Was I being followed? Or was it my imagination? I wanted to park at the club, the car was safer there... But was I being followed? Or was it my imagination? So I parked right there outside Enigma's entrance. If they were following me, there was no way they would be sophisticated enough to find me in Enigma. Exclusivity is truly security. Besides, if they were actually around, they might trash the car, but that's just the car right? I would be safe. If I met a broken window, then I would call for security back up.
The thing about being followed by someone you don't know is it's as scary as ghosts in the house. For funs sake, let's play pretend. You are in your house, it's fourteen bedroomed, power has gone out, and solar panels have not been installed yet. So it is as dark as night, you are alone, all the staff are not around, even the watchman has been replaced by technology. But the biggest of your concern is that you cannot sleep. So you decide to walk around to the kitchen to look for candles, cause the living room candle stands are just for decoration, no candles there. And when you are right there in the kitchen, in a house you are completely sure you are alone in, which is as dark as wearing the eye masks in a plane, or more accurately as dark as blindness, you feel a cold arm touch your shoulder. When was the last time you peed on yourself, years ago. Yes, no? Hold your pee in and we all know you aren't human. Even if you just peed, trust me your body will find fresh pee, whether it will turn your sweat into pee, whether it will turn your blood into pee, whether it will turn the sheer invisible fear or your heart beat into pee, I don't know, but you will find it in yourself to wet your pants completely out of fright. Cold arm on your shoulder... In a house that you are sure is empty... And it's as dark as blindness...
Back to where we begun, I was having a couple of drinks, cocktails, they serve them with ground nuts. I guess some clubs are very passionate at getting you to get your business. But I wasn't going to get my business that night. I was ignoring every girl there. Truth be told that everyone I was with freaked me out.
What if they are the ones following me? Or perhaps it was an elaborate scheme where these girls became my friends to map my location and convey it to the people following me?
"Why aren't you drinking?"
Everyone around me was in laughter. I was too, on occasion. Then I would remember I have to drive home alone. And slowly I would get disengaged. Maybe they are trying to get me drunk then hand me over to the people flowing me? Was it all in my head? how could they be? Even very good people can be corrupted by bad company. Don't birds of a feather flock together? It's not the first time peoples friends and neighbors became criminals, and they asked for information from their friends and neighbors to tailor an attack. Could I have been sitting and buying drinks for the guys who actually was the ring leader of my stalkers? Was I really being followed?
I had to excuse myself, clearly I wasn't having fun. I looked at everyone else around. Having a good time, partying like there was no tomorrow, without a care. I even saw a presidents daughter there. She schooled in Kenya. And I started to think, it must be safer here, safer in a foreign country where you are anonymous. Truly we are the big shots of Africa us Kenya. To have people fly out from different parts of the country to school here. I wondered whether she had a body guard somewhere in the wood works. Everyone was having a good time, I had too at the beginning, but you know bipolar and drugs equal paranoia right?
I walked out in a rash, ignore the bouncer Bobby, ignore the bouncer, probably he was also hired to follow you, or he might be an informer like the girls trying to seduce you. Ignore them Bobby. Ignore.
One, two, three, jump in. Thank heaven for key-less access.
Door locked immediately. I took the road.
"I think am being followed!"
"Do you want me to get you an escort?"
'Yes, yes I would really like that.'
"No"
That is the word that came out of my mouth. I knew it involved having to find a place to park until I had company, besides it was getting late. I was tired and I can be a really fast driver. Besides, there is no way the people following me could drive heavy muscles with enough speed to catch up with me. was there anyone following me anyways?
I got to the gate, and the guard was standing outside as usual. I pressed the gate remote, and it started to slide open.
The dog started barking.
The guard started fiddling nervously with his rungu.
The dog started barking.
Then the gate stopped sliding open midway.
There had to be an obstruction.
