Creative writing
Ghost- She Kills
April 9, 2019

“Drug business is based on business, not gender. To be a female drug dealer or assasin, you need to be as ruthless as your male counterparts to survive.”
She remembers staggering out of the lift, her shoes in her hands. He hands her a bathrobe and sets an alarm for 5.45am. They kiss goodnight. They had drunk a tad too much.
She wakes up to a pool of blood.
His throat is slit.
She did not do it!
We first lock eyes at the immigration. She is in all black-ankle boots, leather jacket, tights and a scarf. Even though her botox and lip filler looked well done, you could barely catch her facial expression. She keeps the officer engaged and laughing. It was definately not a chat about the weather. Maybe about a pregnant duck that wanted to sniff a neighbors mop at midnight. Her passport is stamped and she makes a sign of the cross as she goes to the gates. They must be the pearly gates with Mursik and avocado.
As fate would have it, she sits next to me.
“Could you please wake me up on arrival and show me where non-residents stamp out.” I nod in agreement. It’s not too much to ask. She folds her temporary passort and yellow fever card then slides them in her Jacket.
A few minutes later, she leans towards me, pulls me close and whispers through her scarf handing me a torn piece of newspaper.
“My name is Ghost; well, the last I checked. Now you listen and listen good. On this flight onward, I am your boss. You do not show signs of being frightened. See that guy there? He points at a guy who seemed unbothered and reading a magazine. He is watching you. Once you get off this plane, you don’t move without me. One mistake and you are dead. Nice to meet you.”
She taps my back, smiles and retracts to her seat wearing her sunglasses. I want to tell her that her April fool’s joke is overrated and I am not about joking.
That I am the mature type who posts once a year on social media and do not hahaha on memes. I open the piece of newspaper. Jesus of Zakayo! Ghost is a top drug lord, assasin and kidnapper sought for by rivals and the government. Everyone tries to piece up who she looks like. I was not entirely certain she was but the command through the whispers!

“I like you. You are such a natural! Keep up. Now hand me back my paper,” she says as she places her manicured hands on my lap.
How entitled could one get? You meet a stranger, going about their madness and you take over like you owned them. Strange. If this was true, I would have the longest one and a half hour flight.
Anyway, so I am flying back to Nairobi to support my friend, Beth, who is to go to court. One and a half hours of flight for Beth was a thing I could ten times. She had become family.
She didn’t stab anyone’s arse. She is a good person but…
Beth and I met at some kibandaski for chapo dondo. It was so often so we became dondees then friends.
So she carried this dondee habit into drinking, smoking and shagging and soon enough she was into a few circles. These ones were abit different. You din’t need to know names. You guy-my guy was name enough. What does a drunk need names for?
So one of these guy’s phone goes off and he asks her to uber for her. She comes through for a brother. He could be useful on some dry days. Okay, the guy is found dead the next day and his body thrown on the highway. So in court, Beth should produce that guy, her guy or the driver and the car. I definately want to be there for my dondee as opposed to some plastic surgery sociopath. Oh that doll with no expression! Uuumph.
So we land, and you are right. You got it. Yes, my boss walks on my side She is holding my arm by now and trying to smile all through-to seem harmless. Our guy, the one monitoring me, was a fluke to just back up her voice but she would still kill me.
Assasins, you know, she could easily look in my eye and I die by diffusion. They always have a way, these ones. As we walk to the parking lot, she gets an envelope from her bag. “Before I forget, I had a few pseudo documents left with me. I want you to get rid of them. Burn if possible. I will be watching.”
I have an uber waiting. We drive off as the boss smokes her cigar. Carrying her bourgie lifestyle even in trouble. I am in between fade up and end it already so I am willingly taking orders and offering services like opening the door for her highness.
At home, my puppy Karla runs towards me. She missed me. Now I realize how badly I want her to speak. I would share what I was going through. I hug her for slightly more than a minute in silence. I want to cry. I want her to understand my frustration.
“It’s just a dog. Can we go in?” she says in confidence and as if she knew the house too well.
