White Dance

   163    
2

Last Saturday night I was seated in a booth at Diani’s famed Shakattack nightclub. In the same booth slept Susan Wong because it must be so draining and exhausting to take and post pictures on Instagram. She lay curled there like a Chinese baby, wasting her wonderful grey dress in deep sleep. Next to her was a fashionista, Kendi Joy, not a strand of blonde natural hair out of place, seemingly fearful to stand and dance lest, God forbid, an offensive bead of perspiration should appear on her brow and ruin her bohemian ensemble. Then there was Anyiko Owoko bedecked in what seemed like maroon leather pants, legs as long as the road to Damascus. The deejay, her homie, a charismatic chap called Deejay Ken Mafioso, kept sending her shoutouts over songs: Anyiko this; Anyiko that; Anyiko in the house; Shout out to Anyiko from Nairooooobiiiiii. Eish, it felt like we had crashed her ruracio.

Seated right opposite me was Anthony Irari from Ghafla. When we were introducing ourselves the previous day he said, “I’m Anthony Irari from Ghafla.co.ke”just in case we confuse it with Ghafla.org. Or Ghafla.net. The thing with being in the same space with someone from Ghafla is that you can’t let loose. I wasn’t about to start dancing with him seated there looking for a story. At some point he asked me if he could buy me a drink and I said, “No thanks, maybe water?” I suspect he was trying to get me drunk so that I could dance with that hooker in a white dress then boom, a saucy header the next day. So I sat still and regarded him like you would an Improvised Explosive Device (IED).

Next to Irari was our host Richard Kimenyi from Hillpark Hotel Tiwi beach; uber hotelier with over four decades experience, now retired, lover of food and drinks (and buyer of them too hehe), a most fun and engaging man with delicate tastes. He had constantly threatened to show us a “cool move” before we arrived at the club and when he finally did it was, disappointingly, the “moon walk.” [Pause] To one of Davido’s songs. [Long Pause]. When he did that moonwalk the word “discotheque” suddenly made a lot of sense.  We were in a discotheque, something Nairobi lacks because a good number of Nairobians know more about how to drink than to dance.

Talking of dancing. Shakattack was full of white people. And when you sit in a club at 1am, sipping your bourbon, and watching white people dance, you question so much about life. Your life. You question everything actually. You sit and ask yourself; Who am I? Why am I here? Could I have been elsewhere tonight with less jumping going on? Is what I’m drinking what I ordered? Is that white guy convulsing and does he have a good medical cover? Does Resolution Health cover injuries caused on the dance floor as a result of being kneed in the groin by a “dancing” white guy? Is this space hazardous? How can a race be completely and utterly out of rhythm with a beat, any beat, and how can we, as Africans help? When you watch white people dance like I did in that club, it dawned on me with such blinding clarity why it’s called having “two left feet.”

Of course there is always that one white person with a black person trapped inside them; the one who dances like us and has mad moves. OK, not ati mad in comparison to our moves, but like amongst that un-rhythmic human sea of white thrashing, they stand out as actually respecting the alignment of the beats. Like this white girl I saw in a hippy skirt and Jesus sandals, her blonde hair tied at the back with a pale blue hairband. Oh she could move. I named her Olga in my head. She had that one style, like most of us really, but when she moved to that style it was fire.

Olga had friends who, naturally, were all out of sync on the dance floor; kicking and smashing and thrashing and fisting and jabbing and writhing. But not Olga. Olga swayed and thrust her hips, surfing effortlessly in this turbulent sea of white hysteria. I wanted to find out how Olga was socialised. Did she have black friends while growing up? Did she watch Good Times as a child? Did she sometimes talk to the black person in her? And feed her.

While Olga moved the earth, Wong slept.

Anyway, there was a moral to this story…yeah, my point is that when you watch white people dance, it makes you think about things in your life. For instance, Kimenyi had shown me a picture of his home on his phone; this cozy, leafy place with trees and shit and I wanted to ask him if he bought it cash or on mortgage or if he built it but it would have felt like too much. Then it made me think of those bank executives who used to call us for loans.

“Hi, I’m James something something, from Exe Bank.” (Not Exe the unga, but like the letter ‘X”)

“Yes, James, what’s up?”

“I was wondering if you have a minute to chat.”

“Actually you are in luck James I have one and a half minutes.”

“Haha. Thank you, Mr Jackson.”

“Call me Biko.”

“OK thank you Mr Biko,”

“No, just Biko.”

“OK, Biko. I wanted to introduce this exciting product that we have at the bank -”

“How exciting?”

“I’m sorry?”

“How exciting is this product on a scale of 1 to 10?”

