STRATHMORE CFA

I remember reading 'My CFA journey.' A muse by a certain blogger on the probable factually  journey of a bugger who was anticipating to have a charter under his belt which is patriotically a heroic feat now that the number of chartered individuals is still minimal in Kenya. Maybe, he succeeded. I am not going to go into the nitty gritty. I am in one such class and the Department of Immigration has still denied me the right to register for the exams because the process of acquiring a passport in Kenya is quite bureaucratic and somehow snail paced. A single omission of an alphabetical letter on my birth certificate has changed everything about the whole process. I am not sure whether I will get it in time before the second registration of the exam. I am still passportless one and a half months down the line after application as the status on my application is still reading processing. As a patient person, I keep hope alive.

That aside this is my CFA journey up until now.

The first day I entered the class, I was all sweaty and looked like a wretched out of place homeless guy with a pale and contrived visage and compounded by the fact that I am this dark guy, you can imagine how haggard and dreary I looked.

Then, I was still working in Mombasa Road. A place that should roughly take you like twenty minutes and you are in ‘Strath’ as it is colloquially known. Nairobi jam can dampen the spirit especially when it decides to show its languor when you really need to be in a given place. I never went to class the first week because of matters out of my ken. But the second week, I sure was going to go to class. To find out about the chaps I was to be in class with and just to get acquainted with the higher learning institution.

I remember going to one Patrick’s office to be given direction on the CFA class. I never found him but opted to still inquire in an office nearby, I have forgotten about because I rarely frequent the administration building. The guy noted that I was from walking judging by how I was sweating profusely on a slightly chilly evening in Madaraka. Management Science Building (MSB 11) was supposed to be my class. The class was warm, well lit and nicely furnished in comparison to 'the prestigious University of Nairobi' . My immediate former Alma Mater. Not with the mundane desks found in most institutions. Though the classroom walls were bare, the windows were large and a cross of the Lamb of God, a well mounted projector and a clock were distinguishable. But the way the slider which illuminates projected notes rolled downwards after being switched on was quite startling for a guy who had no such interaction even though I have celebrated silver jubilee. The unlimited amount of energy the students contained was heartening. Guys were in nice fitting suits. Ladies in glossy colours that radiated with charm and allure. I felt like I was in a new setting, was this a class or a conference!

The lecturer that day was one Richard Muriithi, CFA. That suffix signifies a lot in the financial milieu. He is of average height, chocolate complexioned with an amiable smile and eyes gleaming with energy. His physique is compact unlike most lecturers who have a hate relationship with the gym. He was in a body-hugging and fitted shirt and a slim tie that amplified the sturdiness of his physique. His rippling biceps and triceps highlighted their powerful posture. One could be tempted to confuse he was brawny more than brainy. But judging by the fact that he is a former Bush boy and a comrade at actuary classes in UON, his acumen is unquestionable. Guess the ladies liked his well-built appearance and soft voice, the voice of consideration and attention (they came in numbers to the class). Again he is no vicious tutor who glares at the class with red flames dancing in his eyes as he expects an answer to a question even the world’s most intelligent mastermind couldn’t provide an answer to (Just kidding). Comrades however said he was not that experienced with the command of his lectures as compared to seasoned lecturers in other course units. And having read about his bio on Linked In, I can attest to the fact that it surely requires time to nurture the skill of imparting knowledge to easily distracted students in an intuitive way that is humorous and keeps the tempo of the rhythm cozy. He once did greet me because I am a back bench dude and never contribute anything in class having been out of place during his class since I'm a homebody in earthy tones.

I recall, I took my school ID during the first week on Wednesday morning just before heading to work. I had initially earmarked the previous Friday before reporting as the day I was to take my school ID before the official start of the semester. Unfortunately, that is the weekend Obama arrived in Kenya and the roads having been closed, most of the staff had taken a break. On Saturday, the staff was nowhere near the institution apart from the tall concierge or is he a sentry I had initially explained to my predicament on Friday about the ID but he told me the same story of the staff being on forced holiday. I have never had time to enquire about this guy, mainly because I am usually busy at work and by the time I arrive in the institution, it’s usually very late and I like my space, just being alone and observing.

