KAUZI.COM

KAUZI.COM
What’s ours is ours; what’s yours is also ours.

Three buddies – Kariz, Onyi and Kip - grew up in the compound of Thika Prison: their parents were prison wardens. The three boys interacted and ran errands for some of the death row inmates, often being paid handsomely for petty errands. The valuable lessons they learnt as children paid dividends years later.
Behind the three hardened thugs, is a serious obsession with the women in their lives.

Wedding Bells.

Thomas Kariz Kariuki – 25 year old budding musician, though he is more into stealing other peoples lyrics and beats. He has a turbulent relationship with his childhood sweetheart – Caroline Nafula.

Friday.

“How are you Kariuki?” the priest asked the nervous groom, who kept on checking his watch and his phone.
“I am not fine, Fr.Charles! This will be the fifth time the wedding is bouncing,” replied Kariz as he turned and looked at his older cousin, Mwangi ‘Mwas’, his best man at the wedding. They were only the two of them, Kariz’s bosom buddies in crime, Kip and Doc all having other tight schedules that did not allow them to attend the wedding. Doc had dismissed the wedding from the first day, telling Kariz to just move in with the girl. But Caroline’s parents had insisted on a wedding. And a big one for that matter.
“The other four were all because of your missions or mishoni as you call them,” replied the priest who had seen the young man grow up inside the walls of a prison. He knew him from confessions as well, though it was quite a long time since he came for confession.
“You call her,” Kariz told the priest, “since she is not picking my calls!”
The priest tried but could not succeed.
“It’s now more than an hour. Shall we call it off?” the priest asked practically, well aware of the on off relationship that Kariz and Caroline had was not about to end soon.
“Sure!” Kariz asked as he motioned Mwas to follow him. It was time to go back to business.
“Tomorrow I have some mishoni in Nairobi,” Kariz told Mwas as they entered the car and drove out of the Church compound to the Town centre.

Socrates ‘Dr.’ Onyango – 26 year old Msc in criminology. Pursuing his Phd in the same field. The master mind in the group. His older brother, Odhiambo, is a cop and they have a love hate relationship which tends to spill over. He is very attached to his mom, Appolonia Apondi, who is suffering from breast cancer.

“What are the results?” Doc asked the doctor on duty at the Aga Khan Hospital Kisumu.
The doctor spread the x-rays on the panel and showed him the places the cancer had spread to.
“It is quite advanced,” he said solemnly.
“Will she die?” Doc asked, afraid that he would lose his mum.
The doctor kept quiet before philosophically adding, “We all will die one day. She might even outlive some of us!”
Doc held the doctor’s sleeves fiercely. “If she dies, you and your family die as well!”
The two looked at each other and the doctor, who did not know Doc’s reputation, yanked his sleeves and shouted at him.
“Don’t you ever threaten me!”
The shouting attracted the security guards who came running into the room. They all knew Doc very well.
“What’s up Doc?” the security man asked, ignoring the real doctor.
The two docs spoke at the same time.
“Nothing, I was just finishing with daktari!”
“He threatened me!” stammered the doctor.
Doc walked out of the room and went to see his mum in the wards.
Doc opened the door to the private room his mum was in. He walked in only to come face to face with Odhiambo, his older brother who was the District Police Commissioner in charge of Nakuru District .
“What are you doing here?” Doc barked his dislike for his brother quite evident.
“I have come to see my mother if you do care to remember,” Odhiambo answered coolly.
“Stop it you two,” the mother managed to whisper, her face contorted with both physical and emotional pain.
“I will see you tomorrow. I have to rush to Nairobi to complete some business,” Doc told the mother.
“Legal business I hope,” Odhiambo replied.
Doc did not answer. He banged the door and left the hospital.


Kiprono ‘Kip’ Mutai – 24 year old marathon champion who wins money on the road but always messes. He dropped out of school in std.6 to pursue his running career. He has a restraining order from FIDA not to move within 100 metres from his girlfriend – the mother of his 4 year old daughter. He’ll do anything to get his daughter back.

The bell had just rang and the children screamed at the prospect of the end of the day and the beginning of the weekend.
Kip slid past the eager parents and went to the classroom. The teachers all knew him.
Chemutai saw her dad and immediately ran towards him. “Hi Papa!” she squealed as she jumped onto him. Kip was happy as he carried his daughter to the on waiting taxi.
“Mr. Kip,” a voice called behind him. He turned to face the headteacher of The Alphabet Nursery school. She was a matronly figure, generously endowed with flesh in all areas.
“Yes, madam!” Kip replied knowing very well that a fight was about to take place.
“I have instructions from your wife that you are not to take Chemutai anywhere,” the headteacher said as she showed him the letter.
“Is it a court order?” he asked.
“No,” replied the headteacher who did not look amused at having been drawn into these endless couple squabbles.
“Goodbye,” Kip said as he got into the taxi and zoomed off with his daughter.
“Where are we going?” Chemutai asked.
“To see grandma,” Kip replied.
“Yipee, I love grandma, especially her stories of how prisoners behave,” Chemutai replied.
Kip’s phone rang. His girlfriend Carol was on the line. He ignored the call.


Saturday.

