Tag: MCoop Cash News

Character Development: Nanyuki Town Showed Me Manenoz!

Posted on by Kibaki Muthamia

It is my first time in Nanyuki town. The last two days si nimeona mambo? Suddenly, nimejua the meaning of the phrase ‘Wueh!’

It’s a pleasant little town that welcomes you in a massive bear hug but still holds back. It reminds me of running home in the rain and banging on my grandmother’s kitchen door. I’m soaked to the skin, loved and welcome, but not so fast, Sonny! There’s no way she’ll let me in dripping wet and muddy.

Enjoy the heat and the tantalizing smell of food from the doorstep till I can get my ducks in a row. Now, that’s how Nanyuki feels to me.

As a personal rule when in a new town, I steer clear of hotels or places with a star rating. I’m always after its vibe, heart and soul. This spirit thrives in the dark, litter-strewn back alleys where locals and ordinary folks live.

Nanyuki has the best on both fronts. She has classy, five-star places that serve breakfast with little towels soaked in steaming water on balconies overlooking lawns and grazing horses. The stories here are too formal. I prefer the other side with politically incorrect stories.

Lakini, nimeskia sana story za Nanyuki. I should have been afraid. But, self-confidence ni nini? I thumped my chest up: Ah, si nimekuwa places bwana. I did just fine in hungrier cities.

Sunday afternoon, I left my BnB and wandered downtown. In this context, it means getting to the fifth or sixth streets that circle the CBD. Nanyuki and Mombasa are similar – they have two major avenues running across. I wander around till I stumble into a small alley that sounds like a concert is in play. Music from different places merges.

There’s a row of little joints with comely names above the doors: Kwa Nyambu, Kwa Monica and so on. Each doorway hangs those ingenious blinds made from colourful plastic bottle tops. Ah, nice. Hizi sasa ndo base zangu. I start with Kwa Monica, I like the name. I stride in like the main actor in a Mexican action movie.

It’s a little dark, my eyes need a minute. There are three long tables with branded plastic sheets, and plastic chairs stacked in two’s. There’s a gigantic TV in a cage above the counter that’s reinforced with iron bars. A past La Liga match is streaming. I see a ‘Free Wifi’ poster. Great. A few patrons silently watch me. A girl emerges from the counter.

As soon as the girl gets close, I ask loudly so that the patrons hear.

“Sasa Sister, kwani Nyambu alienda wapi?”

I take off my denim jacket and drape it over the next seat. I’m trying to relax like a sort of regular. Eight out of ten times – every other joint in Kenyan towns has had a girl named Nyambu running it. Check that out.

Someone on the other table beats her to the answer.

“Ah, Nyambu?! Unajua Nyambu? Alas, bro….huyo alienda Christmas hakurudi” A guy shouts, rises and grabs the next seat. It has my denim jacket draped on it.

“Mi naitwa Abdalla…” he says, extending a hand. I fist bump instead.

I ask for a soft drink and point to my now-friend Abdalla, who asks if he would like a drink. Of course, he would. In less time than you can say Timbuktu, Abdalla is reeling off the particulars of this town better than any guide you’ll meet in the 5-star places.

Immediately, two things are clear. One, I’ve hit the jackpot – Abdalla is a terrific storyteller. Two, I’d be staying longer in Nanyuki.

Abdalla tells me about himself. He’s a coastal native but he’s been around for give or take three decades. I doubt he’d remember his Msambweni village well. But, granted the man has lost little of his people’s famed storytelling skills. It gets better the merrier he gets. If he’d gone to college, he would have made a terrific radio morning show host. He invites his friends.

I’d ask Abdalla some random crazy stuff.

Like, in Msambweni, has he ever bumped into a night runner?

The story’s build-up would be as exciting as the story itself!

Abdalla would lean back like he had spent a lifetime studying a congregation of night runners. I was hooked. Sunday afternoon passed quickly. The joint started filling up towards evening. It started getting chilly, too. A lot of locals are rocking those checked Maasai Kikoi’s. Nanyuki is hot by day, and chilly by night.

