Cops

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There are moments I wish I was a woman. Many moments, actually. Like when I walk into a banking hall to deposit a cheque and I only have ten minutes but then I get there and realise my ticket number is 179, while the person being served  has ticket number 98. In those moments I wish I was a pregnant woman in flat shoes and a big nose, because I strike myself as the kind of woman who would grow a really massive nose if I was preggers. I would stand there in the middle of the banking hall dramatically dabbing my brow with a handkerchief, the tip of my swollen nose reflecting a lot of light and looking like shone brass, and I’d wait for someone – a member of staff – to come and gently lead me by the elbow to the next free teller or seat me in the manager’s office and offer me a cold beverage.

I’d get to mischief too. I’d go to a restaurant and after eating half my food I’d call the manager and looking horrified ask, “Did you put nuts in this food?” And the manager would say, “No, ma’am. We don’t put nuts in our hummus.”

“Well, I can taste nuts in this hummus!”

“Uhm, I’m sorry but I’m pretty certain certain that we -”

“I can taste nuts in this hummus!” (Almost in tears now.)

He would be at a loss because he wouldn’t wish to upset a pregnant woman even though he was 100 percent certain there were no nuts in the hummus.

I would act distraught, taking deep breaths.

“Are you allergic to nuts, ma’am?”

“Of course I am allergic to nuts! It makes my tongue swell!” I would shriek, close to tears now.

The manager would panic and look at my  nose and wonder if the swelling had already started from my engorged nose and would move down to the tongue. They would quickly clear the offending hummus from my sight and he would go to the kitchen and ask the chef if they put nuts in the bloody hummus, and the chef would say nobody in their right mind would do that. A brief heated exchange would ensue with the chef screaming at him: “I have been a chef for 23 years, 10 of those in Dubai and I have never been accused of putting nuts in hummus! That woman – and her unborn baby – is a liar!” An intern in the kitchen would laugh so hard at the sink he’d be sent home for the day to think about his choices in life; whether he wants to cook or open a comedy club.

When the manager finally shows up at my table, his hat firmly in hand, he’d say, “We are terribly sorry, ma’am. Is there anything we can do to save your experience here?” I’d be sad for him, so I’d think about it for a second and say with a heavy lisp, “Iths okay, iths noth that theriouth,” as if my tongue were swollen already.

In fact all the times I have wished I was a woman, I have wished I was a pregnant one. Men would scramble to push my trolley in the supermarket or load my shopping in the boot. In restaurants, waiters would ask me if I wanted a cushion and I would smile and ask, “Will it also cushion the bill for two large pizzas?” and they would laugh and go to the kitchen and say, “That pregnant lady on table 34 is hilarious! Ebu we give her extra guacamole.”

I’d never queue anywhere. Seats would be pulled for me, water offered, elevator doors held for me as intentionally waddle towards the lift like a grey seal, everybody in the elevator car waiting patiently, pretending not to mind waiting at all. At zebra crossings cars would stop and I would deliberately walk so slowly across the road, just like a pregnant zebra would.

I’d only hate two things about being a pregnant woman, one of them being people everywhere telling me “congratulations,” as if I got a promotion. What if it was an oops baby? What if I didn’t want the baby and I wanted to chuck it because it was conceived during a night of careless passion with the father of the baby, a deadbeat guy with a British accent whom I’d met on a boat in Malindi who had lied to me that he was a stockbroker visiting from Manchester, kumbe he was just a Lunje guy who hadn’t held a job in years? What if I was having such a difficult pregnancy; a faceful of pimples, a ruined back, breasts that blew up in my face like a fighter-jet parachute and sleeping sickness…then you tell me congratulations? For what, for an enlarged nose?

Secondly, the thought of people touching my bump. I think it’s rude and intrusive to imagine that you can just touch my bump because I’m pregnant. Besides you never know what people touch out there. People will let dogs smell their hands with their wet noses and then touch your bump. Then there are those people who ask you, “Will you be breastfeeding?” Then as if that is not enough, proceed to give you advice on how long you should breastfeed for. Or those who ask you if you are having a heartburn and then say, “It’s because the baby has a lot of hair.” Who comes up with these things?

Last week I used the Southern Bypass from Langata Road. I was meeting some thugs at 3D restaurant for fish. Try their choma fish which comes with some pilipili and lemons and ugali. It’s insane. (And nobody will put nuts in it).

