The notes were all over, some in front of me, others all around me and even a few behind me. I bent to collect them. I wasn’t nervous, but I was kidogo surprised. By the time I grabbed the first one, some dude nearby had also grabbed another; it was a 500 shillings note. I looked at him and saw beyond him, people’s legs coming towards us. Behind me, someone tripped and I turned to see other legs rapidly heading my way. Most were clad in jeans, manly jeans, but I could see a purse, bright yellow, distracting. I turned around, the dude with the 500 shillings made to extend the money to me, his eyes were fixed on the money around me, he wanted to strike. He wanted me to offer him a weak spot. I only had a meter between me and the approaching mob. I spread my hands over the notes, grabbing as many as I could, then I backed against the wall and slid into the supermarket.
Before I tell you how to find money on the streets, I shall admit that I absolutely love books. I read a lot, in fact, I read several books at a time. A while ago, I bought from a street vendor, the book, ‘Rich Dad, Poor Dad’ and it turned out to be a bootleg copy. There were numerous typos, the text talked of diagrams I couldn’t see and sections of the text were missing. So I’ve been looking everywhere for the original copy. Another thing, I don’t like the CBD; I find it hectic, daunting, hot and eerily cold. Unfortunately, I sometimes have meetings in the city center, requiring me to hit it occasionally.
I work for an organization that does business with a book seller, with the arrangement that they provide learning supplies to schools in the slums and we pay them. Sometime orders change and so they have to offer us a refund.
Earlier today, I had a meeting with this book seller, and after the meeting, they handed over the refund, in cash! It wasn’t a lot of money, so I took it, even though I was expecting them to write us a cheque as usual.
And just as fate or whatever would have it, I found myself in a book shop and with money! I figured that I could always use part of this money to buy books that I absolutely need, then I could withdraw from my account and bank the entire refund amount. I ended up spending close to half of the refund, after which I went off to my bank.
Unfortunately, the bank systems were not working, so I went to a couple of supermarkets in search of ‘Rich Dad, Poor Dad’ I did not find the book. I had another meeting in town and after it was over, I decided to look at one last supermarket before heading back to the office. For whatever reason, the guard at this supermarket wouldn’t allow me to access the premises with my back pack. The remaining money from the refund was deep inside my bag so I had to fish for it as I did not want to leave it at the luggage station. The envelope was caught on something, but I kept tugging at it. Finally, it gave way, prompting the remaining pesa from the refund fly and rain all over the sidewalk. The luggage attendant stretched over his little hole in the wall, peered at the money spread out on the pavement and gasped.
Once inside the supermarket, I became paranoid. I assumed the money hungry crowd would also follow me in or idle outside in wait. I called the company driver and went to browse the book section as I waited. They also did not have the blasted book.
Almost 20 minutes later, he showed up, and carried my bag to the car. My fingers were bruised and I was delaying counting the money. I kept looking back in traffic imagining that we were being trailed.
At the office, I counted the money, and surprisingly, I had only lost Ksh. 1,300. It’s still a loss, but I did not count is as a significant loss. I’ve lost much more, I guess we all have. Actually one time my brother and I wanted to hire a car, so we replied to an ad in the newspaper, sent the money and yeah, we lost the money.
Consolations aside, I had a brief period of self loathing for being so stupid and pulling the money out so carelessly. Then I shifted the blame to the sordid town, because this was the second time such a thing had happened to me. The first time I was leaving the bank and city council fockers picked me up on charges of being a ‘Somali hawker’
I kept thinking that in more civilized settings, like the burbs, people would rush in to help you collect the money, then they would jokingly admonish you for being so careless, and finally buy you a coffee or a beer to calm you nerves.
I decided to share my story with my book club and while most were really supportive and understanding of my predicament, others exclaimed how they would have been shoving people out of the way in the rush to collect the money. One actually asked me ‘But did you die?’ While another seconded the question by sending the meme.
I was able to salvage a pretty large amount from the close to 20K that had fallen, and that is something. I vowed never to again walk the streets of that town, but 4 hours later, I was back for another meeting. Damn you Nairobbery!
Read more of Lemaiyan’s work here