Last Sato was one of the busiest in Stockholm in recent times. Kesofo was having a Committee meeting so activity began at Kesofo Headquarters. Then, Mr. Laban Mberi was having a private function at his residence so I together with Man Opash and Munala wa Munala dashed to the Mberis after the kesofo meeting (dropping kesofo Treasurer, Silas Njuguna on the way) after which it was time to race to the residence of Janet to show solidarity with the ailing Naomi who was raising money for her eye operation.
The place was packed with Wakenya of good will and from a brief study of the situation, Mr. Daniel Mwaura, the Narc Kenya Chairperson, appeared to have been in control. Time was running out and we had to leave for the Nonini show in Vällingby and when we arrived, it was a beehive of activity.
Nonini was in town and any Kenyan who was not in the vicinity was either too broke, ailing, working or simply not interested in the affairs of Wakenya in Stockholm for this breed of Wananchi also exist.
You could quickly notice that whoever was there had prepared well for the occasion and this preparation was especially noticeable in the kind of expensive attire that were on display. The main competition was among the ladies and the young boys although there were cases where you could notice that a guy alijivaa chabla chabla with UFF kinda rugs.
To understand the sophistication, you needed to examine the shoes, the ear-rings, the wrist bands, the watches, the hand bags, the hair styles, the make-up and other tiny additions that underlined the element of class among revellers.
In cases where you were familiar enough with say a lady and managed to attract a jolly hug, you simply had to sharpen your sense of smell to sample the perfume during that “one second rest” of your hard cheek-bone on softer ground as you muttered the umelost and other related phrases before moving on to the next item. If you are new, perfumes are sprayed around the shoulders (among other areas) for the chins lucky enough to end up there at the Party.
I chose to make strategic compliments depending on what was prominent and the impact as seen in the smiling faces was just fantastic. It was a way of stimulating a “Thank you” from every compliment and they liked it by the way.
The disco system was top class – it was booming and once inside the hall, you had to keep your mouth shut unless you wanted to practice how to shout because a low-tone exchange was not possible.
Since Nonini was still chilling somewhere, you could walk around to update yourself about Wakenya and friends who patched their bodies lazily on furniture at the lobby where the loud music was not so pronounced. Just by scanning the scene with your eyes, you could notice which bull was endesharing which Princess and gather some intelligence about who had split with who on the basis of how they related but only if you had some historical background. Wakenya vijana who had just hooked jungu girls were jiskiaring mbaya sana and because of the big risk of the girl getting interested in another lad, they were “over protected”.
AFTER NONINI SETBACK, THE SITUATION BEGAN TO CHANGE
I could not identify several strangers although there are cases when I could manage to fix a Kenyan link connected to the stranger to update me. “And who is that”, I posed as the answers flowed back.
Rapper Kolo, who moved from Stockholm to London some times back, was on the DJs Desk, occasionally rotating with other DJs. The dance floor was already active although on a small time basis. We agreed with Kolo that we would get in touch before he goes back to London and I hope he will do so.
As usual, hot gossip was there in plenty and one could fill up a few gaps here and there. If you were keen enough, you could also notice the Networks that were current within Wakenya because groups of these Networks tended to stick together. The mood at the Party remained calm and collected while the situation at the dance floor was that of a “warm-up” kinda thing because everybody was waiting for Nonini.
However, the situation changed suddenly after Nonini did his 30 minute gig. Wakenya complained, they displayed anger, confronted the organizers who could be identified and cursed the fact that they had been fooled because the 30 minutes was too short for 200 kr. But, after all the whining and grinding of teeth, life had to go on. To kill their frustrations, the dance floor began to get active as the Kenyan youth and “Punguza Uzee” crew began to populate every inch of it.
The crowd was a mixture and one interesting aspect is that even leaders of top organizations and political parties downloaded their ranks at the door way to transform themselves into free men and women getting ready to enjoy the menu of the evening. The music was further saturated by rappers who took turns on the microphone to drive the crowd crazy.
If you were unaccompanied male or female, getting on the floor was an extremely big risk and unless you were ready to live with the consequences, you just had to dance with your buttocks glued on one of the seats that lined the walls of the hall. The place was packed with youthful, luscious and “tempting to touch” girls who looked single and a smart bachelor could not walk back to his crib without catching something to conclude the evening. It was one place where you get to understand that boobs come in different shapes and sizes because majority were left half bare “for your eyes only”.
THE STUDENT GIRL & THE TOP STOCKHOLM POLITICIAN
The situation was so serious that when two top politicians heading one of the Parties in Stockholm risked their chances on the floor, they quickly found their “front lobes” rubbing endlessly behind fleshy and delicately covered bums, much to the amusement of observers. It was impossible to tell whether they were just having fun or whether they were up to “something deeper”.
