A power nap in the ditch
He works in a bank. A Relationship Manager. He’s good with people, he reads them. He spends his days giving people what they think they want. He negotiates with them. He acts like he cares about these people; he has to because people with money demand attention. But to him they’re simply bottom lines. He doesn’t love working in a bank though but now he has his own office. And his own phone line. So he stays because soon he might have his name on his door.
He’s 33. Two boys; 4 and 2years old. A wife. No pets. He rents a three-bedroom apartment in some old apartment block in Parklands. He’s lucky, rent is cheap. His landlord lives in India, every month he wires money into his account. He plans to save for another year then develop some plot in Ngong. He’s Kisii.
The Banker wears suits to earn a living. But his taste in suits isn’t the best, which could be something to do with his tribe. The suits hang around his shoulders. Sometimes their colour reminds you of a fruit. His suits fit like most TV anchors’. Gunny bags. But The Banker’s personality overshadows his suits unlike those who wear suits to make up for their bland personality. He has a large laughter and when he laughs he’s those guys who will slap you the back. Of course it hurts.
He’s a fairly tall chap, the Banker. But he’s growing heavy around the midsection. He’s started going for swimming at Aga Khan Sports Club every Saturday afternoon. But he loves his beer.