I reach for my denim jacket. Wueh! No trace. It had disappeared. I cannot answer the how-when-and-with-who. Suddenly, I realised that I had not received a call that entire afternoon. My backup Kabambe phone was in the jacket, along with Ksh70 in coins. Luckily, my smartphone had run out of charge and left charging at my BnB.

Wueh! Wacha Abdalla aanze kuzusha. It was total mayhem.

Inwardly, I knew I’d never get my jacket, phone and money back no matter the ruckus that we raised here. He knew it too. I had no other money on me – and, I still had a bill to clear. We had a running total of Ksh1350.

I had my wallet in the back pocket with only my ID card. I never carry cash when travelling. It’s too risky. I used to carry my Co-op Bank Visa Card. Lately, the bank’s mobile banking app – Mco-opCash – has usurped all the need for cash or ATM, including withdrawals.

Abdalla walks me to a Safaricom agent shop four doors down from Mama Monica’s. I needed to replace my lost SIM card. I did not have any money in my MPesa account, but I knew I could still access my Coop Bank account via Mco-opCash.

I had the Mco-opCash app on my Android phone, but I had lost the sim card. Even if I replaced the SIM card, I’d still have to visit a Co-op Bank branch to activate and link it to the app. I had one option: To replace the SIM card and access Mco-opCash through the USSD code *667#.

Half an hour later, we returned to Mama Monica’s. I borrowed a handset from the waitress and inserted my replaced Safaricom sim card. I dialled *667# to access Mco-opCash account and made a transaction withdrawal to my MPesa account. That’s the beauty of Mco-opCash.

If your phone gets lost, you can replace the SIM card and access your account. I’ll find time to visit a Co-op Bank branch to reactivate my new sim card and link it to the Mco-opCash app.

Nanyuki imenionyesha maneno. But I live by the adage that everything is either a win or a lesson.

I’ll still stick around. I’m still very hooked on Abdalla’s stories.

Adults and Food: Embarrassing Moments at an All-You-Can-Eat Buffet

Posted on by Kibaki Muthamia

I got my first buffet experience when I was twelve. It was mildly embarrassing, but served serious lessons on humanity and social skills.

My father took us for a Chrismas Day treat at a fancy restaurant along Banda Street. It was a kid’s affair – my five cousins and I.

My cousins thought it would be fun. I knew my father well enough, but I kept mum.

The restaurant was decked out in colored lights, a gigantic Christmas tree with a flashing replica of the Star of David at the peak. It was not faux cedar. I still recall it’s aromatic smell to this day.

We waltz in. Father is up ahead, with us in a single file behind him. Think of mother duck and her ducklings. He raises his hand – the STOP signal.

He turns – and, beckons us closer. Like a soccer coach’s last minute prep talk to his players before a crucial match.

In a conspiratorial half-whisper, father says:

“Hey, kids – we don’t eat chicken in restaurants. Your mums are cooking at home. Ok? Pick what I pick, and nothing more.”

Turns out that the restaurant had a special All-You-Can-Eat buffet offer for Christmas Day. For a standard price, a guest could eat all they could.

Already, there was a line at the buffet table – open dishes with silver tongs. We joined the line, father up ahead.

Except, it seemed that father didn’t have his usual appetite. At the start of line, he picked a slice of watermelon, and pineapple. A single scoop of Pilau, skipped the bowl half-filled with diced Chapati – dipped for a single scoop of meat stew.

Father made sure we skipped the Chapati.

The line was not moving. Father wheeled us around the bottleneck, a couple of adults – visibly agitated to the end of the line. Some seriously spicy Kachumbari.

We found an empty table. We were disappointed. Who skips Chapati? At that moment, father scored dismally in the popularity ratings.

Father spent a few minutes watching us nibbling at fruit slices. He tapped his plate – signal for LOOK UP – and pointed with his lips at the buffet line.

“Listen up, kids. Do not be that, when you grow up.” Father says.

The buffet line’s bottleneck. A couple of guests were mobbing a few bowls like a pack of seagulls.

The bowls had the best offerings of the buffet: Chicken wings, grilled ribs and pork chops. We watched.

A lady, quite well-dressed with an handbag clutched under an armpit, shouldered away two men to emerge – with an overloaded plate.

