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As expected, Kizito was loaded when he arrived. Or as we say in Mwisho wa Lami, he was “rotten with cash”.
During the first week, Kizito only drank at Cosmos Bar and Rest, or in other bars in neighbouring market centres. And although Cosmos is a walking distance from his home, I used to drive him to the bar, and pick him late at night once he was done.
Last week I met him walking to the market centre. “Exercise is very important for the body,” he said. “It is possible to get fat this December if you don’t exercise,” he added, although he accepted the free ride I offered.
By that time, he had started drinking at Hitler’s — the same place he had advised me against. The first day he went there, he bought drinks for himself and everyone else who was there. By the fourth day, he was drinking on credit.
Things were changing even at his home. During the first week, the aroma of chapati, rice, beef, ndengu and other delicacies constantly wafted through the Mwisho wa Lami village from his house. Brandon was permanently at Kizito’s place and would return home only to sleep. Nimo paid for milk from my place and Brandon enjoyed delivering it every morning — only returning after taking breakfast at Kizito’s.
Brandon told us how the Kizitos had travelled with several loaves of bread, a bale of chapati flour and half a sack of rice. Kizito’s wife, Nimo, gave Brandon some of these things to bring to Fiolina.
They also bought two chickens from us, and Kizito was a regular visitor at the local butchery.
But within a week, the delicacies started giving way to the usual Mwisho wa Lami stuff. Ugali, mboga, mahenjera, nduma, among others. Twice, his daughter came to my place to ask for vegetables. Brandon stopped going there for food, and Kizito’s son Dylan started visiting us. They would also buy mandazis from a gentleman who used to supply us with them on his bike every morning.
“This is not healthy, you never know how they are cooked,” Nimo had cautioned my wife a week earlier about the mandazis. She said that she preferred preparing them, or chapati made by herself, as only then could she be assured of their hygiene. Last Wednesday, she sent Dylan to our place to get some ndumas — or anything we could give them to take tea with.
At Hitler’s last Friday, Kizito’s father confronted me.
“Wewe Dre ndio umefilisisha Kizito,” he said. “My son has been here for three weeks and only came to visit me yesterday when he has no money.” The old man was quite angry. I tried to tell him that I had not eaten any money from Kizito; that I had only been offering services.
“Imagine Nimo hajakanyaga kwangu,” he lamented. “Tunasumbukana na mahenjera kila siku nao wanakula mikate na chapati. You need to guide Kizito,” he said.
I bought him a drink to quieten him. Kizito also came to Hitler’s but was keen to sit far from his father.
“This mzee only likes me when I am loaded,” he complained, adding that he had given his parents some money when he arrived, after I told him that the old man had complained that he had never visited them.
“I went there once, but only mum was around, and she is the one I gave what I had,” he said. “And why should I give my father money when I know my mother plans for everything. Mzee atakunywa yote,” he told me.
I woke up yesterday morning to find missed calls from Kizito.
“Are you at home I come to see you?” he asked when I called back. He joined us for breakfast, during which time he praised our ndumas as the best in the world.
“Dre niko mbaya sana,” he started. “Sina hata ndururu. Can you get me a soft loan please?” I told him I too had no money, and showed him some apps on the phone where he could take some loan.
“I have taken from all of them,” he said, and showed me several SMS reminders from the lenders. He even taught me others like Tala that I did not know.
“I just need fare to go back to Nairobi,” he said. “Once there, I can hustle for some money. Huku maze, it’s just spending and spending. I reminded him how I usually give him fare to go back to Nairobi every Christmas. He apologised and promised to pay this time.
He then helped me to upload the Tala icon on my phone, and guided me on how to take a loan of Sh4,000, which came instantly.
It was around mid-day and with money, we walked to Hitler’s! All along, he was sweet-talking me to lend him Sh3,500.
I succumbed, but gave him Sh3,000. He immediately went to this place, prepared his family for the trip back to Nairobi and at 5pm yesterday, they boarded the night Western Coach — even before Christmas day.
Yet they had travelled home for Christmas!
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