Sometimes you desperately need a Friday’s plot and you cannot find one. Or you find yourself locked in a sucking one which makes you spit, curse and fart at regular intervals. One which makes you start beckoning your sweet bed when you can’t get it. Here you have to think fast. Scroll through your phonebook and if that fails check the beloved Twitter TL. If you are lucky enough you will bump in to someone with something crazy enough going on. And hell knows parties ought to be crazy. This is what happened to me on weekend.
So I was on the phone with my man Gijo. ‘Hey budah, wassup, Ambapo’ eh fika Jkuat Boys and one girl, we are multiplying girls in tens’. If you get that from a trusted buddy, better be on the next available mat, because you will jam to Asher Roth’s College till the morning. So I found my sorry ass in this institution of boys. I might have overstepped the truth there and embraced the lies but I can always correct that. It was actually some residential flat in the vicinity but some Juja boys lived there. An impromptu party was going on with the classic tag. Fika na mzinga. That is a mantra which makes a party rock till morning because the varieties will get everyone drunk.
There were some few chicks, well more than the boys. The one who defines my first character was Ireezy or something to that tune. Reminds me of Riley from Boondocks when he was yapping about his nigga Obeezy. ‘I hear that when my nigga Obeezy becomes the president the presidents Limo is gonna be crazy pimped up Cadillac now, with big spider rims, woofers with machine guns and lasers and I won’t even have to go to school……………’’ Ireezy is your typical chick wa mtaa, the chicks who make the party rock. Not afraid of the drinks and ready to hold silly and serious conversations as they come. I soon got to know she was a journalist just like me and the conversation flowed. And she was in to entertainment business too and our unit ‘Dark knight’ found a fifth member on that dark night in between cigarette smoke and beer fumes. Brilliant! Ireezy is a chick who isn’t afraid of the good old drink. She smokes like an angry train on its way to Uganda in the 19th century. She is in love with the cancer sticks. She did only one mistake when she realized I was a writer. She told me I was so drunk I could not remember anything come the next day. She dared me to write this post and it is for her. That’s for Ireezy, the hell raiser.
The next one is nameless. Well there were two or three like her so this is like a group description. The lukewarm type. The chics that huddle together as if plotting how to overthrow the government. They are neither in the party nor out. One moment she will be shaking her ass as if it is her last day on earth and the next she will be sitting on the couch disinterested in everything. She makes the mood foul, like she farted on your entrée. She smokes, a lot, the stops abruptly when her friend(s) stop. Pathetic. Well, I don’t smoke but I do know smoking is personal unlike singing in a muungano choir. I can bet my beer that come the next elections, lukewarm will vote for Kalonzo Musyoka, the water melon. She is also ready to concoct your drink. I got the feeling that she enjoys seeing people drunk and doing silly amazing stuff. She was always ready with the lemons and hot water to add to my glass which always has a lethal mixture.
The third one is the party pooper. She is simply out. Not out in the ‘black out’ context but out in the boring context. She is not drinking nor smoking but just there. As if you all are a bunch of actors in a theater and she is the audience. Approaching her only elicits some grunts and pushing. You ask her what is wrong she starts talking about a headache or a
dislocated tooth. Hell, why are you here. Just go to sleep. Parties are parties because of the fun and if you can’t have it you are completely misplaced or you are going mad or you are dying. You are simply out.
More descriptions coming soon….