I met Uhuru


Nairobi is a chilly place. In every aspect of the word. It’s even worse during this time of the year when you wake up to a freezing morning with no prospects of the sun ever coming up.

So today I needed to do some banking and I headed straight to one of James Mwangi’s outlets in Westlands. At this time of the morning the hall isn’t crowded as it always is and the few yellow yellow tellers are walking up and down keeping their affairs in order preparing for a throng of hustlers later in the day.

So I have to wait for their desks to be put in order for me to be served and while at it guess who my eyes stumble upon… Mr Uhuru Kenyatta. In a neat navy blue suit and a red tie, the guy is smiling ahead at me.

What do I ask of him? A cheque? A job at state house? Maybe I should ask him to make Alai and Ng’ang’a to disappear. They have caused us too many problems already. Maybe I should even ask him whether he had anything to do with Nyakundi’s alleged disappearance. Maybe I should ask him how Ngina prefers her coffee… Maybe I should ask him whether it’s true that he’s grooming Muhoho. Maybe I should ask him if Ruto still cries behind closed doors…

I have so many questions for the

guy but I just decide to ask none of them but stare back. So here I am; Uhuru and I staring at each other back to back. The hall is deathly silent and the only noise is from this CNN anchor yapping about how prosperous America is. On that note, I wave at UK but he doesn’t wave back. He keeps staring at me with this sly smile that I know is fake and meant for the cameras.

In that instance, the bills that are awaiting payment come flooding to memory. The electricity bill, my bill at the local pub, deni ya mahari and so many other bills awaiting payment. Then here UK is, smiling slyly like we suddenly woke up in the Garden of Aden.

To him, the land is one of milk and honey, Eve is walking naked and we can at a time of our choosing pick an apple from the tree at the middle. It’s so annoying.

I look around, out of the window, and I see this yellow yellow girl in a black trench coat, a white top and a grey mini skirt. The weather is freezing and the discomfort she is feeling she cant hide. She is in a struggle of her own and here UK is, smiling like all is well.

I decide to drift focus from UK, leave him on the wall and look at this creature of awesomeness struggling with the morning chills. She’s between 21 and 25 years of age, definitely out of campus recently. Her hair is neat alright, but the makeup can.be scooped with a spoon. She’s in heels just like all struggling Nairobi career women and I pity her. Not because of the cold she’s feeling or the struggle her heels are making her go through but because she probably won’t go to heaven. She has too much baggage already. Sonko rescue team should rescue her from her misery. On second thought the seals could do a better job.

In another world, she would be a dream…

My turn is here…

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