She had a plate balanced high with chicken wings, meat stew dripping off the side – and, two grilled ribs in her spare hand.

“Kids, the buffet shall always test your self-discipline. A buffet can easily show a person’s lack of shame or compassion for one another.” Father says.

We soon lost appetite, the more we watched how people behaved on the buffet table. Every so often, we saw somebody grab something from the tray with their hands instead of the tongs.

Or, someone in the line sneezing – no handkerchief.

The Chapati bowl – a dude picked a few pieces, decided they are taking too much space on plate and chucked them back.

Suddenly, father called for the bill. He offered to pay using his Co-op Bank ATM card. He rarely carried cash.

This festive season restaurants, family and corporate events will have a buffet-style food layout. It’s a prudent learning opportunity for the young.

As you go out for meals and trips, have an eye for money-saving tips and offers to save money.

Like father, for instance.

He rarely spent money he didn’t plan for. In end-month shopping trips, he would ask mother to prepare a shopping list, and they’d discuss it against their budget.

And, always – used his Co-op Bank ATM Card to pay.

Father would always insist on eating first in the house before these shopping trips. It’s a trick to avoid spending money on snacks, if we went shopping hungry.

To make the most of this Christmas season, visit the nearest Co-op Bank branch – open an account and receive your ATM card.

It is a Visa Debit card and you can use it for cashless shopping at no extra cost.

Merry Christmas!

Thrown From the Nest: Moving out Ignited Business Spark for Car-wash Entrepreneur

Posted on by Kibaki Muthamia

While human beings are generally wired differently, Tony believes the Creator went a yard further on him. From childhood, his mother would often remark of him ‘being too grown up’ for his age. He was different.

Tony didn’t like playing estate soccer or hang out with his peers. He couldn’t find anyone in his circle who liked crossword and jigsaw puzzles enough to make a friend.

Despite growing in a relatively comfortable middle-class household, the urge to move out hit as soon as Tony did his high school papers. His mother flat out refused. He couldn’t explain why, but – to be honest – he didn’t know why.

To her chagrin, he moved out – to a tiny bedsitter on the outskirts of town.

The house was quite bare – his old mattress, a kerosene stove, two pots and a few bowls. He’d picked a few oranges off his mother’s fruit rack. As Tony sprawled on the mattress, chewing an orange – he realized it’s the freedom! He was an adult, finally!

Well, just a week in – it dawned on what adulting is all about.

See how people learn to swim, starting slow? Some exercise on dry land – breathing exercises – starting on the shallow end to polish skills till you can strike out on your own? Moving out is nothing like that.

It’s more like jumping in a pool without being able to swim, but you don’t know you can’t swim until you hit the water. You thought you had it all figured out (I mean, how hard can it be, right?), and before you know it, you’re waving your arms around not knowing what to do.

Tony needed stuff. Food to eat. Soap for laundry. Some oranges not from his mother’s fruit rack. While he’d never liked TV in his family home, he started missing the background noise. To walk back home was not an option. No, he couldn’t face the silent I-told-you-so’s in his mother’s eyes.

Tony walked to a car wash lot in the neighborhood, asked for the manager – and asked for work.

“Ah, alright. You start tomorrow…” Says the guy, sitting on a tall wicker chair.

The car wash was ran on an interesting business structure. Tony wouldn’t earn a salary, or wages – instead, he’d solely source for his clients. He’d work on their cars – and, he’d pay a modest Ksh100 to the manager for every car.

No one cared how much he charged per car. There were a few other guys hanging around.

Tony was new. He didn’t have any ready clients. That’s where his mother came in. He called her, broke the news and asked to clean her car. Trust maternal love, she drove across town – his son’s first client.

As she paid and tipped – perhaps, too heavily – Tony coaxed her to bring him her friends.

Tony was shoddy at first, but as he gained experience so did his client base grow. He built a reputation for his consistency, and honesty. Suddenly, he had too many clients to handle.

At this point, Tony had to learn something new: Polish his people skills – as the need to outsource labor arose.