While on the bypass I take one of the exits but then realise after driving in that I was headed to Karen, so what would you do? What would Jesus have done? Go ahead and make pretend to get into a gate, but then turn back. Which I executed and just when I was headed towards Ngong Road, a cop on a motorbike comes up to my window and waving frantically for me to pull over, like I had a boot full of illegal migrants. I’m like “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I pull over and put my hazard lights on, because I went to a proper driving school unlike some people I know. He rides back to my window and stops, planting one authoritative leg on the ground. He’s a thin cop. Thin cops generally make terrible cops, merciless. If you are pulled over by a thin cop you are going to have a bad day; they are constantly angry. This one looked like a vegetarian. I’m very suspicious of vegetarians.

He’s wearing a sweater in the mad heat. His uniform is discoloured from numerous washes, as well as the sun and the toils that come with his job. His helmet looks like it is often lent to those lorry guys whose trucks breakdown on highways to be placed behind the rear wheel in order to prevent the truck from rolling back. He peers at me angrily through the hole of his helmet. I wear my best SDA-repentant look but I suspect I look sheepish.

Habari ya ofisa?” I say with deference. He ignores my respectful salutation.

Sasa ni madharau gani hii unafanya?” he barks from his helmet.

Madharau gani ofisa?” I ask even though I already suspect my sin.

He reminds me that I just did an illegal turn. He’s harsh like pino. I don’t know what pino is in English, but you can ask a Jang’o with better English than mine to tell you what that is. I tell him that I’m sorry, that I didn’t know which road would take me back to Ngong Road. He glares at me and asks if I can’t read the “big signs on the main highway indicating clearly that this road led to Karen!”

I murmur, “I’m sorry, officer. I’m just ignorant.” He snorts and says, “Ignorant? Utauwa watu na hiyo ignorance yako!” Then he takes his mobile phone and calls someone, “Lete hiyo kitabu hapa!” He tells me that he will book me and I will appear in court on Monday.

Now this is the perfect moment I wished I was a pregnant woman, because I would have broken down in loud tears. And sobbed. And sobbed. I would have lamented how I’m so unlucky in life, how I just meet men who don’t have any heart at all. How the father of this child, for instance, just left me with bills and three children. He went to the carwash one Sunday afternoon and never came back. Left even his beloved iPad that nobody touched in the house. Then this? This! Why can’t I meet men who are compassionate, God? Why, me? Don’t I go to church? Don’t I tithe, Lord?

I would cry and cry and the cop, poor guy, would just stand there under his helmet, lost, tongue-tied, feeling like a jerk for stressing a pregnant woman. He would murmur, “Ni sawa, mama. Ni sawa.”

“Ati ni sawa? You want me to go to court on Monday!? How is that sawa?” I would cry, reaching for my handkerchief and blowing my nose so loudly my side mirror would shift slightly. “You want me to stand before a judge in this pregnancy and face the law? My poor unborn child, what kind of world is this I’m bringing you to, a world where policemen send you to court because you made  a U-turn, not even that you knocked someone’s cow, a U-turn!”  Baaha baaah. I’d bawl. He’d get off his motorbike and touch my shoulder gently.

“Mama, it’s fine. It’s fine. Here, have your licence back, it’s OK, don’t stress the baby over this. Go.”  

“I’m just so unhappy, so, so unhappy, how this world is going for me.” I would snivel.

He’d get on his bike and quickly ride off incase I start crowing right there.

I got away from that cop in Karen without paying a cent. I can’t remember a cop who caught me and we couldn’t come to an agreement. I’m a police charmer; you pull me over and you will just end up making a friend. Here is my secret.

It’s simple really: Talking To Cops for Dummies. Here are three things you shouldn’t do to a traffic cop.

Don’t ask them, “Do you know who I am?”

He doesn’t know or care who you are. Actually, 99.9% of the world doesn’t know or care who you are. Nobody hands their driver’s licence and it shows the number of followers they have on Twirra. People who ask people if they know who they are are nobodys who only know one important person at KRA’s horticulture department. Cops and hubris don’t mix. Generally, once you have asked a cop that, you are essentially telling him that HE is a nobody, not worth knowing. Then he will show you that he is somebody.

A cop is like a woman with big feet; you have to tell her you love her feet even if you don’t.

