The root of all evil is not money, but the lack of it.
Like denizens of Nairobi who are best classified thus – those who have made it, and those who are in the process of making it—we are yet to make it, but we are getting there.
Kuna deal flanizinaivana. I, however, can’t tell you how much the bahasha had.
What I am about to tell you does not leave this page. Men are in love with each other, and women are a convenience. Don’t say you heard that from me.
Our friend, K, (remember K? He bought a car in Mombasa and we did very bad things there), also moved houses. He has money like that CS who likes watches. And like that CS, he is not afraid to tell us. Which is how we landed at his house in Ngong, a good middle-class neighbourhood where neighbours each have two parking spots and the landlord interviews you to ask what you are bringing into the “Summer Waters Family Gardens”. K is now gentrified, having bleached the stain of a dirty childhood in Dandora. He recently discovered he likes plant-based milk and is considering becoming a pescatarian. A what? If you don’t know what that is, you can’t afford to live at “Summer Waters Family Gardens.” Maisha London. It’s not like here in Lavingware, Ebenezer Flats, house #401 where I stay, where people don’t have secrets. Mama Mark gives you mboga on credit and suddenly, everyone wants to know how long ume-Dishi na County. Ama umedishi county. The upstairs neighbour goes to the bathroom twice, God, do you think he has prostate cancer? The caretaker is also blackmailing you because he once kept two of your lovers from clashing at the gate. No, he doesn’t want money. He wants you to give him one of them. Which is what I think that faux engineer and self-congratulatory PhD holder grapple with in their scramble for and partition of Kenya. K isn’t like that, and you can tell Ngong isn’t either. This explains why we went down to feng shui the house, a quaint little crib with flowers at the awning and a security guy, Ben, who has refused to embrace the white man’s customs of using soap and therefore constantly smells like a Zebu bull. If we were in traditional African society, women would chop each other’s heads for him—a man among men.
