LIFE BY LOUIS: Encounter with city askaris made me streetwise

Before I became this streetwise, the city askaris had once shown me dust. ILLUSTRATION | IGAH

What you need to know:

  • A woman who looked motherly whispered to me to prepare my offertory.
  • I did not understand what she meant.
  • Before she led the rest of us outside, she waved a neatly folded currency note in her hand as a sign.

Mid-last week I passed by Man Kamaa's stall; he's my personal clothing designer.

When you hear a man talk about my designer, my doctor, my nutritionist, just know that he has made it in life.

The city askaris have been exceptionally hard on him and other unlicensed small-scale traders. He has been forced to move his open air clothes trades fair from the lucrative Moi Avenue location to a hideous location at Globe Cinema roundabout.

He has not benefited from a relocation allowance for all his troubles, and he is undergoing hard financial times.

Since I heard that the main prefect of this city had relocated to his village for fear of his life after his security detail was withdrawn, I have not been visiting this town. If the prefect himself feels unsafe in the city, who am I to feel safe?

PERSUASIVE

Kamaa was happy to see me again because when he sees me he sees money. He waved a stringy garment in my face and said elaborately: "This is very good for your sweetheart when she is going to the gym."

I wondered at which point he became a relationship consultant and fitness enthusiast.

He took his sweet time to explain that the sportswear restrains the upper torso to avoid vigorous movements that may send the wrong signals to the other gym goers.

But I can’t blame him altogether for his enthusiasm. Somehow I have made him believe that I am from a lineage of strong and immensely powerful men who can lift 100kg with one finger.

I have also variously insinuated to him that my family comprises of renowned weight lifters and sumo wrestlers.

I did it on purpose because every time the city askaris strike he is forced to move his exhibition to even more dangerous alleys.

Those alleys are full of private developers who are willing to convert your phone into equity with them as majority shareholders.

To buy my security I told Kamaa that in my family we eat railway for breakfast, we own a family gym on 8th Floor and we can all do reverse summersaults. It gives me a sense of comfort and personal safety.

Every time I visit him, I hear his fellow exhibitors whisper “There goes Rambo” meaning I am the kind of customer that no one should mess with.

Back to his wares, he was relentless in trying to convince me that the garment he was holding was worn by the world number one tennis player during the last Australian Open.

I quickly looked both sides to be sure no one who knows me from the village was watching. I told him to remove that item from my sight and slide it into my bag without attracting any attention.

It is not just the sheer fear of being spotted by my fellow villagers buying suspicious garments from the street entrepreneurs; my fear is founded on real life experience of being arrested by the dreaded city askaris.

Before I became this streetwise, the city askaris had once shown me dust.

ARRESTED

Kamaa had just handed me a basketball jersey and he was in the process of explaining that it was previously enjoyed by a famous Chicago Bulls forward.

The city council askaris rained from the seemingly harmless skies, and the next minute I was being bundled into a heavily fortified pickup truck.

We were very many inside, each resplendent with their wares as evidence of illegal hawking.

The minute I was arrested, Kamaa ducked deeper into the alley and switched off his phone.

We were taken through a guided tour of the city where more guests were added into the already full pickup.

I was deeply worried as I could foresee a future in one of the maximum security prisons where I would waste away for the rest of my life. But the other occupants seemed calm and nonchalant.

Finally the pickup made a stop in a backroad, and a woman who looked motherly whispered to me to prepare my offertory.

I did not understand what she meant, but before she led the rest of us outside, she waved a neatly folded currency note in her hand as a sign.

We trooped out one by one as we handed our offertory to a burly gentleman who had earlier lifted me off the ground and thrown me into the pickup in one effortless movement.

I visited Kamaa a week later and narrated my ordeal. He fell on the floor, rolling with laughter.