Strathmore is an ID based institution, like UON of late due to the Alshabab threat that has aided in the employment of more men and women as guards with metal detectors they have no knowledge of the working. Unlike UON, there are no metal detectors in Strathmore. You use your ID to gain entry almost everywhere. There are very few buildings which do not require an ID to gain entry like the SBS (Strathmore Business School, sic). It has this café that has average status but still better than Student Centre at UON. The only problem is that you need to return your plate and cup after eating. That is something my comrade from UON, Julius taught me.

Already, I am torn between writing this post and concentrating on my studies that require a lot of time. This studies are getting into my nerves. Yes, they are. I have to tender it like newlyweds do their marriage. Writing is like the boys in my life, they keep on coming between my marriage to reading for CFA exams. I have decided to cut the crap and write. Already, I have wasted many man hours that I should have spent reading. That way, I would have eased my backlog on studying for the exams because there are ten units that I should be reading for. The only problem now is to be consistent with my reading. They say in order to make it to being a CFA, a minimum of 300 hours should be dedicated to study. I have done a paltry 30 hours as at present. 

There is this dude who probably acts like the student assistant. Maybe his name is Jeremy, I factually don't remember his name. He a is tall and chocolate complexioned dobber like over 6". Having observed the oddities in his mien, there is no denial that he oozes a sphere of reclusivity. Sometimes you see him in apparels so lousy you wonder whether he truly takes time to choose while at his fashion dispencer. Having seen him reading Walter Isaacson's 'Steve Jobs' biography for close to a month, there is a hypothetical conjecture   i formulated that he is either an FIT (Faculty Of Information Technology) student or a just another lazy

reader struggling to finish a book yours truly tried reading as an Ebook and the disastrous results are not penable. However his drab nature has probably put me off because he appears like that guy who wants to be sophisticated but that feat ideally backfired because he looks more wretched than serious. But maybe it's just me. You look at him and even though you may be mistaken to conclude he comes from those middle income suburbs where guys have an aloof trait that they will not shed because they think society bestows upon them such exclusive rights. 

Enough of dudes, someone may be tempted to brand me a fag. Strathmore has not given me the slightest iota as to it being what it is highly regarded for. But in many other spheres, it qualifies as an institution that adds status and gives    

one the signature oomph as opposed to the currently out of touch UON that has given undue preference to being an institution of advertising at the expense of affording quality education.

Hasta La Vista, Baby. 

[Photo Source: CFA Institute]

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ITS ABOUT TIME

Sometimes you feel like quitting, but only the faint hearted quit. Like a soldier you will not retreat or surrender at the altar of defeat. Real men never give up. They pick up the pieces and soldier on. It’s never an easy decision to continue. You falter several times before you get it right. And when you do so, you think it will be a smooth sail but it’s never the same. There is no sojourn amidst and like in the sea, you need to sail experiencing the rivers of pulsing light and as the lingering light is obliterated by the rapidly falling night until that time when you see the scythe of the beach, which has floury and feathery sand.

The sea is unpredictable. You don’t know when the tidal waves will be creeping with fury yet it had appeared like its slight quivery which was initially beguiling and had been welded into an extended splinter of perfection until it decided to rupture the serenity, rocking the bobbing yacht causing frenzy panic tantamount to the time when Titanic hit an iceberg and many souls got to see the other side of life.

It’s about that time you need to get out of the closet and face the world. That blurry place the where sea and sky melt into each other and is lost from sight hemming itself into a line of silver may never seem forthcoming. The transcendental experience that is interwoven with surrealism while at in the sea may be breathtaking. But not with the echo of a raspy rumbling from the enraged sea causing fusion of tremulousness to fear that there is the probity of disaster awaiting. Those times when the waves are really sloshing, slurping and slobbering with their salty lips. They pounce with a malicious stir, a warning from the ages.

As you clutch clumsily on whatever is in sight, the ebb and flow of time tinkers in your mind of how life has taken a different route. There is that déjà vu moment where memories of joy tinged with sadness become real because of the reclusivity of mental thoughts that are oscillating inside out and you feel like there should be a preamble. It’s never happening though!

