A toast to the women of then...........

Before I start my post today, I need to tell Safaricom Limited that one message is enough to tell me that I have insufficient funds to send a message or make a call. Sending 10 messages to drive it home is just rubbing it on my face. Since this is the only place that I truly have a voice, I should use this forum to complain and hope that y'all share the same sentiments, otherwise am just a bore. But then again, it wouldn't come as a surprise coz my cousin has a way of letting me know that telling the same story over and over is kind of boring. His exact words about the blog were, roughly translated, “you talk too much. You mean to tell me that you sat somewhere alone, and since you don’t have anyone to talk to, you decide to start a blog?” But I digress.

It's Friday and am preparing for a typical loud weekend of indulgence (my typical loud weekend has evolved from club hopping to coffee and vodka and a couple friends) and reflecting. I just realized I have never really thanked the girls that came before for driving me towards vodka. In between emotions from, "It's not me it's you" through "Please take these feelings away from me, Lord God I pray," to "was I drunk this whole time?", a good bottle of vodka comes in handy. I know, I've being there once or twice, or a whole lot of times, but who cares about the numbers. In between reading advice columns, hanging out with your friends as they pamper your ego, telling you how "that bitch didn't deserve you", and drunk dialing, binge drinking is the only thing that we accept as a healer of broken hearts for real men. I say real men because Abraham Lincoln couldn’t be wrong when in his address to the Washington Temperance Society, Springfield, Illinois, on the 22^nd of February 1842, in his words, “If we take habitual drunkards as a class, their heads and their hearts will bear an advantageous comparison with those of any other class.  There seems ever to have been a proneness in the brilliant and warm-blooded to fall in to this vice.  The demon of intemperance ever seems to have delighted in sucking the blood of genius and generosity.” he could only be addressing real men, who drink. If you’re not a fan of Abraham Lincoln, you’ll accept Winston Churchill (one of the most important leaders in modern British and world history) confession that he has taken more from Alcohol than alcohol has taken from him.

Anyway, after the break ups, we live like gamblers, where we start with a beer at 10:00 in the morn without knowledge of where you’ll wake up tomorrow morn. This is after waking up in disastrous situations in the past but still hoping it will end up like that one night you woke up with a perfect 10, like throwing a dice on a high stakes table. We drink from bottles because glasses are for those who sip not those who drink because people who drink aim for the third beer. Not the first one, which the throat receives with almost tearful gratitude; nor the second, that confirms and extends the pleasure of the first. But the third, the one you drink because it's there, because it can't hurt, and because what difference does it make? If I sleep sober or drunk, she still won’t wake up next to her in the morning but with spontaneous acts after the devil harasses us, we seek the company of women or drink more, or joke and talk nonsense, or do some other merry thing. Sometimes we must drink more, sport, recreate ourselves, and even sin a little to spite the devil, so that we leave him no place for troubling our consciences with trifles. We are conquered if we try too conscientiously not to sin at all. So when the devil says to you: do not drink, answer him: I will drink, and right freely, just because you tell me not to. Again, I digress.

After the beers, three or four down the line, someone always comes up with the idea of keeping the spirits in given the widely accepted our bodies are temples. A bottle of vodka or as we like to call it, bottled poetry comes in hand, mostly after realizing double tots albeit chasing the beer quite well, are getting on the budget upside. This is where football talk kicks in. At this stage of the day, mid-afternoon in most cases, the honesty level is on the lower side because we are still disguised in sobriety.

At around three vodka bottles down, the advice start flowing. Someone will blubber about how drinking doesn’t help as they pour you a glass of vodka and explain how they’ve being there. Someone will tell you that you need to go find that new love and not waste anymore of your time thinking of someone no longer with you.  “Don't go wasting your life on the past, think positive and find that new girlfriend who will love only you, and make you happy. From now no more drinking a lot as it will also ruin your life, and no girl wants a boyfriend who drinks too much. So go find that new love and prove to yourself and others that you can be happy again with someone new. Go out today and if you see someone you like who is also single, go talk to her, but not about what’s happened, unless she asks. It’s okay to say you were cheated on, but to go into every detail can put another girl off. So now its your time to be happy again and love again. So don't sit there, get out and look around for a love who will treat you right”.

