Running into a con-game in Nairoberry… again

Running into a con-game in Nairoberry… again

I have heard of being conned.  I have read con stories.  I have even seen con schemes and I have been conned myself anyway.  I therefore believe that I am experienced and mature enough to detect a con trick and smell it even while a mile away.  It is probably for that reason that it has taken long since I was conned in this Nairoberry of ours.  That would mean that I have matured and probably cannot be conned until….

Until yesterday.  Yes, yesterday Friday, I was in the city centre early in the morning to run some errands.  I alighted at Latema road around nine and finalized my mission on Ronald Ngala street just before nine-thirty.  I was now planning to finalize a final errand at the stockbrokers on Lonrho house on Standard street, just near Stanley hotel, then intended to run back to Uthiru for an eleven o’clock meeting.

I had decided to use the washrooms next to the National Archives before crossing Moi Avenue to head towards Kimathi street then Standard street.  I would momentarily observe that the washroom block seemed to be closed and even disused.  I suspected that it was no longer in operation.  By that time, I was probably just ten metres to the facility.  I would then have just moved ahead towards Tom Mboya statue and onto Moi Avenue.  But with this washroom seemingly closed, I would have to turnback to Tom Mboya street and head back to Latema and use that facility.

I was just starting to turnback when I experienced a sharp grip on my left hand.  It was still broad daylight and that part of town was busy with both vehicular and people traffic.  There was nothing to worry about, nor was there any semblance of commotion or danger.  I was therefore taken aback…

“Tunauza Safaricom 4G bure!  Chukua yako hapa!,” the lady who had grabbed me declared, when I gained composure.

“Sawa,” I said, as I tried to release her grip.

I would then observe that there was some form of a vehicle parked just near our standing position.  Several people, adorning some branded white Tees were milling around, talking almost randomly to different people in the melee.  The branded group were about fifteen, in my estimation.  I was momentarily relieved.  Just another sale promotion going on.  My good!

That hand had not yet released my left, before a second lady joined us.

“Tutaku uzia Safaricom 4G line bure!  Tuna-celebrate fifteen years, bure kabisa!,” the second lady said.

I was still digesting.

“Nina laini ya Safaricom tayari,” I responded, after finally getting my hand out of the grip.

“Lakini, sisi tunauza 4G bure kabisa, chukua yako.  Migrate kutoka 3G,” the first lady stated, while the second one observed.

“Laini yangu ni 4G already,” I responded.

This is when I should have bolted, but I allowed myself to be sank deep into the scheme.

“Hiyo si hoja, wacha tukupe zawadi ya fifteen years na Safaricom,” the first lady said.

I did not even have time to digest what she had said, before she grabbed my hand once more and said, “Chagua lucky number from these,” she pointed to a small sheet of paper, about A5 size, which had some small white circular sticky papers.  Each of them has a number.  Probably from number 1 towards number 50.  Some of the white papers had been removed, leaving gaps on the paper.

“Chagua lucky number.  Chagua any.  Ni bure kabisa!”

What is going on here?  It started ringing a bell.  A faint one at first.  I let that mental bell die down for a moment and was back to the present moment on this Friday morning, just about ten in the morning.

“Twenty-four,” I pointed and said.

The lady let go of my hand to have both hands free to unveil what my number 24 would reveal.  Her colleague was still standing next to us, observing.

“Wow!  Una bahati kama nini!,” the first lady screamed in excitement.

I was in a state of shock by just the way she shouted.

“Umeshinda simu!  Imagine ya bure!  iPhone!  Kweli una bahati!  Thank Safaricom fifteen years promotion!”

Hey!  Wait the hech a minute!  What is going on here.  Is hitting it lucky this simple?

I did not even have time to digest before the second lady seemed to have abra-cadabrad by disappearing and reappearing with a box that seemed to have a phone in it and another one, a bit larger beneath it.

“Unabahati kweli!  In fact, umeshinda simu na tunakuongeza iPad,” the second lady declared while extending the two packages in my direction.

I hesitated.  I did not want to touch these free gifts.

“Hatuwezi kukudanganya!  Hi ni Safaricom fifteen years anniversary promotion.  Umeshinda hizi ma gifts free kabisa.  We mean f…fff…r..rr…r…eeeee!”

I still hesitated.  I did not still want to touch these items.  She noticed my reluctance.  She literally put them on my hand.  If I was to release my hold at this moment, then the items would fall on the street concrete.  The numb hand was forced to hold them.  The desire to let them fall overwhelming.

There is no way this is happening, I kept telling myself.  Was there some just-for-laughs-moment awaiting my experience?  Was I to be the person giving audiences the gigs on their televisions due to this episode?  Something was just not right.  Instinct can never lie to you.  It was telling me that something was not right.  Something was amiss.  I could not just put a finger on it, but it was there somewhere, on this part of town, near the Kenya National Archives.

“Usijali kitu,” the first lady resumed, noting my apprehension.  

The second lady by that time had done her magic once again, disappearing and reappearing like a flash, this time with something like a book of sorts.

“Sasa tuna kuregister tu, halafu simu na ipad ni zako, bure kabisa!  Haki unabahati!  Wengine huwa hawana bahati kama wewe!,” the second lady reassured.  

The two packages were still on my hand, just a wind push away from their falling to the ground.  Reluctance was so manifest on that right hand that the packages would soon be hitting the ground.

The first lady came into the equation immediately, “Sasa lete ID tuku rejiste, halafu ukashereke Safaricom fifteen years na gifts zako!  Bure kabisa!  Kweli unabahati leo!”