The three kauzis were at Socrates’ place in Makongeni Estate, Thika, finalising their mission. They were seated round the exquisitely furnished dining table, sipping soft drinks. Socrates did not believe in drinking while at work
“Please go over the plan once more,” Socrates ordered Kariz, the executor of all hatched plans.
“Come on Doc, we have been through this a million times. It’s time for action. And this juice is very bitter, can’t we have a tot,” Kip complained.
“Kip, this is not like stealing chicken in the village,” Kariz shot.
Kip was hurt knowing that it will be very hard to shake off the tag of chicken thief.
“A thief is a thief,” Kip declared, “whether from a wedding party or from a chicken’s roost.”
Kariz ignored him and quickly went through the drills.
“There are 12 targeted weddings in Nairobi today. Wedding gifts start arriving from as early as 11am and go all the way to almost 7pm. All the transporters should be at the go down latest 8pm.”
Doc rubbed his temple. “What about the transport managers?”
“They all are taken care of. They will be kept busy. My girls are on site,” replied Kariz.
Doc looked at his watch. It was 4:25pm. “Okay, let us move to the go down.”
Kip was still brooding. “A thief is a thief!” he muttered as the three childhood buddies moved to the parking lot and boarded Doc’s state of the art car.
Kariz made the follow up calls and by the time they reached the warehouse, all 12 sites had confirmed being in control. They passed by MoW Sports Club in South C to check on the proceedings. The lorry was well packed behind the gifts tent and the driver was busy recording all the gifts being put in.
“Hi baby,” Kip told one of the ushers.
“Hi!” she replied coyly. “Can I show you around?”
“Sure. Why not?” Kip relied.
And with than Kip parted ways with his busy buddies who were inspecting the grounds.
It took about five minutes for Doc and Kariz to realise Kip’s absence.
“Where is Kip?” Doc asked. “Call him, we better be on our way to the go down!”
“The first batch is on its way – there were too many gifts so he has to make two trips,” Kariz reported. “Kip is not picking his phone!”
“Bloody fool! We set women on our victims and he is the first one to take a bite! Let’s look for him,” Doc said.
Kip was found at the car park waxing lyrical to the bemused girl.
“Come on Kip, let’s jog out of here!” Doc commanded as Kariz held Kip’s hand and pulled him away from the beauty.
“I will call you,” Kip blew a kiss at her. He entered the car and then turned on his friends. “What is the meaning of pulling me out?”
“We have a job to do and that girl is not that job,” replied Doc.

By 5pm, the first consignment had reached. Another three were on its way.
The lorry carrying the assortment of gifts was quickly emptied and the driver given his share of loot, which he counted carefully.
“Two sites have run into problems as the transport managers have insisted on accompanying the vehicles,” Kariz reported.
“Let them come here we roast them,” Kip, who believed in direct confrontation, declared.
“No,” chipped in Doc, “call Johnny and tell him where to be.” Johnny was a renowned carjacker.
By 7pm, eleven lorries had docked their wares at the go down. One more to go. Johnny had met his end of the bargain.
“One is missing,” Doc complained. “Who is it?”
“Bob,” Kariz replied.
“Call him,” ordered Doc.
“He is mteja.”
Kip laughed. “He has stolen from thieves. I told you, a thief is a thief!”
Doc rubbed his temple again. “Set Johnny on him. No one steals from us!”
“On the wife and kids or on his aged parents?” Kariz asked.
Kip bolted. “Don’t touch the kids. You two don’t know what it means to lose your own child!”
Doc ignored him. “Set on the kids first, it hurts the most!”
“No,” screamed Kip.
They both ignored Kip as Kariz went ahead and dialled Johnny’s number.
“Kaloleni estate Block K15,” Kariz gave the directions of Bob’s house.
“Kip, call the supermarket manager and tell him his loot is ready.” Doc ordered. Kip was still brooding muttering to himself over and over.
Within two hours, four huge unmarked lorries had cleared all the wares and paid for the goods in hard cash.
“Bob’s family moved out today in the morning,” Kariz relayed Johnny’s message.
“We’ll get him. Kenya is a village,” Doc replied.
The three retired to their hideout neutral place in South B – a 3 bedroomed house.
They spent the next hour counting and recounting their loot. It was a hoping Kshs.6 million exact in shs.1000 notes.
“We split the money equally,” Kip reminded them.
“We always do that,” Kariz confirmed.
Doc’s phone rang. He looked at it.
“My brother,” he whispered. “Yes Police Commissioner,” Doc mocked his brother.
His brother went straight to the point. “We have arrested a lorry full of wedding gifts in Naivasha on its way to Busia.”
Doc put the phone on speaker phone. “Why call me?”
“The driver, Bob, says he was running an errand for you.”
“He cannot prove it,” Doc told his brother.
“Here is the deal, brother, you release all the goods that you have taken and I won’t press charges,” Doc’s brother said.
“And here is the deal, brother, you release the lorry and the driver and I won’t send your pictures in Mombasa to your wife and children.”
There was a pause.
“Fuck you,” Doc’s brother said.
“I have the brains brother, better get used to that. I want that lorry and drive delivered to me in an hour’s time.”
Doc hang up.