I was left high and dry in bank

My projected mega plans for 2015/ 2016 are in a mess. As a ‘professional’ farmer, I always strive to make an annual budget. Not that I have  a lot of money, but I want all I invest in to give me returns.

In my development plan, I have a key activity of constructing a new bigger green house and an elaborate irrigation scheme for the outlying sections of my farm.

The greenhouse would be used for capsicum, tomato and egg plants. Demand for these is very high but the greatest motivation was the new supply tender I have landed with Sunil Shah Agencies, an Indian family that runs several Indian food outlets.

Phase One of the green house and irrigation project will cost Sh750,000. It hasn’t been easy to get “a local investor” to partner with. So when Patrick Ndege suggested we could partner, he was a god send.

Ndege was my classmate in secondary school and works in a clearing and forwarding company in Nairobi’s Industrial Area. He has lately been swimming in money, and so when we reconnected through a Whattsapp group of Mashambani Secondary School old students, he was excited at my farming exploits.

PENCHANT FOR ALCOHOL

I, however, noted he had developed a penchant for alcohol and most of his posts were about which party he attended the previous night. I took it as a joke since such groups tend to dwell much on alcohol and partying-related social activities.

We hooked up through a call. “If I get you Sh400,000, can you get Sh350,000?” he posed when I finally discussed the budget for the irrigation project. “Of course. I will seek a loan from Mkulima Sacco. I have some substantial shares there,” I replied excitedly.

“I will also seek the half a million contribution from my bank. I will use my payslip. That should take not more than three days,” Ndege confidently assured.

I was lucky first. My loan money came in after two days. Ndege’s loan process delayed a bit. He needed a letter from his HR manager who was allegedly out of office for a week.

When I felt his money was taking a bit long, we agreed I start utilising what we already had. You start ordering the structures and we shall clear the balance in three days,” said Ndege.

I withdrew all the money and ordered for the green house. I paid 50 per cent and Akulima Irrigation Systems started to deliver part of the structures.

The following day, Ndege called me. He was impressed by the progress I had made. “I will call you again tomorrow we go and check the loan.

I have been told it should be ready by noon,” he told me. I could feel hot blood flowing in my body. My dream was almost coming true. Ndege was on my case early — 8:30am to be precise. “Kuja haraka. Pesa imeiva. Harakisha bwana,” he said (Come quickly. The loan is out. Hurry, man).

Before lunch time, I was in Nairobi. We headed straight to the bank along Moi Avenue. Ndege looked excited but I noted he was calling a lot.
He was talking of settling certain bills that were not clear and in the midst he would also assure some of the callers that he was now okay and could throw a few rounds.

I did not get to the tellers. However, I could see all he was doing. Within thirty minutes, he finally landed at the withdrawals. He sent me a text asking. “How much should I withdraw?” “Sh250,000 enough for this week,” I replied.

PASSED BY ME

The transaction over, he passed by me and gestured that he will come to pick me from the lobby in a few minutes. I thought he had entered one of the offices within the bank.

My heart was now racing. The Sh250,000 would help install about 80 per cent of our project.

“Ndege is a godsend.” I kept telling myself. As I waited, I visualised the green house and the systems that would set apart the mixed farm from all the others due to the technology.

But when the clock in the banking hall showed 3:45pm, I panicked. I had waited for three hours and hunger was now biting me. I called his phone but it was off. At 4pm, the bank was closing. Ndege was nowhere to be seen.

I panicked. Did he go out of the bank and got mugged? I did not entertain that idea. Stranded in the city, I could not trace Ndege. I called his wife. “We just spoke thirty minutes ago. He told me you are together and planning to buy some things in Industrial Area?” she told me.

Finally, he picked my call at around 8pm. In the background, I could hear noisy merry makers ordering drinks. “Ndege, John Walker Chupa na Guarana sita. My friend prefers Jameson,” I overheard a female voice talking loudly in the background.

I began to sweat. “This guy is in a bar and our irrigation materials are half paid?” I asked myself.

So if you happen to be in a classy bar and see a dark man  in his early 30s with a balding head and wearing spectacles and donning a black pair of jeans, and is ordering all manner of drinks without a care in the world, please call me. It could be Ndege. There will be a handsome reward.