Nailolongo II

The last time I wrote about Nailolongo here, I was full of exaltation of how the magnificent a place it is together with its residents and matatus. This time I am full of sorrow and pain for what Nailolongo and its matatus have done to me. The gods and other related beings have conspired to swallow the following documents of mine: national ID, ATM card, KASNEB ID, campus ID, plus some other ID I can’t remember what it is. My guts tell me they dropped in one of the three rides I took to Nailolongo that day. Nailolongo why have you conspired to finish me this soon?

The day my documents got lost coincided to the day I covered so many kilometers around town and out of town. Why? Oh why? This has brought about a further covering of more kilometers looking for it. Maen I have walked. It is when you look for an ID when you will discern the large number of IDs screaming for their owners. None of my five IDs has becomes homesick and yelled for me.

I realized I do not have an ID at the MPESA. Thanks to tosh, I do not go to withdraw when I have depleted my pocket a/c. So when I hurriedly sunk my fingers into my pockets to reach for it, I could not believe it. The next activity was to go round trying to identify rogue MPESA agents who could accept I withdraw cash without identification. I found one, some young lady, though I cannot determine whether it was because of desperation to transact or my stunning looks that wheedled her to accept ID-less guy like me, yet there was a big poster that said ‘No ID, No transaction’.

I have spent a considerable amount of time at railways bus station tryna ask around for a missing ID. I found like 10 of them. One of my 5 IDs was not among them. So I found this guy who washes nailolongo vehicles as they wait in the queue. This was the conversation:

Natb: *trying to appear very humble* habari yako?

Wash man: *ignoring me terribly, goes on scrubbing the vehicle violently*

Natb: Venye ulikuwa unaosha hizi magari umeona ID mahali?

Wash man: *stares at me for a second, goes on to scrub as he talks, thick lunje accent* Una gari gani?

Natb: sina gari *dude wtf*

Wash man: sasa unaniuliza mambo ya gari na hauna gari? *splashes water to the vehicle missing me by inches*

Natb: niliuliza juu ya ID *I am now thinking this guy’s brains are not properly constituted*

Wash man: umeniuliza bei ya gari na hauna, bwana. Sasa unaulizia nini? *steals a glance*

Natb: *stares back, thoughts of finally unearthing that short gun of mine crowding my mind*

Wash man: unaniongelesha kama una gari, mimi ninaongelesha wenye magari peke yake *proceeds to move to the other side of the vehicle*.

Natb:*smiles and moves to tom mboya to have a sh 40 fries lunch*

Well, that was that. After the sh 40 fries lunch, I visited central police to get an abstract. The fat fuck issuing them asked me the place where I lost the ID. You known Mr fat fuck, if I knew I could go there and get it. Sincerely, there is a chance they got lost in Mombasa because I had travelled that night to Nairobi. So I told him I lost it between town and upper hill. The fat fuck stopped writing and told me to go to kilimani police station, the short gun thoughts came back. You know I had promised myself to bury the short gun till the day my daughter hit age 7. At this rate I may get it sooner. I could not go to kilimani. I waited the next day and went to the same office, this time with a fuck face and stated I had lost it outside central police station. Mr fuck face brought it this time.

I do not get why these IDs decided to disappear when I needed them most. I am meant to start job next week. Who starts job with a waiting card? Anyway I will have to make up a mugging story and how I escaped death. This wunt be the first time I have lied to them anyway. I might have mentioned that I was a choir leader at home, chief philanthropist, project manager, IDP helper, jack bauer, bat man, steve jobs and wangare maathai all rolled in one during the interview.

I beseech the gods of finding to bring em to me. I am willing to pay. I do not want to subject myself to the rigorous procedures in the government offices.

Boom box playlist:

Uprising – Muse.