Nairobi is an interesting place. Those who have been here for a long time can attest to that. Its Friday 6: 30 p.m. , the city is alive and bubbling. Ties hang loosely as both young and old Nairobi working class men file from their offices as they prepare to hit the clubs.
The buttons on the ladies blouses, drop from 10th floor to Mezzanine 1 and the c0nd0m shoes are quickly replaced by World Business Center 4, 000 bob stiletto heels. Clubs, in a bid to attract the most patrons, turn up their music to levels that make the angels in heaven have to keep on re shuffling the furniture.
My girl Liz and I had just left the office sad. The boss had promised to pay us today and we were quite ecstatic about getting some money for the rave. Mr. Boss called from “ Industrial Area” at 6. His excuse? There was too much traffic to get back to town and we would have to wait till Monday for our Salaries. Come on sir! This is the third time you’ve used that one ! Lame!…. Is what I wanted to say but heck! I still needed my job.
Other people seem to always have more fun when you are broke. Java on Koinange street was packed and I almost put my face on the glass begging to be invited in. No one had called with a drinking plan and the only plot left was to go home, Kiambu. Joan and I walked into Mr. Price and all other fancy stores chilling for fare “ to go down” I had a sock in my purse and Joan had 80 bob 0r 70 I think.
Just when we had gotten into the matatu, the call came. It was Fred, my friend. He wanted us to meet him at Winkers ! Who the hell goes to Winkers? I can tell you who does…broke people who have no money.
“Shukisha wewe mjinga!” Liz shouted at the Conductor who had already….
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