As soon as the car wash opened, he’d approach a few friends – and coax them to accept some of his clients. He’d be getting a cut, acting as the car-wash agent. It worked. The idea flourished, money started flowing in.

He’d throw in client bait like wax polish and car interior scents at no extra cost to the client, on their 3rd visits.

It certainly felt good earning money. There’s such excitement buying new stuff! A few weeks back, Tony wouldn’t think of himself running a bank account. Now, he had an active personal and business account at Co-op Bank account.

For a budding entrepreneur, a Co-op Bank account works perfectly – thanks to MCo-op Cash, their innovative banking app. It’s much easier to deposit money direct to bank account, and to track daily spending.

Oh, checking account balances via the app is free!

MCo-op Cash brings convenience to transfer money from account to account or from bank account to a mobile money accounts. Besides, one enjoys access to other global money transfer solutions like Pesalink, Remitly and others.

To register dial *667# or download MCo-op Cash app on Playstore for Android, or Applestore for IOS.

My Campus Hustle: How Greed For Smokies Made My Business Fail

Posted on by Kibaki Muthamia

My first business venture came around in campus, second year. It was nothing meticulous, or well thought-out. I just chanced upon a couple of seniors disposing stuff weeks to their final exams. It’s a regular comrade thing, to pass off campus ‘survival tools’.

Assorted comrade stuff was on sale, from weathered printers, dart boards, blenders to some quite ageless Pentium 4 computers.

I’d purchase a Smokie trolley – for a side hustle. The trolley was functional, and guaranteed to make campus stay easier with good weekly returns. Plus, I’d inherit business goodwill: a coveted spot at the hostels entrance.

I’d be at my spot every evening after classes, selling Smokies and Kachumbari. The Smokie business was, and is still great. The capital was quite low; just buy a fairly used trolley – at, say Ksh4,000.00. Besides, it didn’t attract other expenses like county permits, rent or utility bills.

Easy enough, right? Wrong! I didn’t last a week – selling Smokies!

I largely blame it on my background – I didn’t grow up around Smokies! I simply found them irresistible! As an investor, I’d often blur the line to become the client.

It’d depend on the day; campus traffic was heavier on Mondays and Tuesdays. On these days, I’d handle three or four dozens of Smokies, daily. The hostels are deserted over weekends.

Once I got the first batch roasted, I’d have one Smokie, to ‘kufungua biashara…’

After a few minutes, I’d have another Smokie, to ‘kuskia kama ziko sawa…’

I’d prepare the hallowed kachumbari, the must-have accompaniment. No one, absolutely no one enjoys Smokies without kachumbari.

I’d have another Smokie, to ‘make sure kachumbari iko sawa…’.

In the first quarter of an hour of the business opening, the investor has consumed three Smokies – before the first client has made a purchase. Hey, they were irresistible. I first came face to face with a Smokie in my 20’s!

In the village, we ate leftover Ugali for breakfast – not Smokies, bacon or assorted meats!

Then, friends will either make or break your business. I learnt that business tip, the hard way.

A friend comes, he’d ask to have a Smokie to ‘kufungua biashara, nitakuwa customer wa daily’. In my naivety, I’d fall for the lie. I suddenly had lots of friends! I was popular!

In my first week, I made little from my Smokies gig. The profit was negative, at an almost 100% loss rate. I had to call long-suffering mother to boost my capital. I couldn’t admit it, but I had literally eaten my stock! I loved Smokies! Before you judge, who doesn’t?!

Luckily, the novelty with Smokies had started to wear off into my second week of campus business. It’s like working in a bakery, the smell of bread is revolting. Or, working as a butcher – meat no longer calls the shots.

I started getting weary of Smokies. The smell turned repugnant and the sight revolting.

Unbelievably, that’s when the Smokie business turned around.

As an investor, I was my own worst enemy. I started recording good daily sales and building a solid reputation with clients. Gradually, I’d start a network – adding a series of trolleys and recruiting staff.

Towards my third year in campus I had become a business don, running a miniature Smokie empire! I’d hire a fleet of trolleys to freshers, make supplies and make rounds in the evening making collections.

