When the deal is too good: Eloquent ‘vet’ talks way to old men’s wallets

By PAUL KARIUKI

NYERI COUNTY: His name was Muraya. That is what the man introduced himself the morning he came up the winding path to my home. He was in white gumboots, a white lab coat and a matching cap. He carried a cardboard with papers attached by a clip like a businessman.

My first impression was that he was a veterinary doctor. However, I had not heard of a major livestock disease outbreak or an ongoing vaccination.

He said he had come from Nyeri and represented Nguku Nene Poultry Farm. He spoke with ease of a seasoned salesperson.

There was no doubt that he was a persuasive speaker. It took him a few minutes to make me ‘see’ and buy into his plan. Already, according to the list he showed me, some of my counterparts were for the idea. It was this simple. With Sh3,000, the farm would supply some farmers in my village in Nakuru County with grade chicks, poultry feeds, troughs and brazen jikos for heat where electricity lacked.

 I was sceptical. I needed time to think the matter over when Muraya, in a well-calculated speech, caught me off guard.

“There is more. Nguku Nene Poultry Farm started as a poverty reduction initiative not long ago. Members sell their products through us. This helps weed out exploitative middle mene.”

I would have voiced my doubts had Muraya, as if clairvoyantly reading my mind, not produced a business card, which bore the company name. Emblazoned across its face was a crowned fowl that stood out as if it had won an avian beauty contest. There was a list of phone numbers.

 “I must be going. In case you are interested, don’t hesitate to call,” he said as he left.

Suddenly some five wazees ‘happened’ to drop by. They too had been conscripted by Muraya into accepting his idea and appeared elated. I didn’t want to water down their mood by voicing my opinion. I was the treasurer of our chama, to which they belonged and they had come to see me over a ‘small matter’ of withdrawing some money for this ‘hybrid’ poultry project. All that was required was my signature authorising withdrawal as one of the signatories. Anyway, I  voiced my opinion the idea may not work after all.

“Wewe kijana! Who do you think you are to talk to the elders and advise them when the chairman and the secretary are of the same mind?” one of them said. I gave in and signed.

I admit I was drawn to this poultry rearing idea, albeit with reluctance. Muraya made an impromptu appearance a day later. He advised the 20 of us who registered and paid to come up with a group name for the poultry project. I didn’t pay in full but promised the other half upon seeing the ‘deliverables’.

He gave us an appointment four days later as the date the company would deliver on its pledge.

“By which time, most of you, I understand, will have sufficient time to prepare where to accommodate the chicks,” he said.

Tuesday came. We met at a pre-arranged rendezvous under an acacia tree. There were those attired in their Sunday best. They had no idea chick poop would soil them.

The day wore on and there was no sign of Muraya. He was a mteja. The listed company’s numbers were defunct. Nguku Nene Poultry Farm, existed only in Muraya’s fertile imagination. We were conned Sh58, 500! Ituura group lost Sh11,085 through withdrawals to top up other amounts!