Good Morning Mr. Pickpocket,
My name is Rachael and I will not give you the pleasure of handing you pleasantries because you never do. My life has changed for the worse since I met you. I met you one day near Ronald Ngala street and many times after that in different other places. I have never seen your face. You should thank the Lord ‘cause the time I see your face I will exhibit my literacy in the art of martial arts. It will not be pretty and neither will I be at that time.
I walk around town in fear and would prefer to walk in the middle of the road. I’d rather be hit by a car than to be pickpocketed. Do you see what you have done to me? I am in all honesty not functioning properly if my priorities are in such an arrangement. The other day one of you pickpocketed someone who was in front of me and she felt it. She turned and grabbed her phone back and hit the man so hard I almost cringed. Where was I? Just a few centimeters away, unfazed by the ordeal I could actually throw a punch and it would hit you. I did not even think to check if I had my 2 day old phone with me. You have made me numb to any emotions in town.
I am writing to offer some suggestions. My first suggestion is that you should form a chama, support group, welfare group just something that makes you coordinate at the end of the day. Many of you have tried and failed, not that you are not good at what you do, it’s just that I am poor. Let me rephrase that, I never have anything that is pickpocket friendly. So I’m suggesting you walk around with a checklist and if you find nothing on a certain victim go back and report that so she/he gets blacklisted and is never bothered again.
Second suggestion, if you would be so kind and zip back my bag, I would be so thankful. I cannot walk around town with a bag just gaping showing people the novel I am pretending to read or the Imbiss chips I am carrying. I already embarrass myself enough as is and I do not need any help.
Suggestion number three, if you open my bag and I turn, that is a signal that I felt you tiny hands trying to make a living off my bag. Do not come back because if I turn and see the same face again I will kick you in the balls. Ask around I have done that once.
I will be so grateful if this letter can be pinned on your notice board when you finally form a welfare group. See you soon. Die a slow death if you can.
Angry Nairobi Resident,