I had not moved.  I was not moving.  I had not said anything for about two minutes now.  I was digesting everything, and they intake was coming in fast and furious.

“Una ID, si ndiyo?,” lady two asked.

Then that mental bell rang again.  I had suppressed it and it now came back ringing.  Soon the mental light bulb was also on.  This was happening to me again.  I was not dreaming.  I was doing this a second time in about two years.  I was back to Westlands two years ago, where this selfsame thing happened just as it was happening now.  The preamble was slightly different, but the promise of a free gift was the end of the game, followed by this very same registration process that I was about to encounter.

“Oh, the hech!,” I almost shouted, becoming back to my senses!

“I am being conned!”

I had to get out of the situation and get out fast!

“Hebu shika hii,” I asked the first lady, while lady two was still holding the book, “Wacha ni angalie kama nina ID.”

She did not want to repossess that package of two boxes, and for good reason.  They only had leverage on me provided I was still hooked and attached to the freebies.  Handing the items back should never be an option.  It was now happening.  Messing their script to the core.

She finally, with the reluctance of a tired marathoner, took hold of the two boxes.  I proceeded to take two steps back and started to pretend to ransack my laptop bag.

“Nilibeba ID kweli?,” I self-asked, loudly, as they observed me ransack.

“Hebu nipe time ni angalie vizuri.  I am not sure kama nina ID,” I assured them, as I took another one step back and pretended to be busy ransacking through my bag.

I kept taking one step back, then another, then another, and was soon gone!  Gone back to Tom Mboya street and onto Latema road.  I was out of there never to be seen again!  I would soon thereafter run my errands at Lonrho and be back to Uthiru past eleven.  Missing my eleven o’clock appointment and of course, missing out on the free gifts by Safaricom at fifteen.

Now, before you call me names and accuse me of not appreciating the philanthropy of Saf@15, let me tell you how this would have unfolded, if you do not know already….

Never trust anybody, physically or on phone, who speaks so fast and gives you no time to think.  Phone cons work that way, and street cons work the same.  Even mind-gamers, like these promotion people know this fast talk trick and they exploit it their full advantage.  This is based on the experience of two years ago, at Westlands, just outside the Mall, where we now have the Naivas supermarket.  

I was having the very same two packages, one gift that I had won, plus the extra one that I had been added in appreciation of my ‘lucky day’.  I had my ID with me and I therefore proceeded to the registration desk.  The people, even on this occasion, two years ago, were as jovial as always.  Smiling, singing, loud music and hi-fiving each other and potential winners.  They were adorning the brand of another major telco in Kenya.  They ware all genuine.  They were operating on a public street.  There was no danger of being robbed or anything bad.  In fact, there is usually no danger or threat to your personal safety at all.  It is just mind games that go on after that.  You need a strong mind and you need to be a fast thinker.

On this occasion, at Westlands, I had handed over my ID and they proceeded to start filling in my details on some register.  Just names, ID number, then they asked for the phone number, which they wrote on that register, and when I was just a breath away from my freebies…..

“Sasa, manze, unaona,” the person registering, “Hi phone ni free.  Free kabisa!  Hata ishike usikie,” he reminded me, pointing at the boxed phone on the registration.  The very phone that I had won for free.

“Lakini, manze, hii iPad ni thao tano tu!  Imagine!  Regular price huwa fifteen kay, lakini leo ni thao tano tu!  Haki bahati yako ni nzuri leo!”

“Mmmhhh, now I can see the catch,” I self-talked as I nodded, on that Sato, at Westlands.

“Sina chapaa saa hizi,” I responded.  I am one of those people who cannot buy when I am not ready, even if the world comes to an end.

  

I should have then been given my free phone, right?  Wrong!

“Lazima una ka kitu hata kwa MPESA.  Tunakubali hata ka deposit kadogo, halafu hiyo ingine unaleta tu baadaye,” the gentleman at that time, two years ago, had assured me.

“Sina hata MPESA kwa sasa,” I responded.  I was still sure that I would get the free phone and forego the additional top-up gift.

“Sasa tutafanyaje?,” he seemed to ask aloud, wondering along with me.  He must have got a new solution to the situation, since he added, “Maybe lazima una pesa kwa ATM.  Weka tu deposit, halafu tuna reserve hi kitu.  Hebu icheki, ni kitu ya nguvu.  Kitu safi!  Usiache hii offer.  After hako ka deposit, utamaliza kulipa siku yoyote.  Ka-deposit kama thao moja tu.  Lazima una ka thao kwa ATM.”

Now I knew exactly what was going on, here at Westlands, with loud music and all.  There was nothing for free.  I was being compelled to buy the iPad.  That phone was even not going to be free, even if I bought the iPad.  And… and that iPad was not even five thousand.  I was being forced into a contract.  I would be forced to pay a deposit.  I would lock in my deposit, then struggle to clear the balance however long it took…. At my own risk, with probably no hope of refund.

I was thankful that I was a marathoner, capable of thinking on my feet and… capable of bolting at a short notice, and so did I bolt….

“Sawa, wacha niende kwa ATM, halafu nirudi,” I told the person registering.

“Wacha tubaki na ID, after all, unarudi to saa hii, ndio tu reserve hi samsido.  Hebu icheki.  Ni kitu ya nguvu!,” he responded.

WWB, think, quick!

“But naeza kwende kwa bank counter in case ATM akatae, wacha nitembee tu na ID.  Naenda tu hii bank near Jacaranda hotel.  Narudi saa hizi tu!”

I could see his reluctance while handing back my ID.

Do I need to tell you that I was gone for sure, never to be seen again?  With no free phone?

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, May 8, 2021