[Pause]

“Uhm,…I don’t know, a 8?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, why?”

“Because you said you don’t know.”

[Chuckles] “I know. It’s a 8.”

“Do you still want to?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You said you “wanted to introduce me to this exciting product,” do you still want to or you changed your mind?”

“I still want to…”

“Oh great then, knock my hat off”

“So anyway, we have a loan facility…”

“I already have a loan.”

“Oh, with us?”

“Have you not checked to find out?”

“I…did…yeah…”

“Did you?”

“Yeah…yeah…I think -”

“How much loan did I take?”

“I…I don’t have those figures from the top of my….”

“I don’t have a loan James.”

[Long pause] “Oh…”

“I’m kidding.”

“Oh,” uncomfortable laughter. “So do you have a loan with us ooor… I’m confused.”

“I don’t know, do I?”

Then I sit there and listen to him control his breathing.

“Listen, James, do you have another exciting product?”

“What product are you looking for?”

“Something that is a 9.4 instead of an 8 because on a scale of excitement, 8 is really low for me, it now takes a lot to excite me since I stopped doing drugs…”

“Oh. Uhm, thanks for your time Mr Biko, have a wonderful -”

“Don’t go James…I was only…”

“I really have to go, have a wonderful afternoo…”

“James? Don’t go…”

“James, damn it!”

(Pause)

“James, are you there?”

“James?”

“Come back…”

“Please..”

Haha.

When I think of these callers, I picture some graduate from UoN, fresh from throwing stones at our cars, a wide-eyed boy stunned by the harsh reality of life, eking a living trying to get someone to take an unsecured loan and meeting jerkasses like myself on the phone who have time to waste.

Then the interest rates capping happened and they no longer call. And I miss them. I wonder what calls they make now, or if they were moved to different departments, or to new jobs that don’t involve calling people, or if they got babies or just one baby and life is taking off in whatever direction it may be taking off. I picture them coming into the job market and they are stunned at how cold it is, how you start with so little, do so much and you feel the worthless weight of your degree in your back pocket whenever you get a regret. You marvel at how the dreams you had for the job market now look so utopian with your 15,000-a month intern stipend. (Yes, you thought you were too important to be an intern. Well here you are.) You can hardly support yourself. You thought you’d drive your first car at 26 and buy your first house at 30, but now you are here at the bank, calling the likes of “Mr Jackson” and his drug problems. You are in the trenches where you are doing your time. Making your bones. You have to claw your way out of this hole because that’s what we have been put down here in this corporate hole to do; to claw yourself out, to be competitive, imaginative and resilient, and triumph. Then maybe you can buy a house, because isn’t that what everybody measures to know how well they are doing?

Talking of guys who buy homes. I went to see this guy’s newborn baby at Greenpark Estate, Superior Homes. Wait. That sentence sounds odd, ati I went to “see” this guy’s baby. That insinuates that I went to see if indeed the baby was his, or if there is a resemblance, or I went to see the baby over a little problem I had. Like going to see your uncle. Anyway, I think guys who live in Greenpark imagine that they live abroad, with their driveways and people standing in their green gardens with hosepipes watering their greens in their shorts while their kids linger on the streets with their bikes and skateboards and shit. This guy is one of those Greenpark people.

Because his baby was asleep, he took me to his backyard that had a swing (for him, I suspect, not the baby) and he told me that he liked the place because it was away from the hustle of the city, making the city sound like it had a constant loud noise and a smog of pollution that is unfit.

The Help brought me a juice. He said “you should get a house here.”

“I like the hustle of Nairobi.” I said, to mean I couldn’t afford it. Yet. I like how people with money  casually tell you stuff because they are so removed from it: Hey, why don’t you just get a Range Rover instead? Or, “You should take your kid to Braeburn, great foundation.

“Why do you like the city? It’s soo hectic.”

“It keeps me hungry.”

He laughed. “I can hook you up with the management, they’ll give you a good deal.”

“I know kina Angelica and the deal. I wrote about it on my blog last year,” I said, “Si the Buy Over Long Term deal where you fix the price and pay over a number of years before you are handed the big nice silver key upon full payment?”

“You wrote about it?”

“I did. On my blog, last year”

“You still write your blog?”

“Imagine that.”

The baby started crying (not because I still write my blog) and he ran inside, leaving me staring at his green lawn and a sprinkler that wasn’t on. I sipped my juice and marveled at how life happens; some people get babies at 22, others get babies at 50. Some get houses at 31, others buy houses at 45. Some people break their voice at 12, others never quite break their voices. Some people never even grow pubic hair. Or beards. (Like Magunga). Some sleep in clubs, others won’t dance. Some people die too young, others live too long. Some marry in gardens, while others divorce. Some turn gay, others don’t accept their sexuality. Others will never know how to raise a girl, while others don’t want to ever have kids. Yet some never really have to worry about making money because dad’s made bundle of it ages ago, yet, some never even met their dads.

