A blast from the past.

MEET THE WOLVES OF KABETE STREETS….

It’s a dark Monday evening. No lights. Darkness looming over the chilly environs of Kabete. Lovers in bed trying to affirm their quail egg myth, loaners curled up in the middle of nowhere and a number of other activities going on everywhere else .I can only understand the beasts. They’ve braced the weather; the marauding nature in them can’t allow the damn weather to dampen their spirits.

With much articulation and mutual understanding, volunteers procure wood from without, put up a fire at the famous Dunga and its roll and go at the uniting grounds…

First, it is a few individuals smoking, wining, facebooking  and all the lot with some melancholic type just staring on as the sparks gather momentum. Thirty minutes and you can trace virtually all the Kapenguria Hall residents at the gathering. Evidently enjoying the warmth or just being present. Some seasoned drunk comrade complains of the awkward silence and threatens to put out the fire. The grunts and giggles, awkward as well, give the impression that no one want to get out of the mystical feeling the Bonfire is generating. A few lonely or maybe just courageous fun loving lady comrades come peeping (it may as well be In search of ‘warmth’) at safe distances. But we are all safe here anyway.

As the muffled chats and giggles die down, the expected happens. The crowd loving politicians, amazing how they come to know of gatherings, come around to air their perceived impactful ideas on the electorate. First is some block J resident. Smart and confident carrying about an aura of self importance. He utters some verbal diarrhea and leaves. All the people can get from his poorly delivered speech is that he’s a module 2. “We want a kaquater to role our way. Not  empty talk from loose mouths .We protect our own dude!”

 Second on the unprogrammed list is another aspirant. Calm by nature but I guess the little cash with him stirs some unexploited potential that he thinks if  put into good use can add to his fortunes. He ‘speaks’ well amidst a few disturbances and totally squashes the crowd with a few bottles of sober drinks to make legends out of the already drunk boys. The teetotalers also have something to smile about as they each get a ‘Madiaba’- old-fashioned for that one big bottle that fills your bowels with gas. The aspirant leaves and the name sink. Washington.  Hope its not going to be a ‘wash wash’ affair signor Washington. These guys are damn unpredictable!

9.00pm. Dying embers and so are the hopes of many to continue enjoying the free flowing warmth of comradeship. Noise: whistles, much shouting and all that is ghostly can be heard. The source, some other pocket of goons led by the most distinguished HR manager (with a beverage name) and his ‘sons’. The elder son, a noisy lot utters unprintables to the crowd for ignorantly  watching the fire die out and threatens to  kick their fucking asses off but restores hope  by volunteering to “get more wood for these motherfuckers!”. True to his word, he comes moments later loaded with pieces of Timber and a lot of plastic. We gladly take in the hydrocarbons without saying a word. This is heat man; we don’t care what’s burning.  Hats, Plastics, beds , chairs people or Pants. We don’t care.

With no provocation whatsoever, the elder son starts throwing insults at whomever he thinks deserves them. The other baby faced son keeps close to his dad stick in mouth, bottle in hand…. “I keep my cool man. Me not a fucking nigger that pours shit on people. See?”

All this time, a couple of silent sponges and rodents have kept their word by remaining faithful to their drink and grass. The noisy son stirs them up by pulling a joke on the dress code of one. The self praising US raised nigger stops chewing, looks at his Timberland shoes and shakes his head probably wondering why the world is moving at such a slow pace. He resumes the cud chewing and again stares at his maroon office trousers and the rather grey shirt and shakes his head again. Truth just dawned on him, all his pieces of clothing aren’t matching! Who cares about fashion and dress codes anyway?

"Am a nigger of my own class. I do what I want; you got shit in between your ears man. I chew this stuff coz I don’t wanna sleep (hungry maybe). Get me more drink muthaf*!” he blubbers with a rather heavy Kamba accent. The crowd goes wild with such laughter that am afraid my eardrums will need special attention. A friend to the nigger, some Afro guy can’t let the moment pass. He narrates of how the  US raised nigger (a lover of Ugali) paid a visit to the local Poshomill at Mwimuto but got drunk along the way just to end up buying a sack of Mogoka totally forgetting everything about maize and milling. Here he is, hungry as hell. All he has to do is add more drink and herb juice in his already charred belly.

The HR manager wonders aloud how a panel of professors sat down for whooping hours and settled at enrolling such heads at one of the most prestigious University in Kenya.

 All that follows is a myriad of jokes thrown haphazardly. Ranging from how to use the toilet (a guy swore that no one sits on the damn things! We all step on them precariously. You hit the target and run to avoid the splash.) to how best to get good grades. Amazing how they can’t dare digress much from the mainstream-Academics. Academicians indeed!

As the uproar intensifies, some timid first years can be spotted in the midst. Probably trying to understand a Kabete gone mad. The actors run low on jokes and sarcasms. Am still to know where the idea came from but ‘Event organizers’ thought it a perfect opportunity to endorse one of their own. Talk of weight and weighty matters. Mzito for President. ‘Mzito apewe pahalI pazito’ is all that can be heard. The Njenga Karumes, Waititus, Wakolis and Atwolis of our time take it upon themselves to welcome the president address his people. The ones wild crowd now exhibits the quietness of angels. Am amazed so we all are sober? The President indeed speaks, just for formality, for his endorsement goes unopposed.

Truth be said, He’s a good guy-the kind of leader so rare to come by. Not in for power but comes to articulate issues. Focused and real, with no known personal interests. Who can say no to such a pearl? Mzito for campus REP. It is done.

Lots of love Bcom class of 2015, an amazing lot. I finally got what love UNITY means. God bless...