Comedy Crime Story
By Ivan Mahimbi
Once upon a time in the not-so-quiet neighborhood of Keko Magurumbasi, there lived a man whose name struck fear and confusion in equal measure: Mzee Jambazi, or as the kids called him, "Mr. Nobody-Can-Catch-Me."
This guy wasn’t your ordinary criminal. No, no. He was the CEO of chaos, the master of disappearing acts, and according to the gossiping mamas on the street, a certified wizard in crime.
Chapter One: The Biscuit Incident
One cold Thursday night, the police received a tip:
"Officer, we suspect there are illegal firearms hidden in Mzee Jambazi’s house. He’s probably planning something big!"
So, like any brave officers with full stomachs and no plan, the police marched into his house with flashlights and an ego louder than their sirens. They tossed the place upside down, searching every corner.
Then one cop shouted,
“Chief! I found bullets... under the couch!”
Another shouted,
“Wait, wait... there are biscuits everywhere! Looks like he was having a party!”
Naturally, these officers, being Tanzanian and very hungry, decided to take a break and eat the “biscuits.”
Within ten minutes, all five of them were high, hallucinating that they were in a gospel concert floating over Mlimani City.
Turns out, Mzee Jambazi didn’t just hide bullets — he cooked them into weed-laced cookies. The police spent the night singing acapella with a broomstick thinking it was a microphone.
Chapter Two: Decoder Disaster
Now, if you thought the biscuit stunt was wild, listen to this.
One Saturday night, the whole street was peacefully watching “Bongo Star Search” when suddenly... PUFF! Every single decoder exploded in unison—Azam, DStv, StarTimes, even the neighbor’s illegal dish from Dubai.
People ran outside screaming,
“Mchawi! Mchawi! Even the TV hates us now!”
But no one knew it was Mzee Jambazi again. You see, he had developed a hobby of dismantling electronics at midnight using a screwdriver... and something the witch doctor from Tabora gave him called “Unga wa Kusahau.”
He simply walked from house to house, unscrewing decoders. The next morning, no one could remember what happened—just that their decoders were “tired.”
Chapter Three: The Vanishing Underwear
This was the last straw. The ladies of Keko were done.
Every Monday morning, someone’s underwear would mysteriously vanish from the washing line. One woman claimed she saw a boxer short floating away by itself at 3AM.
Whispers began.
“It’s a spirit.”
“No, it’s Mzee Jambazi.”
“But why would a thief want only underwear?”
Well, the truth came out one fateful day when the community youth decided to form a vigilante squad called Keko Kamata Kila Mtu (KKKM). They caught Mzee Jambazi in a bush... sewing bras and boxers into a bulletproof vest.
When asked why, he calmly replied,
“Underwear has strong spiritual protection. Especially the ones washed with blue OMO.”
Chapter Four: The Arrest That Wasn’t
Eventually, the police caught up with him again. This time, they came prepared with a pastor, an imam, and a laptop technician.
But when they tried to arrest him, he smiled, clapped his hands once — and poof — he vanished into thin air... leaving only a note behind:
“Dear officers, thank you for the biscuit party. See you next election.”
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