ChezaCash Sportsbook App

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Chezacash Kenya

Chezacash is very comprehensive and popular bookie in Kenya. They are popular due to the best odds offered in the market.

Best Sports K. Ltd. runs ChezaCash as an online betting platform in Kenya. The BCLB (Betting Control & Licensing Board) has licensed this betting platform under license number 801.

The bооkmаkеr is еxсludеntlу аvаilаblе tо Kеnуаn bеttоrs, thеrеfоrе оffеring рауmеnt mеthоds оnlу in Kеnуаn Shilling (KES).

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• Attractive welcome bonus
• Very high odds
• Optimized mobile betting
• 24/7 customer care
• Mobile money payment methods
• Limited payment method available
• No native app
• No live streaming

Chezacash quick facts

• Established: 2020
• Licences: licensed by BCLB (Betting Control & Licensing Board)
• Located: Kenya
• Security: SSL encryption
• Registered customers: > 50,000
• Odd payout: approx. 95%
• Chezacash welcome bonus Kenya: 100% up to 10,000 KES as a free bet
• Website address Chezacash Kenya: www.chezacash.com

Similarly, bettors can withdraw their winnings online.

Open an Account – Two Ways to Register

You can open a new account in two ways at ChezaCash, and both of them are quick and hassles free.

Register Online

The steps to register online are as follows:

1. Click on the red Register tab on the top right of the website.
2. Enter your mobile number and click on the OK button.
3. Input your personal information on the next page.
4. Select “Create Account” to setup your new account.
5. You will receive an SMS confirmation.
6. Once you receive the confirmation, you can log in to your newly created gaming account and start betting on your favorite sports.

Register Through SMS

There are just four steps to registering through SMS:

1. Visit ChezaCash.com on your mobile device and read its terms & conditions.
2. Send an SMS to 29030 with the message “WIN.”
3. You will receive a confirmation SMS with your username, PIN, password, and ChezaCash’s paybill number 290030.
4. Log in to your account using the PIN you received via SMS.

Chezacash is a bookmaker operating under the authorization of the BCLB (Betting Control and Licensing Board of Kenya) in accordance with the Betting, Lotteries and Gaming Act, Cap 131, Laws of Kenya under License number: 801. The company accepts live and pre-match online sports bets, offers bonuses for series of bets and registration, and provides match and league statistics. Customers can win a jackpot of KES 2 million simply by predicting the results of seven games. The currency used for depositing funds and withdrawing profit is the Kenyan shilling (KES). This is also the currency used to place bets.

Promotions: What to expect from Chezacash

Kenyan players can find the “Promo” tab on the homepage. After clicking the button, the Chezacash site switches to a page showing any current bonus offers. What can be expected?

1. Karibu Bonus. This bonus is available to new users who make a deposit of a minimum of KES 200. They must stake this amount on the sports betting website on a single bet with minimum odds of 2.5 or an accumulator of at least five selections with minimum odds of 2.0 per event. If successful, they could receive up to KES 10,000 for sports bets.
2. Deposit Bonus. This bonus is offered to customers who have topped up their account (deposited funds). Kenyan players can get a free bet worth KES 30. To be eligible for this, they need to top up their account with a minimum of KES 200 and place an accumulator on five games with minimum odds of 1.5. If successful, they could expect to receive up to KES 10,000. However, it is important to place bets that meet the requirements!
3. Bet Sare Bonus. This bonus offer is available to those with both existing and new user accounts. In simple terms, a customer receives the promotional amount when they stake KES 50 on five bets.
4. Vuta Friend Bonus. This “refer a friend” promotion earns customers a KES 30 deposit top-up.
5. Multibet Bonus. This bonus offered by the betting company involves a refund of some of the money lost on unsuccessful accumulator bets.

Kenyan players value the bookmaker’s bonus offers. However, before agreeing to the terms of a promotion, it is worth reviewing the conditions for receiving money.

https://foreverslot521.tumblr.com/post/653229164600737792/pie-factory-fruit-machine. Acumen Communications Limited owns mCHEZA fully and it’s licensed and regulated by the Betting Control and Licensing Board (BCLB) of Kenya, license 833. BCLB was established by the Betting, Lotteries and Gaming Act, Cap 131, Laws of Kenya.

