Muguka going out of fashion hurts Kevo

Farmer goes round in circles trying to report his distress

In Summary

• The butterfly effect rolls in from the Coast for a former weed farmer


I may not have turned out to be an engineer or even an accountant, but I still recall a thing or two from the time I was wasting my mother’s heard-earned money in school.

Most of them are fun nuggets that have stuck with me to this day. Like the fact that one million earths could fit into the sun. Or that humans are the only animals that have chins. I’ll also never forget our science teacher saying the first man to urinate on the moon was a fella called Buzz Aldrin, shortly after stepping onto the lunar surface.

Another fun fact (which wasn’t supposed to be merely so but I found it hard keeping up with the logic) is some phenomenon known as “The butterfly effect”. Basically, it means that a tiny butterfly flapping its wings in China could cause a tornado across the world. Like, you’ve got to be kidding me, right? Surely the only claim more ridiculous is that sharks are supposedly boneless. Boneless! Really?

Yet, that very same phenomenon seems to be happening right before my eyes in the form of a visit to the police post by the ever-eventful Kevo. You might remember him from back in 22’, when he planted weed on his mother’s farm because a certain presidential candidate had promised marijuana would be legal should he be elected.

Now Kevo has a different itch to scratch.

“Cheki, si wewe ni banga?” he starts. “Uko na powers, ama?”

“What are you talking about, Kevin?” I ask.

“Wewe ndo sheria ya huu mtaa, ama?”

“I’m not the law. I only maintain it. What can I do for you? And please, be specific. I don’t have all day.”

Kevo looks around and laughs. I don’t like it. It’s the kind of laugh you hear coming from a person witnessing Jerry beat the crap out of Tom on TV.

“What’s funny?” I ask, my irritation climbing up a notch.

“Unasema ‘I don’t have all day’ ni kama uko busy. Hata hakuna msee amekam toka niliingia.”

“What’s going on?” Sgt Sophia asks as she walks in from her rounds. “Is Kevo doing illegal farming again?”

Kevo looks like one slapped on the face. “Sasa, huyu ndo banga wa ukwelo. Ni kama ana-read mind yangu. But hii bizna nafanya sasa ni legal. At least, kwa sasa.”

Sophia looks at me. “What’s he talking about?”

I shrug. “Ask him. He’s been talking in circles all this time.”

She pivots to Kevo. “What’s this about your business?”

“Come on.” He throws up his hands in frustration. “Si mnajua. Niliacha hiyo story ya kindukulu. Sasa niko legit.”

I know Kevo now sells muguka, but I still can’t tie in what it has to do with anything.

“Kevin,” I say, “if you have something to say, I suggest you do it now or you get out of here. Do you have a problem with your business? A problem we can help you with?”

“Yeah! Niko na problem. Na problem yangu ni hao machizi wa Coast. Sasa hiyo story yao ikitamba huku tutaduu nini?”

I turn to Sophia, even more lost than I was before. “Is it just me or is none of this making—”

“I get it!” Sophia slaps her forehead. “He must be talking about the ban on muguka at the Coast.”

Kevo points at her proudly. “See? Huyu banga ni sharp ka panga. Sasa, nataka kuuliza, muguka imekosea nani? After muguka itakuwa nani? Mama mboga? Msee wa duka mwenye huuza kabo?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” I ask.

“Ala!” Kevo looks surprised. “Si zote ni matawi!”

A butterfly at the Coast…

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