hear the guard’s distant voice... I dialled the idiot’s number and as expected, he was mteja...My world crashed.

Anywho, I broke the news to my sister, through my mum ofcourse and although very sad she did not scold me... that was amazing. I got over the loss and went back to job hunting, this time with caution. I got a job as a cyber cafe attendant in Umoja and in the process met many people some were real and made a big impact on my life while some were fake ass friends who were waiting for the right time to pounce.

With time I got a better job and thought its time I got my own crib...in Umoja to be precise Market. I mean everyone wants to live alone at some point in their life and I was no exceptional. I decided to move out on a Thursday and by Saturday I had finalized everything...the party could now begin. With my creativity, I made my house look cosy, comfortable and welcoming. I used all my savings to buy my dream electronics and from my point of view then, living alone was the best thing that had happened to me. I looked forward to going home every day as it gave me a sense of ownership and belonging. My house was open to all, I would hold parties on weekends and “friends” from all walks of life would attend. I would allow people to just hang around in my house even in my absence. I was a good host.

 All this changed on one Friday evening while heading home from work. I received a call from the caretaker and this is what he had to say “Ann uko wapi na umeibiwa” my heart skipped a beat, “Nini imeibiwa?” I asked so sure he was talking about the laundry on the drying rack. “Nyumba imevunjwa...Walikua wamekam na Probox”... My world crashed.

Needless to say, I was devastated beyond measure and the days that followed were dark and sad for me. Both incidences were an eye opener for me, you should never give someone 100% of your trust and people who hurt and ruin your life are those close to you, wolves in sheep’s skins. But everything happens with a reason and looking back, I can say having my house broken into was the best thing that happened to me. 

... And yeah Probox will remain the ugliest, most unsightly goddam vehicle ever!!