On a rainy day in October, Ippolit Matveyevich, in his silver star-spangled waistcoat and without a jacket, was working busily in Ivanopulo’s room. He was working at the windowsill, since there still was no table in the room. The smooth operator had been commissioned to paint a large number of address plates for various housing co-operatives. The stencilling of the plates had been passed on to Vorobyaninov, while Ostap, for almost the whole of the month since their return to Moscow, had cruised round the area of the October Station looking with incredible avidity for clues to the last chair, which undoubtedly contained Madame Petukhov’s jewels. Wrinkling his brow, Ippolit Matveyevich stencilled away at the iron plates. During the six months of the jewel race he had lost certain of his habits.
At night Ippolit Matveyevich dreamed about mountain ridges adorned with weird transparents, Iznurenkov, who hovered in front of him, shaking his brown thighs, boats that capsized, people who drowned, bricks falling out of the sky, and ground that heaved and poured smoke into his eyes.
Ostap had not observed the change in Vorobyaninov, for he was with him every day. Ippolit Matveyevich, however, had changed in a remarkable way. Even his gait was different; the expression of his eyes had become wild and his long moustache was no longer parallel to the earth’s surface, but drooped almost vertically, like that of an aged cat.
He had also altered inwardly. He had developed determination and cruelty, which were traits of character unknown to him before. Three episodes had gradually brought out these streaks in him: the miraculous escape from the hard fists of the Vasyuki enthusiasts, his debut in the field of begging in the Flower Garden at Pyatigorsk, and, finally, the earthquake, since which Ippolit Matveyevich had become somewhat unhinged and harboured a secret loathing for his partner.
Ippolit Matveyevich had recently been seized by the strongest suspicions. He was afraid that Ostap would open the chair without him and make off with the treasure, abandoning him to his own fate. He did not dare voice these suspicions, knowing Ostap’s strong arm and iron will. But each day, as he sat at the window scraping off surplus paint with an old, jagged razor, Ippolit Matveyevich wondered. Every day he feared that Ostap would not come back and that he, a former marshal of the nobility, would die of starvation under some wet Moscow wall.
Ostap nevertheless returned each evening, though he never brought any good news. His energy and good spirits were inexhaustible. Hope never deserted him for a moment.
There was a sound of running footsteps in the corridor and someone crashed into the cabinet; the plywood door flew open with the ease of a page turned by the wind, and in the doorway stood the smooth operator. His clothes were soaked, and his cheeks glowed like apples. He was panting. ‘Ippolit Matveyevich!’ he shouted. ‘Ippolit Matveyevich!’ Vorobyaninov was startled. Never before had the technical adviser called him by his first two names. Then he cottoned on… .
‘It’s there?’ he gasped.
‘You’re dead right, it’s there, Pussy. Damn you.’
‘Don’t shout. Everyone will hear.’
‘That’s right, they might hear,’ whispered Ostap. ‘It’s there, Pussy, and if you want, I can show it to you right away. It’s in the railway-workers’ club, a new one. It was opened yesterday. How did I find it? Was it child’s play? It was singularly difficult. A stroke of genius, brilliantly carried through to the end. An ancient adventure. In a word, first rate!’
Without waiting for Ippolit Matveyevich to pull on his jacket, Ostap ran to the corridor. Vorobyaninov joined him on the landing. Excitedly shooting questions at one another, they both hurried along the wet streets to Kalanchev Square. They did not even think of taking a tram.
‘You’re dressed like a navvy,’ said Ostap jubilantly. ‘Who goes about like that, Pussy? You should have starched underwear, silk socks, and, of course, a top hat. There’s something noble about your face. Tell me, were you really a marshal of the nobility?’
Pointing out the chair, which was standing in the chess-room, and looked a perfectly normal Hambs chair, although it contained such untold wealth, Ostap pulled Ippolit Matveyevich into the corridor. There was no one about. Ostap went up to a window that had not yet been sealed for the winter and drew back the bolts on both sets of frames.
‘Through this window,’ he said, ‘we can easily get into the club at any time of the night. Remember, Pussy, the third window from the front entrance.’
For a while longer the friends wandered about the club, pretending to be railway-union representatives, and were more and more amazed by the splendid halls and rooms.
‘If I had played the match in Vasyuki,’ said Ostap, ‘sitting on a chair like this, I wouldn’t have lost a single game. My enthusiasm would have prevented it. Anyway, let’s go, old man. I have twenty-five roubles. We ought to have a glass of beer and relax before our nocturnal visitation. The idea of beer doesn’t shock you, does it, marshal? No harm. Tomorrow you can lap up champagne in unlimited quantities.’
By the time they emerged from the beer-hall, Bender was thoroughly enjoying himself and made taunting remarks at the passers-by. He embraced the slightly tipsy Ippolit Matveyevich round the shoulders and said lovingly:
‘You’re an extremely nice old man, Pussy, but I’m not going to give you more than ten per cent. Honestly, I’m not. What would you want with all that money? ’
‘What do you mean, what would I want?’ Ippolit Matveyevich seethed with rage.
Ostap laughed heartily and rubbed his cheek against his partner’s wet sleeve.
