If you are in the Northern Frontier District and you get a 'lift' into Nairobi in an Administration Police lorry, is that or is that not a deportation?
Who knows. All I know is that it happened to me.
So here I am in this city that, as I used to say in a seemingly far gone time, 'will not brook my penury.' But rumour has it that these days I live large. The truth though is that the only thing large is my ego. I started out with nothing and I still have most of it left.
But I try... I try. It is the only life I know!
So what happened up North? How did I get back to this city?
It all begins with my Probation Officer. An APB out... There are four OCPDs in this city who cannot sleep without knowing where I am. And fifteen CID officers; three chiefs and a contingent of APs.
“Hiyo kijana niliona yeye kwa Equator...” With a fine looking mzungu they will add.
So let us get this straight: Yes I was at the Equator, and yes there was a mzungu. (Damn, these days there are more zungs on this blog than in a whole season of Friends.) But I met her there. She was enamoured by my locks... (aren't they all?)
She was headed out to Samburu, so she said. “I am headed in that general direction,” said I.
We jumped into a matatu headed into the main bus stop at Nanyuki. I sat next to this cucu. She looked at me, looked at the girl, looked at me again and said: “Wagia kairitu kega ukagurira cucu thota!”
Haiya! Did I just get hustled? I chomoad the cash and all the time I was thinking, it is fair for people to pay White Tax, but why the fuck should I should I pay it by association?At this rate they will start staging Maasai booga booga shit in my room when I grab a whore at Karumaindo.
Anyway, this are all long and useless stories and they are probably against my bond to keep the peace. So I will leave you with the promise of some kind of report of my premature ejaculation... er,... escape. Soon... people.. soon.
As soon as I can get drank enough to write it!