The folly of man is that when one hurdle is conquered, it is usually a time to regress. Compounded by contentment, this is what the concocted recipe for misfortune subtly spooks into. None should define you. It’s a marvel that most people soon get to a gladden state of comfort after surmounting a feasible challenge (sadly, am a party). It’s about that time you got your act together and press harder. The harder it is the more spatially visual minded and intelligently associative and intuitive you will nurture courage to transcend pilot quandary so much so that it will be tricky finding your actual divergence or convergence even if life gives you that hard horrific stare.

The flight of a bird as it swims in the air is hypnotic. Does it burgle your soul when your train of thought is broken by such an elegant bird in the sky? The polished brilliance it adds to the beauty of the aura has a multisensory nourishment that is caviar for the soul. The first glimpse it makes as it ghosts into view is squint but still breathtaking. However, never mince with the cannibal eye. It googles. And on spotting a target, it swoops towards it like an avenging angel of death. It’s the pirate bird. The target is your sausage roll, it’s tangy and the aromatic smell makes you toss it violently in the air as you shudder on the ramifications of the imminent.  It never reaches the ground because this vampire is attacking it in a frenzy of barbarian proportions. Soon the noisy marauder disappears into the distance crying out in a triumphant voice. Only, you have a zingy trace of what you had intended to gobble. You resign to fate with no attribution. Not even a morsel is detectable. That is life.

You recall about him. His cobra-black fur burns brilliant under the moonlight. His mocha-brown eyes makes his grouchy face seizing for a newbie. Still he looks like a nondescript. His bushy tail is wagging intermittently portraying his protective personality. And when he barks, the sound is bottle thunder. This accentuates his powerful and aerodynamic body full of vigor which makes it as swift as a cheetah. His huge fangs are scary when irate giving you the look of doom, and he can be as temperamental as the vampires in The Green Inferno if affronted. He’s quite the character. This wonderful specimen just gets the tension in you to melt away leisurely like a cold Ice-cream exposed to torrid heat in the sandy dunes of Kalahari.

As you skritch his fur against the grain of the spine from the base of the tail, you feel that tinge of relief that is unmatched. You had lost, the only chow. But now you forget about all the ordeal and day’s recalcitrance. It’s about time.

HASTA LA VISTA BABY.

[Picture Source: Pixabay.com]

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BBQ

BBQ

A promise is a debt. Finally, our boss decided to throw a bash that was way below the Nairobian standard.

A Saturday morning when I was at a limbo. Should I go to school or need I just make it to the venue of the bbq which had been postponed because it was not going to make any economic sense the past week over.

Albeit no one knows what is awaiting, there is always that instinct that things may not go well. It usually lingers either on the left or the right hemisphere, only as a man, you cannot decipher where it truly is to be judicious.

The potent feeling is usually overridden when you get carried away in ubiquitous banter that ensures there is ecstasy that negates the former so that you are in deep delusion not knowing when the emotions will rejuvenate.

Arriving at the venue, you find your immediate boss who never considers himself as one because you sometimes chat like teenagers on rampage. Though married, and looks like the bugger is too faithful to taste the waters on the other side of the river, he condones the vulgar and when he sees a really hot damsel, he will not fail to mention it.

When boys meet, they get petty. Especially when there is no female folk who can act as a barrier in their pep talk. Intimate details get discussed. What is worse is when the buggers discussing them are married chaps and you are the only single guy who happens to have no serious girlfriend and the probity of even a come we stay looks like it will be superfluous in dealing with this wicked problem.

Since you are eagerly waiting for the bbq, you ponder how the availability of beer and roasted meat will be. The bugger does not drink. He has no real picture of what makes men like to binge. Men are born to be hunters, when hunting comes to a climax, there is the part where they sit around the fire to warm and strategize for the next catch.