‘Well, what would you buy, Pussy? You haven’t any imagination. Honestly, fifteen thousand is more than enough for you. You’ll soon die, you’re so old. You don’t need any money at all. You know, Pussy, I don’t think I’ll give you anything. I don’t want to spoil you. I’ll take you on as a secretary, Pussy my lad. What do you say? Forty roubles a month and all your grub. You get work clothes, tips, and national health. Well, is it a deal?’
Ippolit Matveyevich tore his arm free and quickly walked ahead. Jokes like that exasperated him. Ostap caught him up at the entrance to the little pink house. ‘Are you really mad at me?’ asked Ostap. ‘I was only joking. You’ll get your three per cent. Honestly, three per cent is all you need, Pussy.’
Ippolit Matveyevich sullenly entered the room. ‘Well, Pussy, take three per cent.’ Ostap was having fun. ‘Come on, take three. Anyone else would. You don’t have any rooms to rent. It’s a blessing Ivanopulo has gone to Tver for a whole year. Anyway, come and be my valet… an easy job.’
Seeing that Ippolit Matveyevich could not be baited, Ostap yawned sweetly, stretched himself, almost touching the ceiling as he filled his broad chest with air, and said:
‘Well, friend, make your pockets ready. We’ll go to the club just before dawn. That’s the best time. The watchmen are asleep, having sweet dreams, for which they get fired without severance pay. In the meantime, chum, I advise you to have a nap.’
Ostap stretched himself out on the three chairs, acquired from different corners of Moscow, and said, as he dozed off:
‘Or my valet … a decent salary. No, I was joking… . The hearing’s continued. Things are moving, gentlemen of the jury.’
Those were the smooth operator’s last words. He fell into a deep, refreshing sleep, untroubled by dreams.
Ippolit Matveyevich went out into the street. He was full of desperation and cold fury. The moon hopped about among the banks of c
loud. The wet railings of the houses glistened greasily. In the street the flickering gas lamps were encircled by halos of moisture. A drunk was being thrown out of the Eagle beer-hall. He began bawling. Ippolit Matveyevich frowned and went back inside. His one wish was to finish the whole business as soon as possible.
He went back into the room, looked grimly at the sleeping Ostap, wiped his pince-nez and took up the razor from the window sill. There were still some dried scales of oil paint on its jagged edge. He put the razor in his pocket, walked past Ostap again, without looking at him, but listening to his breathing, and then went out into the corridor. It was dark and sleepy out there. Everyone had evidently gone to bed. In the pitch darkness of the corridor Ippolit Matveyevich suddenly smiled in the most evil way, and felt the skin creep on his forehead. To test this new sensation he smiled again. He suddenly remembered a boy at school who had been able to move his ears.
Ippolit Matveyevich went as far as the stairs and listened carefully. There was no one there. From the street came the drumming of a carthorse’s hooves, intentionally loud and clear as though someone was counting on an abacus. As stealthily as a cat, the marshal went back into the room, removed twenty-five roubles and the pair of pliers from Ostap’s jacket hanging on the back of a chair, put on his own yachting cap, and again listened intently.
Ostap was sleeping quietly. His nose and lungs were working perfectly, smoothly inhaling and exhaling air. A brawny arm hung down to the floor. Conscious of the second-long pulses in his temple, Ippolit Matveyevich slowly rolled up his right sleeve above the elbow and bound a wafer-patterned towel around his bare arm; he stepped back to the door, took the razor out of his pocket, and gauging the position of the furniture in the room turned the switch. The light went out, but the room was still lit by a bluish aquarium-like light from the street lamps.
‘So much the better,’ whispered Ippolit Matveyevich.
He approached the back of the chair and, drawing back his hand with the razor, plunged the blade slantways into Ostap’s throat, pulled it out, and jumped backward towards the wall. The smooth operator gave a gurgle like a kitchen sink sucking down the last water. Ippolit Matveyevich managed to avoid being splashed with blood. Wiping the wall with his jacket, he stole towards the blue door, and for a brief moment looked back at Ostap. His body had arched twice and slumped against the backs of the chairs. The light from the street moved across a black puddle forming on the floor.
What is that puddle? wondered Vorobyaninov. Oh, yes, it’s blood. Comrade Bender is dead.
He unwound the slightly stained towel, threw it aside, carefully put the razor on the floor, and left, closing the door quietly.
Finding himself in the street, Vorobyaninov scowled and, muttering ‘The jewels are all mine, not just six per cent,’ went off to Kalanchev Square.
He stopped at the third window from the front entrance to the railway club. The mirrorlike windows of the new club shone pearl-grey in the approaching dawn. Through the damp air came the muffled voices of goods trains. Ippolit Matveyevich nimbly scrambled on to the ledge, pushed the frames, and silently dropped into the corridor.
Finding his way without difficulty through the grey pre-dawn halls of the club, he reached the chess-room and went over to the chair, bumping his head on a portrait of Lasker hanging on the wall. He was in no hurry. There was no point in it. No one was after him. Grossmeister Bender was asleep for ever in the little pink house.
