Nairobi is sprawling with Beggars, how do you identify the genuine ones and the frauds? Who should you give and who should you ignore?

My analysis

Young Children sprawling in Nairobi

You will normally spot this kids around major shopping outlets like Nakumatt. They are very strategic in their advances, they will approach you when you are with a lady friend, laughing, or, whispering something to her ear. They know for certain that you want to keep that moment going and you are likely to give them some money hastily to stop them from ruining your moves.

I never give such kids money! My reasons?

1. The kids are way too jumpy to be hungry! They dash from your left to your right side in amazing speed, pull your hand, hang onto your legs and many other acrobatics that require the body to have plenty of energy to perform. They are lying to you. They had breakfast, lunch and supper, if you give them that money, they probably take it to their boss at the end of the day and get a commission. Same as you in your pathetic job! yet you decided to spare some money, thinking you are doing some good for this world.
2. The children always run away from police. Why do they have to run? What are they hiding?
3. Like my good friend Linda asks, what is a six year old doing outside in the middle of the night? What sort of parent would allow that?

Blind beggars who corner you while you devour your chapati madondo in a restaurant or hotel.

I am tempted to speak of beggars who time you during lunch while you devour your “kuku steaky” with Ugali with similar harshness. Problem is, this guys are normally genuinely blind! You will never be approached in a hotel by a beggar with sun glasses. No, they know how to work your guilt! They expose their damaged eyes so that if you turn them away, and continue enjoying your juicy steak, you will qualify as a Hitler re-born! Someone incapable of mercy. My advice is, help this guys, or, invite them to join you for a meal. After all, they are human, just like you.

Beggars who approach your place of work with petition papers.

This are the most dangerous and I personally do not waste any of my time reading the papers. I realize that there might be a few genuine petition papers, but, the people who give the beggars this papers should search for alternative methods of donation because the transparency of that system has been overrun by con men and thieves. Most of this beggars pretend to be deaf and dumb. They enter your office and place the petition papers on your desk for you to read, while leaving, they grab the papers and your mobile phone or anything else of value that might have been on your desk. They then thank you, give you Gods blessings and head to their brokers to sell the kill. If you happen to catch them in the act, please don’t beat them to death, lynch them or anything else tantamount! I do not support such methods. Please report the matter to the nearest police station.

Civilians who claim to have been robbed or just lack bus fare for some reason.

My advice, don’t give them anything! This has become a business. Sorry! Walk all the way home. While in college I didn’t have bus fare. I walked more than 10km everyday. If I could do it, you can too. Get your walk on..

Beggars who carry a plastic bag with their intestines and other body organs inside.

I will let you decide what to do on this one, but, I never give them money for 2 reasons

1. I don’t feel like my 50 bob will help in anything. You need serious help. Go to a doctor or an N.G.O. I am sure there are able bodied organizations that are willing to help.
2. Its just wrong carrying and showing your internal organs to people.

Beggars playing musical instruments

Give them, just think of it as paying for the act

Watu wa Mungu. I know this are hard times, but, let us not be slaves of money. I fear I have to say this from the outset otherwise my whole post is in danger of being irrelevant.

Having just returned to mtaa after a long absence, I went to visit my old friend Gullit to check on how he was doing. I visited his house but he wasn’t there, I checked his mums but she hadnt seen Gullit since the previous night. While exiting, I met Gullit outside the door on his way in. We exchanged our Hi’s and umepotea sana before we dived straight into the kutoanishwa where he bluntly sought to hustle money from me. I told him I was going through a rough period myself but I could buy him lunch as we discuss who just got shot or who got lynched by the mob in Dandora and so on. En route to the Halima’s kibanda for some pilau, I asked him how life was. He told me he had just come back from a construction site where he was seeking employment as a casual labourer but it hadn’t gone so well, he explained that getting a job, even as a casual labourer had become more difficult than climbing Mt Kenya since there were so many people in need of jobs. In his words “Sasa Marto mi ntaduu nini? Ule msee alikua mbele yangu kwa line ya Mjengo alikua size yangu kimuili lakini ako fluent in French and Korean” Which translated to English “What am I supposed to do Martin? The guy infront of me at the qeue for the construction job was just well built like me but he was also fluent in French and Korean.” I didn’d quite understand how that was an advantage in a construction job. “Maybe they hired him so that when the building collapses like they all are doing nowadays, the guy can scream for help in 3 languages.” We laughed heartily as we entered Halima’s Pilau den.

I was a frequent customer at Halima’s back in the day so when she saw me she approached me to say hi with a smile that could fit 2 migingo islands inside. I couldn’t embrace her since I was unsure of how that would play in muslim law but I slapped my hand against hers hard enough to show that she had been missed. Before I could even say a word, she hastily explained that I was the only person who deserved a free meal that day but I wasn’t that lucky because of skyrocketing maize flour prices and what not.. I joked about it a little bit trying to reverse her stand but her smile disappeared, her tone changed and she made it clear that if I wasn’t a paying customer I should be on my way. Seeing this, I asked Gullit to sit down and order whatever he wanted! It was on me. After sensing that I was loaded, Halima’s bright smile re-appeared and she ordered one of her waiters to wash our hands. The ghetto being the ghetto, the menu is a black board on the wall and not a fancy booklet on every table. I discussed that with Gullit and AGAIN he attributed it to the high cost of living, skyrocketing prices, bei ya unga. I was getting a bit irritated by this excuse so I let the discussion stretch a little as I asked Gullit to explain how the menu style in the ghetto had to do with anything?? “Marto, sku izi ata mse wa noa kisu analia mafuta ya petroli imepanda.” in English “Martin, nowadays even the local knife sharpener complains that fuel prices have risen.” Again, I asked him what that had to do with anything. He looked at me straight in the eye, almost about to speak his heart out, when the waiter interrupted by requesting to wash our hands. Gullit spread out his arms to have his hands washed and while doing that, he said “Ebu oga mikono wewe, osha uzungu ikutoke.” English “just wash your hands man, wash your western mindset away.” We enjoyed pilau and all along I kept asking myself “why would the knife sharpener complain of rise in fuel prices??” I dont get it, but, if it was in Kiambu where I live, I would understand anyone complaining of rise in fuel prices since people there drink, get drunk and go blind on many fuel products, but hey, maybe I am westernized! OR! Maybe Kenyans should keep complaining instead of thinking of a way forward!! I know that life is difficult in Nairobi and yes, the prices are ridiculously high. But, that shouldn’t alter our respect, discipline and focus in life. I don’t believe proper mannerisms are western ways. I believe they are “ways” just like all other evil ways that we can choose to uphold or ignore. Tuwacheni siasa ya ganji kila saa! English: Let us stop money politics all the time!

When I was a young boy, my mum urged me to study very hard so that I could be a somebody when I grow up. I had a fairly small body, she used to warn that if I didn’t study hard, I would spend my adult life pushing\pulling  a mkokoteni (cart) just like all the other pupils who wouldn’t pay attention in class. Nowadays, a mkokoteni costs 10,000. It’s sort of a luxury. Mothers urging they’re sons to study have edited they’re speeches. Nowadays their sentences are a little bit open ended. “My son, study real hard or else…!!!!” But even so, I am sure your mothers want sons and daughters with insight and direction, even if it’s a heavy loaded mkokoteni they are “driving”