Every Kenyan, whether a driver, pedestrian, hawker, or innocent bystander buying smokies, has encountered Kanjo at least once, or several times, in their life. While Kanjo is a lifestyle, it is also a source of national trauma for many and, occasionally, free exercise. Below are the ten most common species found roaming our cities, towns, and estates.

The extortionist

This is the most feared and most discussed species. This kanjo has already decided you are guilty of something. The offence is usually vague: “Hii gari iko na shida kidogo.” They do not shout or rush. They speak softly, like a pastor. Then comes the classic line: “Sasa tutafanya aje? Ongea vizuri, bwana.” 

When he visits your shop, prepare to part with “protection money”, even if you have a valid licence. At this point, your wallet starts sweating. The extortionist kanjo believes rules are flexible, especially when “tea” is involved. They are allergic to official receipts and deeply offended when you suggest going to the county office. Negotiation here is not optional; it is assumed.

The early morning ambush chap

He normally operates between 6:01am and 7:00am, when your brain is still buffering. He will hide behind trees, dustbins, or suspiciously parked lorries. You are half asleep, late for work, and suddenly, Whistle! Your heart rate jumps from zero to olympics. He typically feeds on panic and unfinished morning tea.

The fashion-conscious

Usually a lady, this one is always dripping. Fresh boots, crisp uniform, clean cap, and sometimes sunglasses. You almost admire her, until she calls for reinforcement to tow your car. She usually does not chase vehicles; vehicles submit willingly because, honestly, she looks innocent enough to arrest your confidence. 

 The negotiator

This is the smooth talker. The diplomat. The UN peacekeeper of kanjo. She will not shout. She will not threaten. She will simply say, “Boss, si tuongee?” Suddenly, you are in a philosophical debate about life, mistakes, and how “we can solve this matter amicably”. Whether legal or not, one thing is clear; she has been in the field long enough to master human psychology.

The marathon runner

This one deserves a medal. You start driving slowly, hoping he will give up. Wrong. He will run like rent is due tomorrow. Whistle in mouth, notebook flapping, rage in eyes. He will chase your car for four blocks, proving once and for all that Kenyan kanjos could represent us at the olympics, if the government ever becomes serious. 

Teamwork dudes

They usually operate in groups of five or more, like a well-trained pack of wolves. One whistles, one blocks the road, one writes tickets, one calls the tow truck, and one just watches for entertainment. Escaping this kanjo is impossible. Even your car keys feel intimidated. If you don’t agree with him by giving him his tea, his colleagues will appear from nowhere.

 The confused chap

This Kanjo is not entirely sure why you’re being arrested, but he is committed to the process. He will check  and recheck your  licence documents three times whether or not they have expired, ask for things you already gave them, then call another Kanjo for confirmation. You might even end up comforting them. At the end, both of you are tired, confused, and slightly hungry.

The lunch-break morio

After confiscating your item, this Kanjo exists, but is unavailable and plays hide and seek. You find him relaxing, laughing, or eating. When you finally get up with him, he will say, “Rudi after lunch.” Lunch, however, is a flexible concept that may extend until 4:30pm. Your problem waits; kanjo eats.

 The hawk-eyed fellow

Like a hawk, this Kanjo sees everything. Seatbelt slightly loose, overlapping or you dropped passengers on the wrong spot? Seen. Indicator blinked too late? Seen. Passenger sneezed without permission? Seen. He could spot a minor traffic offense from space and before long, he has boarded the driver’s cabin waiting for his “lunch”. NASA should honestly recruit them.

The ghost

This is the rarest and most mysterious type. She will never harass you. She is known to direct traffic politely. She will help pedestrians cross. She smiles and laughs. When you see her, you suspect you’re dreaming or suffering from dehydration. Most Kenyans do not believe this Kanjo exists, but legends say she appears once every leap year.