There is always the prospect of talking about that lady who caught your eye. The one with a fine ass, voluptuous hips and pretty face full of make-up, who excites the Goliath of a man into submission. The one who makes men say, “ntakula kwa macho.” But that was rubbished when one chap said there was a guy who he had saying that only cowards of men “kula kwa macho” if they cannot surmount the courage to approach. A real man takes the bull by its horns. If your vibing skills are top notch, you will approach the lady and if possible, bed her. If she brushes you aside, you will have tried. Even 50 cent rapped about getting rich or dying trying. So as a man, you either quench your carnal desires, or die trying. However, with venereal maladies being real, you only need to sheath up or alternatively raise your two fingers up. Who wants to kick the bucket, rotting like a carcass due to ephemeral death all because your libido drove you to eating the forbidden fruit? Anyway, there are peeps who don’t care. They say death is a once in a lifetime affair. But when you trigger it, never let the burden be upon those who affectionately mean a lot to you. Those people who will be by your side when you are wrenching with pain or retching gore on your deathbed. Yours truly is a witness of the same. When as an adult, you have to be put on pampers because you cannot hold it. Your body is too frail and fragile because you enjoyed and never thought of the repercussions having been driven by your loins to sample out the impermissible.

It surely was going to be a day worth it. No ladies were in the house. As a matter of fact, with their big headedness and pegging feelings where it should not be, it was an all men affair. Goat’s meat, chicken and smokies. There was a confession by one chap that it was even better that they were not around. Ladies kind of fear fire and would have been on men’s heels expecting favours of being served just because they are ladies. Which is never right considering women are fighting for equal treatment with men. That is probably why most open air fire chefs are men. Like in Carni, you will not find a single lady because the place for grilling is smoking hot. Had to mention that because it is the only place I have gone to in Nairobi with crocodile meat.

After lighting the barbecue grill, we decided to roast the ready to eat smokies first because they were going to ease the hunger pangs that were evident owing to the way guys did ravenously gobble them even though chicken smokies are like those bananas which are called “othigo jawouro” in jeng. They make you lose appetite faster than you anticipated because you are not yet used to the stuff. I think they are yet to penetrate the market like bacon smokies, ouch.

In fact guys who grew up in the shags are better off lighting a bbq grill than we who pride in being called ‘born tao’. We are rookies in this art. Those guys don’t fear the billowing smoke that makes one feel like cry baby. Back then, if smoke was constantly surging towards you. It only meant one thing. You had done something wrong and the wind had no influence in any way especially in the shags. I give it up for these guys for swiftly figuring out how to light the charcoal grill ingeniously using small wooden sticks because the guy who considered himself an expect using newspaper and paraffin to light the grill had failed miserably in his quest and had to pretend he had gone to check on something while all along he had been chest thumping how he has been doing the same using newspaper because he holds a bash on a weekly basis (I felt jealous and envious).

The smokies were a disaster. The glutton in me sent me to partaking one which was half cooked (though they were ready to eat). To keep up appearances, I devoured it like a hyena because I was also feeling risible hungry. The next person who did the same had to throw the chow away because he could not stand the blech. The flakey nature compounded by the fact that it was not well-roasted made the smokies unpalatable at first. But with their continuity in being roasted they were zingy. The guy who despised them ended up chomping eight. Most of the smokies got blackened because of the excessive heat. But either way, mwenye njaa hachagui chakula.

“Mimi hapana tumia hio na siwezi enda subermarkt kununua, si wewe unajua hiyo.” Ali, the guy who has pathetic English that the queen would be sorry to listen to him said when I ask him about drinks (ale).

Apparently, he had bought some soft drinks manufactured by one of his kith going by the name ‘Tamu.’ There was tamu malt which was an exaggerated spoof of the original malt drink or the poor performing alvaro on the retail shelves. Earlier during the week, Ali had been the punching bag of employees who had been on a go slow for two days for his reckless and arrogant attitude. All the blame had been heaped on him because he had acted imperious in character and this had gone into the nerves of many.

Trust someone to renege upon seeing plenty. Especially when it is going to satisfy him alone, he will act selfish and anyone who does that never realizes until guys decide that enough is enough.

