At one point in my life, I convinced myself all I needed was one more conference. I remember being fresh off the boat in this city. I had come for a, what else? conference at where else? Kenya International Conference Centre (KICC).
I wasn’t the only one there—every bloke with legs was there too. We had paid each Sh200, and an MC with tight jeans kept saying, “We gonna change your life men; you gonna be your own boss mien!” It didn’t sound like the American accent I had mastered from watching too much Commando and Rambo, but he was close enough. In any case, I was too kienyeji to understand most of what he said, but I listened anyway.
Turns out it was one of those network marketing schemes. We were all asked to nominate someone, who would then nominate someone, who would then nominate someone, yadda yadda, and as the primary nominators, we would earn from every subsequent nomination.
All I had to do was pay Sh2,000 to buy the product. I had only Sh1,000, saved up from the change I was supposed to return to my mother but I didn’t, from the money I found lying about and possessed under the legal jurisdiction of “finders keepers”, you know, the usual.
Spiritual business conference
I don’t know about you, but my mama used to say nobody would refuse money, especially if it came with a kind word and a threat. It was her negotiation tactic, the likes of which only the Sinaloa Cartel can rival. “Plato o plomo.” Silver, or lead. The organisers took the 1,000 shillings, said I have shown great promise, and asked me to pay the rest once I turn a profit. That was the last time I saw them, or my money.
A few years later, my mother asked me if I knew anything about quail eggs. I said, I hear they fetch a good sum. It was the era when gazeti was msema yote, and either Njoroge Mwaura or Catherine Kasavuli had said something on TV about how quail eggs were the new fad in the country, and who am I to question Njoroge Mwaura and Catherine Kasavuli?
One thing about mama, she goes all in. So she took money from her Sacco and bought quail eggs. I should have told her that I don’t know anything about quails or that this sounded like another get-rich-quick scheme, but I wasn’t that sort of son. We (she) lost a lot of money, and I ate so much ugali-sukuma wiki I am convinced my descendants will be born with kwashiorkor.
The only reason I am telling you this is because I saw a poster for a spiritual business conference where the hosts are charging Sh10,000. 10K!
That’s a lot of money to pay to a spiritual guru who will only invoke the Lord’s name and tell you that your business has been tied up in the spiritual world. Plus, in this economy and with AI coming for your job? This is a rip-off. I am saying this because if my mother was alive, she’d probably want to attend, listen to the anointed ones spit fire, arrest the devil, loosen the chains, you know, the whole nine.
Indicator of economic health
I am not known for my economic expertise, but I know the math that matters to me. And that is 1+1=2. And this is not adding up. None of the men there —for they were all men—had built any business of repute, well, if you disregard the church as a business. Aptly so. People need to believe, which requires an irrationality, a suspension of critical faculties, an abnegation of will, a closing of the eyes.
My neighbour, Moha, likes these conferences. He is hoping to meet someone there who would invest in his business, hoping that the economy will be kind to him, hoping to get his business from an idea into a product.
I tell him what my mentor tells me, “Hope is not a strategy.” You still have to do the work. He argues that although it is certainly true, it was one thing to live without money, and quite another to live without faith. Moha believes an economy gliding on faith only needs more prayers. Moha is 49. He wants to start a podcast to talk about how to start a successful podcast.
Maybe that’s what these spiritual business conferences know that I don’t. That people, especially men, will always buy a ticket to tomorrow if today is oversubscribed. That there is an invisible enemy out there against your business, and all you need to do is to kamata yeye!
Me? I work too hard for my money. I believe in the Nairobi Securities Exchange as the only indicator of economic health. I am even ready to get on Moha’s podcast to reiterate the same. After all, there is always money to be made from desperate people.
