Day a fake lottery card landed me in deep trouble with the law

One lazy Thursday morning a few years ago, a call came from the reception that there was a visitor to see me.

I was very happy to hear my cousin’s voice at the other end of the line. I went out to see him and, as ever, he had a fascinating story. “De”, as we used to call him, was one of those children in the playground who was always the most talkative.

As ever with such guys, most of their stories were completely made up but to our village ears they offered great entertainment.

A quick example: “Let me tell you. Last Sunday, Patrick Njiru’s car was flying like something else. Then Juha Kankkunen realised that he had run out of time to overtake him as they approached KICC.

So he shifted gears and, vrooooooom - vwaaaah, the car flew over the building and landed straight on the ramp where Moi and others were waiting for the winner. That’s how he won the rally.”

Rally winner

Anyway, on that day at the office, “De” had a rather more serious issue he wanted addressed. So, he was walking home the previous evening when he was approached by two young men.

Both looked very agitated.

The younger one told “De” how they had bought a Charity Sweepstakes card somewhere in Kirinyaga and, bingo, realised they had won Sh100,000.

The pair had come to the Kenya Charity Sweepstakes building in Nairobi where things went very badly.

They claimed the officials there had tried to rob them of the card, but the two had acted quickly and run away.

So here was the deal. Would “De” accept to take the card to KCS house and get the money for them? Since he was a tough Nairobian and not a village naïf, the officials were unlikely to try and steal from him.

But, as a sign of good faith, they said, could he give them his phone so that they could exchange the money with the phone once he finished at KCS?

So it was that “De” turned up at the office with the all-important lottery card and urged me to take him to the Sweepstakes office because he figured the officials there would hesitate to rob a newsman.

I accepted but urged a colleague who typically dressed in a very serious suit to accompany us to reduce even further the chances of being conned.

“Yes, how can we help you?” the gentleman at the reception asked. We said we had won the lottery and wanted to see whoever was in charge.

When we first went in, the first thing the official on the other side asked was who exactly had scratched the winning card.

“Me,” “De” said, rather hesitantly. Where did you buy it? Kirinyaga, he said. Well, this card number was sold in Kenyatta Market in Nairobi.

“It doesn’t matter really where he bought it,” I offered, detecting the bureaucrats were playing games. “The fact is he won!”

Okay, how much did you buy the card for? “De”: “Erm, aah, I can’t remember.” Give me the card.

Can’t remember

The official then took the ticket in his hands and dramatically and sharply folded it. In that instant, some zeros went flying in the air.

Apparently, the crafty conmen had simply collected a random card and with very small ribbons of cellotape, attached onto it new zeros that made it appear like the figure Sh100,000 was appearing thrice.

My senior colleague quickly made his excuses and left, saying he had merely escorted us.

“De” and I were left to write lengthy statements (with, I’ll never forget this detail, red biros), while pleading not to be sent off to Central Police Station.

Murithi Mutiga is the special projects editor, Sunday Nation. [email protected]