‘The money or you are dead beat’: Ex crawls from past with threats

“Serikali Tafadhali!” was my reaction to an ex who sent me a text threatening “Chota ama uanikwe Dead beat.” Being a streetwise dude, I immediately understood that she meant if I did not pay my child support arrears, I would be exposed.

The sad story started when I, a hot-blooded young man accidentally conceived a child in the unholy ecstasies of come-we-stay. However, the baby that was born bore a strong resemblance to my best friend at the time, a Cushite from Garissa.
And if that was not enough, the baby’s cry sounded like he had twigs of ‘miraa’ sticking out of his mouth.

Maybe my fertile imagination was playing tricks on me but my bones insisted something wasn’t right.\Of course, being disgruntled, and with no way to prove that I had been cheated, I opted to slink away from that bogus relationship.
The cheater resurrected the other day when the Facebook page “Dead beat Kenya” started trending.
I was having a beer with the boys when the phone rang. “Jambo my friend,” I said sticking the phone beside my ear and doing my best to look as though a VIP was at the other end of the line.

“Timbuktu kwani umenisahau?” the voice was unmistakable. It was her. My expression changed immediately and for a moment, I looked as though my title in Lamu had been revoked.

“Itakuwaje?” she wanted to know. “I stepped out of earshot of the other dudes and pleaded with her for time. “’Haki woiye’ give me time; I swear I will pay,” I pleaded.
Of course, she knew that the minute Michelle, who is an ardent “facebooker” saw I had been roasted, she would turn up the heat. I suggested we meet over a cup of coffee and iron things out later in the evening to which she gladly agreed. “I hear you went bald after I left you,” she said laughing.

I wish there was a formula in Google on how to deal with an extortionist like the one I was about to meet. I went home to change into something not flamboyant as I did not want her to give the impression that I was swimming in money.
“Timbuktu, dear? May I go out with you?” that was Michelle beginning to nag as usual at the most inopportune moment. Her timing was always killer.

I found her smoking at the lounge of the hotel looking as though she had just found a solution to all her problems.

“I took a seat beside her and hugged her like I still cared for her. She looked at me pathetically and suggested that we cut out the niceties and dive straight to business. “What did you bring your son?” she wanted to know.

I took her out to the car, opened the boot and showed her all the baby stuff I had bought. “Timbuktu, you are growing old at an alarming rate,” she said. “You didn’t expect the son you threw out of your life to grow. For your information, he is a young man of 12 and not a three-year-old. So quit playing games,” she said showing me the picture of a boy with nomadic features.

She called me a sissy for running away. Do you agree to be “Mpesa-ing” me every end month or shall I tell the world what a coward you are?” she threatened.

I knew that if my misdemeanour appeared on deadbeat, my ambitions to be an MCA in 2017 would go down the drain.

But then again, this woman was asking for more than I could afford. A swindler in stilettos was attempting to enslave me for the rest of my life. Where I came from, blackmailers and rapists suffered the same fate.

However, Michelle who was tracking my movements immediately appeared by my side after listening to the strange case. “You cannot Mulika Timbuktu deadbeat na hatujafanya DNA test. Besides Timbuktu is impotent and always uses protection. ‘Hawezi pata mtoto’. I can prove it,” she insisted.

My ex disappeared off into the darkness without a word. Well, set a thief to catch a thief. I had been rescued by Michelle. I knew I had a lot of explaining to do. But at least ‘sikuanikwa’ deadbeat.