How Nairobi's smart, pickpockets stalk passengers
The
pickpocket of yesteryears was a ragged rascal who would relieve you of
the wallet in a crowded place especially as you struggled to board the
already overfull matatu at peak hours. And in the evening you would most
likely find the urchin enjoying his ‘mkebe’ of busaa at a disreputable
joint along Racecourse Road in Nairobi.
But today the pickpocket is a highly refined operative, who is fashion conscious smart and very well fed. In all likelihood, in the evening he would be sitting next to you in that trendy city or suburban pub, enjoying a cool beer and nyama choma with his lady.
That is why if you are taking a matatu to Eastleigh, Kangemi, Westlands or any other destination to and from the city, you should be very wary – pickpockets abound and they are deceptively well built and neatly dressed. One would, like I initially did, mistake them for working middle class men, doing some off-duty errands.
I have had a few encounters with these ‘gentlemanly’ goons but I got a firsthand chance to see how they operate when I recently boarded a route 23 matatu from Westlands to the city via Muthithi Road. By the time I boarded the vehicle, half of the seats in the Nissan van were occupied by what I would later realise were well-built men of middle height scattered across the seats.
I sat on the third seat from the driver and a well-fed man in blue jeans, holding a large manila envelope on his lap, ushered me to the window seat, ostensibly to avoid being scotched by the afternoon sun.
The matatu left the Westlands bus stop with several seats still unoccupied, and picked some passengers along Muthithi Road. First to be picked were two young men of Asian extraction, who sat on the second seat from the driver, which already had one of the big men as an only occupant. Curiously the big man separated the two by ushering one of the men to the window seat and then occupied the middle uncomfortable one (the Nissan van’s engine protrudes towards this seat leaving little room for the passenger), and left the door seat to the other Asian man.
In memory of an earlier pickpocketing incident where I had lost some money, I found this strange and took a second look at the man seated next to me. He looked so ‘off duty working middle class’ that it took a lot of persuasion from my inner self to conclude that he could be a pickpocket. I at the same time looked behind me and realised the big men in the other seats either had the huge envelopes, rucksacks or some sort of posters on their laps. I had heard that these are used as cover while accomplishing their evil missions. But there are those who operate without this stuff.
That set off the alarm bells and I immediately removed money from my shirt pocket and deliberately and in full view of the man next to me, put it in the rear trouser pocket. Sending an even clearer message, I gave the conductor a Sh500 note for fare and I held the balance he gave out by the hand instead of putting it in the pocket, the message being “the only way you will have this, is by openly snatching it”.
As people alighted and others boarded, the ‘bouncers’ kept leading them to the window seats, the trick being that as one tried to get off, the man would deliberately obstruct them, pretending that he was unable to quickly remove their legs. In the meantime he would be busy easing out the contents of your pockets. In this manner, passengers lose their money and documents, bus stop by bus stop.
I do not know their plight, but when the two Asian men alighted somewhere along Kipande Road, they were replaced by an Asian woman and for a split second I noticed the man who had been sitting in their midst, wink at the passenger next to me. I cannot however tell whether he was able to steal from her and/or the passengers before her.
As we approached Murang’a Road from Kipande where some people alighted, for some reason the man who had been covering me went to the seat behind me that had just got a new passenger and his partner who had been occupying that seat came and sat next to me.
He pretended to be busy on his ‘very smart’ smartphone informing whoever he was talking to where he had reached and asking for directions on where they would meet. You can however bet that he was talking to nobody, as he kept poking his face next to mine looking out of the window to ostensibly pinpoint the exact location of where we were. Unfortunately for him, I was on high alert and there was no way that he was going to pick my pockets.
But as I had realised in the earlier incident, in some cases the driver and conductor of the matatus are in the know and at times facilitate the pickpocketing indirectly but consciously. I do not know how they communicated but in this case when the thieves realised the remaining quarries could escape the net, the matatu instead of going to the route 23 terminus adjacent to the old Nation House, stopped at the entrance of the route 118 terminus near Khoja Mosque and the conductor hurriedly shepherded the passengers out of the vehicle.
This deliberately illegal move was meant to scare the passengers quickly out of the vehicle and as the people scrambled to get off, (I refused to budge), I could hear commotion behind me as passengers tried to disembark but were cunningly blocked and stolen from by the huge men.
