Dirty Dancing

I remember very well in my childhood that I danced in public. I was about eight years old when a neighbor had a wedding for his daughter. Loud speakers and a D.J. Were brought in the afternoon for the open disco. We danced. My age mates and I had taken complete control of the Swahili shade known as chandarua. I had seen Michael Jackson dance so many times on T.V. And I was doing exactly what I saw him do. I think I was good. And I think the girls dancing and those watching from the seats noticed.

Maybe I was preoccupied by studies or chores after that big day, but it took me a long time after to even think of dancing. I lost it, then I began to hate it because whenever my mum organized a birthday party for me, she would finally ask me to dance in front of the guests. It was so embarrassing because I could not execute even the simple moves. I hated birthdays after that. And to date, I have grown to dislike the culture not only because of dancing, but it doesn't make sense celebrating growing old to senility, amongst other reasons.

We had a farewell dance on our last night at the dormitory in our secondary school. Still, I could only watch my friends while sitting on my bed. Others were good, and others jumped to reggae tunes because its a genre that does not require much. Post secondary school was the period that I was introduced to music clubs. My best friend got invited by their tenant who worked at Florida-2000. He asked me to go with him, and there, I saw guys our age who danced like they were on a competition. Boys and girls dancing as couples and others separate. Girls looked beautiful in their expensive tiny wears.

Some people take dancing as an exercise. They don't care if they look weird how they throw hands and legs in the air out of sync. Some love it, they would do it happily even without a partner. But to some, its a kind of a bait. Its a means of getting girls, whether one night stands or girlfriends to be. A beautiful girl is an accessory, pride to a man.

The next club I entered was SPARKLES in Eldoret. It was small in size, on the first floor of some building on a street in town. I walked around people and never cared knowing that the disco lights got me all covered up. Some family friends came for a holiday from Germany and the young boys and girls decided to spend the night at Mamba International. This was my first time seeing a state of the art Discotheque. It was the first one in east Africa that had a projector and music videos could be watched. Beautifully designed spaces with lights and accessories.

I like music. And I like dancing though I retired long ago from it. I couldn't miss A.S.K. showground every year because I had to be at OMEGA disco. They had the loudest of speakers and most loved since people flocked in thousands. It was here that I met a beautiful dancing girl. She had plaited her hair and wore a blue jeans and a white top. Three men were dancing around her. I halted my crowd rounds and immediately started shaking my body slowly. I tried not to show much because there were no colored lights to hide into. The other guys were good and as they went round they gave space for movements and moving in closer to the girl. After an hour I gave up. I kept having her in my thoughts at bedtime many nights after that. I didn't know her name or where she lived.

Taarabu became popular after that. Not because it was new. But in the olden days, only ladies danced under the shade. Nowadays, men get into the crowd of dancing ladies to show their skills and try their luck. I had become tired of just watching and one night I stood to dance my usual slow moves. I tried to keep up with the rhythm but one girl completely shattered my confidence when she told me dancing was not for me and the moves I make, I had better join aerobics clubs or fitness exercises clubs where they dance carelessly.

On one August holiday, I visited my friends in Nairobi who were staying at Imara Daima estate. On one mid week night they took me to City Cabanas, to enjoy some music and have dinner. I saw a man dance very well that night. He didn't have a female partner and he danced just because he felt like it. He moved like he had no bones. He didn't seem to use a lot of energy. He turned and made wonderful foot-works on the dance floor. He was enjoying his dancing, and I liked it. My friend told me he was their neighbor and introduced him to me after he came to the seats. I didn't waste time and immediately asked him if he could show me how to lift my legs freely and not like they were tied to logs. And my arms to stiffen out as any good dancer would. I had only six days to return back to Mombasa so I used every opportunity of free time he got.

