For the second time running, “The Sound of Blackness”, has pulled another success with yet another roaring Party at Norsborg. Anybody who was at the Easter bash will attest to the respectable turn-out by Wakenya and friends of different shapes and sizes. The “sound” was satisfactorily “black” and the impact of the vibes was reflected on the dance floor which continued to remain packed for long spells as ndombolo and other variations of Kenyan music boomed from the high wattage speakers.
The clientele was middle-aged to “Wazee-like” when compared to the Party on Friday at Alby skolan which had a larger number of Kenyan youth shaking their beefs on the dance floor as DJ Kajoe drove them crazy.
“Sound of Blackness” appear to have mastered the taste and behavior of the crowd. Music continued to change according to the situation on the floor. When couples ruled the floor, they were joined together with appropriate music for that kind of operation. After they got worked out and looked kind of tired, they were slowed down accordingly. This was not accidental.
The combination of DJs who were manning the “cock-pit” of flight “Sound of Blackness 070407” are professional DJs who seem to have cocked many hours piloting huge crowds of different colours in the thick of the night.
Both DJ Frank and DJ Safi have been spinning in Mombasa and the United States respectively. Ordinary dancers looking for fun might not have noticed the sophistication of the two DJS. However, a trained eye familiar with electronic equipment at Norsborg Musikhuset could easily detect that the machines that were generating the rhythms and sending Wakenya and companions wriggling on the floor was no ordinary Musik Huset equipment. It was “top of the range” type. If the machines were cars, we could be talking about a “Hummer”, the model Raila Odinga used to create a lot of head ache in the Kenyan media.
Bodies were moving in unison well into the night. By 4.00 hrs, revelers were literally fusing on the floor with their opposites. This is normally the time when good fishermen begin to carry their catch home in taxis or other machines but on this Easter Sato, one could think that the Party had just began.
Kenyans “attached” but “unaccompanied” settled down as “spectators”. Well-known singles could be spotted trying their chances repeatedly, partly because the Disco was also very “fertile” with well-groomed Ma manzi who could excite the appetite of any bull seeking to “stretch a muscle” that has been idle for weeks due to gender complications in Stockholm and other related relationship crises. We did not manage to make any follow-ups to report on successes and failures because we needed to catch up with a lot of stuff.
One funny thing is that the dress code was this time very conservative especially with the ladies. They appeared to prefer “tight-skinned” covers which exposed more of “the figure” instead of going for the notorious collections that laid bare the “chocolate flesh” especially around the “sensitive quarters”.
This is not to suggest that there were no “extremists”. The male and female toilets are adjacent. When I zoomed through the short corridor to “download” at the men’s, I did not know that the short queue had it’s own trappings especially when you are looking for “eye candy” for a break.
THE DISCOTHEQUE IS NOT A KITCHEN
The disco hall is dark and you can’t really absorb much with your naked eyes, more so, if you are trying to focus on something juicy. It was when I turned my eyes towards the ladies queue that I managed to sample the range of “water melons” that were carefully packed on the chest albeit with the usual V kinda “visibility”, the kind that casts a male miscreant into a brief spell of “no comment” or “for your eyes only”.
In one display, the pair of melons bulged strategically (they must have been pressurized by some tight bra) while in another sample, it was kind of sloppy (probably after having been overworked). I don’t have to mention the general morphology of the “bumps behind” because of the risk of being charged by the “Blog police” of “degeneration into pornography”. The maximum that can be said is that the bumps were of different sizes.
When it comes to attire, some “Liberated Kenyan ladies” have resolved not to compromise especially on the question of launching attacks on the male psychology at Kenyan discos. It is like they always have an agenda to remind the male goons that ladies rule in “The republic of romance” because men probably have nothing special to show.
People should be free to dress the way they want, just like the freedom to comment should also be protected. The Liberated girls believe that a discotheque is not a kitchen where you display your cooking utensils. It is a “Platform” where a “conscious woman” has to “show off”.
And by the way. They don’t go there seeking to show off their hand bags. They swing there to get the real goods out “by any means necessary” so that when the disco is over, they become the talk of town. The philosophy is: “Don’t worry whether you are married or single – hang out the goods and show off the material your mamma gave to you”. I tried to look out for the famous one who had a dangerously short trouser last time but I was told that she had travelled to London “for shopping”.
Before I deviate very far, a close pal who was also waiting on the queue to “download” at the mens was luckier. A hug from a well spruced cat came from nowhere and he really exploited the situation, much to the chagrin of observers. Under normal circumstances, a hug is supposed to last just a few seconds. This one rolled along “for ages” and a keen observer could easily conclude that the guy had converted the thing into a “massage” of the chest.
The guy covered up by extending worthless comments like “Ohhh… you have been looooost for a looooong time”, I haven’t seeeeeen you foooooor aaages…. How are you dooooooing, you look fine and so forth. It was very cleaver because he kept on turning his head from “ear to ear” as his chest squeezed in.
The lady became a bit uneasy as it appeared clear that it was the guy who was reluctant in letting it go! When you thought that the guy was done, he added a new bogus comment – “You should have caaaaaalled me”. Some people! I went into the toilet and when I came back, there was a big fracas near the dance floor.
“HOW IS YOUR WIFE AND FAMILY?”
A group of Kenyans had restrained a guy who had started a fight from the table where they were sticking. I took off my new “digital” and flashed just on time. I kept a safe distance because as a matter of policy, I don’t get into the middle when blows are flying because of the risk of being crushed on the face with the consequence of unnecessary deformities.
“The security” that was in place quickly neutralized the ugly scene which appeared to have gone unnoticed by those who were on the dance floor because it occurred in a split of a second. As usual, I decided to try and fetch the story.
According to an informer, the guy went mad after his friend messed up his date. The offending guy went and greeted the friend with lousy words which triggered the beating. The guy was relaxing with a nice Kadem when the old time pal swung in their direction.
“Halo Mamen? How is your wife and family?” Bwaii!! The lady overheard the thing and burst out: “Are you married?” Instead of the offending guy twisting the story or trying to cover up by repairing the damage, he told the lady “Yes. This guy is married with wonderful children”. Although this was a good compliment, it was like the guy spilled the food from the plate.
In raging anger, the chilee stood up on her feet and as she disappeared into the crowd to get out of the disco, the offending guy was already being wasted with blows and what have you. The altercation was only a few seconds but it was another reason to believe that every party has its own hooligans.
Wakenya in Stockholm are becoming conscious about the presence of the Media in the middle of the action. “Don’t quote me on this” is becoming common. A guy who was “tuning” requested to be left out of KSB while another good contact was like “I have a story but I will call you later”.
We left with a bunch of tales that could make this piece run longer than necessary. The week is long so stay tuned for the latest hot Mleto that is still in the works!
Okoth Osewe
About the Author