However, Ali is that guy who can be selfless sometimes. He sometimes goes out of his way to give guys victual favours even though most guys are weary of his continuous raucous avarice that he handles everything. Like hijacking the role of procurement when they have been delegated to another because he has the ear of the boss and has a crafty way of convincing the lady boss to role things in his favour. Kuosha wasee nayo.

Away from this Ali guy, roasting meat is indeed a skill. You need to have honed your skill continuously or the craft should come as a talent because there are guys who really know how to tenderly roast meat.

Chicken wings when well roasted are quite tangy. They live that crispy taste in the mouth where you feel like want more. Something good is served in small doses. Since goat meat was in plenty, most forgot about it and concentrated on chicken. But there were guys who just wanted goat meat. Later on when the lean parts of the chicken had been all feasted and the bony less fleshy parts remained is when they realized they should have feasted on chicken. In either way, say the goat meat would have been in scarcity and the chicken in abundance, most would have lamented at how the chow had been discriminately favoured on wrong side.

Drinking plenty of soda with roasted meat is a no no, the effervescence will later be unsavory. The best thing about drinking alcohol and eating plenty of meat is that it is prodigious. The intensity by which alcohol burns meat makes it have the natural, accepted universal link which if compounded with sports make what results to human pleasure among real men. The affinity beer has in the digestion process of roasted meat is in fact what is human pleasure to a man. Ideally, most men would rather give up sex altogether than choose to be vegan if a Russian roulette was the wager in this case.

Roasting and eating meat at you pleasure is fun. You get to know the tit that roasting is no lesser a job. It requires patience, focus and an extra sense that the meat will be alright. But when you are doing the roasting for yourself, you can afford to eat even half-cooked meat because of kuwashwa. But with time when you are satiated, you get the feeling that you need something tender, well grilled.

Since there was no ale, we drunk up all the cheap soda. Even my immediate boss who earlier on intimated he would not indulge found himself smelling of roasted meat. That is if we were smelling of the same which someone alluded to. He really enjoyed it and you could tell that in the event one was held again, he would never miss. The only folly being he does not partake of ale. But societal changes may soon force him to change ship. Who knows? It starts like a zygote by the time it turns into a fetus, you really need professional help. It is called addiction.

After eating to our feel, we had been satiated till that point where you never wanted to see meat again. So more than ten guys could not be able to demolish a whole goat which was less than 10 kilos? It takes real men to do that. We decided to head back home after the meal. It was a day well spent. But more was awaiting.

Since it was a weekend and work was not going to be a holding factor, we decided to go partake ale at one of the guys who lived nearby. It was going to be an after party. That which you indulge in because it is just right to do so.

Legend it was. A cheap brandy you hate the taste but love the liquid that is within our means because you are still hustling to get to that point when Johnny Walker blue label will not be equated to your monthly gross pay but the much you spend on a bad day when you are hell ass broke and you and your boys still need that ka something to burn through in order to cheer you up.

Watching sports while drinking ale is not only macho but lets the virility in you go sky high. You think you have made it while in reality you are nowhere near the dreams you have. The good thing about alcohol is that it gives you a better perspective of how to analyze matches. You become the random guy who is like, “Sanchez should have taken advantage of the small space and passed the ball to Vidal who would have put the last nail on the already dilapidated form of former world soccer giants Brazil.”

Of course you are saying that in Swahili. The man of the house is not drinking on this day. Later when I asked the wife, she told me the guy never does it when she is in the house. She breathes fire and the man of the house would have ended up sleeping outside the matrimonial home in the event he dared try. She told me so. She is a good friend. The one with a curvy derriere you have wishes but since she is taken and a wife of a colleague, you kill the thoughts that you will ever go anywhere. Of course you have talked to her, and she said she was just in the union because of the baby and the fact that she is still not stable financially. Maina Kageni morning discussion had triggered the topic you remember.

Which reminds me of an old chap while I was sending some success cards who started telling us of women who even pay you to engage in the devil's dance with them until they get paged and kick you like an ass does when irked after fulfilling your due diligence.

I got inebriated to that point I felt like I wanted to just slump on the floor in this neatly furnished single roomed house. But when time was up, I had to pick up myself. I was not going to sleep on the floor. I remember going to the Indian toilets and messing it up because I could not aim at the whole in that state. After relieving myself, off we went. 