I think this is the point where we order the fourth bottle of vodka and laugh at the logic of the drunk who thinks that jumping from one relationship to another one while still sober is a good thing, we all know one needs to get wasted over and over again to heal broken hearts. Depending on where we are physically (drinking den of the day) anything goes from trying to woo a decent woman as you slur sweet nothings incomprehensible to either you or the new girl of your dreams sitting alone on the counter. 

We sip some more vodka and go Irish…..

All: Ohhhh, aye-dee-di-dee-di-dee-di-dee-di-dee-di!

Patrice: Once when I was celebratin'.

Aga: I went to bed.

Serge: I had too much to drink.

Caine: I woke up to an ugly head.

Patrice: She turned over.

Aga: And I saw her face.

Serge: I screamed in surprise.

Caine: And I sprayed her with mace!

All: Ohhhh, aye-dee-di-dee-di-dee-di-dee-di-dee-di!

Aga: I jumped round and ran away.

Serge: And put on all my clothes.

Caine: And then I ran from the house.

Patrice: I hit her, I do suppose.

Aga: But, she jumped right after me.

Serge: She got into her car.

Caine: She didn't get there.

Patrice: She looked like Jamie Farr.

All: Ohhhh, aye-dee-di-dee-di-dee-di-dee-di-dee-di!

Serge: Although she was so ugly.

Caine: I took her anyway.

Patrice: I used her to scare children away.

Aga: What the hey?

Serge: Boy, it really worked good.

Caine: I remember that day.

Patrice: That I took her to the dog park.

Aga: And said, what they hey.

All: Ohhhh, aye-dee-di-dee-di-dee-di-dee-di-dee-di!

Caine: I tried to forget it.

Patrice: I tried to drink a lot.

Aga: Because she was so ugly.

Serge: She needed an ink spot.

Caine: Then that day would come again.

Patrice: That I'd meet her.

Aga: I was so scared.

Serge: It looked like someone had beat her.

All: Ohhhh, aye-dee-di-dee-di-dee-di-dee-di-dee-di! 

  

And in the morning, we’ll wake up and do it all over again…..

"It's well to remember that there are five reasons for drinking: the arrival of a friend, one's present or future thirst, the excellence of the vodka, or any other reason". Break-ups fall under any other reason.

I gotta say that words of Toni Morrison, Martin Luther did me justice when I wrote this piece

Before I forget, y'all should swing by www.facebook.com/LinkArray and say wasup....

 

Saying goodbye

I will be leaving Lamu soon, it’s now official. Am not saying it’s a bad or a good thing because at this particular juncture, I honestly don’t know. There are probably better opportunities out there but nothing beats the good life, at least not in page 72 of this book of mine. I do have a book, more like a guide of how to live my life and although I haven’t put words to paper due to unavoidable circumstances namely frequent changes in principles depending on prevailing conditions and inability to prioritize the said principles. This means a few lines have being added, others deleted and today’s page 72 maybe tomorrows page one, and until a definite flow comes to mind, I’ll let it flex a little longer in my head.  Anyway, my dad thinks it will do me some good although am sure he likes the fact that I will be able to visit him more often now that I can’t use the excuse of distance from Nakuru anymore. Am not supposed to complain since I always wanted a busy station telling myself that am not challenged enough to really feel needed at my job in my current station, which totally brings to life the saying, be careful what you wish for.

Lamu, am going to miss this place. The food, friends, the people, the beach, and the friends some more. The parties too have being over the moon, including the full moon parties I’ve being a part of, the beach parties, and definitely the random house parties on gloomy Mondays. This place does not give you a chance to think about your woes tomorrow in a depressing way like the rest of this country does, the Lamu Tamu slogan says it all. As a student of this philosophy, I understand the concept of beer, drugs, girls, more beer, and lots more drugs....need I say more? Yeah, there is the leaving all your problems, drama, stress and everything that brings you down before you board that boat to this piece of paradise. The random parties at Matatas’ place, or Jay’s crib, or whoever decides that there is too much going on at Club Petleys for us to handle. Club Petleys, my stool at the counter of Club Petleys will definitely miss me; or rather I will definitely miss it. I have a few facebook notes credited to that stool at the far right hand corner of the counter with Carol, Nolan, Hulda, Yvonne or whoever happens to be serving me either a warm Tusker or double shots of Vodka making sure I feel at home.

