The town

Episode1

I only spent 20 minutes shopping at Tuskys, Tom Mboya

Street.

When I stepped out, I checked where I had packed my car. IT

WASN'T THERE!

I froze! To say the least.

For a moment, I was completely out of touch with reality. Over

the years as a resident of Nairobi, I had just one particular

spot where I usually packed my car; anytime I was doing

family shopping on Sundays. Today, just like any other day, I

had found the spot empty and I went ahead and packed my

ride. 20 minutes later, the spot was dead empty. And my Car,

GONE!

You know, I had heard millions of stories about this city.

Gruesome stories. But today, I was having a front row view of

Nairobi's cruelty. I was right in the middle of the dirty vibe. I

was now a victim. Another statistic!

Now, get this one right.

The reason why I had completely frozen and gotten

completely out of touch with reality isnt the fact that my car

had been stolen. No.

When I stepped into Tuskys to buy a few nessesities, I had left

Ryan, my two year old boy in that car!

Now I didn't know what to think. My son was missing. My car

was missing. k********g or Carjacking?

I knew better not to call my wife Shiro and tell her that our son

had been kidn*pped and our car was missing. See, if you have

a wife like mine, you know why I wouldn't have dared to call

her. I inquired from the guards around Archives and Luthuli

street if they had seen anyone gain access to a Demio KCA,

white in color. Surprisingly none of them had paid attention to

that spot. Nairobi is big. And everywhere you visit, there's

always some big writings awaiting you 'VEHICLE PACKED AT

OWNERS RISK'

I was a dejected man.

I gathered the little energies that were left in me and got to

Central Police station. I narrated to them what was worthy.

The female officer at the crimes desk was genuinely saddened

by my misfortunes. She pitied my situation and asked me the

million dollar question.

'Is your wife aware sir?'

No. Not yet. I answered

She took My wife's contacts and in the most human way

possible, narrated the series of events to her over the phone.

As you could predict, Shiro got to the Central Police Station

within 30 mins. Trust me, I also do not know how she had

beaten the mid morning traffic along Thika road. She was

hysterical and she needed answers. Sadly, I had none to offer.

The police too had none.

Our statements were recorded and preliminary investigations

begun on the k********g of our son Ryan. We were asked to go

home and await feedback from the officers that were handling

the issue. It was 10AM Sunday morning. Shiro was in Shock.

She had cried and all her tears were now used up. She had no

energies left to ask anything. She had lost it. All through the

Uber ride home, a death like silence had rented the car.

Who had gained access to my car and how? Had he /she

followed us to the supermarket? Did they know of my family?

WAS RYAN SAFE? Would we ever find him?

We got home at around 10:30AM.

Shiro locked herself in the bedroom and there I was, feeling

dejected at the sitting room. We were now at the mercies of

the police officers. I called my parents and a few friends and

made them aware of our prevailing circumstance. My mum

broke down on the phone. She was so found of Ryan. Her

grandchild to whom she held so much pride. She prayed with

me over the phone and she asserted that everything would be

alright. From the sitting room, I would hear my wife Shiro

soaking her pillows with tears. She had cried for 3 hours

straight.