Safara plays 'gentleman' while hustling for Neo's school fees

Having come back from Mombasa after being robbed of my 90K by those rogue ‘cops,’ and having spent 30K in visa fees (and still not going to America), I realised after paying rent, and my October expenses – that I had only Sh270 000 left from the Sh432,000 I had at the start of the month (from my severance pay).

Panicky, I quickly put quarter a million into a six-month FDA at a local bank. Afadhali I stay with Sh20,000 as I look for cash, than squander the rest of the money on hustles that don’t pan out.

I then called my ex-partner Lora, and asked if she would bring our boy Neo to a nearby mall on Mashujaa Day, just so I could hang out with him, maybe watch the Paw Patrol movie (he’s five years old now)?

Instead, she showed up alone, and we went to one of those fancy (expe) coffee shops, where a tot of coffee is like 200 bob.

“Baba Neo,” she said certainly, looking all posh in a funky blonde weave, “Here is the fee structure of Joyland, which Neo joins in January.” – and pushed a paper across with long, fake, differently coloured nails.

“Fifty thao?” I almost choked on my kahawa. “Babe, you know I lost my job …”

“I am only asking you to pay half,” she said, “Otherwise I am the one housing, clothing and feeding your son.”

“Can I at least see him once a weekend, ka-sleep-over like this, during these long holidays? I promise I will find the 25K by start of January.”

“Baba Neo, I will not let you have a joyride,” she said, calling for the bill. “The day you gimme the 25K half fees is the day you can begin seeing Neo, sawa?”

And with a flourish, she settled the tab and swept out of the swanky coffee bar, leaving me with the fee structure in my hands, hurt in my heart, and a slight headache.

The next day, Saturday, I visited a friend called Gituse in Mathare.

Apparently, they had a tree planting project with some Swedes, ‘they’ being a trio of a very slim tall chap called ‘Fat Joe,’ and a stout barrel of a woman called Vera.

“We have to plant before El Nino comes,” Gituse said.

“Hakuna El Nino ina kuja,” I informed him. “That was a corruption hoax.”

I then found out they had a budget of 150K for the project, Sh60,000 of which was to buy wheelbarrows, jembes, mattocks and buckets.

A bright idea lit up my hustler’s mind.

“Gituse, instead of buying all those things, why don’t I just lease them to you? It will be much cheaper for you.”

“But we have already told the donors we are buying them,” said Vera.

“Kwani we are farmers?” Fat Joe chimed in. “We can just brand them, when they visit they see them, then we return them to Mike, ama?”

And that is exactly what we did on Sunday at the tree planting with the Swiss, me having leased the wheelbarrows and other tools from a chap called Tosha in Ngong, for a total of ten thousand including branding and transport, thus saving the Mathare trio 25K as I took 35K from them.

On Monday evening, after I had returned everything to Tosha in Ngong, and paid him his ten thousand, he insisted we go celebrate at a popular club on Ngong road.

“I don’t have cash,” I warned him, immediately mpesaing Lora (Mama Neo) the 25K I had just made as a middleman, and getting a short shocked ‘thanks’ text now that I had gotten the half fee in three days!

“No worries!” Tosha said, so we went to the popular pub on his account.

Just after we had sat down, I saw him approach three ladies, who seemed to be in their 30s, in shimmering dresses, and charm them.

Then he returned to our table, and ordered a 5K whiskey for us, and a 5K wine bottle for the ladies.

“I see you are spending the 10K I gave you on wine, women and song.” Tosha just winked at me.

Three hours later, with our bottle almost done, he asked me to go wait for him outside, as he made a call. “Go. Now,” he snarled urgently. I did.

Three minutes later, he comes almost running out of the club, still on phone. “Our Bolt is here,” he almost screamed. “Twende saa hii! I have stuck the bill with those womens.”

Shaking my head as he jumped into the cab, I went back into the club, and straight to the ladies’ table.

“Phew,” said one with short hair, a long attractive face and bedroom eyes. “Anna here was just saying you’ve left and stuck us with your bill.’

“My friend is a terrible man,” I said. “I am sorry, I will just pay for our whiskey, as I have only Sh6,000 on my MPesa right now. Pole sana.’

“Ahhh,” said Anna, smiling. “The last gentleman left in Nairobi city.”

“Send it to my number,” said the lovely long-faced lass, looking at me meaningfully. “You will see the name Cecilia Friday.”

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