I left home with the intention of giving a little Christmas present to those who could really get some happiness from me.So I dressed up as Santa Claus, just a backcombed beard and hat really, and went to one of Nairobi's poorest neighborhoods.
On an obligatory stretch of bumpy road, between a tin kiosk painted in Rastafarian colors, debris from a building under eternal construction, and a drainage ditch clogged with garbage, I stopped the first people I met.
Some of them I didn't even have to stop; they came to me.

The first was a young man of about 15 or so. He wore a Manchester City shirt and on his head was a felted woolen hat with a fuzzy pom-pom.
On his neck was a scar as of a burn and in his somewhat veiled eyes, purple veins like electric shocks moving pupils that were all too viscous and cunning.
I asked him what he wished for Christmas.
"An Oppo smartphone," he told me.
"Why Oppo specifically?" I asked him.
"Because it sells better," he replied.
"I mean, do you want an Oppo as a gift and then sell it?"
"I usually steal them, if you give it as a gift I'll do it faster."
It doesn't make a wrinkle, it's not just the pupils that are smart.

"So it's the money you need, not the phone"
"Yes"
"And with the money what do you buy?"
"I don't buy, I take it to my mother. She takes most of it to run the family and leaves me some change."
"And what do you do with the change?"
"I buy a 25ml bottle of brandy and drink it with friends."
"What time do you start drinking?"
"If I steal in the morning, when people go to work, I start early. But it's easier to assault people at sunset."

"So if I buy you a bottle of brandy, do I make you happy?"
"No, I need the brandy to brag to friends and to gain courage to steal another cell phone."
"Do you specialize in cell phones?"
"I have my own techniques by now."
"In my opinion it makes you happier to bring money to your mother"
"If happiness is gratitude, maybe so"
"Let's go to your mom then."

The second was a little girl, about the same age.
A child's graceful face, lips already painted vulgarly and a nose piercing.
She would not stop.
"I want to give you a Christmas present."

She brought a hand in front of her mouth to disguise a nascent smile.
She said nothing, but stopped.
"What would make you happy for Christmas?"
She looked at me, shy and silent.
From her hair, which was little more than clean-shaven, came an intense scent of lavender Vaseline.
From the lapel of her flowered blouse, smelled dust and mildew.
"Is there anything?" I insisted.

"Money."
"What would you do with money?"
"I buy tampons."
"Is that what you desire?"
"That's what I need. If I don't have tampons, I'm forced to use rags that I have to wash all the time, and if I can't find enough, I have to put them back on me wet. Tampons are not given to me by anyone except motorcycle drivers who offer them to me in exchange for intercourse."
"I give you tampons then."
"As in you want to fuck me too, Santa?"