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Nowadays, it is easy to dig up someone’s past from the internet. You just need some little patience, and some skill and you can unearth so much just about anyone. But you have a dilemma here. You don’t know Carol’s second name, to start with.
Carol is in all ways an upright, corporate woman. But you never know. At her age, which is anything between 27-35, she probably has a colourful past.
She is beautiful and going by your recent escapades with her, she is not as innocent as she pretends to be. So it is time you knew who she actually is. But first, you have to know her two names. There is an easy way around it.
“Hey, I am in a situation, can you MPESA me some Sh5,000, will sort you before lunch when I get to the bank,” you request her.
“I am in the office, but let me see what I will do,” she says in a serious tone.
Ten minutes later, the money lands in your phone, but it is from a Francis Mutheu. She later texts, “I just asked a colleague to send you, we will sort him when you send.”
It is a failed mission. But being an impatient man, after 30 minutes, you send the money to her number and boom! You have her names. You should be a detective. You spend the next one hour of your Monday morning plowing, fishing and mining the internet for all clues to tell you who Carol is.
Her Facebook page is the most boring on the whole of Facebook. She last posted a video of a naughty kid, back in September 2014. She has been tagged a few videos and posters. But it looks dead. Virtually all her vital information is hidden. And you don’t have any mutual friend.
On Google search, nothing much shows either. You go back to Facebook and starts snooping on her friends. You go to her earliest posts. People were generally enthusiastic and used to post. She joined Facebook in 2009, and it was particularly busy with petty comments on traffic, rains and her hair stylist.
Back then, men used to swoon over her in her comments and you can smell their thirst, seven years later. She stopped being active on Facebook around 2012 when her posts became few and far between. But from the earlier posts, you are able to pick the people she used to do a back and forth with in the comment section.
Fortunately, from the friends, you learn she was at the University of Nairobi. She did her Bachelor of Commerce in something. You remember those Kabete girls. They always played by a different set of rules.
They were the most prized in campus. So you were actually in campus about the same time. You try to remember any of your former school mates who was at Lower Kabete at the time and your boy Paulo, was in her year. You download her picture and WhatsApp it Paulo.
“Unajua huyu dame?”
You have not spoken with Paulo for more than two years, but with men, you need no preamble.
He replies after what seems like an eternity.
“I know her, looks like some lady who did Accounting, but I doubt if she ever finished with us, she moved abroad or something, not sure but I can ask,” he replies, unenthusiastic, you notice.
“Please do. It is urgent.” You urge on.
“OK.” He replies noncommittally. Paulo always took life too seriously. But now he is the only key. In another week, all the pieces will fall into place.
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