Hard Work Will Not Make You Money In Kenya Part 2

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(Read part I of this riveting true story about what happened to Kumekucha)

I was standing in front of a senior CID officer at Nairobi area police headquarters (next to Kenyatta National Hospital). With the officer in the tiny office, were a few of his junior staff. They were in plain clothes but all were wearing those "cop type of ties" that usually scream POLICEMAN from miles away.

It was the boss who had asked me for my publishing registration certificate. Obviously the policemen were not prepared for what followed.

I told them quietly that by law, no such document exists. There was stunned silence in the room.

"My friend you want to tell us that by law anybody can publish without registering?" the boss asked, with that smile of satisfaction on his face that says; "we've nailed you."

I patiently and confidently explained to the police officers what the rather complex Books and newspapers Act is all about. To "register" to publish all a publisher in Kenya needs to do is to execute a surety bond of Kshs 10,000 and has to get his printer to do the same. In the last days of the Kanu government, that bond amount was revised upwards to a staggering Kshs 1 million, but still one does not need to produce the cash, all you need to do is prove that you have assets worth Kshs 1 million. Naturally this was one of the many attempts by the Kanu government to reign in expanding press freedom at the time. The Kibaki administration has taken the cue with the notorious new press bill now in parliament.

That day I was very grateful for my sometimes-annoying habit of photocopying everything at the least excuse and I had carried that morning photocopies of all the bonds that I had executed. I quietly handed them over to the policemen who exchanged furtive glances with each other.

One of them opened a copy of the Books and Newspapers Act and asked me where copies of my weekly returns were. He even quoted the jail term for failing to submit returns.

"The law says that every time you publish, you have to make returns." He looked at his colleagues and leaned back on his seat with satisfaction waiting for me to start stammering.

Quoting from sections of the Act, I continued with my lecture on the books and newspapers act to the cops informing them that 2 copies of each published issue were to be deposited at the AGs chambers. However the returns certificate he was referring to were usually issued (at least that is what had happened in my case) after you fill out a Returns form where you indicate how many copies you print amongst other information on your publication. I added that returns (which meant filling in the form I have just mentioned) were supposed to be made annually. I then quietly handed them my returns certificate.

But the cops were not going to take defeat lying down. The officer who had quoted from the Act started insisting that returns were supposed to be made daily. I had problems holding back my laughter but couldn't help smiling for the first time since this fascinating meeting had begun.

"OK we are going to do some further investigations." The boss said and indicated that the interview was over. That was the last I ever heard from the CID on this matter.

As I victoriously returned to my office to my huge team of anxious vendors (I will tell you a little more about those prosperous vendors in a minute) and ordered the machine operator to resume printing, I realized that I had some very determined enemy hidden in the shadows bent on destroying my business. But who was it? I still refused to believe (even with all the writing clearly on the wall) that that enemy was in some multi-million shilling daily newspaper office. Top on the list of my suspects was the owner of a monthly human-interest magazine whom I knew could play dirty when she felt threatened. I was sure that she was the culprit. After all newspaper vendors who had by now started selling my "hot" newsletter told me that at Kshs 10, I had badly impacted her sales negatively.

One of the reasons why there was no doubt on my mind that there was somebody fighting me was because almost 80 per cent of all the publications you see on the streets even today have not executed any bond and do NOT have a file at the AGs chambers, as the law requires. The CID officers were not interested in them, they had come straight for me. I would not have known then that my troubles were only just beginning.

So how come I was "registered"? Something that my enemies hidden in the shadows had not expected? I am no angel but I always try to do my things meticulously always anticipating the worst. In this case I had always anticipated some cops going round publications look for "lunch money" with threats on those who were not registered. And since I DON'T bribe, I have no option but to ensure that everything is in order. To be honest I had never anticipated that the things would happen the way they did. Even before publishing stories in this blog I usually go to great lengths to ensure as far as possible that the information I have is fairly accurate. It is not always easy, but I try.

Now before I sign off for today, let me say something about the prospering vendors of my publication; one of whom had bought land somewhere in Rift Valley and even sunk a water well for his mother from his commission income. I gave my vendors a very generous commission and that was one of the reasons why my network had grown so fast. This was made possible partly by the huge profit margin I was enjoying. The fact that I understood printing came in very handy. I purchased my own printing plates and my own paper and inks and cut a deal with the printer for a very small fee for every 1000 impressions they printed. The printer was happy because in a day they accumulated to a good figure and kept his previously idle press very busy. I did all the pre-press work myself. I had learnt how to do graphic design on a computer, which I kept at home and worked late into the night on. I also had a laser printer from which I could print out my final artworks and would usually leave the house going directly to make printing plates. Because of all this, my cost per printed copy was therefore kept very minimal.

I passed on some of these huge savings to the vendors who sold the paper and I gave them a whooping 40 per cent commission. The average vendors would have no problem selling 100 copies daily, which would make them Kshs 400—a decent amount of money in the year 2000. Other more serious vendors who had mastered my selling technique of using flyers would sell as many as 500 copies in a day, giving them a cool Kshs 2,000 in commissions in just one day. Many of them had previously been very desperate and jobless and had had their lives transformed selling my tabloid newsletter. I even had a few young ladies amongst the vendors selling the publication. You can now begin to understand why they were all so anxious when they heard that the CID had come calling.

This was the time I was supposed to put more effort into expanding my business and creating even more employment with the satisfaction that my old school friend who had mocked me when he met me selling my publication on the bus had been dead wrong and I had the cash to prove it. Instead I found myself obstructed by a very corrupt local authority and fighting unseen enemies in the shadows out to destroy me at all costs.

I didn't know it then, but the big question was how long I was going to last.

To Be Continued Tomorrow Read Part 3 of 3 NOW

The photographs Kumekucha feared to publish.

Horror of Kenyan with female sex organ sharing cell with men at Kamiti Prison

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