CONNING BEGGARS

He comes and knocks the door. Looking to see if there is any one in, he takes to silence. A colleague says that the man can’t talk. I remember that my sign language class was aborted by the sickening of the teacher. But I can remember a few things and so I stepped out ready to sign somehow. The man was there.

A coat. An old coat and a simple trouser, trembling hands and a druggy trouser that contrasted with the polished brown old school shoes. Thinking that I was going to start talking to him by handshaking, he greeted me. Oh, so you are neither deaf nor dumb? Good luck! How may I help you?

He wanted to see the boss. So I cannot help…I don’t seem rich. Well, if he will help, the better. I am the boss. Talk to me. Not you man, the white missionary. She doesn’t understand Swahili man. I know English kid, his eyes said. Welcome then. Sit down please. Please sit before you start talking. Please. Please, Please!

I am in need of help to go to the hospital. My jaws...yes my jaws hurt. He said and frowned as if he was experiencing the tick in John Grisham’s, The Confession. His right hand was in the mouth releasing the upper jaw. Man…Gosh! What the hell! I froze in pity.

Don’t leave Patrick, said the missionary. Sure. The man may need more help in terms of understanding what he is saying. He lowered his voice and shivered. Oh no, Let him not faint in here.

So, how did you know of here? I was coming to see an Ethiopian in the neighbourhood. I didn’t find her. I am from Thika. Thika is my home. She helps me in accessing medication. Do you have a job? I am 65. Oh, people retire at 60. Poor people. What job were you doing? A private one. I see. Do you have a wife? Yes. She’s at Thika. And children? Four; Two daughters and two sons. What is their professions? No answer. You have a phone? Yes. Mmmm help me the contact to one of your children in case of anything. They have no phones. Again? Yes, no phones…tick

He removed the lower jaw.

Hey man, what do you think you doing! You scrub my heart! I am a poor eater. Don’t make me fail to take my cup of tea. I saw the empty jaw. Oh no… humanity can be so gothic. Please return it to the mouth and don’t remove it again. Or else no one will listen to you again. You think we will be more impressed by your problems through that? I warned. You misled man! The tick.

I had greeted him. Poor boy. If this is what he does and go about greeting people the government should ban greetings. It is so unhealthy. Very unhealthy. I will not forget to clean my hands. Hurry up man and go. I am no longer interested in your problems.

The missionary may have known about it. Why toothless? Infections. A tooth after another. The doctor advised this way. Three years ago, yes. Since then? No answer. Tick…have you had some painkillers? Panadol in the morning. I have no money for another. Serve him two Patrick. Here is water. Good luck there are panadols in here. More water…eish! This is bought water man. Not Kidero’s.

It sounds like the other case, doesn’t it? Yes it does. But this man is new here and he really looks sad and disturbed. He may have frowned long time and the wrinkles on his face seem to rest once he is out of host’s site. A parasite indeed. The other case is of a man, infected with HIV/AIDs and TB for bonus. His health condition is deteriorating so quickly. He coughs blood. James Peter writes that ‘People know when they are going to die.’ The doctor told him to have a nylon paper always for the bloody coughs. I wonder why the doctor didn’t stress on a coloured nylon. The transparent one is disturbing. Imagine such a person in the matatu when you are doing your PK. It is this paper that he shows to all men he begs from.

I never believed it until I confiscated it and asked him to visit the lavatory for the same. He confirmed. So he is justified? Because you are lame you are entitled to be a beggar? Conning beggars from the title does not mean people stealing from beggars. It is the other way round.

He managed a 500/- and not the 1500 to go back to Thika and visit the clinic. Two more panadols in the pocket and he stood up, maybe smiling internally. He had freely earned. Shame on him. Never come back man. Do not bring the clinic book. We do not need it. You are 65 and it is obvious you are remaining with few years. You can’t manage a variety of foods with your dental problem. You will survive depending on your God and honesty.

The man is gone? Yes. That is a conman. What? Yes. He used to come in our office in town. Then why didn’t you say? There was no need. He is also a pick pocket. Argh! So many exclamations here. I am disturbed. He is like the beggars on the road with various kinds of tumors and failures. Hey God, get up and sought your problems-if you exist. This is absurd and preposterous if so God exist. I tend to tell people that no heavenly singing will compensate the problems and stupidity of man on earth. And if man is on his own, let him rise and conquer beliefs and work to make it a better place for his brother.

Odhiambo used to tell me that in Nairobi wherever a person stops you for greetings or directions know that the person is a cone man before further ado. It is true. For many are thieves-even the girlfriend beside you. With them are all forms of pretense like the loudly and terribly crying woman that sits at Marcus Gurvey lane every Sunday.

Where is the sink? The tick…my diary must know this.

A begging woman. She maybe pretending to be older than she is. Pic Source: acenewsservices.com