But that’s life, isn’t it?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

2
163 Comments
  1. That phone call with James…I must try that with the insurance people who keep calling.

    Nice read, Biko.

    https://thispostisabout.wordpress.com

    3
  2. nice read. When I think of these callers, I picture some graduate from UoN, fresh from throwing stones at our cars, a wide-eyed boy stunned by the harsh reality of life, eking a living trying to get someone to take an unsecured loan and meeting jerkasses like myself on the phone who have time to waste.

  3. Yes Biko, life is complicated. Precisely the reason you should let Wong curl up and sleep. When you sleep, you forget its complexities albeit for an hour. Awesome, as usual.

  4. So a rich guy finds Magunga stuck on Mombasa road with a Toyota 110 head bent over the lifted bonnet (Never written the word bonnet anywhere else). This guy was Magunga’s highschool buddy. Magunga used to bully him (Magunga looks a bully because his peers in high school would have beards and he didn’t and so he’d most probably bully monos to assert his manliness). Anyway the guy stops to help and while Magunga sucks fuel from the sijui carburetor the guy quips, “Si you get a Mitsubishi Evo instead”. Magunga gulps and swallows some bitter fuel. He signs and looks at the guy indistinctly. He curses under his breathe. Fuck rich people. He tell the guy its alright, he will get an Evo next month. He keeps sucking on the thing.
    Nice read Biko.

    1
  5. You make my Tuesdays Biko. Such a nice read.

    I loved this part:
    some people get babies at 22, others get babies at 50. Some get houses at 31, others buy houses at 45. Some people break their voice at 12, others never quite break their voices. Some people never even grow pubic hair. Or beards. (Like Magunga). Some sleep in clubs, others won’t dance. Some people die too young, others live too long. Some marry in gardens, while others divorce. Some turn gay, others don’t accept their sexuality. Others will never know how to raise a girl, while others don’t want to ever have kids. Yet some never really have to worry about making money because dad’s made bundle of it ages ago, yet, some never even met their dads.

    Everyone runs his/her own race in Gods perfect timing. I cant wait for next Tuesday already

  6. Yes that’s life.
    We all have very different pathways. Some of us get to the highway, others have to clear a whole forest to even visualize their path.

  7. Bwahaha! Poor Wong, good for Olga!
    Good rambling story giving me a nice Tuesday laugh.
    Thanks Mr Jackson, sorry Mr Biko, Sorry Biko the recovering druggie!

  8. Best part for me in this story is this “I like the hustle of Nairobi.” I said, to mean I couldn’t afford it. Yet. I like how people with money casually tell you stuff because they are so removed from it: Hey, why don’t you just get a Range Rover instead? Or, “You should take your kid to Braeburn, great foundation.
    People with money expect you to consume certain stuff not forgetting you are on a different pay scale

    1. That did me too. I mean poor baby crying because Biko is been writing a blog for way too long. Time to hang boots Biko. Rugie and myself are did (Done) hohohoho

  9. Some people break their voice at 12, others never quite break their voices. Some people never even grow pubic hair. Or beards……LIFE!

  10. “…some people get babies at 22, others get babies at 50. Some get houses at 31, others buy houses at 45. Some people break their voice at 12, others never quite break their voices.”
    Wise words.. We are all not the same and thus our blessings will vary. If there is anything I have learnt in my few years of existence is to never compete with others or even compare myself with them. We all have different paths in life and we fail when we try to leave ours and take up someone else’e.

  11. Biko, there’s a psychotic (almost manic but never quite there) madness that is random and very intelligent to your writing. And its very refreshing.

  12. “Hey, why don’t you just get a Range Rover instead? Or, “You should take your kid to Braeburn, great foundation” haha

  13. Sometimes last year, my bank refused me a loan top up, just because I had made some late payments on the existing loan (I am never a good keeper of agreemnents anyway, what did they expect) . So now this girl calls me some days ago

