By MAFTAH YUSUF
The Nyumba Kumi initiative is going to be my avenue to untold riches. I am an educated Kenyan with a degree unlike most of my neighbours. It is upon me to organise my community and implement this new idea.
We have had problems with thugs and kidnappers who have made our estate their Westgate and time has come for us to say a big NO.
I rally all my neighbours by use of posters and come evening, they all know that a security meeting will be convened at the Timbuktu’s. All peace-loving members of the estate are expected to attend.
To keep the digital vision of our great country alive, I ask Michelle who has extensive knowledge of workings of the social media to alert all our neighbours on Facebook and Twitter and to create a special page for our gathering.
“Call the page Nyumba Kumi Security Council,” I tell her casually. “And bake our neighbours your wonderful doughnuts to take with tea as we launch this thing, they will love it.”
“You know doughnuts require milk, eggs and flour, all which are not exempt from tax. So I will require 5K to organise your little tea party,” she said.
“Well, in that case, they will make do with orange juice and biscuits,” I suggest.
“Timbuktu, grow up, will you? These are adults and not school children. Why do you call them when you are too mean to spend on their tea?” she asks. Anyway, instead of letting the woman derail my superior plan, I give in feeling robbed.
They start straggling into the compound in the evening and by 8.00 pm, only a handful have arrived. In fact we are forced to begin the meeting without the rest when those present claim they want to go home to sleep. “I am tired and need to go home to prepare for the long trek to industrial area tomorrow,” claims one neighbour after taking her third cup of tea and countless doughnuts.
As the convenor of the meeting, I step in front, cough a little and call everybody to attention. “Ahem, ladies and gentlemen,” I start. I was not sure whether to still stick with the name Nyumba Kumi or to tone it down to Nyumba Tano seeing that only five neighbours had shown up.
“This will begin as a coalition of the willing with those members left out joining at their own convenient time,” I quip.
Peace boosting
The members are pleased at the news and agree to a number of peace boosting procedures that will make our estate one of the safest in Nairobi.
All members agree to register the names of their guests with the patron of the exclusive club – me. They also agree to contribute a certain amount every month to cater for community policing, pay the watchmen and buy torches and light bulbs.
“And we should all peel our eyes and keep our ears glued to the ground so that our neighbours who refused to join the coalition do not benefit from the raft of benefits,” cautions one member.
“Actually, we should have a unit that is going to keep an eye on their activities so that they do not jeopardise our efforts,” said another.
With that, the meeting breaks and everybody goes home. That is when the drama started. A neighbour who was not at the meeting called me to enquire how he could join the bandwagon of our newly established Nyumba Kumi Initiative.
“It is not my decision any more as my hands are tied. I am going to float the idea to other members of the Security Council,” I tell him.
M-Pesa notification
“ Woiye pliz, Timbuktu, just include my name even if it means I will forego the money I lent you and give you kitu kidogo as well,” he begs.
At that, who am I to stand in the way of neighbourly integration. I take his admission fee, as well as the money of most of the other neighbours who had threatened total chaos because of their status as non-members. All in all, that one evening, my stock taking accounts of the day’s events reveal I have enough to permanently pay off all my debts and left over to pimp my car.
Trouble is that as we were negotiating over the phone, Michelle was privy to the entire process and every time I received an M-Pesa notification, she was making a mental calculation.
So it should not have come as a surprise when she claimed a portion of the loot. “No way am I sharing my windfall with anybody,” I inform her.
She just uploaded a status on facebook revealing all, my misdeeds to my neighbours.
Quick I had better get to Timbuktu before they bring down the door demanding their money back.
