I haven’t been in Nairobi long enough to know a lot about it but some things hit you right after the cold is done shrinking your manly bits.
The sale of alcohol is limited to particular hours
You cannot walk into a random kiosk at any time of the day and ask Kamau to hand you a Tusker. The alcohol is on lock-down. Someone tried to explain to me where and when one can and cannot buy a beer without the popos taking you in for questioning but that was during the ‘can-buy-beer’ window. I’m not too sure about how arrests are done here.
Maybe they chase you up and down Ngong road, tackle you and say, “Sasa uko under arresteri. Anything you do can and will be used with you.”
Or do they hurl a jar of mayonnaise at you and when you hit the ground, drag you to the station?
Or do they lay brown bread crumbs along your path, all the way to a cell? (I’ve seen way too much brown bread here. That had to be said)
Bright Idea: One way to beat the alcohol windows to call your buddy across the border and ask for a detailed description of how their lunchtime beer-drinking is going. Call buddies with big vocabularies otherwise you’ll be told that the beer is sweet.
We were stopped at each of the 32 clubs we visited and asked for identification. We needed to be at least 25 years to be granted access to the goodies.
“nashiono haidi? (Frisk frisk) Nashiono haidi? “
I think the burly guy wanted to see our national IDs. We told him we were black expatriates from outside countries, comprete wit acents, and company IDs. The man refused. Our female company had to sing a cappella of a Michael Bolton song for him to let us in. I remember Danny singing along, but everything was a bit hazy.
All the places we went to had a fight going on or one had just gone on going by the people we’d find resisting being hurled out. The fights, I think, are about the actual GDP figure.
“It was $34 milli wewe”
“hapana. It was $24 milli bwana”