Corruption's Whisper

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7.30AM. I start reversing, eager to get started with my trip to western Kenya. The rearview mirror reveals a little boy walking towards my car, a blue plastic chair on his head. That lady, in black leggings and a black top matches into Mburu’s shop with a pink non-plastic paper dangling in her left hand. When I drive into the Southern bypass fifteen minutes later, I find cyclists all over the place. It must be a popular cycling route. I should try it one day.

Half an hour later, I refuel at a Shell in Lari then speed off past Lari town. This road here has taken a whole two years to fix and it seems far from over. Why do our roads take this long to complete? It’s because of me. Corruption whispers into my ear and I frown at it.

On the right hand side, I see Soko Mjinga. It looks different. One hundred meters later, I notice that there is a new Soko Mjinga. Am certain the traders don’t like is as its further from the road, not next to the road like the original Soko Mjinga. On the left I see a safaricom mast. I wonder how much Safaricom invested in these masts that dot the country! Billions probably.

The Growler, my beloved car, roars into Kinumbi, that infamous climbing stretch that can drain even the strongest of cars if they are having a bad day.

Nakuru. Java Coffee House. I am responding to Ofhani, sending her a quotation of her latest order and sipping Fanta, because it is the cheapest drink. And now am taking off. See you tonight. 

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