Many guys had started to frequent Pirates beach on Sundays. It was usually very crowded so those who wanted a place to seat and some music had to pay and get into one of the beach clubs. It was either G'10s or SURFSIDE. I chose the latter and ordered a Sprite which I drank slowly on the corner table. To the left I could watch amateur swimmers playing with the sea waves. To the right it was bolds and beautifuls showing how sexy they look when they twist and turn their bodies to the music. A lady who seemed familiar came to my table and asked me to dance with her. I took about half a minute thinking about it then I stood up. The D.J. Had just started playing “Why me lord.” by Shaggy and I couldn't resist holding the cutey by her behinds. Whats your name? Florence, She answered. We met last year at Omega. I remembered her now. Her hair was left loose, combed to the back. Same pretty face. And I got a very sexy scent of perfume from her. I grind my abdomen to her waist as per how the song beats dictated. She was alright, and she could really dance. All eyes on us.

At around 10 we had to say good bye and this time she gave me her number. She was staying in Kiembeni estate and was waiting for an invitation to join campus. After a fortnight, I called her to ask if she could join me to Tudor Paradise. At this point, I had chosen my favorite music would be the one that allows close contact. I liked to feel the girl whom I'm dancing with. At Tudor paradise, it was Rhumba. Bango, and Mzee Ngala himself was singing. She came early and after the first round of drinks, we were on the floor. Florence's body was built for dancing. And I liked to think it was built for me to hold. She was slim, wide chest, slimmer at her waist and bulging beneath on her hips then slimming again. I held her close to my waist while dancing to the Bango tunes. She was light in moving and very agreeing to the calculated pulls.

We danced, retreated to our table for drinks and rest. Then danced, then rested then back to the floor again. It seems we both loved Rhumba and being close to each other. Mzee Ngala was singing “Ulidhani nitakufa, ukanikimbia. Kumbe mwenzangu ni nyoka, huna mazowea......” at three in the morning and I was holding Florence tighter than before. I looked into her eyes and she shifted them down shyly. It was so good having her on my chest. I could feel love moving from her body to mine. I thought this was the girl I was meant to be with. I should hold her and never let go. I smelled her hair and I looked into her eyes again. Her eyes emitted love, and I went for her lips. But she turned and I got her cheek. I did not loose hope. I knew a kiss would relay my fabulous feelings for her. Everything. I waited for a perfect moment and went for her lips again. She bent her head downwards then rose it. Then she cleared it out for me:- I don't have romantic feelings for you, I just love to dance. I'm sorry. She said this softly and continued staying on my hold and grip. And we danced in each other's embrace Until the break of dawn.

Of blind dates and arranged marriages.

On my third year in secondary school, my uncle, father's cousin came to visit us. He came from the land where my paternal grandpa was from, Comoros. He was a big man there, served the government there in various capacities. And he was a dual citizen of France and Comoros. After he returned back, my mum and dad sat me and asked me if I would like to marry my uncle's first born daughter, after school. I said No without hesitation. Its obvious uncle liked me so much but I had not seen his daughter. Obviously she spoke Comorian and French while I speak English and Swahili. But the most important reason that had weight at that time to me was, Parents choosing a marriage partner for you was so outdated and evil. I believed two people should meet, be friends then fall in love before getting married.

Along the Coast of East Africa, its a widespread Norm for aunts, uncles and family friends to fix marriages. When you are fed up with the chase, just talk to your aunt and she will find a good husband or wife for you.

That is for the older generation. Now we have fix ups and blind dates. A time reaches when you got all this love under your chest and the ones you want to give seem disinterested. You long for intimacy. And most importantly, age is catching up with you and the normal thing is to have a partner which you can travel life with, raise children and grow old in their arms. Is it a crazy thing, yes. Does it work, Yes too, most of the time. When two people are serious on love and have it to give sincerely, then the time they have known each other is irrelevant. They will get to know each other as they go along and be just and reasonable in their differences. We got couples who met on social networks nowadays, so many. Some work out and some don't, but its just the same as marriages that build up through other means.

Personally, I have had many people....Correction, Many girls come into my inbox while some call to ask if I knew anyone who is interested in marrying, 'them'. Some hit on me, and some say they have a good match for me. Pictures have been sent. But others conceal them lest they die of shame if you rejected them. But its crazy, how do you expect me to be attracted if you hide yourself?

Anyway, there are too many out there looking for love. But they wont show their desperation. To date, only one Male came to me asking if I could find a girl for him to marry. But he was weird. I thought it was purely unconditional but he had preferences. That the girl should not be taller than him, religious, fair colored, beautiful and must have curly long hair.