So like this cop on the bypass, he told me, “I can’t have a conversation with you, you will have a conversation with the government of Kenya on Monday.” I said, “I don’t know any government of Kenya, officer, to me you are the government of Kenya right now, right here, so please lets have that conversation together.” He shook his head but I knew I was wearing him down.

Don’t argue with the police.

This is not a primo debate club. This is the long arm of the law, and it is never wrong, at least technically. Quickly admit liability, self deprecate, agree that you are a complete idiot and you are wrong. Most cops will not budge easily, but everybody has a breaking point. Everybody. I once met a very obstinate cop at the Kenyatta Avenue-Uhuru highway roundabout who had pulled me over for being on the wrong lane. After I had tried every trick, I said, “You are a man like me, I have apologised many times, don’t destroy my ego any longer by making me sound pathetic, you can save me from humiliation.” He stopped looking at me like an annoying private car motorist but as a fellow man.

He let me go.

Don’t sit in your car.

Never have a conversation with a traffic cop while seated inside, because you remain disadvantaged by looking up to him through your window. Besides it seemed privileged to be seated there in your air condition while he stands out in the sun. So step out of the car. It also shows respect.

Ask him his name, not his force number.

He has your driver’s licence, he knows your name. Ask him his. Then keep using his name in conversation. People love to hear their own name, it also creates familiarity. “Ah Korir bwana, hii mambo tumalize tu hapa kama wanaume., ama unasemaje mkubwa?” Or “Bosire, sister yangu ameolewa hapo karibu na ile tangi kubwa iko Suneka. Sisi ni kama shemeji, bwana.” Or, “Yaye Otieno, in ja dhot, ofisa ma’duong Narobi kae, koro idwa keta asayii kaa alafu asaa jo Jubilee omiya tich kendo yawa? Ne, akoso baba, nguon’na. We’ adhi amany mogo ne nyithindo.”

Never raise your voice.

This doesn’t need a diagram, does it?

Lastly…

Many private motorists on Nairobi with their air conditioned cars think they are gods: They have more important places to go, more important people to meet, better usage of their precious time than sit there talking to a policeman. They think they know people with more clout. That maybe so.

Or you could eliminate problems with traffic police in this way.  

Whenever you see a traffic cop at a roundabout, or just parked by the roadside, and it’s blazing hot, stop near him and offer him lunch, tell him, “Ofisa, shika hiyo tukule lunch nusu nusu.” Then make small talk as you save his face and name in your memory. Do that to the cops on Mombasa Road, Ngong Road, Waiyaki way, Uhuru Highway, Valley Road, you see a cop you make contact…randomly stop and buy them lunch or hand them airtime or just ask them how jobo is. Won’t cost you shit. If it’s about to rain and you have an umbrella at the back, stop and hand it to a cop. Invest in the law.

Guess what will happen one day when you are pulled over or you find yourself in a tight traffic offense with the Government of Kenya? Guess what happens when a cop comes to your window and you look and he’s the guy you gave airtime on Uhuru Highway five months ago? He will be like, “Ahhh, kumbe ni wewe munene?” Then you will talk about the weather and politics and you will ask him if his son finally joined high school and then he will send you on your way.

Now that is knowing people.

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216 Comments
    1. Biko you should have prizes for the first one to comment to keep it fun. Otherwise it’s getting old and it dilutes the mood after reading a very interesting piece then one is immediately met with this not views on the article.

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    2. Biko. I got arrested near prestige and I was very pregnant. I had stuck in a hot car for a while ..was very tired.my tummy hurt( baby was over 4kg)…I made a wrong turn outside prestige.(They had just redone that junction and i got there and got confused. The trigger happy kili policeman knew of kenyans who will do so. He arrested me with my big tummy. I was in no mood of talking to him.i was in no good state to argue with him.i attended court that Monday.. .and parted with 10k for obstruction???. I will.never forget that experience esp Sweating in a court uncomfortable chairs waiting for a ruling . Did he expect a pregnant woman in her last trimester to beg a policeman??how now…I was a very long nose…i think he also hated me..and my state. All I remember is that when I came out of the car,he insisted I get back as was causing a scene….i still remember his face..(.My baby now over 6 months….)..

