I rarely go to out and when I do, I make it count…
Forget raving… lets just think house parties. It doesn’t even relate! I have
hosted and been part of several house parties. I won’t review the rest coz they
are not that important. Who I’m I kidding; I don’t even know how to do a
‘review’ but once in a while they will feature in stories here and there.
Weirdly enough, I haven’t hosted a party for myself or that directly relates to
me. I just decided to write about this one because I am at the peak of my
writing urges.
It was my “sister’s” bash. Sister is in quotes
since it is a long story kind of sister. Open your mind now… Since early school
life, majority of my sister’s classmates referred to me as “brother”. You can
imagine how this would look like in the modern age… Friend zoning didn’t start
the other day. I am talking from the days she was in lower primary, her entire
high school class and now it’s spilling over to her college mates. Don’t even
mention whatever it is you have in your mind… That’s beside the point. So the
closest one needed a place to celebrate her birthday coz her place was packed
& small. Walls, furniture and all. My place is still a hall. We are pretty
close, so it didn’t take too much energy convincing me. Again it was her birthday,
it’s the least I could do for her.
A little rearrangement of the few pieces at my
place created a hall of the small room and the 14 or so people fit in
perfectly. Drinks were in plenty and the balcony was the smoking zone. One of
the perks of taking a balcony house. The particular age bracket in question is
not the social drinking kind. But the drink and get over and done with affair
kind of group. Thus the art where I couldn’t fit. Only one of my invited
friends got there on time. Two other VIP status guests who would have made me
feel at home in my own home had better things to do and a boatful of reasons. I
had a few moments of fun observing the life I never had (Conventional college
bashes) behind the screen of my simulator from one corner of the room. It was
weird being among these strangers. Strangers are like campers, coming to a
camping site with their tents and all and totally disregarding the trees
present. I was the tree in this case & I had to uproot myself. Or so I
felt.
On a rare twist of events, a close pal of mine was
on business at that hour (Late delivery of cargo) and he decided to pass by. I
guess this was the opportunity of a lifetime to sample the locals I would never
be interested in under normal circumstances. So I got to pass by one, just on
the highway… It didn’t make my day. And so we moved on to another, this one was
awesome just coz of the nyama choma scents that flowed into the outer
section of the club where we were seated since we weren’t staying. Most of my
time that evening was spent outside and at one point sneaked off to my soul
mate’s place for a quick meal with my sister and my friend. She declined to
attend since she considered the ‘kids’
too many for her company. I then got back to the house and hanged around for a
few more minutes before pulling my friend away and went to another club just
around the neighborhood.
My greatest fear was the post alcohol activities
that would emanate from the hasty consumption of alcohol into cake & icing
laden bellies. Amazingly they all behaved themselves. Apart from the petite
detail of missing Furious, I took in
everything else that came. Weirdly enough my worst fear was jumping from the
balcony. We were on the third floor’s balcony. This being where the ‘extra
action’ happens, a lot of dreams are built here. Plans are laid down, goals are
set and relationships made or broken. Not forgetting my neighbour’s favorite
spot for her laundry duties by day. Quite
a number of times I have thought of jumping from this level, or climb up/ down
the wall like we do at assault courses during training. Maybe it has something
to do with my love for skies, or the untamed boy in me. Next time you see me
checking out guard rails… Anyway, nobody jumped and neither did I.
The night faired on well & yet another friend
appeared around the morning hours. By now the alcohol had kicked in and was
wearing out and for this generation, creativity kicks in after the initial high
has worn out. Some had already left and the few ones remaining were busy with
rather interesting group activities. We set ourselves up at the corner of the
house with the drinks we had come in with from our latest escape and we got
down to catching up and flying challenges on the simulator.
Being the perfect host, I prepared breakfast for
those who could handle it – there are people who cannot consume anything after
a night of heavy drinking. Again I was in good moods since I was going to spend
the rest of the weekend at the Rift Valley courtesy of my friends. The ladies
as usual took to tidying errands that left my house way cleaner than I had it
initially.
The most interesting part of it was how my house
changed responsibilities at those last moments. One of the ladies happened to
pull out a pair of earrings from a box and the others exclaimed at the sight. This
brought Fly Chee to life and I had to display all the beauty accessories I had
in the house. I ended up making sales I hadn’t anticipated. This was quite an enhancement
for the budding enterprise. Making sales while having fun got a new meaning. I
left my house like a guest myself and headed off to Eastleigh for some unusual business. Next time I won’t call
it a bash, I will by then have known what a bash is I believe.
Hi. Same Old Drama, Different Day. This blog is about me and others, nature, life, blah blah and why everything I like is great even the hurting - still great. If you disagree with anything you find on this page, Well. . . You are probably right..
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