In the mat, I could not hold it and, I slept all the way. But not with intermittent pukes that left me inn a sordid state. I have to confess that tamu was the cause because the result was just watery not anything solid. I did retch like two times and when I finished, subtly, I felt good.

Taking a mat on my way to the house, I also slept the moment I was seated inside. I remember a hot chic seating next to me, but I could not start anything meaningful with her. She had a HTC phone. Why is it that most chicks in their twennies have this atypical love for 5" phones? Dudes of the same age are still stuck in three inch though like yours truly who currently stuck with an idiot Huawei phone that cannot hold charge for more than 6 hours and keeps on hanging so that you have to keep pressing the power button to reboot it so that it can work well. I will soon upgrade to a P8 lite, if I get the bucks.

On waking up, the lady was alighting. She disappeared just like that. But I came to my senses. I was to alight in the next stage. That is when a stand off ensured.

I alighted alright, but gave out Sh.50 as fare. This got the conductor exasperated as he was demanding twice the figure. I could not yield to his demands because during weekends, that's the fare. Then another joined him telling me to give out money. 

‘Boss hio ndio niko nayo’

‘Buda gari ni mia, nipe pesa wewe’

We continued haggling before I found myself seated on the ground him having swept me off in the blink of an eye. I felt the earth rocking beneath me and my mind drifting in and out like the tide. My throat felt dry like the baked earth awaiting Elnino relief. Those are the times you feel like you were 6’5 foot something or more and heavily built so that the chap would be looking at you like a giant. I wished I was not that drunk to take the bugger hands on. I bet he had noticed and that was the reason why I found myself falling like a heap of potataoes. I walked away ravenous and it is later when I started feeling the pain.

HASTA LAVISTA BABY

[Picture Source: My own]

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I CAN'T SPEAK

“You have done virtually nothing.” Our boss said, her tone full of contempt and skeevy. Even after sacrificing to work overtime each day to register new members and sell products in a never anticipated frenzy she still had the audacity to be so diabolical when we had come to the end of this mental and physical drudgery. Flashback and we had been working in the just concluded Nairobi International Trade Fair.

Working for foreigners can sometimes be very daunting and topsy turvy. Especially those who want you to work for them like a carousel that does not need breaks to ensure that production is continuous. It’s worse when they want to bring their countries laws when they should be following ours and when they are Chinese (What’s wrong with some of these folks?).

The experience at the Nairobi International Trade Fair was kind of nasty if I recall. The way it turned out was quite unsavory. As an individual, sometimes working continuously without rest can be very hectic and wearisome. You need breaks even if it means going out to check on something. But when you are a person in charge or products that are highly arousing the kleptomaniac instincts in Joes and Janes, it behooves you to stay put lest someone who has itchy fingers disappears with your merchandise.

As an online shop, ours was a very busy stand showcasing some of the products we were selling. And it turned out that since we were selling affordably, most people wanted to visit our stand because the products were within their means. Incidentally, we got the elusive media coverage that aided in highly marketing our stand and acting as an advertising platform because it was aired on one of the major televisions. Later on we were asked if we could feature in a story on the business segment.

That also contributed in various personalities of repute visiting our stand. When a person of repute comes to your stand, things usually come to a standstill. Activities cease taking place because that person becomes the center of attention and attraction. There are usually cameramen, and media personalities in tow ready to take advantage of the situation.

The prominent figure in this case was the Deputy President’s wife who was accompanied by some women who looked more than subservient and could do anything just to ensure the master is given preferential treatment. Remembered the right denotation, sycophancy. She looked more developed and at peace though she never bothered to buy anything. I bet the verbatim she had with our marketing manager reeked of ineptitude because the bugger is not all that well conversant and glib with the Queen’s lingo. He earnestly tried to give the impression required when a VIP sets foot but it was as if his premiere backfired.

I remember someone saying she is saved. Actually, I was mesmerized by such pep talk because I could not associate how being saved had anything to do with the business that was being transacted even if it meant that she had stood by her husband during those times when he wept in front view of the camera in the church.