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      1. Hahahah i wish i could tag my friend here. She was pregnant ,stopped near prestige , she cried and cried and guess what the cop said ” Madam shinda zako ni mingi sana, kaa hapo ukimaliza kuongea uniite tuongee”

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        1. Hahahah i wish i could tag my friend here. She was pregnant ,stopped near prestige , she cried and cried and guess what the cop said ” Madam shinda zako ni mingi sana, kaa hapo ukimaliza kulia
          uniite tuongee”

          1. What if I didn’t want the baby and I wanted to chuck it because it was conceived during a night of careless passion with the father of the baby, a deadbeat guy with a British accent whom I’d met on a boat in Malindi who had lied to me that he was a stockbroker visiting from Manchester, kumbe he was just a Lunje guy who hadn’t held a job in years? What if I was having such a difficult pregnancy; a faceful of pimples, a ruined back, breasts that blew up in my face like a fighter-jet parachute and sleeping sickness…then you tell me congratulations? For what, for an enlarged nose?

  1. “Yaye Otieno, in ja dhot, ofisa ma’duong Narobi kae, koro idwa keta asayii kaa alafu asaa jo Jubilee omiya tich kendo yawa? Ne, akoso baba, nguon’na. We’ adhi amany mogo ne nyithindo.” best part . Good work

      1. ‘c’mon Otieno, you are my kin, a respectable officer here in Nairobi, now you want me to beg you & the Jubilee for job again?. see, i am on the wrong, pardon me,…lemmi go & hustle for flour for my kids.’ ……..i hope i got the translation right

      1. heyyyy Otieno, you are kin, a mighty officer here in Nairobi, now you want to delay me, I beg you and then I beg Jubilee for employment yawa? I know am on the wrong baba, forgive me. Let me go and look for unga for my children

    1. Surely Otieno you are the gatekeeper, do you want me to plead with you here and then you’ll send me to plead with jubilee people (GOK), which is additional work? I made a mistake, forgive me. Let me go a look for flour for my children.

    1. Buying someone lunch is different from paying someone to let you off the hook, the difference is soooooo clear i don’t understand how you cant see it.

  2. The second last paragraph sums it up. Be kind to cops. Give them an umbrella when you see them standing in the rain trying to manage traffic. And Biko you should have added the English bit. Don’t try outsmart the cop by using accented English or English at all.

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    1. I say hi to any cop i meet any time of the day and my friends think I an crazy. You should see the smiles i get from them. they are priceless

  3. hahaahahha Biko….you got that right..A pregnant woman will get away with anything.
    Thanks for the tips on ‘investing in the law’.I once tried saying hi to a female cop on parliament road…whoah she sneered a good one…Pwahahaha,

  4. A cop is like a woman with big feet; you have to tell her you love her feet even if you don’t.
    You are crazy Biko, you will kill us with laughter one day…..

  5. Nice read. Totally agree on being nice to cops. They’ll let you go in a flash. I thought we left ‘first to comment’ in 2016?!

  6. Nice piece, but Biko some cops are so tough, they just do not get to the breaking point. But as a woman, pregnant or not, crying helps. Tears hehe, the cops just let you go.

  7. From personal experience After they emasculate you and paying a mlungula get the cops number it helps next time you are in a fix and the price wont be as high itd like cozzying up toone bully in the prison yard to ward off the rest of the crazies

  8. hahahahaha… People who ask people if they know who they are are nobodys who only know one important person at KRA’s horticulture department

  9. Trust me Biko, you don’t want to be a pregnant woman in this January heat. You sweat in places you didn’t know glands existed.

  10. Now that is knowing people. A precious advice to the motorists. I think these are the million dollar advice I hear of.

  11. Great read kama kawa. ‘ I wear my best SDA-repentant look but I suspect I look sheepish.’ This cracked me hard, i know that face. I think that pino is wasp in English if am not wrong. My jang has never let me down.

  12. Talking to Cops for Dummies.. I like… I really freak cops. In this January heat I guess a bottle of water will be appreciated by many.
    Lakini that enlarged nose Biko….you have no idea. I actually miss being pregnant, but only coz of the preferential treatment I’d get 🙂

  13. I have always wondered how people talk themselves out of sticky situations with the long arm of the law. Thanks for the tips.

  14. “A cop is like a woman with big feet; you have to tell her you love her feet even if you don’t. “…This line, I recall ditching a girl with a size 9 foot in 2014/5. She started talking marriage and stuff. Yet I wear something like 6.7…I couldn’t imagine settling down with her for that one fact. I hope she’s not here today, of course I didn’t tell her the real reason why I binned it.