I look at her and almost say she is the dog because she is a dog. My Karla is no dog by the way. That is my damn companion and friend. I pass that. What does an assasin understand about friendship anyway, if she did, I would be with Beth at the court proceeding.
In the house, I am familiar with my space. Not just the person. You know the way you know where all knives are, rungu’s,nyaunyo and hockey sticks-this is a weapon. If you don’t have it in your house, which year were you born?
Anyway, I am abit confident that I can atleast chop off a nail so I am courageous enough to be in it. We die, we die. Those kungfu sounds will have been used. Hu! Ha! Hiyaaa! Haaaa, huuuuwa!
“That is the bathroom. There is a robe and sandals in there. When you are done, whiskey, wine, coffee or tea?
“Coffee please, thanks, no sugar ma’am, ” she says leaning on the door.
“Call me Tatu,” I say.
She sounded softer, but I wouldn’t buy it because she had used the word please before, and got to my house, that idiot. I took a glass of whiskey. The last I wanted was to be purely sobber while chopping her ears and plastic nose off.
I was angry and drained. I switched off my phone, went through my knives and picked one. It looked like it would fit the bill. It would slice her ears into cubes and gourge her eyes. I pushed things. Glasses broke. Frames broke. I was mad! Red flame mad!
From the bathroom, she comes in a robe crying. “Can you give me a hug please?”
Who does this one thinks she is, hold me hostage, come to my house, cry in my robe and want a hug? Well, first of all, you don’t cry in my robe or I will take it. 2nd, how do I wash an assasin’s tears in my house? Burger.
I hug her. She weeps loudly. But we have to go on. You realize that you have not much control of whatever happens. Life happens anyway, whether you are ready or not. So I push her away from me. This madness needed to end. I pace around and soon stop.
“Eeeh eeeh I thought assasins are made of steel? Okay woman of steel. Pull that chair, sit and start talking. Truth only. Here is your coffee. Start now!”
My voice is now raised and I am ready to face the useless doll. Samantha would have been better because I would sell her to bachelors and make money. But this one!…
You clearly do not know of how courageous you are until you are in your house , standing next to doom and a knife closeby.
“I am Eva. Eva for Iva not Ever. My boyfriend was killed last night. I woke up to his dead body. I loved him. We were going to get married soon. I had started reforming because of us. I feel lost. I just want to find myself. Help me.”
Assasins have a way to manipulate. What if…I pull a chair and sit opposite her, not getting my eyes off her. Who the hell cares whether it is Eva for evaporation! Just effing speak!
The past few months had been tough she says. The government had ordered a crackdown on drug lords, dealers and users. On the other hand, competitors and rivals were using the chance to fight back.
“You did not know if the guy next to you would tell on you or was the one sent to kill you.”
One thing though, she was very sure that his lover’s death was not by the government. It was business related. It did not scare her as much as it dampened her spirit. She had killed many people before so this was just another death in drug distribution realm, except that it was on someone she cherished. She enjoyed it and wouldn’t care if anyone she knew was killed. It was normal, but this one hit home.
“I would kill you if I owed you and if you owed me, and refused to pay, I would kill you also. Easy.”
Oh my intestines. She spoke about killing as if she was speaking about a goat being slaughtered for a wedding. I froze for a second. This one could easily lock me in a fridge and let me die slowly.
She had two husbands. I know, I know. I feel you! You want two husbands? The secret is not cooking. Ask Ghost. So yes, she had two. One to fan her and one to hold her phone to your ears.
So, there was the original husband. You know those ones you tell every one “my hubby…my hubby.” That one. He leaked info about the business. No, he didn’t know that it was a bad thing. You know how someone asks if you have a clear container from Kenpoly that you store serials in, then you refute but say you use glass ones that you bought from abc. That is leakage.
The other was a cop. He refused a bribe from her to pass her drugs at a certain point yet he had power. Refusing easily meant he was listening to command elsewhere. It didn’t matter that he found it weird to receive money from her and return it in the same household. She killed both. On the same day. Shot one and suffocated the other.
