The strange hustlers of Happy Valley

About two decades ago, I was given a job as a research assistant to collect data on animal feed sold by a certain big supplier in Kenya.

I was assigned Nyandarua, an agriculturally rich county. It was just after graduation, and being a hustler with few choices, I took the job and started moving from home to home with my questionnaires.

The learning curve for a hustler is steep, I learnt. And what started as a simple research assignment was punctuated by drama.

My first problem was transport. The county at the time had few all-weather roads. I started in Kinangop, which was rainy but beautiful.

The blanket

The drama started in a small town called Ndunyu Njeru, which translates into new market. I had to spend a night there to continue collecting data the following day. After eating kipasuo (a quarter loaf of bread) and tea, I booked a room and an old man walked me to it.

I was tired and exhausted since most of my travelling was on foot, so I rested on the bed before falling asleep. A watchman later came and knocked on my door. He wanted to know if I wanted an extra blanket. It was a cold and misty place, particularly at night, so I quickly said yes and thanked him for his concern.

After about 20 minutes, he came back and knocked again. I opened the door to pick my blanket, but the man wasn’t holding one.

I asked where the blanket was, but he just kept quiet. Losing my temper, I told him to go away. He was in the company of a woman who stood beside him quietly.  

The man came back after an hour and demanded Sh20 for getting me a blanket. I was incredulous; he’d not brought me one.

He then told me the lady in his company was the ‘blanket’, and Sh20 was the brokerage fee.

Laughing, I told him that next time, he needs to speak in a language visitors can understand. And don’t ask me if I’d have taken the ‘blanket’ if I had all the information. Also, don’t ask me if I paid the brokerage fee.

Unusual pricing

The second incident was more economic. In Wanjohi town, in the middle of Happy Valley, tea was more expensive than plain milk.

When I asked about the unusual pricing, I was told tea has more ingredients like tea leaves and sugar, and takes more labour to prepare. Interesting reasoning, and economically sensible.

There was less drama over the rest of my hustle, except in famous Dundori, where I was chased away on suspicion of being a spy after a burglary the previous week. By the way, contrary to local folklore, I found no one in Dundori pouring Omo into the river to wash clothes.

I’d love to make another exploratory trip to this region that’s now covered by a tarmac road through Happy Valley to Nakuru. Land is now sub-divided and more crowded. Are the old hustles and hustlers still there? What has changed in 20 years?