Seeing as it has been a long time, I think it's time for a flash back post.
And the crowd goes yaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This weekend my sister and a pal wanted us to go clubbing with them but I declined. This is because most clubs in the States don't do anything for me. First of all there is the pretentiousness, dress codes, snotty bouncers, high cost of everything (water for $10) and the fact that there are very few diverse joints esp since this is the South. It's either predominantly black, white, brown or yellow. Add to the fact that if you did read Chatterly's post about Kenyan bashes, once you go for one Kenyan bash you have gone for them all; little changes.
Anyway I was remembering how the club scene used to rock in Kenya. So much so that people would do anything to get cash to go clubbing. I once recall taking pal to the local shopping center to sell tons of newspapers, another pal once went to the extent of selling a gas cylinder (that still had gas in it!). It was hustle hard or stay at home and listen to Saturday Night Show, DJ Adrian or whatever plays on Saturday night in your neck of the woods.
Then of course during times of poverty there was the mandatory visit to the locals before going to Carni and the other expensive clubs. In the old broke days if you met someone sober drinking beer in an expensive club it meant one of two things, they were driving or they were in the money. Yes that was true Kenyans for you, chaps walking into the club only one beer away from being totally wasted. It was also amazing the thorough budgeting people used to do to go clubbing. I had a pal who had a budget that was so well done to the cent that was needed to buy the quarter chicken at Topaz in the morning. Needless to say one day he was distraught when a chic prevailed upon him to buy her a drink, thus destroying his budget for that night; but since it was for a good cause we were more than willing to bail him out. Talking about early morning meals, is Big City in The Mall (Westlands) still open? That place had the best fried fish ever, for that hour at least.
Anway what is a flashback about the rave without me including one about my nefarious pals. You see I had this pal, let's call him Mike. Mike's pal John decided to have a bash in his house and invited him and other dudes. So you see this bash turned out to be a bull party aka sausage fest. So what happened is that one John decided to liven up the bash by going to the local red light district aka K-street to pick up some women of easy virtue to liven up the bash. Needless to say as the hard liqour, weed and easy women checked in the party was on and popping. So in the morning what happens is that Mike wakes up from the black out to find that most of the other guys have left leaving him and Mike who was waking up. Well it seems to hangover that was a result of hard liqour, weed and possibly rauncy sex didn't do much for John's mood, so he grabbed a panga and threatened to slash anyone who was left in the house when he was done counting to ten. So my pal Mike and the girls run out of the house. Needless to say the only thing my pal could do at this point in time was to go home. So he got into the next matatu and the girls (or should I say h...?) jump in with him. Well you see this was one of those large suburbs where you had to take one matatu from within the estate to get to the bus stop and another one to get to town. So while in the matatu going to the bus stop the girls begin telling him, how they slept with the other dudes (John included) and how they were not given any money, so Mike should do the right thing and foot the bill. Of course this was a thinly veiled threat because the 3 girls were more than willing to start raising hell if he wasnt going to pay up. And there is nothing as humiliating as one man being accused of not paying members of the world's second oldest proffesion for their trade in the open air. So being as slick as he is Mike demurred and said he would hook them up, so he laid back and pretended to be dozing. What the girls didn't know was that Mike lived in the neighbourhood, so as the matatu slowed down to navigate round a pothole he opened the door and jumped out running.
It took a split second for the girls to notice, but they jumped out, pulled up their already skimpy hemlines and chased after him. But you see Mike was smarter than these girls knew because he knew where he was. He was pals with the caretaker of an empty house that was in that neighbourhood and knew the gate was open. So when he ran to the house, opened the gate and quickly shut it. The caretaker was shocked by the sudden intrusion but as soon as Mike stopped hyper ventilating he told the caretaker that there was this group of women that was trying to rob him and that he should shut the gate and disown his presence if asked. Mike sat on the grass and kept quiet and a few minutes later heard the group of girls passing outside the house wondering aloud where Mike had gone. He spent two hours in the empty house just to make sure that the coast was clear and then walked to his house which was 10 minutes away.
Moral Of The Story
Always Ask For Your Pay Upfront or Always Be Ready For Drama.
If you have any fun club/party related adventures feel free to share!
Oppa Kenyan Style
1 day ago