There must have been a conspiracy. My stalkers must have attacked the guards from inside and asked them to act normal until I got into the compound then they would attack me. Wasn't the guard nervous. Wasn't he trying to tell me something? Probably he was warning me! The dogs were barking? The gate had jammed. He was nervous.
They weren't going to catch me.
"Scuffy is hurt! It's okay. You are safe, Scuffy is hurt!"
I reversed. I sped off for about a meter. But then in my mind I wondered what was happening to Scuffy. She was screaming. My dog was screaming. And I had left her.
I switched to reverse gear. The tires rolled on the road before the car jerked off. I had pushed down the accelerator completely. At times like that, you rather you die out of an accident rather than out of a gun. You never know what people following you want. You would almost rather they just put a bullet in your head, God forbid. No. Wait, life is too sweet. Scratch that but now you get the picture right? People who follow you, and you do not know why they are following you are dangerous, cause they might want all kinds of things from you. And No, that is never a good thing. There desparacy often brings you fresh hell. Very fresh hell.
I reversed and pressed the gate remote again. The barking stopped. Scuffy was fine. I drove off. Then called the house. There was a police station close. But no, minimum wage, equals motive. Sucking up like they do, equals double motive. Do your fucking job right if you want to associate with people stupid barstards, otherwise don't extend your filthy dirty hands to greet mine, if you aren't doing anything. And no, am not giving you hand outs for kissing my ass. Other people do that to me for free.
Anyways, turns out everything was safe at home. I called home, and they assured me. There was no distress in the phone call. So no one was at gun point or anything. What had happened was that the company had changed one of the guards, and unfortunately they had made a mistake of not calling to inform us. And you know how a new face in uniform looks standing at your door, helping you with luggage. Think running him over. Probably driving into the wall with him between the bonnet and the wall. And trust me I would have done that comfortably. Once bitten twice...
All was well, but I still had a feeling someone was following me. One time I forgot to lock the car. And I swear I felt some sweaty smell in it when I came back? No one stenches that much of sweat in that car? Or did I lock the car and unlock it but forgot? But where do you take that? Firstly, even if say I ran mad and trusted police stations, okay, maybe that is impossible. Even if I ran a little mad and trusted private policing. What would I tell them?
"Excuse me sirs, no, I think someone is following me. "
"How do you know this?"
"I went to the car, and it had a faint smell of sweat lingering in it..."
Even if I told them, no one sat at the back seat, and yet there was dust on the carpet. So much streaks of dust and sand particles that one paranoid could easily conclude someone who walks a lot on dusty roads, wore very dirty shoes was in the car. They would laugh at me when I walked out. Definately only when I walked out, cause oh my I would through a tantrum if they dared trivialize. I settled on it was my imagination. Probably it was I that dream walked with dirty shoes to the back seat.
"Where are you taking all that dog food?"
"Hallo, who is this...
Line went dead. It was confirmed I was being followed.
They knew my every step. They knew the house I lived in. The knew how neatly I kept my house plants. They knew the girl I was dating. They knew I was a business man, they knew I was an accountant. They knew all this, oh they knew. And they weren't afraid of letting me know they knew.
They wanted thousand by the end of the day. Enough thousands to buy a small car that had an accident and was almost totaled. I told them there was no way I had that kind of money, firstly, I was in debt, I had imported a Range, a 4.6hse and a Benz, which the bank was about to take back. But they didn't listen.
So, what did I do. I feared for my life. I had no idea who this ghost was. What did I do? I did as they wanted. I got the money.
When I had it they told me they were giving me six hours to deliver.
Ladies and gentlemen, you know how much a small car costs, a small car that was in a bad accident right. Imagine me with that money, at a small shop, one that I go to, asking for airtime worth that amount.
"How many airtime cards do you want?"
Hahaha
"Shop attendant thought I was being funny."
Hahaha
I laughed to, cause it takes a real man, a charming man to laugh even at his most frightened moment. We live one life, let's enjoy it while it lasts, in spitte of all that goes on in it... The horrors.
After a while he saw that I was serious.
