Of friends who borrow cash and never pay back

A few days ago, I was having a conversation with a relative when I inquired about a close friend of his, pointing out that I hadn’t seen them together in a long time.

“Wachana na huyo… (forget about him),” he commented, sounding irritated. 

Being the nosy person that I am, I prodded, “Kwani alifanyaa (what did he do)?”

Turns out that his former friend had a habit of giving out things that weren’t his to give. For instance, they would go to a pub together, and this relative would buy a bottle of whatever, and when someone known to the friend passed by their table, the man would call out to the person and offer them a tot of the bottle’s contents, never mind that he wasn’t the one that bought the bottle in the first place.

Or they would be eating meat that he had no intention of paying for, yet he’d invite people minding their own business to join them.

Such bad habits, explained my relative, are what had effectively killed their friendship.

This conversation triggered memories of people-behaving-badly situations that I have been in over the years. And most have to do with money.

One especially stands out. Someone that I would never have imagined would borrow from me money since we didn’t have that kind of relationship surprised me by doing exactly that.

Unanswered phone calls 

I argued that he must have been very desperate to borrow from me and threw caution to the wind and lent it to him. Plus, I argued further, he was a relative of a relative, therefore he wouldn’t risk straining our relationship by failing to pay me back, would he?

Anyway, he had wanted more than the Sh2,500 I had to spare, but he profusely thanked me and promised to repay me in a week’s time. A week went by, and then another, and then a month, and then two months until I stopped counting.

Meanwhile, my phone calls went unanswered.

The next time I saw him, it was a chance meeting at a once popular entertainment spot near where I lived at the time, and he was busy eating life with a big spoon.

“Caro!” he called out unabashed when our eyes met.

“Good to see you!” he lied, a bottle of beer in hand, fatty nyama choma on a blackened wooden board in front of him. He was a bit drunk too.

“Pewa kitu Caro… (have a drink Caro)” he announced, faking generosity.

I quickly turned down the offered “kitu” because I wasn’t sure whether I would be the one paying for the “kitu” even though he was the one offering it. With such people you never know.

Conman never paid me back

“If you won’t have a drink on me, then buy something for the children,” he shouted for all to hear, reaching into his shirt pocket and pulling out a Sh500 note.

I was so taken aback, I found myself reaching for the proffered note. Everyone who heard him and observed that gesture must have gone home thinking, “What a generous man!” yet in reality, he had just repaid a tiny fraction of the money he owed me.

That situation seemed so unreal, it had not even occurred to me to confront the bad-mannered man.

Instead, in a daze I had turned on my heels and walked out, my right hand wrapped around the bill.

Needless to say, that conman never paid me back. When I think back to that incident, I comfort myself by telling myself that I was at least able to recover 500 bob. Some have never recovered even a shilling.

Such experiences are a reminder to never lend anything you cannot afford to lose and also brings to the fore the folly of lending to relatives.

I mean, you cannot sue them, or do something thuggish such as paying a thug to give them a beating they won’t forget in a hurry.

The writer is editor, Society & Magazines, Daily Nation; [email protected]