There is something always intriguing about banking transactions; there are times when the banks communicate very efficiently, especially when the customer is suspected of fraud.

But what happens when the bank suspects the other bank of less than transparent activities? They don't care, its none of their business; its between you and you bank. Period!

Sample this; last year, I got a Barclaycard, which is has helped me in some of those travels at the same time, I gave instructions of direct debit from my account at Family Bank.

Family bank received instructions of the direct debit and on five random occasions, about shs. 9,500 has left my account to pay my card.

One problem; the money has never been received on the side of Barclays, card section or otherwise. When I ask Family Bank, the manager says that the money left my account and was transfered to Barclays bank pursuant to the direct debit instructions.

I raised the issue with Family Bank Sonalux branch manager, Arthur Washe and he was adamant that the money went to Barclays though he could not provide the evidence. I tried to ask for the account and branch the money was transfered to but to no avail.

To be honest, I feel the manager has treated me so unfairly that I resolved to close that account come the new year. I had opened that account because the previous manager, Francesca, was my friend and I was tempted to ask for her help in determining where the money actually was transfered to; but Washe should give this info.

I raised the issues with Barclaycard and after supplying statements and explaining the issues to five different customer care agents, nothing doing. Barclays even ditched email and wrote a letter explaining that the direct debit was not activated.

Again, my question is; if the two banks have a problems tracing where the money is, why will they not talk to each other? Isn't it easier that way? I thought so, it would have made my work easier.

I wrote so many emails that Cynthia Kweya, a customer care rep at Barclays, decided to shove me from one agent to another and I have to explain over and over again and that is part of the reason I decided to write this post, at least I dont have to explain over and over again.

To any proper reasoning person, there should be no question, Family bank owes me the duty of care over my money and should explain where every cent was transfered to and which branch. That is what even the lawyers will tell you.

Just to understand how it goes, I spoke to a friend of mine from the anti banking fraud unit, who told me that an employee at Family bank could have transfered the money to a "suspense" account and from there the money can move anywhere.

That could be a fact supported by Barclays when they say that the money leaving my account was a fixed amount, and the card amount varies from month to month, which is true.

In short, Barclays was trying to tell me something fishy is going on at my bank. But they could not say it in so many words; just suggestions that I go back to my manager and try sort it out.

But when I emailed Arthur, the bank manager and introduced the fraudulent angle, he decided to ignore my emails. I agree that am a small customer who shs. 45,000 means a lot and therefore the manager may feel am wasting time.

So, am at a loss on what to do but I will ask my lawyer to do a demand letter and hopefully the manager will take his time and tell me where my money is.

Its so frustrating and I believe banking should not be frustrating and when it is, its a sign that its time to move on, but its not before I get my money. Where I come from there is one rule; thou shalt not leave your money, even the coins. Period.

Ends

There is no car-jacking or theft experience that can be termed as manageable or exciting or even better than another. Not when dealing with thugs who are wannabe drivers.

I have heard many stories of car-jackings and its very easy to give advice, fault the other or prepare yourself on what you could have done right. But the experiences are personal and dependent on so many other factors.

So, when the guy knocked my window with a gun and ordered me to turn off the engine, I knew my day had come. He then moved the the car in front and ordered the land lord the wife to lie on the floor. At this stage I had no doubt it would be a nasty experience.

The five minutes I sat in my car with the engine off but music playing seemed like eternity. I cant remember thinking of anything other than that I was sinking and was gulping water very fast and imagining what would happen.

Then another guy rushed, opened the door and ordered me to move to passenger seat. My seat belt was still on, so I asked whether I could touch it. He immediately reached for my phone; he knew where it was, though its not that hard to guess.

He reversed the car with so much gusto that I had no doubt he had been relishing the moment. Maybe he watches too many action movies.

Back in the compound, the guy with the gun had commandeered the other car and was now driving. Just like in the movies, he knocked two other cars when reversing, and in the process drew attention from other people in the flat.

When my neighbor on the second floor saw the guy with the gun and heard the shot, she started screaming, which created confusion and raised the attention of others in the other blocks. At this time, the thug in my car was growing agitated and was trying to call the other guy but could not get through or something like that.

When the guy directed the torch to the fuel tank and saw how "nice" it was, I could picture a crooked smile on his face and in my heart, I knew I was half past gone.

At this stage, I started thinking of how to conjure a story, that would convince the guy to dump me by the road side alive, and go with the car and whatever else was in it. But the commotion and confusion was too much, and the guy started talking to me.

Thug: Iha laptop (Wheres the laptop)?

Me: I nyumba no ngugirire (its in the house but I can get it for you)

Thug: Wina mbeca (got money)?

Me: O na ndakworwo nda heana iria nyuma na cio no ndina nini nyumba (just gave out what I had but got some in the house)?

At this time I was praying the guy does not see the bag at the back seat of the car and that he does not take me to the house because I had no money. I have a HP in my house that reached premature menopause so if push came to shove, I would have been happy to leave everything and just walk away.

It was looking like the incident was going to take hours as the guy with the gun started firing in the air and decided they were to leave with my land lord's car and everyone in it. So the thug in my car left and joined his comrade.

Meanwhile, neighbors in the other flat decided to block the way with one of the cars and although the thug drove at a break neck speed, he could not go far; their cage had been rattled and they had to run.

Back in my car, I was thinking how lucky we were; that the thugs did not decide to shoot at people but in the air. They fired four bullets but you just never know.

Then I was grateful to my neighbor for screaming and creating the confusion and rattling their cage somehow or disrupting their plans. At that point, anything looks like the ultimate help.

The funniest thing is that I usually go home between 9 and 10 pm; just the day I decided to be home by 7.30 pm, the thugs strike. There is so much to hypothesize but in the end, I just feel lucky that I am writing at this side of life, if they panicked and shot, maybe the story would have been different.

I am just luck I am writing today!

There are two things that 680 hotel is known for; insecurity and poor service; now I have a third; harassment.

About three years ago, a friend was visiting town and I recommended 680 hotel, but he lost his valuables, I later came to learn that if you want to be mugged or to lose your valuables, book at 680.

So, I disliked the place and hasn't been there since.

But when GG asked me to meet her there, I thought it was a good idea, they have a coffee shop down stairs; so I thought it was a good idea; I was wrong.

For some reason the watchman at 680 hotel waited till our meeting was done and before GG could even take ten steps, he came on to me and suggested that I move to another restaurant. He picked me out of a crowd and wondered why so I asked what rationale he had used.

I have never been hounded by a watchman at a Cafe; I would have expected that in one of those down town joints I frequent but not at a three star hotel in town.

The most annoying thing was the watchman started interfering with my laptop, grabbing it and in the meantime attracting some attention. I must have looked out of place, a hooker or something like that.

You can imagine GG at the stairs calling me wondering what was happening to me; 680 hotel has no internet and there is nothing that would have kept me idling there; its not my kind of place.

Anyway, so I went to the front office and talked to a guy called Patrick Kivoo, the manager or something like that. He started saying how there was break down of communication blabla...

From the experience, I understood why the hotel is so insecure; they have their priorities messed up; if you have rungu-wielding watchmen harassing customers, what do you expect?

Bit up to now, I have not understood what I did or did not do; I bought, no one said spend more and I didn't; but that was the first time I was embarrassed.

So much for big hotels....