What really happened? – A run-up to that fateful Friday

Thursday 9th June 1600hrs - Hannifa’s perspective.

I swear if I hear that shakira song just once again I’ll go into fits and start foaming from my mouth. I’ve been here since 2pm. I donno if those folks are still coming. I decide to order a second plate of fries and some muturaz.. nice and spicy…the mince meat and pili pili kind…not those ones for blood and horse testicles.

We still have not been talking. I call up his number just once more to check out if there’s possibly anything forthcoming. I dial the number but a second before the first ring some sought of fear grasps me and I decide to abort the call. I’m really confused right now. I don’t even know what I would have told Wash if in case he decided to answer the phone.

Kazi has been kinda messed up. I’ve lost touch kiasi doing things half heartedly and stuff. So this deal should be ya mwisho before I take a holiday and lay low for a while get my balls together. I don’t like doing this. When I mix biashara with this tu-shady-shady deals on the sides…fine the chumz are there. Lakini there is something this stuff does to my confidence. Anyway I was enjoying my bucks more even upto last year. Clean crisp notes earned from genuine sweat. I miss those days when I could give out a thousand bob note to the cashier and while he struggles to check if it is real I’d be like son?? Don’t you know what I went through to get that? Nowadays I sweat money and I don’t carry any pride in it. No wonder I spend it so fast to cure that guilt that comes with holding it.

So that’s it for me. Leo I’ll do ya mwisho kabisa. Then I sign out of that storo.


After the deal.

He keeps checking his phone every now and then. He looks around. Every slight hissing of the CityHoppa brakes scares him and he smiles in approval as he turns back to face me upon realizing that it is just a passing car. I hurry the paper work so that I spare him from the agony. The guy at the car gets a bit fidgety. He chucks, stands in between the open door and the car and lays his elbow on the roof of the car. He licks his lower lip as he adjusts his sunglasses. I cannot really tell if he is Arab/Pakistani. I cannot rely on the ID, these guys have a habit for fake documents. They ferked me up big time sometime in Feb because of that…thanks to ***** who called the guys in black suits and agreed on some out of court settlement (okay that means $$$$$$$ in case you don’t get). It is good to be connected to a fellow lady in the chamber. That day I had to split the bounty half half. Yeah those are the kind of people you vote!!! So I finish penning the last paper work. The guys speed off in their Mitsubishi gallant, white in color...red number plates. (Yeah I know ….they aren’t clean either. In fact the one I took after had a single digit before the K and the CD). I carry the carefully sealed packet of “printing paper”. In it there are about 5000 iron-pressed a thousand bob notes packed airtight together.

I walk up to the bar and clear out my bill. I give the bar tender a set of keys and 1200/=. Hapo 420/= is for the dish and the drinks. The rest is for him to stay in my camp. He says nothing as he quickly writes the receipt and gives me a separate set of keys. No eye contact whatsoever! I walk out to the parking and turn the receipt over and there it is written “SILVER”. Afterwards, I jump into the silver Honda civic and leave behind the black Audi I came in. It will be delivered to my place anyway. I do this as standard procedure in case I am followed.

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