The year 2003 was both my lucky and unlucky year, I got employed in one of the biggest marine operators and ships service in Africa. After a long hustle with temporary jobs, finally patience and prayers were paying off. But again, this was the time my mum was pressuring me about getting married. Whenever we met, stories were your uncle's daughter is mature now. Your aunt's daughter is beautiful, she suits you. Or My friend's daughter is a good girl. She even sent other relatives to talk to me but I wasn't ready about the marriage thing. I had big dreams ahead, I wanted to focus on my career and the limit for me with girls was just flirting in hang outs. While other parents force partners to their kids, and act hostile on their kid's chosen lovers, my mum didn't seem to care which girl I will bring home. Until to date, I have not seen her choosy on the daughter in law thing. She is always nice and doesn't give a hard time to any girl I bring home. Maybe she trusts my judgment. But maybe she just wants me to be married, to whoever. That's a big deal to her.

That was the year my friend, Frank, fixed me up with his coworker, Umazi, at the Safaricom dealers outlet opposite Bima Towers. He nagged for a long time and I had a feeling my mum talked him into that. So Friday night I was at ROCKWALL waiting for the date. Just a formality, to silence him. Maybe she is hideous, maybe she wears spectacles, maybe she sleeps around too much, I thought. But I was wrong. The girl who said hi and sat on my table had an electrifying smile. Her hair was done neatly to accent her cute baby face. I saw a beautiful line up of a set of teeth that day. I replied hello and pretentiously cleared my throat as I stole a glance at her perky bosom. Blind dates are a good thing. We gruntled over the thick Indian bread and spiced roasted chicken. She was fun, and a real georgette.

I saw her off to her car after the dinner. I offered to drive with her to her place but she declined. Anyway, she let me peck her on the lips before driving off. The next day I passed by their outlet to say Hi to her and thank my friend Frank. That night, I told Frank that I'm already in love. He looked at my eyes sadly and told me its not gonna work. Forget her, he said. Why? We had such a good time. He then explained to me that Umazi said she doesn't like guys who are a little overweight. And so it was a heartbreak before it started. I had laid my guard down concerning preemptive evil cupid strategy. I slept it off for a week but it was still there. It was true, I was truly in love. But with one who doesn't love me back. Keeping myself busy with extra work at the office and many movies at home didn't succeed in shaking off my thoughts on this elusive romance.

After a month, Frank offered a trip to the countryside as a way to take my mind off the disappointment. We Crossed over Likoni Ferry and at Kombani we took the Kwale route. Just before we reached Kwale, we took a left on a murram road in an area known as Vuga. And we drove for about fifteen Kilometers. On the way we passed baboons playing on a dense tree forest. There must be Big snakes here, i said. Yeah, Frank replied as we crossed over a small stream to climb a fourth hill I counted from Vuga. Have you been here before? I asked. Yeah. This area is Tingeti. When I was having trouble winning my Mama Karisa, I came to meet a “traditional artist” here and I'm happy now.

Now I knew exactly why he had brought me here . I told him that I don't believe in witchcraft. I consider witch-doctors as lazy con-men who scare people at night so that they can be worshiped. We stopped in front of a thatched round mud house and he got out. I refused to get out and showed him that I was angry at him. He got in and came out with an old man wearing only a piece of black cloth on his waist down and a feathery head gear. He greeted me and started saying things about me. You were born at night, You are a good person, you will become president sixteen years from now, your heart is broken,...i stopped him and said I'm not interested. Don't be shy my son, he replied. I will will fix everything up for you. He disappeared in his hut and came out with two men and women carrying Kayambas. They started singing and dancing while chanting strange words in their Duruma language. They went round the car while Professor, as the traditional doctor called himself threw greenish liquid to the car and me.

After half an hour, they stopped. He gave me a pill and told me to swallow. I looked at it and put it in my wallet. Then he said One thousand shillings. What for? I asked. He said it would have been five hundred if we brought a cock. I told him I'm not giving him any money. He stared at me for about a minute, took a good look at my expensive wear and the car. Then said, because I had refused some procedures for the love to work, the gods have decided I will not get the girl I wanted. Then he said the gods have said I should take his daughter, one of those girls who were dancing, and make her my wife. She opened the back door of our car and called, Dama get in here. From today, Ahmedinho will be your husband. It sounded funny at first but then I knew he was serious.