By the time all the passengers were out (I was the last), the young man who had occupied the seat behind me was loudly shouting that he had been robbed and urging two of the other smart goons (he had no way of knowing they were part of the gang) to help him run after the thief.
At this point I told the vehicle’s crew that they must have been aware of the crooks, an accusation they brushed off feebly but instead of going to the route 23 stop, the matatu stopped at the roundabout directly opposite Nation House at the junction of Tom Mboya Street and River Road and started picking passengers to Highridge instead of Westlands.
That and the very act of a matatu deliberately stopping and taking its time at an illegal stop especially in the city centre that teems with traffic police and city council askaris was very telling and to me brought a feeling of déjà vu.
Barely a month earlier I had entered a route 9 matatu at ‘Commercial’ and as soon as it was on its way, the conductor started messing with the psychology of passengers telling them that the vehicle would not follow the normal route and that they would not be dropped at their destinations.
This elicited a heated argument between the conductor and passengers who unfortunately did not know that among them were crafty pickpockets working in cahoots with the crew. In retrospect, I believe the racket was a deliberate distraction to ruffle the passengers and give the thieves the chance to steal from them.
By the time the matatu turned towards Pangani near the Nairobi Water Company offices, the passenger seated next to me was a huge well-dressed man who was loudly arguing about passengers’ rights and trying to draw me into the debate. Standing next to the door was another of his size and apparently on the same goodwill mission.
Normally route 9 matatus would not stop at this ‘black spot’ junction, but oddly the vehicle stopped at the dangerous corner and allowed passengers, I included, to casually alight. However as I tried to wiggle out of my seat, the man seated next to me kept blocking my exit, pretending that his legs were too long.
Surprisingly, the matatu driver patiently waited for us to ‘leisurely’ alight at the illegal stop but by the time I hit the ground, I realised that I had been relieved of the contents of my rear pocket, either by the man who had been sitting next to me or the one standing next to the narrow door. That the matatu crew knew what was happening is obvious.
So next time you take a matatu to or from these or any other city destinations, and a heavy, smart man in his late 20s or early 30s crutching an ‘X-ray’ envelope or light rucksack is the other passenger, keep your valuables very close and be ever vigilant. That does not by any standards mean that all well-fed, casually smart men carrying envelopes in matatus, are pick pockets.
But today the pickpocket is a highly refined operative, who is fashion conscious smart and very well fed. In all likelihood, in the evening he would be sitting next to you in that trendy city or suburban pub, enjoying a cool beer and nyama choma with his lady.
That is why if you are taking a matatu to Eastleigh, Kangemi, Westlands or any other destination to and from the city, you should be very wary – pickpockets abound and they are deceptively well built and neatly dressed. One would, like I initially did, mistake them for working middle class men, doing some off-duty errands.
I have had a few encounters with these ‘gentlemanly’ goons but I got a firsthand chance to see how they operate when I recently boarded a route 23 matatu from Westlands to the city via Muthithi Road. By the time I boarded the vehicle, half of the seats in the Nissan van were occupied by what I would later realise were well-built men of middle height scattered across the seats.
I sat on the third seat from the driver and a well-fed man in blue jeans, holding a large manila envelope on his lap, ushered me to the window seat, ostensibly to avoid being scotched by the afternoon sun.
The matatu left the Westlands bus stop with several seats still unoccupied, and picked some passengers along Muthithi Road. First to be picked were two young men of Asian extraction, who sat on the second seat from the driver, which already had one of the big men as an only occupant. Curiously the big man separated the two by ushering one of the men to the window seat and then occupied the middle uncomfortable one (the Nissan van’s engine protrudes towards this seat leaving little room for the passenger), and left the door seat to the other Asian man.
In memory of an earlier pickpocketing incident where I had lost some money, I found this strange and took a second look at the man seated next to me. He looked so ‘off duty working middle class’ that it took a lot of persuasion from my inner self to conclude that he could be a pickpocket. I at the same time looked behind me and realised the big men in the other seats either had the huge envelopes, rucksacks or some sort of posters on their laps. I had heard that these are used as cover while accomplishing their evil missions. But there are those who operate without this stuff.