I saw my funeral. Literally. I smelled my blood and saw myself in a morgue before it happened. Who kills her husbands though? Two! People out here looking for half a husband to share and she is killing. If you have not fasted or slept in a church for a husband, please show us where you buy them or at least donate or hire your extras. Don’t kill.
So, for a long time, she wanted to be a drug lord. This would however not be a one man show. She needed a team and needed to understand the business. Soon enough, her core business was to distribute cocain, order murders and attempt kidnaps.Building this business needed collaboration with thieves, murderers and criminals. She needed to start somewhere. You sing like a frog in the bathroom then we see you on t.v later.
So she is 19 and at a border town. At these yellow telephone booth, those that used to ring so loud, ngrngr ngrngr. By the way, you needed to book time with your caller so when they called, they found you. A guy shows up and hands her a backpack. Her task? To deliver to the agreed address and her envelope would be in it.
Each time, the deliverer and receiver were different.
She didn’t do it for long. She then moved to the city and here, she is ushered in with guns, combat knives and mates.
At 19, all we needed was a phone, clubbing and a boyfriend who could buy chips mwitu and fanta orange. Times had changed. Clearly.
“It was easy. Hire ambulances, have sirens and move from a point to another. We would fit these packages in spare tires and sometimes hire coffins and a hearse so we looked like we were transporting the dead for burial.”
She made good money and enrolled in a flying school. With a couple of licenses, she was able to fly privately. In one consignment, she would make a lot of cash. So she would hire a plane for a few hours a day and load her consignment which was re-packaged in spice containers then flown to an airstrip they agreed on.
If I made good money. I would be a passanger. Fly around, take photos and share on IG,shop and drink. I would also buy a boyfriend and make him bourgie then make us look in love so that you envy. We would also start a you tube channel and cash on your views haha. .Then you would all have a thing to talk about.
” I wanted to quit. I had made enough but my then boss said he would kill me if I exited. It meant I was going to share his business secrets elsewhere. Since I had an ambition of being a drug lord, I decided to take up a new task and learn. That is how I became an assasin.”
Her victims were drug dealers and their families. “I was scared at first. I felt like I was killing my family.” A few killings later, she slit throats, poisoned, suffocated and drowned her victims. Most of those, she had lured them sexually and it worked for her.
I can’t even slaughter chicken- that is a secret by the way. Keep it. Go with it to the grave. Don’t tell anyone. Society will disrespect my arse. Just you and I know.
“To be initiated as a hitman, you needed to kill, cut off a part of the body and give it to the boss.”
Hohoho! You and your boyfriend can’t even step on a cockroach until it bursts because God will judge you and yuck, who will clean it? How, kwanza? Here is someone you should meet.
She would do anything for power. So she started killing her team mates and later formed a new team. Now, the only hinderance between her and her dream of being a druglord, was her current boss. You know what she did? She kidnapped him. He was her first kidnap victim. Genius!
Like all kidnaps to follow, she demanded ransom, got it but still killed him. She there on , capitalized on ransoms and made lot’s of money. She must have been witty and tactical to hack it.
“He was going to be a pain in the behind. It was best he died. I am glad he died in my hands. I would never have trusted anyone with this particular task.”
Oh, so, kumbe that ‘don’t bite the hand that feeds you’ vibe is a hoax. She did and fed better. New empire, new attitude and new fake documentation. She was set.
“We sold. Heck we sold! We even sold to our competitors. The only downside with that was collection of money. You were never too sure to remain alive after that.”
So the government realizes the users are many and it is affecting even the economy. Many people are not working but induldging, and to keep up their purchase, they get into crime.
One morning, a crackdown is announced. She knew it was time to stop. She had made enough money. She even went to this country where we met, to have a talk with her fiancè, Grey. She was ready to be wifed. The heart now wanted a companion. She felt ready to settle.
She wakes up to a murdered fiancè.
“Hit men show no better signs. They didn’t need to paint blood on my doorstep or write me a note. I got it.”
