I have to put it out there, this is not easy for me. I am not a reviewer, never have been but I can’t be sure about the future. It’s saddening even, to me and some of my earlier followers who remember, poignantly I hope, what this blog used to be about. Once, savvykenya described my blog as”a deep blog about deep issues.” I have to accept, grudgingly, that this is no longer the case and the ideas that used t0 flow smoothly in the fabric of this platform are no longer visible. I have no profound reason to justify this failure, no earth shattering justification for absconding on my previous duty to enlighten and challenge the minds of my reader. So I will continue along this shallow path that I find myself and I will pray, kneeling if need be, that I will not stray too far from the original road as to be forever lost in this strange jungle. Without further ado, lets get down to it.
Safaricom sevens was billed as being the biggest sporting event to hit the country this year. After the dismal performance of our Kenyan Olympic team, the country could do with some excitement and potentially, some much needed silver ware. But I’m sure everyone by now knows the performance of our team and the major powerhouses that visited our beautiful nation and stole what should have been left in our dusty trophy rooms. I shall not go there, I am not a sport commentator and neither I’m I a big fun of rugby. What I am and I’m sure I identify with most of you here, is an event addict, a socialite who thrives in the company of friends in any forum that relies on liquor as a conduit of enhancing friendship. A merry maker who can’t miss any opportunity to have fun and get intoxicated while engulfed in a blanket of camaraderie and shared interests. A bloke who can’t get enough of beautiful company;, for beauty makes a dull world colorful, a boring existence meaningful. So I dragged my tired a** to Nyayo on a hot Saturday afternoon not to witness brawny men fight for an eggy ball but to drink beer, chill with ma peeps and ogle at beautiful women parading in the stadium in the skimpy shorts and sun dresses. And I could not appreciate strange beauty without having to complement my beautiful friends, they even posed for a pic, vanity in Kenya is endless but charming in equal measure.
The place was so packed and after spending endless minutes walking, queuing and shoving my way past a sea of unruly humanity, I began my search for my friends or at least any nook where I could sit my tired a**. I am grateful for the free shuttle ride provided to ferry fans from the CBD to the stadium, but I am truly indignant about the blatant discrimination meted upon us regular ticket holders by the security and by safaricom in general. I had to walk for so long since the bus dropped us on the other side of the stadium which was presumably reserved for VIP ticket holders. It’s not an issue when event organizers cordon off parts of the stadium for VIPs but a whole road, its despicable to say the least. Fortunately I was able to trace my pals and sit down to enjoy my ice cold tuskers, which I had to pull some rugby manoeuvrings to purchase amidst the huge thirsty buyers at Zone 4.
I have to say the feeling of this rich broth sliding slowly down my parched throat was heavenly. Like an oasis in the Kalahari desert that soon appears just before the lost soldier, having ejected from his malfunctioning plane, dies of thirst. Beer in hand, a place to sit secured, it was time to watch the game or at least pretend too. But I was soon distracted by the bevy of beautiful women strutting their wares below and I soon lost interest in the game which I didn’t fathom anyway. This trend of ladies in skimpy shorts seems to be all the rage now if the number of ladies adorned in such are anything to go by. One of them caught my attention, very well endowed in the hips and bottom regions to the extent that the short she had on could hardly contain her goodies. What caught my attention isn’t her ample behind, or her bared midsection but rather her obvious tender age. How her parents lets such a young one strut out of the house wearing such clothes is beyond my comprehension. Come to think of it, most of the short clad ladies were not ladies at all, just young girls; lost and trying hard to appear all mature. Our moral fibre tears and wears out every day in this country, I’m scared of thinking what will become of our society in coming years.
Feeling a wave of dismay sweep over me due to such contemplations, I decided to pay more attention to my drinking and my affable friends. Agent C of course is no stranger to this blog and most of you know her better by now. She’s a regular at all events and the undisputed queen of controversy, fun and all kinds of crazy motivations. This day she was at it again doing what she does best, chatting incessantly, dancing and inspiring everyone around her to jump up and get jiggy and of course, taking pictures like she’s about to begin a photo museum.
Then there is the usual suspect gathoskie. One bloke who lives for the party, a bird of a similar feathering if you like, a party king or in the words of one, kelvin “tajiri mwenyewe.” He gets a tribute for sharing his stash of tusker cans and for his unending cheering for our team when they got int the field to make a fool of some neighboring country.
The usual crowd of lady friends, refer to the first pic above; as usual their company never disappoints and even sober, surprised me too, they made one interesting and wild bunch of fanatics. So Thacher, Shellie, Emma, Agent C, Agie, your unidentified friends, keep up the spirit; I salute you and may the spirit of fun forever dwell in you. I have to take this opportune to express my sincere and public apology for one Fridah for my purported failure to acknowledge her in any of my blog despite her ever lovely company and her services to the rest of the girls as a chauffeur in her sexy BMW. For my generous gesture here, I hope you’ll let me take the car for a spin one of these days.
The safaricom village was packed and after a tour with Emma, the beautiful lady with killer long legs on the first pic, it was time to head to town for the after party. The music at the village was okay and the grills were on point, though the chicken was a bit tasteless. After one last round with gathoskie and Nov, who was quite drunk by the way, we made our way to the city for a night of dancing and bonding. Our entire crowd met at galileos extreem in town where we partied till the wee hours of the morning. One of my friend G surprised his girlfriend with an engagement ring, the look in her face was worth the surprise. I’m not sure how many carats the diamond is but I’m sure I’ll get to know sooner than later. Such an act in an era of matrimonial cynicism is quite brave, all the best to the couple. For all you guys who attended, hope you had a blast, I did.