When a man makes it, he may not shout it from the rooftops, they say. But there will be signs. Scattered through his life will be subtle indicators that the man no longer needs to vote, or complain about KRA. Or worry about Mombasa Road traffic. He may start buying things without asking for prices. He may start whipping out his card instead of squinting for a till number. Or he may simply start hinting that he is ready for a wife from the mountain. Here are some signs your once-struggling friend is now dining with the big boys:

1. 'Ni God tu'

Your friend used to bracket his statements with positive affirmations like 'Ni kujikaza tu' and 'Tutajaribu tena kesho'. These days, though, he shrugs off his successes with a knowing smile, and if anyone asks him how he is doing, he tells them "Ni God tu." A man only ever invokes the Father when his pockets are very empty or very full.

2. Designer clothes

A good sign that your friend has upgraded his life is an almost imperceptible refurbishment of his wardrobe. Once, you would bend over a freshly unfurled mtumba pile together and help each other fish for looks. But these days your buddy's eyes start twitching when he hears the name Gikomba, and his lip curls when someone mentions the phrase 'second-hand' near him. These days, the shirts he wears have brand logos, and if you follow him when he is running low on socks, you might just spot him ducking into LC Waikiki.

3. A lot of English

Is your friend no longer rounding off his English to the nearest local dialect? Does he no longer sprinkle his sentences with 'ninio' and 'but... uhhmm'? Has he abandoned all efforts to speak Swahili, instead twenging his way past the trickier sections which refuse to be translated? Well, then your boy has left the realm of the paupers. Just listen in on one of his phonecalls; if you hear a lot of talk about 'wanna' and 'garra' and possibly 'naamean?', congratulate him.

4. Meetings, not mikutano

He is always in a meeting these days. You call him at 10 am, he hangs up and sends a message: 'In a meeting, please text'. You flash him at noon with the threat of buying him lunch, he returns your call the next day with apologies. The meeting ran long, he says. These are not just any meetings, either. They are not random mikutano held over drinks and kanusu. No, these ones are proper sessions, booked in Google calendars and held at swanky hotels where they adjourn for lunch and check in at receptions. In other words, that man has levelled up.

5. Disdain for matatus

The crossover into wealth starts with disdain for public transportation. Even short distances which a bodaboda guy can crack in Omanyala times suddenly seem unfeasible. Better to take an Uber, you will hear them say. And then, weeks later, they have 'borrowed' a small car just to help them get from A to B. And in a month, they no longer know where the stage to Bungoma is, but they will break down all Jetlink and Renegade flights heading that way without consulting Google.

6. YouTube is full of house tours

Your pal's YouTube feed is no longer a haven for bad comedy and Harmonize songs. It does not recommend 'Maua ya Highway' or Zuchu playlists as soon as you log in, like it once did. These days, the entirety of the feed is dedicated to vlogs showing mansionettes and bungalows in Kitisuru and Lavington. You know, the ones with swimming pools and manicured lawns and six-car garages.

7. They want to invest in everything

New money itches like old boxers. Like scratchy blankets or a resilient bout of the clap. Anyone who stumbles into the pit of new mullah initially worries that it will run out, so they begin to cast around for investment opportunities. It is why that former hustler you used to know suddenly won't stop yapping about bitcoin, why they were asking if you know a property valuer, and why they were asking you to help them with the math for how much it would take to open a laundry business.

8. Enter the additional wives

If a man had one faithful wife before, and one day you discover he has two faithful ones and a third semi-faithful one, that man has been blessed fiscally. A poor man cannot afford the kiburi of a Nairobi woman, so if your friend is suddenly buying weaves and sending emergency fare to unknown parties, you would be wise to stop picking his baby mama's calls. You know Njoki, the girl who rejected him a few years back? If you spot that man cradling Njoki at a dingy bar on the outskirts of town, you must simply put two and two together.

9. KQ stickers on his bags

You never allow them to put stickers on your bags when travelling from upcountry. This was a philosophy you shared with your bro. But then you borrow a bag from him one time, and it is covered in dangling nametags from KQ and Jetlink. When you squeeze your hand into the side pocket to make sure he did not leave anything inside, you are met by ticket stubs for flights to and from Dubai, South Africa and Zanzibar.

10. Nicknames change

He is no longer James, that friend you've known forever. He isn't even Jemo, or Mojay, or Jay, or Baba Kayden. You overheard a kanjo official call him 'Mkubwa'. Another one flagged him down as 'Baba yao'. Somewhere else, a stranger shook his hand for three full minutes while addressing him as 'Kiongos', then switching to 'Mzito' when they shook hands again as he was leaving. Even his wife has stopped calling him 'Wewe' and 'Ebu!'; these days, he is 'Babe' and/or 'Sweetie'. What other signs do you need to see?