I gather myself once more. I still need to show her that I am in control.
“Ehe, hand me your passport. The Kenyan one. Ghost, Eva,Ever, whatever you are. Bring it. “
She says it was fake. Fake because the names used were fake. All documents handed in beforehand were fake. But it was those years. Money had exchanged hands and someone gave her the final. She had never taken a legit one. She got rid of this before she travelled. I am not about to take a lie. Or maybe I am just tired and want her out. I bang the table and demand for the passport.
I take her handbag and pour everything on the floor. I am like an employee who suspects a help is a thief. You know how they pour everything in the floor. Start checking one by one and smelling them then asking while holding whatever with 2 fingers “tell me about this.. “. I knew it! I knew you have done/seen this. I was not going to take chances.
“You have to believe me. I just want you to help me. I gave you all the non-legit stuff to shred and trash. Whatever I am left with is for my offshore bank accounts and property. I will trash ince I have my money. Calm down. I am done with drugs. I just want to be clean again you idiot,”she snorts.
I slap her because she called me idiot. This word is shit but has never aggrevated me. It’s not so bad afterall. Especially if you are not one. It’s like being called a cow. You don’t eat grass. My anger must have just got me there…by the way, I had also called her an idiot earlier on. Si we would just get even? For real…I had done it already!
“Don’t you dare. I may want change but have not forgotten the rules and game. I will twist your head like a chicken and have the peace I want. I have the opportunity-you are here, ” she yelled.
“Twist it. Twist it!I don’t care. I die or you do. You just can’t come to my house and take control. You…”
Before I finished my kiherehere, I got a serious kick in belly that I could not even remember my doom “pepper spray.” She pulled me by the hair and gave me another kick. The knife-it was time. So I drew it from my pants and pointed at her. For a minute I felt like a hero. She wasn’t armed and I was.
She pounced on me, held the hand with the knife and kicked my belly again followed by a hot slap. I fell. Head first. She turned me around and stepped on my neck.
“I won’t beg you again to listen or help me. You do or you die.”
Hell has never been that close. How would I tell the fire handler to just burn me abit because I am a good person because my sins are small, like arriving at meetings three hours after the agreed times?
I had not paid my debts-I wasn’t debt free but life is good. I just needed an extra day.
I raise my hands in surrender. She releases her foot from my neck, pulls me up by the hair again and gives me a last kick that sends me to the corner. I was ready to cooperate. How, I didn’t know but was , yes! I under estimated her.
“So as I was saying. I need help. Therapy and finding legit documents. Help me settle in. Find a house and furnish and hey, we are friends. Remember not to tell on me- I can still kill you, she said with a smiling pouring herself more coffee.
Her voice sounded commanding again.
Very unpredictable.
I had always wanted to interview a drug lord or an assasin, but not in this way and not this soon. I cried. I now needed my mother but she sure wouldn’t be of much help. When everyone chose to have a job with a title, I chose to write and she said it was not a job. She would think it is just another story. And if I had a job with a title, I wouldn’t be in trouble now-parents! Linking jobs to anything.
” It would have been smoother than this but the universe has it’s way. We met this way instead.It can still be smoother if you cooperate. So shall we start again? Shall we be friends, fix things and you can run an interview. I am here already. I am a rare opportunity.” she says gulping her coffee again.
Is she psychic also? Can she read minds? How could she tell I always thought of having a conversation with someone like her?
Jonah please swallow this woman and be re-swallowed by the whale. I will pay rent for her yearly.
I want freedom, so I want to help Ghost. I am looking for a ‘kijana mnono round” to stir up things with her. She needs to start afresh and I need her to leave my presence.
Come through for a sister. She is calm and polite. At least for now. She is 31, around 5,4″ and is willing to wear heels to reach your lips. If you know of a bachelor looking for an independent self-made woman who is available starting now, please tag them.
Eva for Ever must go!
I want a chapo dondo. Of course I do. But will I see tomorrow? Only Ghost knows.


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