Most of these boys don’t have religion

THERE is a saying, I don’t know where or how I came across it, but it says something to the effect that those who have nothing will be robbed of the little that they have which will be given to those who have plenty.

For those of you who read books or watch movies, then you will know of a character who was called Robin Hood, who was a pain in the neck of rich fellows during his time.

This chap called Robin who used to wear a hood was notorious for robbing wealthy folks and giving the proceeds to the poor, which endeared him to the majority of the people at that time, but he was hated by the rich fellows.

That is why that saying which says that the poor will lose the little they have does not smell right to me, although if you look at it with a careful eye, you will realise that it holds some truth.

It holds some truth because you can take a loan to buy a car, but in the blink of an eye a cursed fellow can steal it and sell it to someone who has real money.

Some weeks before people celebrated that Valentine fellow, I was coming from Zakayo’s Pub when my phone fell in a pool of dirty water right outside my gate, and that was the end of the poor gadget, because all the efforts to resuscitate it proved futile.

I tried to blow dry it for several hours, but nothing happened, mama Boyi told me that she was told that if you dip it in a sack of rice and leave it for some time it will come back to life, but after pulling it from the rice, that stupid phone blinked several times before it gave up its soul.

For some days I had to rely on a small phone that was ready to let anyone who cares to know that it was a Chinese phone, because when that thing rings, it is loud enough to be mistaken for a school bell.

That is until four days ago when I came across some very informative information, which alerted me that there is a shop in Mlimani City which can give you a brand new phone on credit….and the good thing is, the phones they give are not Chinese.

So I took myself to that shop and got one, a very fine looking phone which almost created a major war at home, because mama Boyi was convinced that with my measly salary, it means that there is probably a woman somewhere who decided to buy it for me.

“Baba Boyi, I don’t think you believe that I have arrow root in my head instead of a brain. I know there is no way you can afford that phone on your sorry salary, so it is either you give me the name of that woman or you will enter heaven with a limp,” she said as she took her frying pan from the table and tucked it under her massive arm.

I had to produce enough evidence to convince that Nyakiusa woman that there was no way I can be bribed by another woman apart from her, and that I was not the kind of fellow who might attract a rich woman anyway.

But in the end I had to produce the receipts and the mini contract I signed at the shop before the dreaded frying pan was finally taken to the kitchen.

I have to be honest, that phone was good, and evidence were the photos I took at Zakayo’s Pub, because you could even see the ‘sweat’ on the frothy bottles on our table.

But just the other day when I was going home from visiting a friend, that saying about poor folks being robbed and the rich fellows getting what belongs to the poor happened to me.

Because my poor excuse of a car refused to start that morning, I had to rely on public means, that is why when I was crossing the road at Buguruni area to go and board a bus, I did not know that the area is notorious for those boys we call ‘Watoto wa mbwa’, which in simple terms means that the area has some boys who can even rob you of your soul if you are not careful.

I was holding my beloved phone in my right hand, but in the blink of an eye I felt my hand holding empty space as my phone vanished, and it took me several seconds to realise that someone had snatched it.

I saw a shabby looking fellow running on the other side of the road, and I was sure that he was the one who had conducted the disappearing act on my phone.

I am sure most of you are not aware that I was the 100 meters’ champion when I was in high school, that is why I reminded myself of that fact before I sprinted after the thief.

He took several sharp corners, and I was right behind him, but the effects of swallowing enough frothy liquid to float a small boat took its toll, and I gradually slowed down.

I stopped to recover my breath, and looking at my surrounding, I realised that I was deep in what we usually call ‘Uswahilini’, and the characters who were staring at me made my body to cool faster than normal.

Before I realised that I had walked into an ambush, it was too late, because three fellows who looked as if they had just smoked that thing my son calls ‘the holy herb’ were surrounding me, and before I could duly inform them that I was also a karate champion in my nursery class, dirty hands were dipping in my pockets.

I tried to resist at first, but one of the relative of a mangy dog told me “Mzee utatulia ama tutoe kitambi upepo!?”

I told myself losing a phone was painful, but flattening my tummy was not appealing either, so I stiffened as they went through my pockets, by the time they ordered me to disappear, I just told the boys “Naombeni nauli”.

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