That set off the alarm bells and I immediately removed money from my shirt pocket and deliberately and in full view of the man next to me, put it in the rear trouser pocket. Sending an even clearer message, I gave the conductor a Sh500 note for fare and I held the balance he gave out by the hand instead of putting it in the pocket, the message being “the only way you will have this, is by openly snatching it”.
As people alighted and others boarded, the ‘bouncers’ kept leading them to the window seats, the trick being that as one tried to get off, the man would deliberately obstruct them, pretending that he was unable to quickly remove their legs. In the meantime he would be busy easing out the contents of your pockets. In this manner, passengers lose their money and documents, bus stop by bus stop.
I do not know their plight, but when the two Asian men alighted somewhere along Kipande Road, they were replaced by an Asian woman and for a split second I noticed the man who had been sitting in their midst, wink at the passenger next to me. I cannot however tell whether he was able to steal from her and/or the passengers before her.
As we approached Murang’a Road from Kipande where some people alighted, for some reason the man who had been covering me went to the seat behind me that had just got a new passenger and his partner who had been occupying that seat came and sat next to me.
He pretended to be busy on his ‘very smart’ smartphone informing whoever he was talking to where he had reached and asking for directions on where they would meet. You can however bet that he was talking to nobody, as he kept poking his face next to mine looking out of the window to ostensibly pinpoint the exact location of where we were. Unfortunately for him, I was on high alert and there was no way that he was going to pick my pockets.
But as I had realised in the earlier incident, in some cases the driver and conductor of the matatus are in the know and at times facilitate the pickpocketing indirectly but consciously. I do not know how they communicated but in this case when the thieves realised the remaining quarries could escape the net, the matatu instead of going to the route 23 terminus adjacent to the old Nation House, stopped at the entrance of the route 118 terminus near Khoja Mosque and the conductor hurriedly shepherded the passengers out of the vehicle.
This deliberately illegal move was meant to scare the passengers quickly out of the vehicle and as the people scrambled to get off, (I refused to budge), I could hear commotion behind me as passengers tried to disembark but were cunningly blocked and stolen from by the huge men.
By the time all the passengers were out (I was the last), the young man who had occupied the seat behind me was loudly shouting that he had been robbed and urging two of the other smart goons (he had no way of knowing they were part of the gang) to help him run after the thief.
At this point I told the vehicle’s crew that they must have been aware of the crooks, an accusation they brushed off feebly but instead of going to the route 23 stop, the matatu stopped at the roundabout directly opposite Nation House at the junction of Tom Mboya Street and River Road and started picking passengers to Highridge instead of Westlands.
That and the very act of a matatu deliberately stopping and taking its time at an illegal stop especially in the city centre that teems with traffic police and city council askaris was very telling and to me brought a feeling of déjà vu.
Barely a month earlier I had entered a route 9 matatu at ‘Commercial’ and as soon as it was on its way, the conductor started messing with the psychology of passengers telling them that the vehicle would not follow the normal route and that they would not be dropped at their destinations.
This elicited a heated argument between the conductor and passengers who unfortunately did not know that among them were crafty pickpockets working in cahoots with the crew. In retrospect, I believe the racket was a deliberate distraction to ruffle the passengers and give the thieves the chance to steal from them.
By the time the matatu turned towards Pangani near the Nairobi Water Company offices, the passenger seated next to me was a huge well-dressed man who was loudly arguing about passengers’ rights and trying to draw me into the debate. Standing next to the door was another of his size and apparently on the same goodwill mission.
Normally route 9 matatus would not stop at this ‘black spot’ junction, but oddly the vehicle stopped at the dangerous corner and allowed passengers, I included, to casually alight. However as I tried to wiggle out of my seat, the man seated next to me kept blocking my exit, pretending that his legs were too long.
Surprisingly, the matatu driver patiently waited for us to ‘leisurely’ alight at the illegal stop but by the time I hit the ground, I realised that I had been relieved of the contents of my rear pocket, either by the man who had been sitting next to me or the one standing next to the narrow door. That the matatu crew knew what was happening is obvious.
So next time you take a matatu to or from these or any other city destinations, and a heavy, smart man in his late 20s or early 30s crutching an ‘X-ray’ envelope or light rucksack is the other passenger, keep your valuables very close and be ever vigilant. That does not by any standards mean that all well-fed, casually smart men carrying envelopes in matatus, are pick pockets.
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