Why Prostitute Hurriedly Returned Stolen Cash Stranger Than Fiction Bizarre Tale From Northern Kenya..

Many Kenyans these days are naïve enough to believe that this life has no strange unexplainable things in it and that everything is logical and must have an explanation.

This blogger in his long career as a writer has received information from several different sources confirming the story you are about to read. Actually it is said to have happened somewhere on the road to Northern Kenya and involved a truck driver of Somali origin. It is not clear whether he was Kenyan or non-Kenyan.

Truck drivers are often responsible for the survival of many roadside towns along major routes in the country. They stop to buy food and drinks and many times even rest in small hotels and lodgings. In many of these stop over towns one is also bound to find many prostitutes.

This mysterious Somali truck driver stopped in such a town on a route to Northern Kenya and picked up a prostitute for the night. For some reason this particular driver was carrying an excessive amount of cash on him and it is said that the prostitute noticed this and very early the next morning woke up and took all the money (it was well over Kshs 100,000) and quietly slipped out of the room.

She decided to lie low until the truck driver looked for her and gave up and moved on with his journey. Late in the afternoon she was informed that virtually all the truck drivers who had spent the night in the town had already left to continue with their journey. She must have assumed that the Somali truck driver probably had a lot of money and would replace the missing cash without any problems.

The prostitute could not believe her good fortune and carefully stepped out of her hideout. She decided that it was now safe to go home to the tiny room she lived in, which was not very far from where she had been hiding. Now would be a good time to sew the cash into her mattress.

The minute she stepped into the street, she realized that there was something very wrong. The first person who met her was a middle-aged man and he took one look at her and hurriedly crossed the street.

Next she met a group of women who screamed and looked in shock at her. They then proceeded to giggle uncontrollably.

What were they laughing at? What had frightened the man so much?

She just made it into her room and even before hiding the cash she had stolen from the truck driver, she instinctively rushed to where she kept her mirror and looked into it.

She could not believe what she saw in the mirror. It was her face alright but bang right there in the middle of her forehead and exposed grotesquely were her private parts. She reached down quickly to feel for them where they should have been, but wonders of all wonders, there was nothing. She hurriedly pulled down her pants to look for herself and sure enough the skin was smooth. There was nothing. Instead the most private part of her body was bang on her forehead.

It was then that she remembered that despite taking so many beers bought by the generous Somali truck driver the night before, she had not urinated since morning when she woke up. Her bladder had to be pretty full by now but it seemed that there was something terrible wrong because she had nothing to pass urine with.

What had happened to her? Who had caused this bizarre occurrence? She had no answers only numerous questions.

The woman was a loner being relatively new to the town and she had absolutely nobody to confide in and ask for advice. And this incident happened in the days before the cell phones so there was no way she could call a friend to ask for advice.

Then it hit her. She remembered something the strange Somali truck driver had said the night before as they were drinking. She had dismissed it then as the usual way drunkards brag, but now it took a whole new meaning.

The truck driver had caught her looking at his wallet with interest as he paid for yet another round of drinks.

“Mimi siwezi kuibiwa. Wale wamejaribu wote wamejuta.” (Nobody steals from me. Everybody who tries ends up with deep regrets.) She had dismissed it. Drunkards always brag about all sorts of things.

But now it had a different meaning to her. She carefully wrapped her forehead where her private parts now were with a lesso and went running back to the hotel. She went straight to the reception and was told the truck driver was at the bar drinking. Relieved she hurried there.

The man was not surprised to see her and did not even take a second look at her but completely ignored her. She sat on the stool next to him and begged him for almost 30 minutes. He didn’t seem interested that she had all his money with her and was ready to give it back.

Finally he finished his drink and headed back to his big truck. The woman knew that she was finished if the man left the town. She removed the lesso and knelt down in front of him. She did not care that everybody in the bar could now see her private part plastered on her forehead.

This is what moved the truck driver. Somehow he was angry at the fact that she displayed her forehead for everybody in the bar to see. Some people said that when people play witchcraft they do not like their work displayed openly in public.

Whatever the reason he just said she was very lucky and asked for his cash. He did not even count it to make sure it was all there, instead he stuffed it inside his pockets, roughly pushed her aside and walked quickly to the truck. She sprawled down on the floor.

By the time she had recovered it was too late. She ran after the Somali driver, only to see him driving off in the distance. It was at that moment that she felt like passing urine and felt for her private parts. They were back!! She stood up and noticed that people were no longer looking at her forehead.

Nothing more was ever heard of the Somali truck driver nor the woman. But the story has been spreading across Kenya for many years now.

Want to believe it or do you want to dismiss it as an old maid’s tale? It’s up to you. But it was me who saw the fear in the eyes of one woman who narrated it to me in the 1990s.

 

By one,  Joshua Mbaga

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