The Holy Studio

 

I met Philip Mutemi in the streets of wanderlust diaries. He wrote a piece that caused stir and led to a lot of fuss. If you know the wanderlust diaries you're safe. You may actually go to heaven if Christ comes today. His display picture is of a man seated with arms crossed in what looks like a pub. A man probably past middle age. Looking at him another time, I feel like he has four children. Again looking at him, he doesn’t look like in 2014 he was 20 years old, I mean he almost looks older than my father. He honestly couldn’t be 30 right now. All these observations I made because of how some people in the comment section threw stones at him.

So, Philip claims that back in 2014 his 3 cousins, 4 neighbours and himself were to join campus. They were given money to go and buy laptops. What is campus life without a laptop? The next Monday early in the morning they were in Nairobi. There was one cousin who was street smart and managed to convince them the he was well acquainted with some of the affordable laptop plugs. Somewhere at Luthuli avenue they got good gadgets. Quality laptops at best prices, a laptop worth 30k at 28k. So they bought 7 of them and saved a whooping 14k. He made it look like a big money when each only had 2k.

As they were still wandering in town wondering what to do with 14k, two guys approached them and told them they were looking for dancers for a drama skit for an event. They were to be paid 4k each for what was only an hour performance.  The thought of making a whole 6k before midday for just wandering the street of Nairobi couldn’t allow them have a second thought. The studio was at Imenti house, 2^nd floor as they claimed.

At Imenti they were separated into two groups as there were two cubicles to dance. “sisi hao kwa a vacant room tukapewa nguo za traditional dancers,” he said. They left all their stuff just outside the door. Only because inside was a studio. It beats me how they arrived to this decision. When things unfolded the doors were locked. The guys locked them in their respective rooms and got swallowed into the thin air - their clothes, phones and 7 laptops all gone. 

He thought to himself that as a man screaming is the last thing he should be caught doing, but he screamed and cried crying Kisumo… one of his cousins fainted and the others couldn’t even talk. Some good hawkers and touts contributed for them to go back to Muranga and they went back dressed in traditional dancing costumes. The whole journey was dead silent. Reaching Muranga everyone went his way. His dad still laughs at them to date. He finishes by saying ‘kanairo ni kujaza capacity’ and then tags everyone. Like ‘@everyone’

Well, this is not even the whole story. The story began afresh at the comment section. Someone laughed so hard and said that this guy’s father was not African, probably a mzungu or a Muindi in the least. Someone by the name Ben Ben just said ‘this is funny,’ without using an emoji? Come on Ben you cant be this boring. I personally felt like using some laughing emojis. More so at the point they left their stuff outside because inside is the mighty studio. A sacred place where you don’t enter with your laptops and phones.

Then there was Muthoni Waigi giving her awful experience too, she said that once it was raining heavily in town and she saw a hawker coming with umbrellas saying soo soo. She had a fixed thousand bob and gave it to him, the hawker picked his gunia and started running shouting kanjo! Kanjo! She was right behind him in the rain shouting ‘change yangu.’ He finally gave up and gave her balance back. She just put her umbrella in her bag because, what for? she was already soaked to the bone.

Bibi ya Jirani came yelling. Yes, Bibi ya Jirani ‘the wife of the neighbour.’ She was bitter, she took Philip by the collars of his shirt and lifted him up. She was about to do him dirty when John Njagi intervened. Bibi ya Jirani with a display picture that calls for a lot of concern looked at Philip and said, “atleast give credit to the owner of this piece” she then attached her evidence beneath and put her signature. 

It was a link leading to Mwangi Bishop’s yard where he wrote the same exact story. Carbon copy, bit by bit. The comas and the full stops all the same. She was acting like a DCI on duty, but the profile picture! Aah Aaah Bibi ya Jirani is nothing close. She finished by asking Philip if Mwangi Bishop was his cousin. But the age gap makes it a NO. She was trying not to be so harsh now, giving him a benefit of doubt. A space to breathe so he doesn’t suffocate. From more comments it was clear that Philip was not the real owner of the story - everyone was like ‘I remember reading this somewhere.’ I told you guys, didn’t I? I didn’t hit him with a stone though, I just said calmly.

I visited Mwangi Bishop’s profile and yes he looked like he went to Muranga on traditional dancing costumes on that nasty Monday. His commanding audience makes me believe he can write such a great piece. Much even, he looked like he was the first person to agree that they just leave their stuff outside because inside was a studio. A holy studio !

I decided to re-read the story from his side, his handwriting was different, though the story exact. And I felt it hit home from this side, I don’t know if it was the influence from Bibi ya Jirani. If it was, then it worked. I feel like giving the credits to Bishop, but what will I do with Philip? I can’t just dismiss him like that! Also, in Facebook people lie, what will I tell Philip if some day it turns out the story wasn’t Bishop's either?