Ippolit Matveyevich sat down on the floor, gripped the chair between his sinewy legs, and with the coolness of a dentist, began extracting the tacks, not missing a single one. His work was complete at the sixty-second tack. The English chintz and canvas lay loosely on top of the stuffing.
He had only to lift them to see the caskets, boxes, and cases containing the precious stones.
Straight into a car, thought Ippolit Matveyevich, who had learned the facts of life from the smooth operator, then to the station, and on to the Polish frontier. For a small gem they should get me across, then …
And desiring to find out as soon as possible what would happen then, Ippolit Matveyevich pulled away the covering from the chair. Before his eyes were springs, beautiful English springs, and stuffing, wonderful pre-war stuffing, the like of which you never see nowadays. But there was nothing else in the chair. Ippolit Matveyevich mechanically turned the chair inside out and sat for a whole hour clutching it between his legs and repeating in a dull voice:
‘Why isn’t there anything there? It can’t be right. It can’t be.’ It was almost light when Vorobyaninov, leaving everything as it was in the chess-room and forgetting the pliers and his yachting cap with the gold insignia of a non-existent yacht club, crawled tired, heavy and unobserved through the window into the street.
‘It can’t be right,’ he kept repeating, having walked a block away. ‘It can’t be right.’
Then he returned to the club and began wandering up and down by the large windows, mouthing the words: ‘It can’t be right. It can’t be.’
From time to time he let out a shriek and seized hold of his head, wet from the morning mist. Remembering the events of that night, he shook his dishevelled grey hair. The excitement of the jewels was too much for him; he had withered in five minutes. ‘There’s all kinds come here!’ said a voice by his ear,
He saw in front of him a watchman in canvas work-clothes and poor quality boots. He was very old and evidently friendly.
‘They keep comin’,’ said the old man politely, tired of his nocturnal solitude. ‘And you, comrade, are interested. That’s right. Our club’s kind of unusual.’
Ippolit Matveyevich looked ruefully at the red-cheeked old man.
‘Yes, sir,’ said the old man, ‘a very unusual club; there ain’t another like it.’
‘And what’s so unusual about it?’ asked Ippolit Matveyevich, trying to gather his wits.
The little old man beamed at Vorobyaninov. The story of the unusual club seemed to please him, and he liked to retell it.
‘Well, it’s like this,’ began the old man, ‘I’ve been a watchman here for more’n ten years, and nothing like that ever happened. Listen, soldier boy! Well, there used to be a club here, you know the one, for workers in the first transportation division. I used to be the watchman. A no-good club it was. They heated and heated and couldn’t do anythin’. Then Comrade Krasilnikov comes to me and asks, ‘Where’s all that firewood goin’?’ Did he think I was eatin’ it or somethin’? Comrade Krasilnikov had a job with that club, he did. They asked for five years’ credit for a new club, but I don’t know what became of it. They didn’t allow the credit. Then, in the spring, Comrade Krasilnikov bought a new chair for the stage, a good soft’n.’
With his whole body close to the watchman’s, Ippolit Matveyevich listened. He was only half conscious, as the watchman, cackling with laughter, told how he had once clambered on to the chair to put in a new bulb and missed his footing.
‘I slipped off the chair and the coverin’ was torn off. So I look round and see bits of glass and beads on a string come pouring out.’
‘Beads?’ repeated Ippolit Matveyevich.
‘Beads!’ hooted the old man with delight. ‘And I look, soldier boy, and there are all sorts of little boxes. I didn’t touch ’em. I went straight to Comrade Krasilnikov and reported it. And that’s what I told the committee afterwards. I didn’t touch the boxes, I didn’t. And a good thing I didn’t, soldier boy. Because jewellery w
as found in ’em, hidden by the bourgeois… .’
‘Where are the jewels?’ cried the marshal.
‘Where, where?’ the watchman imitated him. ‘Here they are, soldier boy, use your imagination! Here they are.’
‘Where?’
‘Here they are!’ cried the ruddy-faced old man, enjoying the effect. ‘Wipe your eyes. The club was built with them, soldier boy. You see? It’s the club. Central heating, draughts with timing-clocks, a buffet, theatre; you aren’t allowed inside in your galoshes.’
Ippolit Matveyevich stiffened and, without moving, ran his eyes over the ledges.
So that was where it was. Madame Petukhov’s treasure. There. All of it. A hundred and fifty thousand roubles, zero zero kopeks, as Ostap Suleiman Bertha Maria Bender used to say.
The jewels had turned into a solid frontage of glass and ferroconcrete floors. Cool gymnasiums had been made from the pearls. The diamond diadem had become a theatre-auditorium with a revolving stage; the ruby pendants had grown into chandeliers; the serpent bracelets had been transformed into a beautiful library, and the clasp had metamorphosed into a creche, a glider workshop, a chess and billiards room.
The treasures remained; it had been preserved and had even grown. It could be touched with the hand, though not taken away. It had gone into the service of new people. Ippolit Matveyevich felt the granite facing. The coldness of the stone penetrated deep into his heart.
And he gave a cry.
It was an insane, impassioned wild cry-the cry of a vixen shot through the body-it flew into the centre of the square, streaked under the bridge, and, rebuffed everywhere by the sounds of the waking city, began fading and died away in a moment. A marvellous autumn morning slipped from the wet roof-tops into the Moscow streets. The city set off on its daily routine.