Later on, a certain old photographer came to give our marketing manager a picture of him and her which he apparently wanted to sell at an exorbitant price but the guy could not give in. I bet they ultimately settled on a price that was customer friendly.

Working as a salesperson while remaining at one point is near-death boring. There is a lot of persuasion and patience you need to exercise. The gift of the gab will not help much because you are constantly conversing and explaining to all the pundits and novices about the concept of an online shop which Kenyans have no idea how it works. Minority of people found it awkward that we had to register them though manually before they could buy products from us. Ideally, the more people we registered the better for us as opposed to just selling.

Talking to customers and seeing them repeatedly coming to our stand was not only motivating but it also made us proud because we were giving them what they wanted at affordable prices they had never expected.

My partner in the sales of a variety of products ranging from sandals, handbags, shavers, shoes and dryers was one 9ja brother who went by the name AY. He had decided to abbreviate his name because he had the feeling that Kenyans were not pronouncing it well. I even forgot what the initial stand for. Methinks he lacked the maddening drive to work as he was mostly on his phone never feeling a tinge of guilt chatting via texts to some unknown people.

Working with a Nigerian in sales can be very damning because of their pugnacious nature at the onset. Generally, AY was that chap who was cool, fascinating, bold, confident, and charismatic to be with.

Kenyan ladies have a peculiar and pecuniary penchant for Nigerian men because they believe they know how to go down south and satisfy them meaning these guys get laid with a lady easily on a first date as they are perceived to be heavy spenders knowing how to treat a lady.

AY told me of how he made a certain lady divorce her husband because of skills in bed. When he told Njoki, a lady who was distributing our flyers that he never makes out with women but give them a bewitching oral job that they keep coming back for more. Njoki had to burst out in a delectable cackle because he was demonstrating how he does it while talking about it.

Something amazing about AY was his seductive skills because his accent was authentically Nigerian and though some people thought he was faking it, he remained steadfast because he could not utter a single Swahili word insisting to be spoken to in English. This made him be a darling of many of the ladies. He did charm them and there was this one lady called Max who came to our stand dressed in socks toughies shoes and that mundane blue uniform since she was a medical student at KMTC. That she got smitten and easily gave out her number was an understatement.

When a lady is beguiled, the way she acts even though pretending just tells it all. Max had fallen for AY, no lie. And though she sounded repulsive, her mien betrayed her words. Like she was busy telling me in Swahili to tell AY that his ‘vibing’ skills were well below par as she remained unmoved, though inside she had melted like Kimbo on the surface of a nonstick pan on heat. I relayed the translation to AY and upon hearing this, he went on a charm offensive. Max was with her friend Val, who also got deluded by this 9ja man. Mostly, it was Val who was talking to AY, asking him questions ranging on many issues but revolving around whether he was single.

For the next few days, this average looking chics came to our stand pretending they wanted to buy something. Why were they average? They were neither exceptionally attractive nor exceptionally pretty because they were in school uniforms that never accentuated their figure or gave them the womanly physique that wows a man to spatially think asymmetrically. Guess if they had applied makeup, they would have attracted the licentious man in me to act equivocally.

There was this day when Max came and she was busy on her phone while I was trying to engage her in a conversation.

I remember asking her if she can shop online and her reply was that she was mostly busy during the weekdays while during the weekends, she was either visiting her parents or shaking those legs hence could not find time to shop online. A silly and lame excuse. Isn’t shopping online the most convenient and hustle free option devoid of impulse buying?

When she went away, AY showed me the conversation they had been having while she was pretending to buy something. She had bought a lady purse on the first day to impress AY. However she complained about it so much having drained her finances. Ladies are just good at being sly. While AY was fully into chatting with her, she was talking to me while chatting with AY on Whatsapp. It’s called the art of multi-tasking.

There was also a nurse from KNH who was also smitten. She even went ahead and told him intimate details while I stood there perplexed listening to her. She is the kind who decided to give out her number even before being requested. At one point, both Max and the nurse who went by the name Priscah found themselves on our stand coincidentally. Max is the timid kind of chic and just let Priscah engage in a discourse with AY as she waited for her turn to engage him. When Priscah left, shaking her buxom bottoms much to the chagrin of Max who ideally was not well endowed. It is said that 9ja men love them big and that is what Priscah was. So AY had two nurses after him, a student nurse and a practicing one. Ouch, yet none had seen me worthy of even a number.

