BRAVO!
GOVERNMENT FOR ENSURING THE SAFETY OF MY MONEY:
(Written 14th July 2014 - Published in the University of Nairobi's MWANGAZA Journal for UON-LTSA)
Yesterday, I had gone to visit my high school friend at The Technical University of Kenya (TUK). After my business with him, I had to get back into town and so I decided to use that City Square stairs to cross the busy Haile Sellasie Avenue.
Suddenly, I heard sirens emanating from somewhere around Times Towers. All my life, whenever I heard sirens that loud I often get scared because I always associate it with blood. That is to say: it’s either there’s building somewhere burning down with humans trapped in it or it is an ambulance ferrying injured people or worse still it is a hearse transporting corpses! I was alarmed beyond description and I concluded the worst of tragedy that could hit a Kenyan – that the most prestigious building in the land (which also houses the KRA offices) with all those Kenyan monies – had been bombed!
Frozen as I was, however, I noticed that although many pedestrians had stood and stared, they were not at all terrified as I was. That was enough reason for me to be calm. Moreover, I also realized that majority of those busy fellows in Nairobi had then halted their duties as if there was a pre-set rule. I am not that kind of person who can easily yield to hearsay and so whatever was going to happen, I had to witness.
Well, as a patriot, the first thing I laid my eyes on was my money. I concluded that my money is after all being guarded by the best defenders of all time. Who would ever dare bring himself close to those drawers? More so, the GSU officers armed to the teeth with long guns and covered to the toe with sophisticated bullet-proof clothing? Any courageous robber would surely have been turned into a mince-meat before he could resolve whether to move closer to get a better shot or scamper away to safety! I was almost jumping up and down with joy but my pride was cut short by the sirens which had now grown louder.
As my eyes widened with anxiety, I saw the GSU officers point guns in different directions around the two semi-empty streets. In the process, a red-eyed one pointed his heavy machine in my direction and I definitely knew in some few seconds I will be history. I turned him my back, wringed my eyes, tightened my grip on the pole I hitherto been leaning on and with abated breath waited for my head to be shattered.
Thank God. I didn’t die. I only realized I was alive when I felt some hard palm hold and pull my frozen hand. An old mzee there had seemingly noticed my agony (and ushamba) and had come to my rescue. Looking deep into my eyes, the old man told me to relax and not worry as there was nothing at all to be scared of. I believed him and sighed deeply. I’m yet to buy him beer.
Before I knew it, the GSU officers were now jumping into already moving land-cruisers. And the speed at which the vehicles were driven from Times Towers to the CBK front gate my friend? Indescribable! All I can say is that Lewis Hamilton would have resigned there and then!
Before the first of the five vehicles had stopped, I saw the officers, with lightning speed alight from their respective ones. What ensued is that spectacle I hate most in life – the pointing of guns in every direction and at every innocent soul. This time I had two huge nozzles pointing my direction. I didn’t even blink, but I must admit was hiding and peeping behind the old man.
After the speeding convoy had stopped, I saw some skinny folk (probably in his early forties) a briefcase in hand, get out of the van in the middle and walked royally into the CBK building. Immediately after the Land-cruisers had vanished into God knows where, my mzee told me that it was all over. So what was over?
I couldn’t believe that all along I had been watching as my money was being transferred from KRA to the CBK! Alas! What seemed to me as an Al-Qaeda attack was a mere shifting of my money from this building here to that bank over there!
Some things are just too mysterious to accept. So to confirm my assumption, that evening I made sure I passed through the same place en route home. My previous postulations were confirmed by none other than one of the hired private security-guards there. (He seemed also to have gotten tired of the trend). I his own words: “The distance separating the two buildings is so small that a staff in the third floor of CBK can converse easily with a staff in the fourth floor window of the other building!”
The delays that this ten-minute (or less) process causes is just irritating. Surely, isn’t the government in a position to construct something like an overpass to connect the two adjacent offices? After all aren’t they birds of the same feather? Surely it won’t be that expensive, will it? I’m actually still embarrassed to admit that the two buildings are less than fifty metres apart!
Leave alone the tormenting sirens and the scary officers. And the heavily armed GSU officers? Spare me that! The last time I remember hearing of, or at least witnessing a bank robbery was never. Methinks for sure bwana that they have better things to do other than being given robotic roles.
Besides, the real robbers in these areas neither carry guns, nor are they skinny, nor do they walk on pavements (like me): the bank robbers here have protruding bellies, fly first-class planes and have body-guards who carry the guns for them. And when they go to the village to visit their mothers and sons, they drive mammoth imported machines – sometimes with flags. And why not?