I opened a Co-op Bank account at a local branch. I wanted more flexibility, so I downloaded MCo-op Cash app from Playstore. I had banking services at my fingertips. Campus environment is quite volatile, I didn’t want the risks that came with handling cash.

As I made collections, I’d immediately send them to my account, via MCo-op Cash. It helps alot that checking Co-op Bank account balances is free. I learnt an easy way to transfer money between bank accounts.

As my safety net, I’d make weekly deposits to my mother’s Co-op Bank account as savings.

Besides making deposits and money transfers easier locally, MCo-op Cash offers a rich boutique of money transfer solutions offered by Co-op Bank on a global level. For Android users, click here to download MCo-op Cash app from Playstore. For IOS users, MCo-op Cash app is available here on Applestore.

Or, just dial *667# to register.

How an unlikely defendant in a ruffled blazer outsmarts a cocky prosecutor at Milimani Law Courts and escapes jail

Posted on by Kibaki Muthamia

This is not my story. But, am mighty glad it ain’t.

If you haven’t been to Milimani Law Courts, it’s a place that draws out the serious, sober bit.

We are in court for a hearing on a burglary case. It’s a default hearing, so, we are at the back of the court room. We get to sit through oddball corruption and murder cases, some of which I’ve seen make angry Twitter threads.

We hear cases that make our case seem like chicken feed.

I was particularly in awe of the presiding judge. It’s almost bipolar how she’d shift from dismissing cases to handing out death and life in prison sentences.

Just before our case is called, a Police Inspector – in uniform – comes in. Shortly, a tall guy in a fitting Italian suit follows. He’s a junior prosecutor at the court. They had a Driving Under Influence (DUI) hearing scheduled.

The accused driver is an old guy, in a ruffled coat and a slouching gait. He wobbles to the defendants table, silently. The prosecutor leads the Inspector through a practiced litany of why he’d seen it fit to pull over the driver, on Kiambu Road.

The Inspector intimates that the driver was a known prior offender. He says he’d seen him miss the yellow line a few times on the run just past the DCI Headquarters. The driver then, in the cop’s opinion, failed, or at least did not pass the sobriety test.

All this while, the accused just stands there with an expression of someone who’d rather be tending goats.

When I ask, I’m told this hearing is to establish if probable cause existed to proceed.

A section of the busy Kiambu Road in Nairobi (file image)

The Italian-suited prosecutor looks over at the defendant and in the most dramatic, haughty and contemptuous tone, asks:

“Do YOU have any questions?”

The lady judge affords the man a few moments, and in the last possible second before she drops the gavel, the old man speaks up.

“Yes, Your Honor, I have a few questions.”

It gets interesting.

The slouching old man, suddenly draws himself up, clears his throat, and in a voice that could silence opinionated television political analysts, says:

“Deputy, did I hear you state that you pulled the defendant over because you recognized him as a prior offender, and because he crossed over the yellow line once or twice?”

The prosecutor and the judge suddenly take notice, and a trace of concern steals across the prosecutor’s face. The defendant assumes the third person narration, and is visibly confident enough in front of a Judge.

The Deputy thinks for a second, and replies:

“Well, yes, defendant. That’s you, Mwaniki. Two years ago, you had a similar DUI conviction, and you are a regular in several pubs on Thika Road.”

Mwaniki, nods.

“So, the Defendant’s history of a DUI conviction was a contributing factor in your determination as to whether to pull him over or not?”

The Inspector nods, and, in a less convincing voice replies:

“Yes, or course it was.”

The defendant continues:

“Since you stopped me in the middle of the day, and as your report says,” here Mwaniki holds up a copy of his charges, “nowhere near any of my regular pubs on Thika Road, Inspector, would you say your knowledge of the defendant’s prior conviction was a significant contributor in your decision to pull the defendant over?”

The inspector, now not as cocky, sputters out:

“I just said it was.”

Mwaniki looks at the attentive judge up on her desk.

“So, had you not known who the driver was, there was little chance that you would have pulled the vehicle over based upon the driver’s behavior. Is that a correct characterization?”

The Inspector pauses for a second, and says: “Yes”.

