Nairobi.
The city was quiet that Sunday save for touts scrambling to usher commuters in their PSVs.
Silas, who sat by my side in the 14-seater shuttle on our way from shags (up-country), opened his window and let in some cool breeze as the driver navigated towards Railways terminus in the CBD.
We got caught up in traffic for a bit.
“Jesus…” A lady who sat at the seat in front of us cried after a well-dressed passer-by nearly plucked her phone from her hand.
“Hii ni Nairobi mama, utaibiwa simu. (This is Nairobi City. Be cautious lest you lose your phone)” the conductor cautioned as a heated debate ensued inside the matatu.
“Imagine huyu jamaa ako courageous aje. Anasimama na anacheka tu. Na venye amepiga suti. (How courageous is this guy? Look at him standing over there, laughing at us. And he is well dressed to disguise the fact that he is a thief,” an old man, let's say in his 50s, struggling to fit in the back seat lamented.
He was sweating in a suit - you know those ones that shine like iron sheets - synonymous with our high school teachers back in the day.
A woman, I think was his wife, passed him a bottle of water and a handkerchief. The woman looked exhausted. The journey from Matuu, Machakos County had drained her.
I was on my way from escorting Silas to meet his fiancee, Mwende’s parents, in Matuu and a ruracio was in the works. Someone was finally getting married.
We alighted and Silas and I opted to stroll towards River Road to window shop for a few personal items.
River Road is a small town within Nairobi. It has everything you need. Everything! But you only need to be wary of your belongings. You can lose a bag and buy the same items you lost from a shop within an hour.
Don’t laugh. That’s the mere truth. I know of a friend who cried foul when he was robbed only for the group to turn against him claiming he was the thief. My friend was rescued by the police. Irony in itself.
Sometimes you don’t want to laugh over some people’s predicaments, but it's like when walking with someone and they fall in a trench along the highway. Impulse has it that you will laugh first before asking if they are alright.
Anyways. Back to River Road.
“Joe, cheki ile scramble pale (Joe, look at those people scrambling over there),” Silas jolted me.
We paused for a while before rushing to the shop.
Traders were busy pushing each other to purchase second-hand clothes in bulk, on offer.
Two bouncers pushed a number of them aside and ordered them to line up.
“Nimeng’ang’ana hapa for 30 minutes na naskia stock inaisha. I have struggled here for 30 minutes with no success. The stock will be over in a few,” a woman lamented, looking at us to rescue her.
The 30 minutes didn't last. 10 minutes were over and the owners stepped out.
“Pick some stock tomorrow. Our stock has run out today. We did not have enough cash to pay the suppliers,” the owner lamented.
The traders who remained wondered if they would book and pay tomorrow, but the owner declined.
“Your stock has run out?” Silas asked after the struggle ended.
“Yes. I think that was what I said right,” the owner hit back.
“There are many ways you can fill your stock, especially if you have a bank account,” Silas added.
Bank account. Silas is mentioning a bank account in River Road.
“Do you want to scam me?” the owner asked, taken aback.
“No, I know one way, especially from Co-op Bank. I am an accountant there. Or where do you bank?” Silas added.
“Co-op Bank,” the owner answered.
“You can get a Co-op Micro, Small & Medium Enterprise (MSME) Business Plus Loan through the MCo-opCash App or via USD *667# and pay for your stock.
“I won’t ask you to show me any details of your account. Just visit the nearest Co-op Bank and you’ll be guided.
Silas quickly explained. He added that via MCo-opCash App, the owner can bank anytime and anywhere without physically visiting the bank.
“The MSME loans are affordable,” Silas added. The owner took his number and we parted ways.
Two days later, the owner shared his success and asked us to visit him at the shop.
“I have a gift for you my friend,” he told Silas.
Brown Duke Chelsea Boots.
“These ones are perfect for my ruracio suit, right?” Silas asked me and we all broke into laughter.
Traders kept streaming into his shop to buy items. No more scrambling.