Several years ago a tsunami in the name of rural-urban migration swept me from Kiandutu alias Land of Jiggers to the city under the sun. According to my geography teacher, rural-urban migration is the exodus of sons and daughters of Adam from ushago to tao. The tsunami had its own humourless ideas and that is why instead of depositing me in Kileleshwa or Runda it did so in Mathare. I would not be complaining as much had I ended up there as a member of a club of senior citizens called landlords. You guessed right, I am a member of a very troubled tribe called tenants. To this end I am one of the subjects of a terrorist called Adolf. Adolf is ever ready and willing to detach the door or bring down the whole plot if his rent is not paid by 5th of every month.
When Adolf opens his mouth you would think he owns Times Towers. The truth is that Adolf owns a number of metal boxes similar to the one that housed our mongrel Simba only that they are a shade bigger and one of them is the castle of yours truly.
I share Adolf’s wrath with a number of Kenyans. Oti, the father of Millennium, Obama Junior and Promulgation, is the proud owner of Kodele Drycleaners. I doubt whether Oti has the slightest idea of how a cleaning machine works. He is a drycleaner nonetheless because if you give him dirty suit he will return the same when it is clean and dry. When Baba Obama Juniour’s wallet has something he will happily buy anyone a glass of machozi ya simba at Wamuthemba’s. However, the moment the shilling goes underground you will hear him promising fire and brimstones because someone has bewitched him. For all bachelors out there Millennium is a no-fly zone because Oti is on record that he will cut the life wire of any kinyangarika who looks at her in a way to suggest that she is his missing rib. If you think Millennium is a rib of his rib you must wait until she is a professor.
Kisangau is a senior bachelor meaning that he is yet to replace his rib. He hails from the Land Without Thunder, also known as Land of Wipers. If you need to cover your feet with a piece of Michelin then Kisangau is your man.
When Zangi’s teacher was busy talking about Homo habilis and zinjathropus Zangi was busy imagining himself stepping on the gas inside the cockpit of an Airbus. Providence answered his player albeit in an up-side-down fashion. Today Zangi is the pilot and engine of a rudimentary invention called mkokoteni. Zangi has enough wisdom to know that if life gives you posho you make ugali and that is why his mkokoteni is christened Air Force One.
If your toilet is blocked then you need Wagithomo. Wagothomo has a near-white turban which does not necessarily mean that he is ready to occupy his golden mansion in heaven. The Jack Ma in Wagithomo told him that anyone would easily trust a turban over dreadlocks on a man’s CPU. Wagithomo is a serious enemy of the devil particularly when his date with Adolf approaches. Anyway, feel free to seek his services any day because his donkey has the bad manners of falling in a pit on Sundays. You will find his services on Twitter and Facebook the day he graduates from Pendo Kubwa. In case you have forgotten, Pendo Kubwa is a close relative of Samsung Galaxy but a closer relative of a calculator.
Don’t ask me Ras Mutambaruka’s real name because I don’t have it. Don’t ask me whether he smokes the big one either because I don’t know. All I know is that Ras Mutambaruka is a sufferer of Jah who is always aire. As a sufferer of Jah he is ready for Zion train to get him out of Babylon any day, any time. Just that you should know, Zion train is not a baptismal name for Madaraka Express or lunatic express. Trust me to tell you how it looks like, its charges, its financiers and where it plies the day it comes for Ras.
Kabaiku is different things to different people in different seasons. Sometimes he is blind. On these days he teams up with Pato, a boy in the neighbourhood, on a meet the people tour to collect rewards for succeeding to become blind. Kabaiku’s eyes suddenly gains confidence to see when a substantial amount gets into his bowl or dusk falls, whichever comes first. When Kabaiku is not in the mood to disable his faculties he becomes a mganga kutoka Kitui. Currently Kabaiku has every mheshimiwa believing that he can command every vote in Mathare into one basket. My prayer is that Kabaiku never reads this because if he does I’ll be having dinner with Peter and Moses.
I am still at sea as to the criteria the tsunami used in depositing me on the wrong side of the city under the sun. If it was my looks you already know that I am a champion in that department. Very few sons and daughters of Adam can smile and breathe fire at the same time. When it comes to my CPU, well, bigger is always better.
As far as eating books goes I am in Matiang’s best books. In other words, I own a number of decorative papers that declares things to the effect that Mali ya Mungu is a product of the zero curriculum also known as 8-4-4. I am Wizard because none of the decorative papers is associated with an animal called D-. Again, none was manufactured at River Road. Mama Wizzy, a stout believer of ‘education is the key’ gospel, made sure that I adopted the gospel as well. She is yet to come to terms with the tragedy that I am not the first professor from the Land of Jiggers. But she is more flabbergasted (you must have seen lots of books to know that ‘flabbergasted’ exists and that it is not an abuse) that there is no office waiting for me now that I have a key.
Needless to say, the tsunami did not deposit me in the city that is run by Kidero to have a picnic. To this end I am here to get rich or die trying. I was promised a job while in nursery school and since it would not pay me a visit at Kiandutu I decided to come to it. It didn’t take me long to realise that not only was the job nonexistent but that nobody in the city knew or cared that I existed at all.
Wisdom visited me and told me that Bill Gates, he who is the richest sonko on land, sea and water, manufactured himself a job. To this end I am the proprietor, security officer, lawyer, salesman, cashier and accountant of Wiz Enterprises Inc. Kidero loves to call me a hawker. For a proprietor who can flee with his premises (read carton) and stock I need not tell you that there are no vacancies at Wiz Enterprises Inc. Nevertheless, in the spirit of Vision 2030, Wiz Enterprises Inc. is projected to grow to a multinational by the year 2030. Just have those papers ready.