  15. Always full of humor!
    Cops are human too, however much I want to hate on them.
    And Biko, let us tell you our experiences when preggers and you’ll change your mind

  16. I pull over and put my hazard lights on, because I went to a proper driving school unlike some people I know…….
    Now, that, should be a lesson to take home for very many drivers around.

  17. There was “elevator doors held for me ” and then “People who ask people if they know who they are are nobodys who only know one important person at KRA’s horticulture department.”Hahahaha really Biko? Day made!

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  18. I have once been flagged down by a cop at Uhuru Highway roundabout because South C mats did not allow me to stick to my lane as i was going to Shankardass hse (please dont ask me about that name) to see a lawyer.
    So the cop flags me down for using the outer lane whilst making a right turn and i let him speak while i am seated in my car because getting in and out of my car was a ceremony at 7 months pregnant. I guess it irked him coz everytime i tried to tell him what had happened, he would literally rap at me. I told him fine, do what you want and i unlock the doors. Then it hit him that i was pregnant. he apologized a thousand times and cleared traffic on a hot saturday morning for the lady driving a navy blue Subaru Imprezza to proceed. I cried the rest of the driving coz i didnt like being cut off when i was speaking…instead of rejoicing that baby bump had saved the day.

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    1. hahaha! The struggles of pregnant women! But a bump can get you out of anything. Mine got me off when i was flagged down for speaking on the phone. I learnt a lesson though

    2. Shankardass House…the building I once searched for like a gold prospector – even asked one guard at its entrance and he replied “hakuna kitu kama hiyo boss!”

      1. @Mabele me too. Hadi i had to break protocol and call the person i was dealing and asked if their lawyer was genuine ama my money was going down the drain

  19. Never ever show the cops that you are in such a hurry. They will make you learn a little bit of patience and they’re never bothered by that…

  20. While going to the Junction, I got off that same exit and found myself headed to Karen instead of Ngong road. Like you, the only logical thing for me to do was pretend to drive into a gate and then turn back. Luckily, there were no cops. That exit at the bypass can be quite confusing for infrequent users, as it only indicates Exit to Karen and Continue to Kikuyu. How is one to figure out there’s a different exit to Ngong road?!
    And yes to the grilled fish at 3D!:)

  21. Hahaha,that jango conversation though…but i agree with you totally,in this life,that’s generally how to deal with People,right from the Mama mboga with a stall in the Neighbourhood.

  22. That’s my move…cry and say venye ‘mzee ataniua’. Or be obstinate and sit there (if I’m not in a hurry). That last one was taught to me by my mom

    1. Let me try, though my dholuo is paltry..”Yaye (exclamation) Otieno..you are one of us ( family), a big officer in Nairobi, you want to put me in…and Jubilee guys are giving me work again, let me free/go so that I can look for (flour) what the kids will eat..:-)

    1. I once had a lecturer who used the trick of always stopping to chat with the cops on the road. One day, she was travelling to Eldoret very late at night then she reached the road block where she found the cops. Knowing that it would not be safe for her to drive alone all the way, they gave her armed escort in a landrover. They went with her all the way until they reached her home and made sure that she was safe before they returned to their duty station

  23. Excellent piece and so true. Like Biko, very few cops have survived my ‘Cop charm’. It simply boils down to genuineness, respect, accepting your mistake (or his version of it) and showing him/her that they’re the boss. All that plus lots of pole sanas and thank yous.

  24. Won’t cost u shit?errr me thinks it’s cost you credit.”lunch ” etc all in the name of premeditated bribery.But good advice.you can’t win with Kenyan cops or GOK..

  25. Am I the only one who tried to say ‘Iths okay, iths noth that theriout’?But failed because I was laughing too hard?

  26. Thanks for the tips chocolate man, now I won’t have to draw diagrams or put nuts in my words as I nego with cops!!day made!

  27. That guy is not a traffic cop, I know him, he is a GSU guy from Embakassi who was probably on an errand for his barrack. Sorry though.

  28. “Bosire, sister yangu ameolewa hapo karibu na ile tangi kubwa iko Suneka. Sisi ni kama shemeji, bwana.” The shemeji card always works.
    Being pulled aside by border police is somewhat similar. You’ve got to wonder if you’re just being racially profiled or under suspicion that you’re attempting to cross into their country with narcotics.
    Nonetheless, It’s not the time to crack jokes or be sarcastic..you just respond to their questions with confidence and humility. If they ask to search your bags, let them.
    People should be kind all the time, to everyone, not just to cops.