Somehow it’s tough being a woman. The rivalry was real. Which reminds me of another pretty yellow yellow lady by the name Damaris who sold us food once at a price she only faked because the chow was worse than that being served in a police cell.

Damaris also got smitten. But she looked like a seductress because there was a time she came with her family to our stand, husband and son. The man looked out of place and appeared like he had been kaliwad chapatti while being shown around.  She had flirted with almost everyone. Even yours truly but I just did not feel her vibe. She told me something to the effect that she worked for an architectural studio doing interior design. I was perplexed because she was mostly loitering around as ideally, she was a food vendor. AY refused to eat her food because he said it was not delicious.  This got her mad as I seconded his insinuation.

On the last day, she gave AY her number and he promised to call. She wanted them to engage in business. Many there ladies also gave AY their numbers. One chic accompanied by her mother who probably was in high-school or on her fresher years also stealthily gave him her contact details especially Facebook because she said her phone was not functioning.

Later on, he told me he had deleted the numbers because he was not a player and him having no money enough to play that game and because he was not that savvy to handle so many ladies. I realized that if you are engaged in sales, you can virtually get so many numbers of different chics if you want to play that game. For a novice like me who never easily gets wowed by very pretty chics, it’s kind of hard to get so intimate to extent of exchanging phone details.

At the show, since our stand was busy, I had no time to visit the said mermaids and midgets that are usually bought for people to pay for to see. Uhuru passed near our stand and when he did, since children were nearby, they all went in a frenzy screaming his name as he waved while being chauffeured in his armoured and bulletproof-glassed vehicle.

But being a salesperson is not easy. You need to lie and constantly craft new ways of how to capture the attention of your customers. No one line works with every customer. Getting them to leave their details is also not easy. Some people are usually hesitant, thinking those details are going to be used for some fraudulent reasons which they are not party to. Like being registered to be members of a political party. However the promise of a gift upon purchasing and registering made us have many referrals.

Obviously, there are those people who just found themselves returning to our stand just because we were selling them at prices unimagined. There were those who came on a daily basis just to find our prices had relaxed. The usual faces were so at the back of our minds that you sometimes got fed up seeing them. They came to the stand more times than usual per day. Yet you had to treat them like newbies. Some told us their names and it personal dealing with them.

But one lady needs a standing ovation in mention because of the way she was able to be given a receipt but never took her goods. Which got us thinking, how was it that she had not taken her goods with her yet she had been given a receipt? She waited till the next day to come claim her goods. That was a police case and she even cried because of losing her money. But those tears could not roll as they were crocodile.

She was persistent and in the long run, she was sorted out. I don’t know how but she never came back the next day. Reminds me of the saying; ‘Hii ni Nairobi.’ Everyone has a quest. The only variation is that you never know if the hustle is real or a shamble. Whether you con to survive or make your chums legally, at the end of the day, it is survival of the fittest as everyone struggles to survive.

So at the end of the show, when our boss became insolent like a rabid dog saying she could not be able to see what we had done. I was so exasperated at how ill someone can behave when he has used your time and energy to make a lot of backs while not appreciating the effort you made to aid in making sales. Like on my part, all the sandals were sold out as well as other products that we had.

Her callous nature was not only brutish but did not augur well with us. As employees, that we had sacrificed a lot only for her to turn that heartless and term our work as worthless was indeed hypocritical. Indeed, we were irked. I was fuming inside. But I cannot find the right words to describe how furious I felt.

At that point we decided to go on a go-slow because that was the right thing for not being treated with respect as employees. Yet we had work ceaselessly even going without lunch on the last day just to meet our target and obligation. It was a lesson well learnt. The terms and conditions needed to have been spelt out at the onset lest the deal is abrogated like it was done in our case.

HASTA LA VISTA BABY

[Photo Source: My own]

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