when the gods smiled

He was down on his luck again.
There had been no money coming in for three weeks now. He kicked the tyre of his ‘boda boda’ almost angrily. It was more a ‘kisirani’ than anything else. His stomach growled for the nth time that evening and he stilled himself against the sharp jabs of hunger that hacked at his empty belly. He blamed the government, his mates that constantly gorged him with mairungi but most of all he blamed everyone that walked past him or drove off in their sleek cars, for his poverty.

Self-pity embraced him like a mother and he welcomed it. It told him it was because he had been an orphan, left school in P.6, had mean relatives and that God would never come to his aid.

There were times when his ‘boda’ fetched him at least five thousand a day, but now…
‘Kats!’ he faintly heard one of his friends hiss his shortened name and plant some green weeds into his hands,

‘tonight may be better, be a man!’

came the playful challenge accompanied with a soft punch on his back. He muttered something under his breath and popped the weed into his mouth. It was not too long before the effect of the weed took toll of his already frustrated mind and began to talk to him of quick cash.

He needed to eat a good meal tonight…at least a banana. He could hardly hear his mates’ converse; it was more like a distant sound in his weed- intoxicated mind. Some one passed him a cigarette from which he inhaled deeply taking in the poison that corrupted both his mind and lungs. Images played before his eyes, his vision sort of blurred as he pictured wades of money in his hands …he had seen his friends do it but then, he had been too proud to, now, he had no choice.
He positioned himself strategically and watched the pedestrians walk casually into the night; after all, it was a weekend. He imagined how much money he could fetch tonight from one of the handbags… but which? a lady walked past, talking loudly with a man that could have been her husband. That was no target. A few kids walked by, ‘campusers’, they did not look like they had what he wanted. Finally, a lone woman walked by, she was on the phone as she strolled by. He watched her dully, hearing the click of her high vermillion stilettos, the scent of her expensive perfume wafted past his nose and he knew she was his target, her bright pink handbag swung temptingly on her arm in a casual poise… she was definitely his target.
He got up as though hypnotized and walked casually towards her, she was putting back the posh miniature pale pink samsung J700V back into her bag. He sensed his friends gasp, waiting. He studied the bag that was fastened delicately with thin straps, knowing that with a firm quick jerk or two, it would be in his hands. He inched up to her carefully, trying not to look too obvious and made a fast lunge for the bag. The struggle was minimal as the straps gave way and her gasp of horror and surprise was followed by her sudden topple, in an effort to save the bag. He made one final jerk and run as fast as his legs could carry him, hearing her bloodcurdling screams amidst a roar of traffic and voices.
No one stopped him.
He had done it! He stopped running when he knew he was out of sight and opened the bag, quickly turning off the phone and pocketing it. His hands trembled, his breathing irregular, as he rummaged through the bag. There were a few papers, an ATM card, makeup, an ID… he frowned; he could not see the money he so badly wanted. He searched again until he felt in to the middle section of the bag; it was money… thirty thousand shillings! His eyes gleamed in excitement as he thought of supper, cigarettes and mairungi. God had shown up in his hour of need!