  29. Are you those people who derive pleasure in saying “nilijua huyu blogger hata akuwe famous”?
    Well then here’s your chance. Check out https://safariyamkenya.wordpress.com
    Msiseme nilijiwekea na sikuwaambia lol

  30. I’m I the only one praying the cops don’t read this.. Coz now they know what we all know. Hahaha.
    Great advice there Biko and great read as always!

  31. Great corruption 101 tips, you will be all nice but at the end you must produce something ndio mumalize hiyo Maneno…This is the Kenya we’ve come to accept. Navumilia kuwa mkenya

  32. Was reading this after taking my son for his 6 weeks jab as I waited for a ride back home..I have never laughed so hard which was really ironical coz all mamas were looking sullen sympathising with the babies. Needless to say I put my phone away and have just completed the awesome read in the safety of my room…still laughing

  33. Hahhahaha having just had a baby two months ago…. I’d say I miss the little favors that come with a big belly….. But we’ll it’s no fun walking like a duck, peeing every minute…. Feeling like you switched roles in beauty and the beast and you became the beast…… But spot on, on how to deal with cops though it’s worked for me just asking ‘unataka twende station gani ‘ just a sign siogopi….

  34. When caught on the wrong side of the law, the only thing that strikes our mind is how to free ourselves, including bribes. To save ua soul, use Biko’s guidelines. But Biko, don’t look like an SDA repentant guy or sheepish. Just relax smile a little. At least, 4 men.

  35. What did you propose on the last few paragraphs? That we “know” policemen at every junction?
    Biko, they will call you for a plan every now and then and when in trouble, you will try calling
    her instead of sorting the problem at hand with the new cop which technically means undermining or looking down on her.
    It is just better to know your route and traffic and you won’t be on the wrong side of the long arm of the law. You can go on and
    on ranting about fellow drivers to a traffic police who maybe got a mean grade of D in KCSE then you reckon how you know people.

  36. Great piece Biko! True when you are pregnant you can get away with a lot! But now give us tips on how to sweet talk kanjo. I remember when I was about 8 months preggers I was clamped for parking behind Nakumatt Mega and I didn’t even know it’s public parking area. Aki I begged and the guy did not budge.

  37. At zebra crossings cars would stop and I would deliberately walk so slowly across the road, just like a pregnant zebra would…Jeez! This would cause a traffic snarl-up from here to Timbuktu! It would elicit breathless mirth, not pity yawa!

  38. It always pays to be polite not only to police officers but any service provider of any sort. You just never know!
    Lakini that bit about the tip of the engorged nose that is glowing bwahahahaha! ROTFLMAO!

  39. The policeman is above the law. If he says you are in the wrong and no law can change that for you. Sweet talk him so he doesn’t hand you over to the judge. Even the Bible says that ‘argue with your accuser before he hands over to the judge and from the judge the jailer’.

  40. My relationship with traffic police is very thorny. I really, really don’t like them. I have sworn to never ever give them a bribe so that they can let me off. Once they realize that you will not part with money they eventually just let you go because they would rather lose your few shillings than take you to court and have to battle it out with you while they could have been frustrating other motorists.

  41. Hahaha! Aki Biko thith pieth isth the funniesth I’ve read thith year.Humility goeth a long way with copths for real *Fisth bump*

  42. An intern in the kitchen would laugh so hard at the sink he’d be sent home for the day to think about his choices in life; whether he wants to cook or open a comedy club. Hehehe.

  43. Hahaha nobody was that nice to me when I was pregnant! But the issue about! I absolutely agree. Everyone responds positively to kindness and respect.

  44. Biko asayi….please stop publishing this ‘first to comment’ nonsense. It’s so childish and drives me crazy and I’m sure I speak for a majority of us.

  45. And that, ladies and gentlemen is why God never allowed men to carry babies.
    I still wish He’d let them one day though.

  46. Yaye Otieno, in ja dhot, ofisa ma’duong Narobi kae, koro idwa keta asayii kaa alafu asaa jo Jubilee omiya tich kendo yawa? Ne, akoso baba, nguon’na. We’ adhi amany mogo ne nyithindo.”this has made my day,I love your articles.

  47. He he you mean the nose can so big the side mirror shakes when you blow it?
    I’ve been a dummy, now am enlightened.
    Fantastic read as always Biko.

