A ‘broker’ sweet-talked me into parting with cash Tuesday, June 17th 2014 Nakuru, Kenya: Recently, I went out to look for a house on the outskirts of Nakuru town. I decided to tour the area that would be my new residence to verify the availability of the house and orient myself with the neighbourhood. I had come across a sign on which a commercial agency had announced several units in a new complex up for rent. There were three listed phone numbers interested tenants could call as well as the agent’s physical location in the town. Workmen were doing the paving on the driveway and I could smell fresh paint. The complex consisted of several single and double self-contained rooms with rents that were agreeable to my pockets, especially the single units. I was drinking in the ambience of the place when a smartly dressed gentleman approached me with a broad smile. He asked if I was looking for a house to rent to which I replied in the affirmative. Without much preamble, he took me on a tour and I was taken aback by the intimidating rooms. There were installations like wardrobes, carpeted floors, fully equipped kitchens and some high-end accessories. I liked the single upper floor unit whose windows opened onto the picturesque scenery of the nearby Lake Nakuru. The man noticed this and launched into a compelling sales pitch. He said he was a broker and had been stationed here to guide would-be tenants. I was saved the hassle of visiting the agents, as everything, including the paperwork, would be handled effectively by this broker. I was sure he would pocket a handsome commission having netted me. I was required to make a deposit of Sh15,000 before moving in. It was in fact a month’s advance rent payment, but it was comforting to hear the refund would be ten per cent less of this amount if I chose to move out before the month was over. “When do you propose to move in?” asked the broker with that winning smile. “Let me see,” I said racking my brains. Being a Tuesday, I said Friday would be okay and we shook hands like friends and parted ways. I took a day off from work on Friday to make arrangements to move into my new domicile. My current landlord was sad to see me go. It took me two hours to reach the complex. I was in the process of supervising the two hired hands unpacking and taking all the stuff upstairs to my room when a black Mercedes pulled up next to the lorry carrying my household goods. A beefy man with a scowl on his face came out and made for me. “Who gave you access to this house?” he thundered in rage. “Your broker!” I returned with equal fire. He used a few choice invectives and made ready to grab my neck before restraining himself. He explained that the agency putting up the house had not commissioned anyone to act on their behalf and pointed out to me the numbers I should have called. There was a sign nailed on the first floor balcony with the numbers beneath a ‘Houses to Rent’ screamer. That was when the truth hit me like a ton of bricks. The ‘broker’ was an impostor and I had been conned. When the deal is too good, you must take the time to think twice! The Standard.
Posted on: Wed, 18 Jun 2014 07:16:30 +0000
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