Frank gave him one thousand shillings and bowed to him in respect then came to sit behind the steering. I said stop. Then I turned to the girl at the back. Hey, I don't love you. This is all a mistake. Please get out so that we can leave. The girl smiled and shook her shoulders to sign that she wont get down. She was smiling happily at me and said “Wewe ni bwanangu, nakupenda.” She sounded ridiculous and stupid. Frank started the engine and off we were returning back. I was so mad. I asked Frank if he was really my friend and had decided to ruin my life. There was no way a Witch doctor's daughter will be forced on me to wife. He smiled. And I began getting scared. I thought of my friends and family back in town. I would be a laughing stock. And this girl was clinging to me like a leech.

I told Frank to stop by a shop not far from where we came from. Complained about thirst, and that we should drink sodas. I asked Frank to let me drive back, which he accepted suspiciously. We went to the shop, except Dama who preferred to remain in the car. I told frank that when we get to Mombasa, I would tell his wife that Dama is his rural sweetheart and he has brought him in town in the pretext that she is my wife. I told him he better have a room ready prepared for his second wife in his house because there was no way I will admit her in my apartment. The ball is in your court. From the look I saw in his face, I knew I had gotten to him.

I finished my soda and went to the car. “for the last time girl, get out and return to your home.” I told Dama. She was still stubborn. I held her arm and began pulling her out. She gave out a girlish cry but that did not deter me. After a minutes of thinking about consequences of the girl in town, Frank came to help me get the girl out of the car. We dropped her down. She was crying and kicking her legs like a small child. We locked our car doors and sped off to Vuga, then to Likoni on our way back home in Ratna Square. Finally a relief. I asked myself what would have happened had the girl reached home? What if my mum welcomed her and treated her as well as a wife? What if, what if....ah its a good thing that I wont deal with that. I smiled at the day's adventure as I inhaled salty humid air while in M.v. Harambee ferry crossing back to Mombasa island.

Games we play

Gone are the days when I would knock a girl down during school games. Not that I despised them, but for liking them. Somehow these girls didn't notice that you were attracted to them. I must say I'm not alone in this. Most of us, boys, would use the tact of making a girl uncomfortable when we wanted them. I don't know who came up with this not so efficient trick of winning a girl.

It's always a problem when one knows the other likes him/her while they don't. Some would not encourage it to prevent a heart being hurt, but some decide to have their own fun. While I was still living in Kisauni, Mlaleo. During my lower primary days, There were two beautiful neighbors who were sisters. Older than me, and I liked them. One day me and my friend Selemani were passing by the back door of their house on our way to Bismillahi-shop when they called me. I responded. It felt good and flattering those days to be talking to beauties. They handed me something, told me to close my hand. And I was not to open until I reach my parents. They knew I would be curious and when I opened a little to take a peek after some few steps away, it was a snake! I jumped up and screamed and cried while running away from the scary creature. Everyone around was laughing at me. One of them came to pick their plastic snake and I felt really embarrassed. They said sorry but I hated them. But I liked them too because they were beautiful big girls.

At the beginning of maturity, funny was an important element to have. It gives you an edge over your peers. Combine that with soft pranks and the mastery to puppeteer the opposite sex, you become the master guru. We started to frequent the Kenya national library while in form 3. Maybe to read, but most of us went to have our chances with the schoolgirls. There was this one who thought it would be a good idea to give me something and demanded that I fold my hand. I declined. I didn't want to be the subject of a clever trick again. But after so much insistence saying its a gift, I accepted. The round table was surrounded by my other schoolmates. After opening my hand, it was a big-G. Hahaha so funny. But I didn't like it.

So this girl thinks she is clever? I had to get back at her. There was a kind of secret mail service in our school since girls and boys did not sit in the same classrooms. I put my gift on the addressed envelope and during break time, went to the Matron's place where boys and girls crossed paths. I gave it to one girl to deliver it to her. I must say, I didn't get the much expected satisfaction from that because I don't know if she opened it privately or in public, neither did I get to see the reaction on her face when she pulled out the half pack Orbit chewing gum from the envelope.

