The economy is dead and the kiosk is back in vogue

By Ted Malanda

Nothing strokes the ego more than being seen with the biggest shopping trolley at a supermarket. Pulling a fat trolley with a sachet of margarine and one bar soap is, however, ridiculous. So whenever I tour these places, I fill my trolley to the brim with maize flour and strut around importantly like a politician.

Thus, I was feeling a little smug one day, pushing a tonne of posho valued at 500 bob, when I encountered a miserable chap holding his shopping in one hand. But when the cashier rung the till, the chap I had dismissed for a miserable pauper handed over Sh18,000. Unbelievable as it may sound, that was the cost of the two of bottles of wine in his hand.

Now, while it’s entirely possible that the wine man is still shopping at that prestigious establishment at more exorbitant cost, I have kissed the supermarket goodbye.

It all began last month when I discovered I couldn’t drive into the darned place because there was a traffic jam. In fact, so thick was the gridlock that a chief inspector of police was directing traffic.

Some people may find this normal, but in truth, it’s criminal for a man of that stature to control traffic at a supermarket. You see, a constable has to exchange fire with hundreds of criminals before he is promoted to corporal.

The corporal, on the other hand, has to gun down enough thugs before he is made a sergeant, then senior sergeant, sub-inspector and so forth. By the time he or she becomes a chief inspector, the chap will have long lost count of the thugs that he has dispatched to the other world. That certainly is not the fellow you expect to hang around shopping malls directing traffic. But I digress.

prohibited substances

So, having found no parking at the mall, I about-turned to the neighbourhood kiosk in disappointment. But to my utter astonishment, I discovered I had missed the place.

For starters, Mama Mboga knows you pretty well. She knows all your kids, too, meaning she is always spying on what they are up to. If they start smoking and drinking prohibited substances, she would be the first to know. But then how is she expected to bring this vital intelligence to you if you spend your entire life hanging around expensive shopping malls?

The second good thing about this estate kiosk is their excellent public relations. You don’t mechanically pick stuff from cabinets and present them to a bored, poorly paid and cold-faced chap at the counter. This is a warm, fat, breathing, smiling, chatty woman who gives you that human touch that is totally non-existent at a shopping mall. Her wares are cheaper too because she sells her kilo of beans without wrapping it in a fancy cover which often costs more than the merchandise as supermarkets do.

part of the family

When you are short of money, she not only lends you foodstuffs but goes the extra mile and lends bus fare for the next day as well. To her, you are not just a client, but part of the family. Little wonder that she finds it perfectly normal to invite you for a fundraiser for her local church once in a while.

And that’s not all: Mama Mboga is the only lender in this country who never charges interest. So why are we clowns who pretend we are ‘middleclass’ giving this good lady a wide berth?