  48. Bosire, sister yangu ameolewa hapo karibu na ile tangi kubwa iko Suneka. Sisi ni kama shemeji, bwana.?” Morning made. you had to add the tangi part. Good job Biko!

  49. Dude, guys would not survive being pregnant. Apart from the nine months, sat in delivery ward for 6 hours waiting for birth before we opted for C-section. What I saw there…. women are strong just be grateful and give them the queue jumping etc with thanks.

  50. I have always wondered why people touch the stomachs of pregnant mums. It is irritating really. I have never been there but I never touch that bump. Anyway, like you said, it how service providers treat you boils down to respect.

  51. Awesome read. I once gave a cop an umbrella one rainy evening. Told him he could drop it at my work place the following day since I was on leave and going out of town. He did exactly that and called to confirm. We have never interacted again after that though.

  52. Biko, did you change your voice in this piece? It doesn’t quite sound like you. For one, there was no mention of your forehead hehe but really, there’s something missing.

  53. Hahahhahaha, the many favors and the little things you can get away with while pregnant,mmmh. And i totally agree, when arrested,humility is key. works all the time

  54. Since most of the cops speak little english,can i know how you said this in swahili “You are a man like me, I have apologised many times, don’t destroy my ego any longer by making me sound pathetic, you can save me from humiliation.”

  55. Am guilty of touching the dogs’wet noses and then people:) That can be disgusting depending on how clean the dogs are. But having grown up in the village, the dogs I touched were seldom washed and visited the veterinary only when sick and never as a routine check. Growing up the phrase I always heard from my mom was wnether I had washed my hands after “touching the dogs.”

  56. you have’nt had à run in with Naivasha traffic coppers. if arrogance had a face ! oh they make you wait, freezing your nuts in the dawnbound chill and say shit like ” unadhani nimeacha joto ya malaya wangu kwa blanketi kwa ujinga wenu !

  57. An intern in the kitchen would laugh so hard at the sink he’d be sent home for the day to think about his choices in life; whether he wants to cook or open a comedy club

  58. Nice read, really helpful pointers I’ll start implementing them especially the last one of making small talk, topped with lunch or airtime I see it working wonders

  59. This actually happened to me one day when I was driving to visit a pal of mine at Syokimau then ended up missing the lane and took the one headed to the airport instead. One would think its as easy as getting past the security check point at the entrance and just going round to rejoin the highway from the airport exit, well, it wasn’t that easy, not when your car insurance is up and you have no clue. So this cop entered and sat at the co-driver spot and asked me to drive and stop a few metres ahead, I was so busted, I had no near option but to cry.And cry I did. I sobbed as I narrated how I was a single mum of three living in Syokimau on my way home and broke as hell. The cop had no choice but let me go. Its amazing what tears can do in some situations. This was a good read, took me back, down memory lane , back to that incident.

  60. People who ask people if they know who they are are nobodys who only know one important person at KRA’s horticulture department(somebody underline horticulture for me)-Bimbo oh sorry Biko why are you like this…lol

  61. Nice! i was once arrested when pregnant, for changing lanes, and as soon as cop pulled me over, had look at me, and told me Madam, you know what you have done? am like, yes? sorry! and he said, sawa, usirudie!!! and off i went 🙂

  62. I save my reads for when the office is unbearable. When you know you need to submit that report but your mind fails you. Reason i am commenting on this a week plus later.

    Anyway, thanks for the advice. I am going to stock up on Bamba 100s and a couple of brolleys. Seeing as the rains might be with us.

  63. Biko am in love with your writing, really in love. Wonder if it’s possible to fall in love with the man too. Wouldn’t hesitate

  64. The manager would panic and look at my nose and wonder if the swelling had already started from my engorged nose and would move down to the tongue.
    An intern in the kitchen would laugh so hard at the sink he’d be sent home for the day to think about his choices in life; whether he wants to cook or open a comedy club.
    In restaurants, waiters would ask me if I wanted a cushion and I would smile and ask, “Will it also cushion the bill for two large pizzas?”
    These lines cracked me up,and that last bit of the article on how to deal with a cop(the government) is the best advice I’ve heard in along time.Biko u never disappoint Man! Kudos

  65. An intern in the kitchen would laugh so hard at the sink he’d be sent home for the day to think about his choices in life; whether he wants to cook or open a comedy club.