How I Escaped Death by a Whisker

Part 2

We are headed to Ngong Forest. The goons have told us so. Abruptly, they take a “panya route” into the Forest. Then we are told to alight from the Nissan one by one, while being frisked for any remaining money we had hidden. A while ago I had asked one of the carjackers if I should also give out coins but he had remained quiet. But right now he is saying, “Na usipatikane na kitu haki ya Mungu tutakupiga risasi”. I decide to hide the three 20 bob coins which will eventually act as fare back to my abode, if only I remain alive. But when I hear “tutakupiga risasi” I ask Not-Afraid-to-Kill-Man that I have some coins in my person and whether I should give them out. He remains quiet. I take cue and never ask him again.

As we get out of the Nissan Matatu, Tiyan immediately loses his brand new sweater. The thugs tell him “Boss, hii  ni zi jo…tupatie roho safi buda”. Another passenger also surrenders his brand new pair of sports shoes.

As we get out of the Nissan, we proceed straight to lie on our stomachs on cold Ngong Forest grasses. The biting 1 a.m. cold is not a pleasant idea. We are forced to leave our shoes a metre away. The thugs proceed to step on our buttocks and kick our heads if we raise them an inch.   

After what seems like an eternity, we get back to the Nissan and we drive off (with the thugs). One Carjacker tells us that they are actually good, they haven’t raped anyone, killed or injured (but my nose aches badly what with the blows). One Mama says: “Haki nyinyi ni wazuri sana..nyinyi ni binadamu”. But all in all I am not happy. The thug tells me: “Hata ukikasirika haitasaidia..shukuru Mungu. Uzuri ni kwamba sisi si wageni wa kila siku..vile tumewatembelea hivi ni mpaka next year”. Then as an afterthought, he says: “ Simcards zenu na ma-ID ziko kwa booth..tutashukia hapa..kwaherini”. Then they alight not more than 1 Km away from Karen Police Station. 

We regain our lost voices instantly. The driver and the conductors debate about going to the police station straight away. I tell them that the thugs have not gone more than 100 metres and that they could come back for us. Let us drive to safety then think about going to the police, I tell them. Before I finish this, all of us are back to the Nissan as if working on a script.

We drive to Karen police station. It could have been around 2 or 2.30 a.m. A little drama ensues. Apparently one of the passengers, a middle-aged man (I was so much confused, I don’t remember much details) is asked by the police his name and occupation. He says that he is an askari. “Service number, ofisa?”, the police ask. He doesn’t know. He then says that he is a city council worker.  “Na service number?”. He doesn’t know. The man is manhandled almost way past the OB to the cells. An elderly woman (the one who thanked the thugs for their humane nature) defends the man saying that she saw money everywhere scattered in the backseat of the Nissan. The man, distraught, flails his arms saying: “Ofisa, ni kuchanganyikiwa..ni kuchanganyikiwa. Nimepoteza 150,000 za Sarit Exhibition. Pesa zote zimeenda”. I feel sorry for this man. Even the cops. After the ritual of filling out our details, we get back to our Nissan to reach our ‘Rongai destination’.

While in the Nissan, we recount our ‘narrow escape’. I establish that there were actually two soldiers in the Nissan. Tiyan later tells me that they had jabbed him at the sides so that we could react against them and beat them at their own game. Tiyan whispered to them asking whether they had a ‘mguu ya kuku’ (a pistol) to which they responded in the negative. Upon which Tiyan told them ‘Basi tunyenyekee’. I could not imagine the ingenuity of Tiyan hiding 700 shillings just inside the seats. I was also surprised of that lady who hid a 1000 note inside her mouth. Such bravery!

We alight at Park Place, walk about 100 metres, jump over the gate and are in our room at around 3 a.m. Tiyan and I say our prayers before sleeping. I am not sure whether I slept or not. Because at 5 a.m. I had woken up to prepare myself to be at Court for Judicial Attachment, which was a Monday, before 8.30. I tell my colleagues at court about my ordeal but they hardly believe me.

I won’t forget that night.