    HER: I am purity, calling from N*** Bank, am i speaking to Reuben
    ME: No, Reuben just stepped out
    HER: ooh, could you let him know I called, and that I will,,,,
    ME: ooh, here he comes

    holds the mouthpiece,, coughs once, changes voice
    ME: This is reuben speaking
    HER: I am,,,,
    ME: I already know who you are, you are the one who called yesterday about the deliveries
    HER: No, that was not me
    ME: When are you people delivering my mattress?
    HER: What mattress,Sir. this is N*** Bank, Your loan payment is late, again
    ME: Exactly, and you were to deliver the mattress
    HER: But Sir. this is a bank, we dont deliver mattresses
    ME: You dont? Then get people who does it
    HER: Sir. I called about a loan facility you have with us
    ME: Thats what I am saying, I got the loan to buy a mattresses, and you people should deliver the mattress
    HER: You were promised a mattress?
    ME: Thats one thing I intent to buy with the money, do you want to know what else I want to buy with the money?
    HER: What?
    ME: A door knob, do you have those too?
    HER: Okay Sir. i will call you back tomorrow
    ME: Wait a min purity

    Purity

    Halloh

    1. Lol, let me love you Mwanaareginah, will you? Now Biko, do you see
      what you started? You’ll all be responsible for my ‘mort de rire’

  14. ” I sipped my juice and marveled at how life happens; some people get babies at 22, others get babies at 50. Some get houses at 31, others buy houses at 45. Some people break their voice at 12, others never quite break their voices. Some people never even grow pubic hair. Or beards. (Like Magunga). Some sleep in clubs, others won’t dance. Some people die too young, others live too long.

    Wow! This post was deep.
    I guess one just has to celebrate life, because even good health and breath in your lungs is a tremendous gift from God and shouldn’t be taken for granted. Like St Paul, you finally learnt to be content. You just wake up and keep trying, never giving up, hoping that tomorrow will be a better day.

    Hope this year I can break free and plunge into the world of being a digital nomad..being completely location independent, free to spend time in Brazil and when bored shift to a lodge in the Virunga mountains or swim with sharks in Singapore. Sigh. Ultimate dream. Until then we plod on.

  15. Have always wondered how it is that white people wiggle to some tune in their heads and never dance to the discotheque beats 🙂 Thank you for this piece!

  16. As long as the Road to Damascus… I don’t remember the length being mentioned in Sunday School
    Accepting the Rat Race with grace as per your “usual”

  17. heheeee…tagging my white friends
    “And when you sit in a club at 1am, sipping your bourbon, and watching white people dance, you question so much about life. Your life. You question everything actually. You sit and ask yourself; Who am I? Why am I here? Could I have been elsewhere tonight with less jumping going on? Is what I’m drinking what I ordered? Is that white guy convulsing and does he have a good medical cover? Does Resolution Health cover injuries caused on the dance floor as a result of being kneed in the groin by a “dancing” white guy? Is this space hazardous? How can a race be completely and utterly out of rhythm with a beat, any beat, and how can we, as Africans help? When you watch white people dance like I did in that club, it dawned on me with such blinding clarity why it’s called having “two left feet.”

  18. Very nice read. My favourite part is this >>> Some people get babies at 22, others get babies at 50. Some get houses at 31, others buy houses at 45. Some people break their voice at 12, others never quite break their voices. Some people never even grow pubic hair. Or beards. (Like Magunga). Some sleep in clubs, others won’t dance. Some people die too young, others live too long. Some marry in gardens, while others divorce. Some turn gay, others don’t accept their sexuality. Others will never know how to raise a girl, while others don’t want to ever have kids. Yet some never really have to worry about making money because dad’s made bundle of it ages ago, yet, some never even met their dads. <<<

  19. I love it…esp the IED part!…’and regarded him like you would an Improvised Explosive Device (IED)’.poor Ghafla dot c o guy

  20. different people, different paths, indeed we ought to celebrate life at whatever point we are at. Nice one Biko

  21. Thanks Biko for the hilarious piece. Now i cnt stop imagining white people dance.

    Talking of dancing. Shakattack was full of white people. And when you sit in a club at 1am, sipping your bourbon, and watching white people dance, you question so much about life. Your life. You question everything actually. You sit and ask yourself; Who am I? Why am I here? Could I have been elsewhere tonight with less jumping going on? Is what I’m drinking what I ordered? Is that white guy convulsing and does he have a good medical cover? Does Resolution Health cover injuries caused on the dance floor as a result of being kneed in the groin by a “dancing” white guy? Is this space hazardous? How can a race be completely and utterly out of rhythm with a beat, any beat, and how can we, as Africans help? When you watch white people dance like I did in that club, it dawned on me with such blinding clarity why it’s called having “two le

    1
  22. Yeah, that’s life. The courage to embrace our paths and appreciate it while looking at your neighbors’ and seeing nothing to send you into depression.

