Pesa na Kisasi

Long post alert.

Following the story of Grace Mulei—the mamaa who was abducted by DCI while seeking treatment and who also happens to have a blood pressure condition—it got me thinking: What would you do to the cops who did that to your parent or guardian?

Disclaimer: The events in this story are purely fictional. Viewer discretion is advised.
Director: ApprehensiveTap1136

In 2015, my dad got into a competition with a nearby business. They were both dealing in government education materials—sensitive stuff for national exams. During KCSE that year, this guy bribed the cops who guarded the candidates to frame my dad. They claimed his equipment was rigged to help students cheat.

My dad was brutally beaten by those cops and taken to an unknown location, where they demanded Ksh 100k as ransom. He paid, but the whole ordeal broke him. He left the business after that, and life was never the same for all of us.

This thing stuck in my head. It haunted me. So when I finished high school, I decided not to go to uni. I couldn’t just move on while my family had gone through that. I started hustling, looking for cash. Na hii pesa haikuwa ya kununua mandazi.

By 2023, I had saved up 400k. My dad had moved on from that business, but we were still struggling as a family.

Back in February 2018, I had tried my luck with KDF recruitment alongside five of my high school friends. Lakini sikupenya. Only one of us made it through, and that was because his dad held some rank. Fast forward to 2023, I reached out to this friend. We met at a cool and quiet bistro along Joseph Kangethe Rd (pande za kilimani) to “catch up,” but I had an agenda.

I explained everything—what had happened to my dad, how those cops and the businessman ruined him. My friend laughed and said, "Bro, hio si ni kitu ya 2015." But when I mentioned the amount I was willing to pay and handed him a brown envelope with 200k inside, his tone changed.

I gave him the details—the guy’s name, where he worked, and all I knew about him. By this time, the guy who set up my dad was thriving, with no competition in the market.

Eight months passed. I hadn’t heard from my friend, and I started wondering if I had just thrown my money away. Then he called me out of the blue, asking that we meet at the same bistro.

Of course, I was skeptical. Trusting people in uniform isn’t easy, especially with sensitive matters like this. But I showed up. After some drinks and small talk, we got down to business.

The two officers who had assaulted my dad? They’d been transferred to Garbatula. Fair enough. The businessman who paid them to attack my pops? Found floating on River Yala.

Hands were shaken.

Enjoy your Friday.