They have KRA documents and CBK credit cards – I haven’t!
(Written 14th July 2014 - Published in the University of Nairobi's MWANGAZA Journal for UON-LTSA)
Yesterday, I had gone to visit my high school friend at The Technical University of Kenya (TUK). After my business with him, I had to get back into town and so I decided to use that City Square stairs to cross the busy Haile Sellasie Avenue.
Suddenly, I heard sirens emanating from somewhere around Times Towers. All my life, whenever I heard sirens that loud I often get scared because I always associate it with blood. That is to say: it’s either there’s building somewhere burning down with humans trapped in it or it is an ambulance ferrying injured people or worse still it is a hearse transporting corpses! I was alarmed beyond description and I concluded the worst of tragedy that could hit a Kenyan – that the most prestigious building in the land (which also houses the KRA offices) with all those Kenyan monies – had been bombed!
Frozen as I was, however, I noticed that although many pedestrians had stood and stared, they were not at all terrified as I was. That was enough reason for me to be calm. Moreover, I also realized that majority of those busy fellows in Nairobi had then halted their duties as if there was a pre-set rule. I am not that kind of person who can easily yield to hearsay and so whatever was going to happen, I had to witness.
Well, as a patriot, the first thing I laid my eyes on was my money. I concluded that my money is after all being guarded by the best defenders of all time. Who would ever dare bring himself close to those drawers? More so, the GSU officers armed to the teeth with long guns and covered to the toe with sophisticated bullet-proof clothing? Any courageous robber would surely have been turned into a mince-meat before he could resolve whether to move closer to get a better shot or scamper away to safety! I was almost jumping up and down with joy but my pride was cut short by the sirens which had now grown louder.
As my eyes widened with anxiety, I saw the GSU officers point guns in different directions around the two semi-empty streets. In the process, a red-eyed one pointed his heavy machine in my direction and I definitely knew in some few seconds I will be history. I turned him my back, wringed my eyes, tightened my grip on the pole I hitherto been leaning on and with abated breath waited for my head to be shattered.
Thank God. I didn’t die. I only realized I was alive when I felt some hard palm hold and pull my frozen hand. An old mzee there had seemingly noticed my agony (and ushamba) and had come to my rescue. Looking deep into my eyes, the old man told me to relax and not worry as there was nothing at all to be scared of. I believed him and sighed deeply. I’m yet to buy him beer.
Before I knew it, the GSU officers were now jumping into already moving land-cruisers. And the speed at which the vehicles were driven from Times Towers to the CBK front gate my friend? Indescribable! All I can say is that Lewis Hamilton would have resigned there and then!
Before the first of the five vehicles had stopped, I saw the officers, with lightning speed alight from their respective ones. What ensued is that spectacle I hate most in life – the pointing of guns in every direction and at every innocent soul. This time I had two huge nozzles pointing my direction. I didn’t even blink, but I must admit was hiding and peeping behind the old man.
After the speeding convoy had stopped, I saw some skinny folk (probably in his early forties) a briefcase in hand, get out of the van in the middle and walked royally into the CBK building. Immediately after the Land-cruisers had vanished into God knows where, my mzee told me that it was all over. So what was over?
I couldn’t believe that all along I had been watching as my money was being transferred from KRA to the CBK! Alas! What seemed to me as an Al-Qaeda attack was a mere shifting of my money from this building here to that bank over there!
Some things are just too mysterious to accept. So to confirm my assumption, that evening I made sure I passed through the same place en route home. My previous postulations were confirmed by none other than one of the hired private security-guards there. (He seemed also to have gotten tired of the trend). I his own words: “The distance separating the two buildings is so small that a staff in the third floor of CBK can converse easily with a staff in the fourth floor window of the other building!”
The delays that this ten-minute (or less) process causes is just irritating. Surely, isn’t the government in a position to construct something like an overpass to connect the two adjacent offices? After all aren’t they birds of the same feather? Surely it won’t be that expensive, will it? I’m actually still embarrassed to admit that the two buildings are less than fifty metres apart!
Leave alone the tormenting sirens and the scary officers. And the heavily armed GSU officers? Spare me that! The last time I remember hearing of, or at least witnessing a bank robbery was never. Methinks for sure bwana that they have better things to do other than being given robotic roles.
Besides, the real robbers in these areas neither carry guns, nor are they skinny, nor do they walk on pavements (like me): the bank robbers here have protruding bellies, fly first-class planes and have body-guards who carry the guns for them. And when they go to the village to visit their mothers and sons, they drive mammoth imported machines – sometimes with flags. And why not?
They have KRA documents and CBK credit cards – I haven’t!
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