"You have to go to the main Network office to get that amount."
So I went.
They called me as I was walking out of the shop. Even they had some very high degree of idiocracy (that's a word I just made up from the word 'idiot' so don't bother to disturb your dictionary) how would they expect me to find such an amount of airtime from such a small town?
Imagine how many cards I had to load on my phone to that amount. Can you imagine? Can you? Really? Like a billion right? All in an afternoon, with door locked, windows up, as high as paranoia.
I hit send.
They got the money. And they were quiet.
I kept wondering what one could possibly be doing with credit worth a small car.
"Its a simple life, everyone is good, it's just paranoia, there is no need to build an army, or prepare for war. Just live comfortably minding your own business and no one will interfere with you."
That's what I was told. Those days are gone. Why are they gone? You think the fact that we pay tax to have an army on stand by incase of war is a waste of resources? No, it's not. So spending lots of the countries budget and human resource should go to the army to protect us incase of anything? Even if anything doesn't happen for years and years on end? Do you think that ideology is what turned me from believing... "Its a simple life, everyone is good, it's just paranoia, there is no need to build an army, or prepare for war. Just live comfortably minding your own business and no one will interfere with you."?
Guess what, someone interfered!
So do you think it's in a man's, mostly a man's plan in the playing the chess of his life, to arrange his life, world an ambition in quest for power as he quests for wealth and all other things that makes life comfortable?
As I got followed I quest for power. I built an army, power is the ability to move things, influence people, have so much control you could get anything done by anyone at the moment you want it done, no matter how impossible.
We all are not presidents, so we cannot just find ourself with the whole army and state resources in our hands, did I mention loyal? At our disposal?
Ladies and gents, as I said, I found power a little late. That's the thing about not being prepared. That's the thing about believing "Its a simple life, everyone is good, it's just paranoia, there is no need to build an army, or prepare for war. Just live comfortably minding your own business and no one will interfere with you." But we all know life, when you start, even when you start last, it's better than not starting at all. You might win.
So, finally, I got informed on what was happening. Who the ghosts were.
The money, sorry, the airtime I had sent, worth a car, had sent worth a car, was traced to a phone in prison. In the bloody prison. Where they weren't allowed to have phones. What the fuck? What do you do? Do you rearrest the culprits. Do you go to the prisons and conduct a search? Where do you take that? To the police? And say what?
"Officer, I have found the guys who were stalking me, who blackmailed me into sending money."
"So, where are they?"
"In maximum security prison."
"So what do you want us to do?"
See where this is going.
Its a simple life, everyone is good, it's just paranoia, there is no need to build an army, or prepare for war. Just live comfortably minding your own business and no one will interfere with you. Fxxx that, I make it my business to look for wealth, and even more than that, I make it my business to acquire power. Every man should? And woman a little bit too, you know gender equality and all. I will be sending the invoice for my bill for this advice.
I also accept payment in kind though. So, do this, share my blog address.
In the quest for power? In the quest for power.
Let us finish off this post on a high note...
So, it was close to campaign. A politician had gone to see a relative in prison who had been sentenced to hang to death.
"So, bro when you go to heaven please say Hi to the angels. And get a house close to mine."
(Heaven, really heaven? Frost of all, you are in prison, second of all you caused me to live in fear, terrorizing me and every other citizen. If you ask me, you would be a prefect in hell, and guess what, no phones are allowed there.)
"hehe, I will say Hi to the angels, but just before you live, how about I give you close to a million worth in airtime?" (If you asked me I would think demons, not angels.)
"Where did you get that? You are in prison."
They laughed together.
"Send it to my phone, it will be useful for campaigning and my political career..."
"bye"
"bye bro"
"bye"
That last bye was for you readers. By the way, humor me, do you think am just being creative? Fiction? This is fiction right? No one wants to get into trouble right... Mine is just a small blog, not a newspaper. Of the expression of creativity, nothing real?
Power! Power! Power!