Before the praising goes ahead, I’ll let you in on a little coast secret that I have come to understand and embrace. Coast is not made up of lazy people, it has a lazy environment. Procrastination is not optional, the environment requires you to. When you walk around the sea front and find grown men sitting on the barazas and sipping some “kahawa tungu” you do not have the right to judge them. You are also not allowed to understand how one can wake up at 0500 hrs for prayers and his business is never open before 0900 hrs, not until you live in this place for a while. You will wake up at 0500 hrs, turn on the T.V and just lay back for a little while waiting for the appropriate time to hit the shower, not realizing the rate at which time moves in this place. It only takes half an hour to move from 0600 hrs to 0830 hrs, and that is on a slow day. Don’t try and do the math because we never got the formulas too, we rarely do math but we do worry about it sometimes. Anyway, we never really procrastinate, time moves too fast and it’s already afternoon before you even start the days’ job, meaning as much as you wanted to beat that dead line, you can’t really work with the time left in the day.

Something else about this place is, it’s a small town and if you let the things that everyone talks about get to you, you won’t last for long without losing enough weight without justifying the finger pointing. You can take it as a negative but not us, we really have a problem with giving a fuck, President Bush kind of not giving a fuck was the only thing we or they learned from his presidency. As they say, the dead guys that people like to quote, if I don’t see you doing it, someone will tell me before I go to bed. That describes our little piece of paradise. What the dead guy forgot to let you know is the level at which Lamu people give a shit, Lamu people didn’t get the “giving a fuck” memo. The law too kind of skipped the area too, at least the ones that limit the fun. Mututho law leads the way with some of my fellow Lamu residents literally not having heard of the guy leave alone the law. Mary Jane has being banned from holding a session in 90% of this God’s masterpiece named earth; Lamu didn’t get the memo either. It’s a free world, it’s utopia in my twisted little world. (That was kinda too repetitive, but I really needed to drive the not giving a fuck point home)

Am going to miss Lamu productions, the beefs between the “rich bitches” (not coined by me), Winnie and Fridah has being, well, very interesting.  These are two women who can handle their own as far as money is concerned, but the difference is their income sources. Winnie married into money, an American marine came rolling with some very deep pockets, she got lucky. Her older sister had been in the game for much longer and got an even bigger fish, some white dude who owns a few clubs along the coast line, Mombasa, Malindi and Lamu, and she administers the Lamu branches. Together, they can literally hold a party hostage if they decide to, except at the one and only Club Petleys, DJ Feddy holding it down. DJ Feddy, the only DJ that fills up a dance floor on this side of the ocean.

Then there is Fridah, a self made “rich bitch”, holding down a well paying job, a few businesses, and a whole lot of ego. She carries the cool tag with all the girls rolling with her and the beach boys under her wing, most of them at least. I like her too coz she’s extremely generous with her liquor and as much as I try to deny it, liquor is my Achilles heel. The funny part is, these two “rich bitches” were best friends a couple of days ago until Winnie’s sister fell out with Mariam, and Fridah had to choose sides. She chose the fun side, like anyone else would, and now she has to prove to the Lamu world she’s the QB, which in this case doesn’t mean a quarterback. The drama has been so intriguing for the last couple of weeks, with Winnie and her click getting Fridah and her click charged in a court of law for public nuisance. Lola has being updating me on the goings on of this Lamu produced soap opera (better than cuandos sies mias). Jaguar should claim his dues since kigeugeu; his breakthrough hit has being the designated soundtrack for this gripping production.