A closer analysis of the characteristic tight-grips combined with lengthy periods of intense “chest to chest” contacts suggested more advanced designs in the imagination. One of the victims had a coat and the cleaver lady simply made her hands to disappear inside the coat with no one being able to tell exactly what her fingers were doing under the coat and in a dimly lit dance floor. Once again, you just had to leave it to the imagination.
On the side ways and at darker corners of Trappan, the sight of lips to lips encounters in moments of elaborate smooches were not uncommon as men and women who could not wait any longer advertised what the future held just in case you were in doubt and thought that it was just another Nonini show. You had to wake up and smell the coffee.
The lassie that was physically manoeuvring with a politician some of the most dangerous moves ever witnessed on a Kenyan dance floor is said to be in gymnasium and the politician who was working on her delicate quarters through the popular but sophisticated back hook appeared to enjoy every bit of it.
If you are male, don’t try a back hook if your top attire is not long enough to cover your flyer because then, you might have to restrain some strong forces (pushing mysteriously) by dipping your hands into the pocket after the end of a back hook.
Together with another politician who was secretly squeezing fatty boobs at the “Red corner”, the two Wanasiasa hodari took the “Gold medal” when it came to the class of “The Most Imaginative & Provocative” styles on the floor. Although revellers appeared to enjoy the scene, the political consequences in terms of hot gossip and propaganda have just began to take root.
The hitch is that the two politicians are known to have acquired “permanent soul-mates” and what they never understood was that as they were busy having what, to KSB, appeared to have been an extremely good time, they were, at the same time, feeding different Kenya-Stockholm rumour mills (that were well represented) with fodder. There was Radio Norsborg, Radio Alby, TV Tensta and other channels that are currently busy twisting and transmitting different versions while at the same time rendering different interpretations of the dance floor fireworks. For details, send email.
CONQURING BABES OF THE TRIBE OF KENYA-STOCKHOLM
There is a growing class of youthful and trendy Kenyan girls who crossed over the 18 year bridge here in Sweden. They are courageous, daring, naughty and bad news. They are the luscious and highly cosmopolitan “Kenya-Stockholm Babes” likely to define party trends in the coming period.
When they catch up with a boy on the floor (they are very choosy), their agenda is “maximum harassment” especially from the waist and as the poor lad begins to build fanciful imaginations, they rub him on the chest then vanish. When they have scared their prey and there is no more talala to be hardened, they get on the “bumper to bumper” moves in pairs as the DJ works on his machine.
In short, they like conquering the dance floor with what one of them called “Girl power”, a concept based on the belief that all men “think with their cruise missiles” and that the way to get them out of the floor is to “overwork their missiles” on the floor then disappoint them repeatedly when they make stupid advances until they give up.
“…and how do you tell that they are making advances on a dance floor?”, I posed. “They try to touch your butts” came the answer as I decided that it was time to stop “the interview”.
It is this class that has not been too long “on the bottle” and as the disco advanced, they took turns to puke at strategic corners although one or two failed to get there, ending up doing it within an eye shot. She spewed some green stuff that piqued the curiosity of a KISS agent.
At close examination, it emerged that the green stuff was actually bits of si-kuma-wiki (kales) – someone must have returned from Kenya recently – while it looked like some potatoes were also in the menu. Other stuff could not be identified. When they go to Party, they don’t think about taking a “good insurance” by going for meaty alternatives of the Choma type which “can hold the stomach”. It was a side show that demonstrated how the road to adulthood is thorny.
The Party had it’s own share of physical battles as men and women kunjad one another to sort out old scores. It happened that a lady had snatched the former jungu boyfriend of another lady and what started as a discussion as to “why are you following my ex” ended up with Party clothes being torn apart and impromptu referees getting in between to make peace.
There was also the case of a lady who was bitter that a former close friend of hers was spreading propaganda that the lady was selling vyombo in town – a common one. It was difficult to understand the situation because the accused was, until recently, married with two children before calling it quits.
When I move closer to try and play the role of an observer, the strategy was disabled by another Kenyan friend who seemed to know “too much” about the thing. “Ma men we wacha, this is not for KSB”, he said politely as I left in a hurry to provoke another Kenyan about what he thought about the Nonini show. “It was bull-shit”, he said showing signs of extreme inebriation. I had picked enough for KSB and I left quietly, just as I had come. Despite it’s inherent weaknesses, the Nonini show was another time for Kenyans and their friends in Stockholm to relax and loosen up as winter approaches.
Okoth Osewe
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