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A Man And His Price – Season 1 Episode 3

Muia was young, smart and eloquent. He
came from a political dynasty that had seen
his father and grandfather all high-ranking
members of successive governments. Now he
was going for the big seat. Of course, he was
no saint-he was suspected of having been
behind the ‘disappearance’ of a rival for his
constituency seat – but the other candidate
was a twelve-year veteran of a corrupt
Parliament, with links to all the major crime
basses in the country. Njenga was stuck
between the devil and the deep blue sea¬ – he
just chose the lesser of two evils. Muia had
contacted him, proposing the meeting where
they would discuss their different standpoints
and, possibly, come to an understanding…
Njenga had gone through every possible
scenario in his mind – perhaps Muia would
attempt to bribe him, to threaten him, or to
pretend that they were on the same side…
whatever the case, he was ready.
A knock came on his door. It opened a
fraction, showing the wrinkled, worried face of
his assistant, Thatia.
“They’re here,” he said.
Njenga nodded. The door closed, and he sat
down heavily, his face in his hands, and said a
silent prayer.
From the corridor outside his office he could
hear his own tiny security detail remonstrating
loudly with Muia’s huge entourage, Thatia’s
voice prominent among the ones calling for
the politician to see Njenga alone. A mild
scuffle ensued, and Njenga sprung up and
wrenched the door open.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.
Muia’s bodyguards were attempting to force
their way through, but Thatia and the rest if
his detail stood their ground.
“A one-on-one meeting, that’s what we
agreed to,” he said calmly. “if not, tell your
boss that the deal is off.”
Muia’s bodyguards looked at each other,
unsure of what to do next. Then came, from
down the hall, the calm, pleasant voice of their
“Boys, boys, it’s OK. I shall be quite safe. He
is a man of God.”
The huge, beefy guards relaxed at this, and
with a few final menacing snarls backed away.
Njenga went back into his office, and a minute
later Muia’s smiling face appeared in the
door, flanked by Thatia’s concerned one.
“Be careful,” he mouthed, as he closed the
“Forgive my boys,” Muia said pleasantly in the
disarming, affable voice of a Cicero. “They’re a
bit overzealous in their job, but they’re as
good as gold.”
“I understand.” Njenga replied calmly, on the
alert. “Thank you for coming, and please have
a seat.”

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