Nanyuki Nights

The place is packed. I’m genuinely surprised. I don’t know why I assumed that it’d be dead because well, it’s Nanyuki and we’re in a hotel. I had assumed wrongly and I apologize in my head to the people of this town as we make our way up the stairs to the more happening floor. It’s full. Only one table is free and it can only fit three. We are five with more coming. We decide to stand. It’s Nanyuki after all and the first time here for most of us. We soon discover that it’s self service and you have to make your way to the counter to get your drinks. We take turns manning the table as we buy drinks.

I spot her as soon as I take a seat. She’s in a tiny jean skirt that rests right below her derriere and an even tinier top. It’s not her dressing that keeps my eyes glued to her, however. She’s on a mission. She gyrates as though demon possessed all the while smiling brightly. I follow her gaze and I spot the table of Caucasian young men enjoying the show she’s putting on. Another girl joins her and they proceed to enthrall the men with their dance moves. Satisfied they have their attention, the girls go over to join them.

The music is at low volume. Seriously, it feels like the kind of volume you’d have for a dinner party with your strict aunty. We try not to get bored, it’s too early. We dance a bit. Shake off the cold. Soon, the jackets, scarves and bags are the ones on the seat while everyone is on their feet. The place is filling up some more. Lots of colourful characters. Some pervs hang around our table. One dances awkwardly and motions to us, ”Wanna dance?” We ignore him but he doesn’t get the point and has to be directly told to get lost. He’ll make several appearances at our table throughout the night.

The girls have bored their Caucasian fans and try to reclaim their attention by putting on another show. It’s appreciated but the morale is running low. They begin to ignore them. The girls get antsy and become even more forward. One guy is welcoming but his friend shoves the girl off of him. The entrance to the bathrooms is a market place whose activities can be viewed from our table. We are all now watching unashamedly with commentary to boot. Although, we wonder why the girls don’t look in our direction, what with all the dapper gentlemen at our table. I suppose you have to be a particular shade of colour to qualify.

He tries to get her attention. She’s shy. Completely covered up in a long flowy dress and a head scarf. Her face is beautiful with no make up. He dances for her and tries to convince her to stand and join him but she won’t. She gets up and leaves. Her friend gets up and starts to dance. She’s in tight leather pants and a vest. She’s trying to seduce the guy that was hitting on her friend. It’s hard to tell if it’s working or not.

He’s smashed, clearly. Apparently he’s stalking one of the girls at our table. He staggers around us all the while mumbling what sounds like lyrics to a song that evidently only he can hear. He falls to the floor and takes up our leg room. We ignore him and he finally gets up and leaves. The man that was dancing earlier puts on a show at the counter. His flabby tummy is his dance partner.

The Caucasian girls arrive. They’re four of them with the exact shade of blonde hair. Beach blonde. I immediately judge that they are in a sorority of sorts. The Caucasian guys shift their attention to them. I cringe. I was cheering for the show girls. After all that effort, they’d at least get something out of it. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. The Caucasian girls and guys hang out together for the rest of the night.

We are getting bored. The music is too low and the selection is geared towards the Caucasian crowd. Lots of undanceable rock. The girls finally show up at our table with a lame, ”I think I know you from somewhere’ line. We don’t play along and they move on. I head to the bathroom. I bump into one of the blondes. She’s friendly. Asks me if I want some tissue. I take it. I can’t place her accent. She says she’s from Nakuru, visiting some friends here. She loves my dress and my glasses. We part ways cordially. I wonder if I was white if I’d be able to join the sorority. I laugh at the thought. Beach blonde hair isn’t my type of thing.

I envy these people. They seem so uninhibited. Free. Moral opinions aside, I wish I was that confident with what I wanted like those girls are. I wouldn’t mind stopping over in Nanyuki again. Lots of colourful characters.