After high school, we had a girl who knew it all in our neighborhood. Her name was Vicky, or Victoria. She managed to attract friendship from most boys and girls around. Me included. She was easy going and talkative. And in one of our Sunday peer getaways, she made a joke about my big tummy that made all our friends burst into a convulsive laughter. I looked straight in her eyes and said in my heart, she doesn't know me. I didn't complain, but pretended to be nice to her afterwards. Then the day came when I asked her out and she accepted. On the planned night, she didn't see me on the dinner table. She got Jack Makokha, a not so neat boring childish adult from the next estate whom I promised a free meal and a beautiful girl. I managed to hide in the food store and I enjoyed watching how irritated she was by Jack and how horrible the date was.

There was a time a friend would send a center number which when saved on our Nokia 3310s settings, we were able to send free sms. This usually happened at night for some few hours with Safaricom network. We were restless and I didn't have new girls. And sending sms to random numbers didn't seem like a good idea because a guy or a grandmother might receive it. So we stole numbers from our cousins phones. I remember a very touching sms I got from Katwas.com which had a database of very sweet short messages. It read:-

On a silent night,

when friends are few.

I close my eyes,

and think of you.

A silent night,

a silent tear,

a silent wish you were here.

The message always got a reply considering the time, after late night movie, when I sent it. Who are you or wrong number had well crafted responses from me. One recipient was moved and we continued sms chatting for long until we met at Haller park. One was a neighbor that I had a crush on. After some weeks I had to send her annoying messages because she pretended to be holy and witty. But after a year I made sure she accepted my apology before showing myself up to her. Another was an ex-girlfriend. She fell for it. Whenever she called I changed my voice and later I told her my phone's mouthpiece had a problem. I had a special sim card for these kind of jobs. She couldnt believe it at last when she met her secret admirer in Mombasa beach where we walked and fooled around a bit. Another one was so romantic and nice. We continued chatting for long and whenever she brought up the idea of meeting I rejected. I don't remember how it ended between me and her but after many months, she called me while at the airport on her way overseas for studies. Later I understood that these sweet chats had real effects on some of them. Some have fragile hearts, they fall in love and later hearts broken. So I decided to be an adult. No more games.

It was at this time Vicky came back to my life. Or I returned back to hers because I went to apologize in hope of mending the past. She became a good friend after that. We flirted, went to movies and Sunday funcapades. I began to like her again. No pranks this time and I coughed my heart out to her. After two weeks she accepted and gave me one of the most sensual romantic kisses I have ever had. Her birthday was coming up and since her parents were in Ushago, she asked me if I would spend the night with her. I knew what it meant and I was excited.

July first is here. And Tonight is the night. I shaved, took my best clothes to the dry cleaners and at dawn I took her to town where we had a private dinner at The Mombasa club. Yes I had some money though I was still living with my parents. I couldn't afford to move out since the first contract jobs you get after high school are not well paying and stable. We had chips and chicken and Passion juice. And by 9 we were on our way back.

At a quarter to ten we were in her house. We kissed as she led me to her bedroom. Then she said she liked it adventurous. I had already removed my t-shirt so she pulled my trousers down too. She asked me if I had watched adult movies and knew some bedventures. I said yes with shy frightened eyes. She took control. Pulled out a rope from the cupboard and tied my hands on the bed. As she played a blues song, I was sure this will be a night to remember. I had a sexy wild girl who will pleasure me in ways I haven't even dreamt of. I want to slather your entire body. I want to sense and lick your sensitive parts until you surrender to my heaven, She said. She went to the kitchen to fetch liquid chocolate. And when she came back, all our friends were following her and were surprised. Boys and girls and one was carrying the birthday cake. It seems they hid in the next room and Vicky had planned all this up. They started laughing at me. Two had cameras and were talking pictures of me only in a costume tied to the bed. “Good riddance”, Vicky uttered as she took the cake, blew the candles, cut it and fed a piece forcefully to my mouth.