Two wrongs don’t make a right

 

Sometimes I sit at the Jiji Ndogo Police Post and begin thinking Inspector Tembo is right after all. We were dumped into this place and forgotten. But every time I feel like requesting a transfer, something happens.

Like the arrival of the most beautiful partner in the world. Okay, she hates me — for now — but things could change. But that, too, gets old. I keep hoping something interesting will happen.

Then, right out of the blue, a criminal dumber than a doorbell and as high as a stoned pilot walks in and reports his weed has been stolen. And that’s exactly what Kevo did and Sgt Sophia put him in custody.

“Kevo,” says Sophia, “tell us about this merch that was stolen.”

Kevo grabs the cell bars, looks either way to make sure it’s only the three of us within earshot.

“Cheki, mimi hukinda the best merch kwa hii mtaa,” he says, looking as proud as a dog with a bagful of bones. “Uliza msee yoyote.”

“He says his weed is the best,” I translate for Sophia.

“I got that,” Sophia says. “Who are your customers?”

“Kuna msee hakuli ndom huku? Cheki, mtasaka huyu msee, ama ni kuuliza maswali mob ka polisi?”

I’m laughing too hard to translate for Sophia.

“I know what he said,” Sophia says. “Kevo, do you know who broke into your house?”

Kevo shuts his eyes for so long, I am beginning to think he’s blacked out on his feet. Then, he rouses as if he indeed had been asleep.

“Denno!” he shouts.

“Denno took your stuff?” I ask him.

Kevo looks like he’s getting higher by the minute. I wonder whether he didn’t smoke all his stock by himself, then hallucinate about the theft. Alarmed, he looks around.

“Denno ndo pekee anaweza…” He blacks out again.

“We have a name,” Sophia says.

“What are we gonna do — arrest him for stealing something illegal? Two wrongs don’t make a right, Sophie.”

“No, we say we got a tip and raid his house. If we find the stash, that’s two busts in one day. I say that’s more action than we’ve had in a while, don’t you?”

We get our weapons and head out.

“You know where this guy lives?” Sophia asks.

“I know where everyone lives in Jiji Ndogo. Hell, I know where all the rats live.”

“I bet you do,” she says, sarcastically.

We find Denno in his mother’s house, eating ugali and tea. His mother stops us at the door.

“Mnataka nini?” she asks.

“We need to search your son’s room,” I inform her. “We believe he has drugs there.”

“Mutoto wangu ni mzuli. Hana mbangi.”

Still, when we get into Denno’s room, we find two rolls of weed tucked under his mattress.

“Sasa munamukamata juu ya sigara biri?” the mother says as we take Denno away.

At the Police Post, we throw him in with Kevo.

“Denno,” says Kevo in a groggy voice. “Thanks kukwom, men. Nimenaswa.”

“He says you stole his weed,” Sophia tells Denno. “Where is it? We didn’t find it in your house.”

Denno turns to Kevo.

“Ati uliwasho nini, fala hii?”

“Sikuwasho any mimi.”

Denno looks at Sophia and I, an accusatory look pasted on his face. Sophia turns to Kevo.

“You didn’t say your stuff was stolen?”

“Yeah…”

“And then you said that only Denno could have taken it, right?”

Kevo shakes his head.

“Sikuroroa hivo. Nilisema Denno ndo pekee anaweza… halafu mkaishia.”

“He’s right,” I tell Sophia. “Ulikuwa unataka kusemaje, Kevo?”

“Denno ndo pekee anaweza nitolea bond. Si niko cell, ama?”    BY THE STAR