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Whenever a player has deposited Kes 250 and placed a multiple bet of games exceeding 5 with the individual bets odds exceeding 1.5, they qualify for an extra 75 shillings worth of stake. This can only be used within thirty days from the day it was won.

Bonuses and promos

1.entry bonus(dubbed ‘karibu’)

Once a player gets registered, they qualify for 75% of what they initially staked provided the minimum amount they place a bet with is Kes 200 and odds not less than 2.5. This bonus is also legible when a punter puts a wager of five or more games in a multibet where each game has odds that are less than 2.

2.Depositing bonus

Whenever a player has deposited Kes 250 and placed a multiple bet of games exceeding 5 with the individual bets odds exceeding 1.5, they qualify for an extra 75 shillings worth of stake. This can only be used within thirty days from the day it was won.

3.Free bets

If a player happens to place 5 different bets with the lowest amount being 50 shillings in each individual bet and with odds not exceeding 2.5 for every match, they qualify for 75 shillings to be used in future bets. The highest amount that can be won from this bonus is ten thousand shillings.

The sportsbook also has other promos apart from the welcome offer. They include:

Mobile Sports Betting

ChezaCash offers a high-quality mobile experience to its users. The company understands that most of its users place bets via mobile gadgets because of convenience. Although the sportsbook doesn’t have a mobile app, the mobile website is excellent and offers a fantastic betting experience.

ChezaCash is highly responsive on different gadgets. You’ll get an excellent betting platform on your iOS gadget. Whether you’re using an iPhone, MacBook, or iPad, the website loads seamlessly across all these devices. Bettors only need to enter the site’s URL on their favorite browser and start betting.

If you’re using an Android smartphone, the ChezaCash website will load seamlessly too. The website is highly optimized to provide a betting experience similar to the desktop version.

Placing bets and checking how your bets are progressing is easy. You don’t have to deal with a complex website that takes a long time to load. You can save your login details on the browser to make signing in more effortless when you place bets and check balance.