Candid confessions (of a sexual nature), by criminals

A "Behind Bars", story appearing on page 10 of The Standard's "Crime, Courts & Investigations" magazine of Wednesday, 20th August 2008- Courtesy of Jeremy Kinyanjui

By John Gerezani

The other day I held court with a bunch of crazy mates. This elitist group walks in a pack, just as much as they do almost everything else together. Born and bred in upper middle class families, their reasons for getting into crime was for (mis)adventure.

They are hip and well read unlike the other 80 per cent of illiterates who pack here. What made me talk to them was their infectious sense of humour, which was a catharsis to the stressful set-up in here.

This is Timo’s story:

"I had been in hiding for a week but I rue the day I let my guard down and got nabbed by Flying Squad. I was surprised to find a cute girl in a miniskirt, smoke in hand relaxing on a seat. Just like a duck takes to water, I have a partiality for masupuu (girls) so I momentarily forgot my status as a mahabusu (prisoner) and made a move. The lass released a shriek which instantaneously ushered in a bunch of well-fed cops who gave me the biggest thwacking I’d ever experienced."

He pauses as I wonder what’s embarrassing in being beaten up for being a leech.

"Unbeknown to me, the lass Fatma, was a top sleuth known to use her looks and body to infiltrate the toughest gangs in town with devastatingly successful results. The questions followed in rapid-fire mode: "Unataka ku-dust madam jinga hii? (You want to rape madam you fool?)" Before I could answer …. Twaaf, thwack, proof ….. sent me on my knees and under the table.

"Look up!" Fatma who is now standing astride my head barks. "Unaona nini?" She asks. "Ngotha!"( slang for ladie's underwear in kenya), I scream excitedly only to get a boot in the ribs.

"Rangi gani? (which colour)" She barks again. Knowing that an affirmative answer would earn me a thorough beating, I answer: ‘Sijaona suruali ya madam’ (i have not seen madam's underwear) and immediately get a reprieve."

Jemo takes it up:

"I had a rather traumatic experience with another woman, this time my trial magistrate. After a long trial full of disjointed prosecution’s evidence, I was certain that my innocence stood out and all I expected was an acquittal. The magistrate held that a prima facie case had been established. What balderdash, I thought then," he pauses. "Come judgement day, in a well-rehearsed move, she reaches for her low cut cleavage and holds one of her jugs.

‘Unaona hii kijana?’(you see this young man?) she asks me in an open court at the same time cupping her left jug with her right hand, almost thrusting it out. ‘My friend, you will not see this for the next seven years. Sahau matiti kabisa!’(forget breasts totally) .That’s how the nickname ‘my friend’ stuck on this particular magistrate."

Not to be out-done, Davie chimes in with his piece:

"What would you do if you fell in love with a mother and her daughter? I am not here because of some spectacular criminality but rather for a crime of passion.

I was operating a mathree on the Tudor-Docks route when I met this charming lady who looked younger than her 45 years of age. She got a puncture at a rather dangerous spot, so I helped her change and ensured she reached town safely. It seems the kind gesture bowled her over and in two weeks, we were an item. The only problem was that her 20-year-old daughter was a smashing beauty too and soon nilikua nikila kuku na mayai yake (seeing both the mum and daughter). I definitely took her daughter’s fancy and left the cucu in the high seas.

Not to be out-foxed, the lady reported that I had robbed her of some bling-bling. The cops were only too glad to arrest me."

I am here due to the fury of a woman scorned.


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