  23. Addictive read!!!!Tuesdays are made of Biko Appreciate where you are at in life. I sipped my juice and marveled at how life happens; some people get babies at 22, others get babies at 50. Some get houses at 31, others buy houses at 45. Some people break their voice at 12, others never quite break their voices. Some people never even grow pubic hair. Or beards. (Like Magunga). Some sleep in clubs, others won’t dance. Some people die too young, others live too long. Some marry in gardens, while others divorce. Some turn gay, others don’t accept their sexuality. Others will never know how to raise a girl, while others don’t want to ever have kids. Yet some never really have to worry about making money because dad’s made bundle of it ages ago, yet, some never even met their dads.

  24. I picture some graduate from UoN, fresh from throwing stones at our cars
    lol don’t know whether to laugh or cry at this

  25. Really nice and then this bit: “or I went to see the baby over a little problem I had. Like going to see your uncle”cracked me up. Looking forward to next week.

  26. Biko is that how you really talk on the phone or is that how you imagine the conversation had been after hanging up the phone hehehe Nice read started my February on a very interesting note

  27. Does Resolution Health cover injuries caused on the dance floor as a result of being kneed in the groin by a “dancing” white guy? Is this space hazardous? How can a race be completely and utterly out of rhythm with a beat, any beat, and how can we, as Africans help? When you watch white peop
    I will surely die from laughter, waah.
    Great piece, again.

  28. The phone conversation makes you a
    Real jackass! I would tell you to go to hell then end by calling you mr.jackson . always a nice read

    1. Those guys at the banks are just doing their job. Dont give them a hard time. Pay if you have to and let go of them if not interested with their products.. Trying to earn a salary at the end of the month. Love the conversation of those profile people though.#Why don’t you buy a range rover instead. Lol

  29. What’s going on Biko? I know this is your thing and thus you are the Commander-in-chief here but honestly it feels like you’re slacking off. This article is way too short. Reminded me of those action movies that I vowed never to waste my money on ever again because one shows up at the theatre and just as you think the movie is about to get interesting, it dies off. I’m sorry but this just ain’t right. Just as I was starting to get into it, it dies / died off. Why? I know writer’s block is real plus not much may have happened over the course of that night but I thought you would have delved further into your musings about life instead you reached the bridge to the climax and decided to abandon ship. Not very happy. Plus notice that the article is 90% active speech with MS Word spacing of what, 2 line breaks? Come on dude! #Copout.

    1. But that’s life, isn’t it? Some stories are too short while others may be too long. Once in a while it is okay to just enjoy what life gives you regardless of how small 🙂

  30. Hahaha Did she sometimes talk to the black person in her? Of course she does. Some of these whites can dance. Interested read day made.

  31. I have always thought white folks are the most self-aware people on earth. And when I see them dancing I reconsider. Maybe ignorance is also another facet of self-awareness. How can one be so consciously dance out of sync with a music tune, do it with a straight face and still have fun while at it? Someone ought to do a research on this.

    1
  32. Why would you make fun of an insurance sales agent or any sales agent? They are just trying to make an honest living. If an agent calls your cell and you are not interested, just say that. Dont make fun of them(NOT COOL), unless they somehow annoy you. I work with Jubilee insurance as an agent. Anyone interested can inbox me.

  33. I think the baby cried because you still write your blog….aki. Then that part about the bank’s saleperson, that is all of us after leaving UON, with our degrees that are not worthy to employers and I am that friend who is always being told to do things I can’t afford *sigh* and I am surprised you think interns get 15K, where is that? I interened at a bank where I was getting 5k (and all the donkey work) and another place where I was getting 8k (and I did ALL the work). Hook me up with this 15k place aki.

  34. Hey Zuluman,are you this entertaining in person? Would love to have a face to face with the never-ending forehead

  35. Aweosme piece Biko..
    The suspense at the end though. I wanted to hear about the baby, If it was really “his” ..

  36. hahaha i’ve been to shakatak, seen those white pple dancing out of rhythm and av always wondered if its in their genes not to dance to beats. and i couldn’t have said it any better.
    nice read Mr. Biko.. Oh sorry Biko

  37. Biko u r not going to enjoy prostate exams. Never.
    And cus i suspect u will doubt me
    iv had a cervical exam..DONE BY a NURSE!! And they are supposed to sexy as hell..
    But it was wierd to say the least..
    Fingers …….
    NOTHING!!!!

  38. My favorite line:
    How can a race be completely and utterly out of rhythm with a beat, any beat, and how can we, as Africans help?
    Haha

  39. Every time I read on of your pieces, I take a mental trip and see those characters you depict, like the banker and the mzungus on the dance floor. The entire scene becomes animated and the more I repeat the article. I get immersed into a totally different word seeing everyone as vividly as you saw them when you set to write. Thank you