So the inevitable finally happened yesterday, my cell phone was stolen. I suspected it to happen sometime, but as my time in Nairobi was coming to an end I was beginning to doubt it. Here is my journal entry about the exciting events...or not so exciting events.

"...The next event that made me take notice was when I got to the center and tried to text message Mike but couldn't find my phone. And that was when recent events became clear to me. It became clear to me why the fat man in the business suit was so eager to have me sit beside him, but on the seat that I would have to slide across in front of him. It became clear why my pocket carrying my cell phone got caught on the hanging file folder that he was carrying. It became clear why he nervously fiddled with the lady's broken seat in front of us while we drove down the street.

I admit. I didn't think that I based my trust of people on stereotypes of how they look, but if I am completely honest with myself, I have to admit that I did just that yesterday. If it would have been any other person I probably would have instinctively checked my pocket as soon as I felt someone/thing touch it. But because this was a fat guy in a business suit I didn't instinctively check. Looking deeper into the issue I realize that I shouldn't have judged him positively on his size anyway. In my experience there are two type of Kenyans who can, ahem, enjoy a good share of food. One, people who actually are good in business and two, people who are corrupt. A good portion of the police, for example. (Ok, that was probably a little biased because of my experiences with the police and GSU in the Mathare valley, but I still hold to that statement.)

Looking back on it I realize that this guy was able to feed himself excessively and wear business suits because he was...well, good at his business. I don't think it was mere coincidence that he chose the seat he did. It was right before the back row and nobody wants to sit in that row unless they absolutely have to, thus my choosing to squeeze in beside him. I also don't believe that it was by chance that he was right behind the broken seat, which was in actuality drawing about 85% of my attention to make sure that I didn't rip the head off as I slid in beside him. All in all I give the guy props for doing his business as well as he does; however, I do plan on head butting the guy the next time I see him, and I do hope to see him again. I don't plan on intentionally tracking him down, but I do remember which matatu it was on--just in case he works that broken seat often.

Still, at the end of the day, I had a feeling of joy knowing how disappointed that guy felt when he found out that he had ripped off a mzungu for the oldest, crappiest phone in all of Nairobi. Let's just say that he's not going to be buying a new suit with that sale."