Tastes of the season
I haven’t lost blog mojo, I just haven’t been saying anything on the web despite a few podcasts here and there. I find myself taking mental notes of things I wish to share then I start writing and halfway down I stop. If perhaps for a moment and then I just don’t continue on. This time around I’m just putting pen to paper - or keyboard to text editor? - and just having them random thoughts:
The Holidays
This Christmas, an unproportionately high number of people are heading back home, I have family flying in and out every week in december and some in January. The hottest craze seems to be going to Coast for the new years. Talking to family back home, the prevailing comment almost to a (wo)man has been: “You never went to coasto when you lived here. Why are you acting like a tourist when you people visit?”. Alot of tusker certainly will be consumed . I was at a party a couple weeks ago where grown folk were mesmerized at the site of a tusker six-pack that my boy Steve had stashed somewhere in his house. You could almost sense excitement as we all sat down ready to enjoy the brew, letting the familiar taste remind us of our days back home. We are all sitted in a circle, a grill with some goat meat sizzling - the one and only DJ Choma doing his thing. Yes, this despite 40 degree farenheit temperature outside. His neighbors must wonder what the heck is wrong with this guy grilling in the freezing cold and people sitting outside - as more beer is consumed - the crowd gets noisier.
The Reminisce
We talk about everything, my boy Ian laments about the government back home, someone else complains about the lack of checks at the customs office in JKIA, someone comments about how Nairobi is distinctly cleaner than it was under the Moi regime. A friend contemplates making a run for parliament in 07. Yes. People have grand plans for Kenyans - you just don’t know them. This is a familiar sight. People talk about how the system needs to be changed. We are at Steve’s house this weekend, next weekend we’ll be at my house talking about the same things yet no one has done anything to effect actual change. Every week it’s almost like you were there 10 minutes ago - the story is the same. SOmeone brought up a theory about 911 conspiracies, some show he watched on HBO. This has been debated before, it will be debated again tonight.
MUSIC:
The nameless CD plays on back to back to back - Someone wants a copy. Musaimo brings the house down. Evidently someone convinced his/her uncle to give them a copy of the tape and converted it to a CD. It’s getting late, children are drowsy. The goat head has been boiling for close to 4 hours. Ian thinks it’s ready. It is set on the table. The look on our African American brothers is priceless. Ian has knife in hand, a surgeon worthy of a ‘grey’s anatomy’ cameo. They stare in amazement at what was a live goat just a few hours ago. He checks in with baby girl’s old man on how to do the head justice. He gets instructions and proceeds. I never liked soup nor goat tongue. I am told I don’t know what I’m missing, trust me, I do. When your shagz is Molo, you do.
Beer?
One sip of tusker and I almost throw up. No one checked the expiration date, show me anyone who checks expiration dates on a beer and I’ll show you a liar!. I check - It was June 2005. Brothers and sisters have almost emptied their cans when I tell them that it might be expired. “Beer can’t expire - it’s like wine” - the dreadlocked boyfriend of some hot chic says. “Are you saying that because you just drunk a whole can of expired beer and are consoling yourself or are you saying for the sake of argument?”…here the debate begins again.
Oh the holidays.
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About
Magaidi.com is the journal of the African kid. A diary of sorts, a collection of musings and a discussion point on the way forward for the motherland.