Mwaniki turns to the Judge, and says:

“Your Honor, I move to dismiss these charges as the State has failed to field a prima facie case. Their witness cannot provide articulable probable cause.”

Unexpectedly, for a judge who just dished out a decade-long sentence barely half an hour back – and before the junior prosecutor could tell what’s happening – the judge nods, and says:

“Mwaniki, I get your impression. The Inspector wouldn’t have pulled you over had he not known you were the driver. There’s no probable cause. The DUI case dismissed. However, if in retrospect you weren’t under influence and weaved over the yellow line, that’s an offence. The court fines you ONE HUNDRED shillings. If you can pay, you are free to leave.”

Mwaniki resumes his old man persona and limps out of the courtroom. No orderly even escorts him to the cash offices.

Mwaniki withdraws money from a Co-op Bank account, using the M-Coop Cash App, thanks to the e-Commerce platform. He then pays the fine from M-Pesa, through Milimani Law Court’s Paybill number.

I later learn that Mwaniki had lost his wife a couple of years prior, and presently in treatment for depression. He’d been a reputable criminal defense attorney.

Good for him.

Have you had a debtor skip payment but instead has a story that slides sideways immediately it starts?

Posted on by Kibaki Muthamia

Meet Antony Kwalanda.

Kwalanda is a work colleague, and owes me money. We share an employer, and the same pay date. I expected payment, but, instead, Kwalanda has a story.

Well, I’m convinced to listen, and it’s a heck of a story.

******

A few months ago, a rather poor couple moved in next door to me. I live in Likoni, some place called Bondeni.

They were native Kisii’s – and you know how friendly Kisii’s tend to be. No, it’s not stereotyping. It’s just what it is. A few days in, we are friends and they tell me how they eloped from their Nyakemincha village. The guy’s extended family disallowed their relationship – citing distant clan relations.

We grew close.

This is a couple out in the urban jungle with no contact from their relations in the village. But, thankfully, the girl’s family wasn’t so held up on who she chose to date or cohabit with.

It happens that the girl grew up with her maternal grandmother, and she wanted to show her the beach ‘before she died’.

Fair enough.

So my neighbors book their elderly grandma a seat in one of the night buses from Kisii. She travels safe, and they pick her at dawn from Mwembe Tayari terminus.

I met her once in the hallway. She’s elderly, but quite sprightly, and chirpy. Much like my neighbor, her grand-daughter.

Grandma is jovial, and seems like fun. Heck, she even offers me a portion of the gifts she brought. Just bananas, but, still……

Well, a week runs by. Grandma spends a lot of time on the beach. Perhaps it’s the cold from the water, or the constant shore winds, but she caught a severe cold.

She died.

Me: Wait, Kwalanda, slow down. What did you say?

Him: She died, right there on her bed in their spare bedroom!

Right after her granny kicks the bucket, the girl lets rip that her grandma’s wish was to be buried outside her hut in Nyakemincha, Kisii.

Which is alright, except that my neighbors do not have much in their savings to fund such a burial, especially not in far-off Kisii.

It costs quite a sum to hire a hearse from Mombasa to Kisii.

They turned to me for help. I had to give them all I could spare so they could hire a private van to transport their grandmother back to Kisii.

Kwalanda ends that story with a forlorn, mournful look.

A few days later, I learn that he neither lives in Likoni, nor does he have Kisii neighbors. He’s just skipping paying his debts.

After a somewhat funny confrontation at work, over tea break, Kwalanda is nailed. He makes a money transfer on his phone from his Co-op Bank account via the MCo-op Cash App to my account.

******

This is possible using the MCo-op Cash App. Alternatively, he could have used the USSD *667# to initiate the process.

With Co-op Bank e-Commerce platform, this feature does much more than settle personal bills and debts. MCo-op Cash App can be used to make cashless payments for goods and services.

It’s fast and convenient. It’s safe, cashless and reflects instantly into the recipient’s Co-op Bank account.

At the same time, all business money paid through Co-op Bank e-Commerce platform is readily available, either through internet banking, ATM’s or over the counter in branches across the country.

Visit the nearest Co-op Bank branch to learn more on e-Commerce, or check online by clicking here.