GOING DOWN HAPPENING

The crew, my Lamu found family, Kama, Andy, Ticha, DJ Feddy, DJ Ibra, Were, James and my weed guys Lola, Mwenye and Nuhu have made this place an awesome experience. Matata currently in Amsterdam and his small bro Jay in Sydney with their everyday is a holiday policy knew just how to wash down the down side. Kama, should be an administrator of this blog, since he lets me browse for free in his cyber (he however has this ‘polite notice’, something about no free internet). DJ Feddy, all the entertainment, from the music on my iPod to the movies in my house, through the flawless sound at Club Petleys in conjunction with DJ Ibra, the dull moments have been minimal. My boy Were, you wouldn’t know he’s a doctor on first sight considering that doctors are expected to be some old boring men, and a few hot women, our go-to guy for medical advice and a few rounds of liquor. Andy, the manager of Petleys Landing, with all the free drinks, and free passes, I mean a beer is at Ksh. 180 and a double tot of vodka at Ksh. 200, he lets me sneak in with a little liquor every once in a while i.e. weekends. There are the nights we’ve  drowned the 1 liter Smirnoff vodka, throw in a KC after which we can’t account for the number of beer bottles that follow, get  ****ed...but definitely having a good time. I remember there was this one time I was seeing like 5 girls walk out of the bathroom (whether they were real or imaginary, we are yet to figure out) and I was just dumbfounded for like 5 minutes, wondering why the hell so many girls were in the bathroom. I vaguely remember telling some girl how beautiful she was over and over again. I was told I screamed out loud with my arms up "I W**T S*** P****!" That has yet to be proven and the witnesses were either coached or rather impaired at the time of this particular incident among other great memories created with this Lamu family.

TICHA PEEPING AT EM' GALS

Ticha and James are the oldest friends I have in Lamu. James was the first guy I met, he literally disapproves the theory of what you see is what you get. He’s older and not exactly the hip kind, looks portray him as a boring dude, but kid you not, he’s the funniest dude you’ve ever met, I mean I’ve ever met. He hasn’t been dealt the best cards in life, but it’s how he deals them back that totally make you understand, or wish you would understand how to make the simple pleasures of life count. You will lie to him, skip appointments, forget to call him, but he will forgive and forget over a drink, a meal, a spliff, or just a meaningless conversation. You will end up laughing about it.

Ticha knows every cave in this town. He has worked here for the last eight years; walking with him you’d think he’s the councilor or any other political figure. He knows pretty much every one and he’s not someone you want to walk with when you are in a rush. He is a fixer. Anything you want done, he’s your man. Being the coxswain of the office boat, it means he has access to that beauty anytime of the day, which is an added advantage if you need to criss cross the islands whether for work or pleasure.

WERE GOING DOWN

Lola and Mwenye, funny story how I met these dudes. These dudes always got some spliffs on them any day. There was this chic we used to smoke with every once in a while, Lucy, but on this particular day, none of us had some on us. Lucy knew Lola rarely rolls without a roll on him, probably coz they smoked together too when I wasn’t around. That’s how I met Lola. With Mwenye, it started with small favors, like get me some smokes, food, airtime, until one day we were drinking with this South African dude at the counter who wanted to know where he could get some of that. We ended up smoking three joints in a span of half an hour with him and Peter, the South African dude. Lola and Mwenye are a few of the people who ensure that my mind is stimulated whenever needed, and the best part, they do it for free. Nuhu too, a friend, workmate and an upstairs neighbor never disappoints either especially on Sunday afternoons when am not in the mood to go scouting.

Lamu, I will definitely miss this place. Hapa hapa restaurant, the best grilled chicken I have ever tasted in my entire life. When you are sitting on that table sipping on mango juice as they grill those breasts, wings, and the leg, all you can think off is how you will devour that piece of chicken laced with a lil cream and some things I have no idea what they call them but the taste, DAMN!!!!!! I am going to miss that big piece of chicken as I will that fish at lambada, grilled or deep fried. I could break it down to every restaurant I have ever feasted at but the point is, there is no food like Lamu food, home cooked (I do have friends who can cook) or otherwise.

The beauty of this place is compounded by the ocean. In Lamu, I saw the first sunset ever in my life. If ever I did before, it either never clicked or the site of this sunset did reboot my head disk. At the floating bar on a Sunday afternoon sipping on my warm Tusker and my feet dipped in the water, AMAZING is the only word that fits. The stars at midnight, literally shining down on you while you lie back on the beach, as the soft waves lightly brush your feet. AMAZING!!!

At some point, every one has to move on, and every one includes me too. Nobody says you have to like it, but as the dead guys keep telling us (wish they would just shut up); the only thing that’s guaranteed is change, or something along those lines. I might as well accept that the good times and our little affair with this place had to come to an end at some point. We had fun when we were, and I know for sure we will have a fling or a quickie in the future. Until then, goodbye my love.

THE BOYS BY THE SEA