We all know the rage and sense of loss that engulfs those who find their homes sacked by burglars.
Even thieves, ironically, have been known to bristle with fury when they, too, fall victim. The loss lingers for years, such that dying people gasp for breath, enraged at departing the world without kicking the scoundrel who stole their beloved blanket 75 years ago.
Still, I have always beheld the burglar with detached respect. Burglary demands a remarkable level of research, organisation, teamwork, planning and marketing skills. One must invest in appropriate tools, and have patience and guts. It is a profession that calls for brainpower, hard work and tremendous respect for human life for all parties concerned.
Burglars, as a rule, only strike when the homeowner is away. They don’t report to work armed, nor do they maim, kill or gang-rape their benefactors. At the slightest hint of trouble, their lookout issues a pre-arranged signal, and off the gang scurries. Compared to the psychopaths who ply the armed robbery trade circuit, and the lowlifes who man the mobile phone con business, burglars are the cream of the barrel.
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Unfortunately, there is always a homeowner or long-lost relative popping in unannounced, a shattering glass and a nosy neighbour who won’t mind their business, annoying CCTV cameras or, in the worst cases, armed police who just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And because burglars operate in the same manner all the time and exit in a hurry, leaving incriminating evidence all over the place, all it takes is one look at the crime scene for a clever detective to announce:
“This is the work of the Madiaba Brothers Gang.”
Burglars, therefore, face an unproportionate risk of running into a baying lynch mob. Such risks are unthinkable for the mobile phone con sunbathing in a high security maximum prison, or their comrade-in-arms whose principal tool of trade is a smooth motormouth spraying saliva-laden hate speech into a megaphone.
Don’t, however, be fooled. Lucky burglars can operate for years without a scratch, living decently on the fat of the land, before the proverbial 40 days catch up with them. This is, sadly, what happened to the Nairobi Six this week.
When confronted by police, the good chaps immediately surrendered kifudifudi. Armed robbers, scumbags of the underworld that they are, would have insisted on initiating gunfire, the pop-pop of illicit weapons frightening people’s cats, stray bullets hitting innocent mama mboga, and their wretched blood dirtying pavements that the county government spends a fortune cleaning up. Annoying, isn’t it, how goons who never have time to donate blood to save lives recklessly spill the elixir on pavements.
A keen look at the gang reinforced my admiration for burglary. Moisturised skins, handsome faces, and not one broken tooth or terrifying scar in place.
They were an Indian national, a Tanzanian, a cocktail of tribes, and yay! a woman! These folks are all for inclusion and meritocracy. If you have the goods, they rig you up on the spot. Not that political nonsense of, “What is your clan?”
Area police commander Judith Nyongesa, when she addressed the press, looked upset: her motherly look camouflaged abilities for hand-to-hand combat and other lethal skills acquired on the Kiganjo Police College shooting range.
The gang and their vehicles, she said, were known to the police, and they had been operating in the wealthier suburbs of Nairobi for two years, pinching and selling the loot in foreign countries. In fact, she added, her boys had captured some of them once or twice, only for them to be set free on bond.
“It is time the Judiciary takes keen interest in this matter because they (burglars) have been arrested on several occasions,” she announced with the look of a mother itching to spread the court across her legs and smack it senseless.
Commander Nyongesa is right. Court cases in Kenya drag on for so long that suspects become familiar with the precincts and start raiding the exhibit store for free weed and booze.
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By Ted Malanda