Sasa hii ni story ya ushamba. Ok, not really. Listen and decide. Si am in majuu, chambele. Had drinks with pals, nini nini, stories. Lakini haishiki, barley yao ni maji to me. So on way back l’hotel, demon in head tells me to pass by their biggest superstore and grab something strong. Chwade something.
Now, nakumatt, which I mention often, is very confusing to me, I prefer kiosks. This store is at least 3 times the size of the biggest nakumatt there is (Kisumu). and that is just the drinks section. Maybe am exaggerating a little. Hyperbole. 20 minutes up and down, and I begin to get sober deciphering what the various discount offers mean. Argh, a Mexican shop attendant is walking towards me to help. No way. Mimi sio mshamba.
So non-mshamba grabs Budweiser, having heard the name from movies. Bali it’s the king of beers. And the figure attached sounds friendly to my pocket. Roughly ngiri ya Kenya.
Then, ai! Hii nini? I grab what looks like a six pack, lakini the whole shelf follows me. Le Mexican smiles knowingly and helps me to the cashier. And for real, it’s only like 10 dollars. But now I need a pick-up to transport my lager. And how to smuggle 36 Budweisers into hotel mmhh. Anyway, kwa ufupi, Jack Bauer and Pink Panther stunts, am in hotel room with 36 beers onda de bedddd. Which is good, but now, the empties, eh how will I smuggle them out? I start thinking.
Argh, I drink. Thinking makes me want to drink. They even rhyme, think, drink. And then I think of home. And drink.
The pregnant Ghanaian Phd student who cleans my room everyday ot 9.00 in de moning told me it dosnt mettar in dis otel o evn in dis contry whot I drink. Don’t spell check, I know what am doing. ‘Or weah’ she adds after a long brief pause (she spits that last word like a true West African, Or Weah!)
Her hosbond, she tells me, is a Mexican, Phd, woking in a nearby nakumatt-like superstore.
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