Life and government.

I have seen lots of guns in my life, lots, on television and with the various gun trotting disciplined forces around the country. Well, but having a gun pointed into the middle of your forehead is another kettle of fish altogether. It makes appreciate the fact that the difference between life and death is line thick, it has no thickness.
My day at the barrel (of a gun) occurred when I was seventeen, still in high school and pretty much legally blonde. It was one of those high school mid-term vacations that I decided that I was going to give the opportunity with mum for the half week vacation a wide berth. I headed to Nairobi instead to be with my uncle and my cousin who both lived in Negara and were informal middle men in the same trade. When they say the city carries with it many perils believe them, they have seen most of it.
On the eventful Saturday evening I walked myself into the room my cousin my cousin and his colleague called their office, though technically it was a small room behind a dingy Ngara guest house. I got into the room without knocking on the door, quite manner less that was. Unbeknown to me danger lurk on the other side. I was welcomed into the room rather awkwardly by a disheveled gun wielding teenager with his weapon pointed directly at my forehead. It looked so surreal; I immediately went into a trance. The teenagers not quite older than proceeded to empty the contents of my pockets, which quite worthless to them and for that I received several kicks on my butt, they needed money I didn’t have any, they needed phones I did not have one. They were rightfully justified to scorn me I was a dog in manger, in the wrong place at the wrong time.
They proceeded to untie my shoelaces and gagged me with them, tied my hands at the back with sisal helped me get under a very small bed with more kicks and blows. It was not until I was under the bed and spent some few minutes that I discovered that I was not alone, I recognized my cousin and his colleague in a hazy memory recollection. It was then that I put body and mind together and pulled myself out of the stupor and realized that we had been robbed.
We immediately trooped to Pangani police station, where we went, we reported the robbery at the occurrence book. Many queer things happen at police stations, I noticed a police officer hand over some two roles of weed at a his funny looking friend which had been brought in by a woman accompanied by a police officer for alleged drug pushing. My evening was about to get worse though, we recorded statements at the OB.