Mwisho wa Mwezi, Mwisho wa Mwaka
There are two kinds of men in Nairobi on the last weekend of the month. Those who got paid on the 25th and those who are pretending they got paid on the 25th. Both will be at the same nyama choma joint on Saturday night. Only one of them will drive home.
This is a story about Kevo.
Kevo is 43. He has two children in a school whose fees are discussed at home in low voices, the way people talk about a relative who went to Dubai and never called back. He has a car he loves more than he admits. A silver saloon with 180,000 kilometres on the clock and a check engine light that has been on since the BBI days. Kevo says it's decorative.
Last Saturday of October 2026. Salary is in. Kevo is a free man. He tells his wife he is "just meeting the guys for one." Every married woman in this country knows that "one" is not a number. It is a philosophy.
By 1:40am the guys have scattered. Some took a cab. One left with someone nobody had seen before. Kevo walks to the parking lot jingling his keys like a man in a TV advert. He gets in. Turns the key.
Click.
He turns it again. Click click. The car makes the sound of a wallet on the 20th of the month. Nothing is happening in there.
Enter Omondi, the askari. Omondi is a Concierge East Africa guard. His uniform is pressed like he's expecting the President to inspect the parking lot. He has a torch, a radio on his shoulder and the calm of a man who has watched a thousand Kevos come out of that bar. He has been on this site for four years. He knows every car, every regular and which waiter steals tomatoes.
"Boss, gari imekataa?"
"Hapana, iko sawa. Nafikiria tu," Kevo says. Thinking. At 2am. In a parking lot.
He opens the bonnet. Every Kenyan man opens the bonnet. It's cultural. We stare at the engine like it owes us money. Kevo reaches for something.
"Boss, usiguse hiyo," Omondi says gently. "Hiyo ni moto."
Kevo calls his friends. All of them are "on the way." In Nairobi "on the way" means "I have just seen your call and I am deciding whether I love you." He considers calling his wife. He considers it the way you consider jumping off a building. Briefly and with deep regret.
Omondi does not consider anything. He presses his radio. "Control, hii ni Omondi. Niko na mteja hapa, gari imekataa kuwaka. Tutumie towing."
Kevo stares at him. "Nyinyi mko na towing pia?"
Omondi smiles the smile of a man who works for the right company. "Boss, sisi tunalinda gari. Na ikikataa, tunaibeba."
Twenty eight minutes later a Concierge Rescue Services truck pulls in with its lights going like it's arriving at a wedding. The crew tries a jump start. The battery has died the kind of death that needs a eulogy. So they load the car properly, strap it down and tell Kevo it will be at his mechanic's garage before he wakes up. Omondi signs it out in his book because that's how things are done on his site. Kevo sits in the front of the truck. Comfortable. Dignified. Almost proud, like it was his plan all along.
Before they leave, Kevo slips Omondi five hundred bob. "Ya chai, mzee."
Omondi takes it, folds it twice and says, "Asante boss. Lakini kumbuka, December inakuja."
And there it is. The wisest thing anyone will say to you this year, said by a man in uniform at 2am.
Because December is coming. We have two months left of 2026. Soon everyone will be driving to shags. Mai Mahiu will be full. Mombasa Road will be a parking lot with trucks. Your car, which has been surviving on prayer and decorative warning lights, will be asked to do 400 kilometres with a full boot and a mother in law in the back seat. And while you're upcountry eating your mother's chapati, someone needs to be watching your home, your office and your business.
So here is the advice, from us to you. Service the car before the rush. Check the battery, the tyres and that light you have been ignoring. Make sure whoever is guarding your premises over the holidays is trained, awake and has a radio that actually talks to someone. And save our number somewhere better than your memory.
Mwisho wa mwezi ni sherehe. Mwisho wa mwaka ni safari. Make sure you get home from both and that home is still there when you get back.
Concierge East Africa and Concierge Rescue Services. Security guards, towing, recovery and roadside rescue. 24 hours, every day, including the ones you'll regret.
Call 0727 700 770 or 0117 229 966 | www.concierge.co.ke