The beach run – part 3

The beach run – part 3

The head of delegation informed the members that the hotel food was ‘already too monotonous’ and that he was aware of that. To save us from this, he declared that Saturday dinner would be taken at a location away from the hotel. He did not divulge the location, leaving it to the category of ‘surprise’. This is a declaration he made during the customary lunch time roundtable – a second such lunch at this location so far.

The afternoon seminar session became the longest ever. We had vowed to exit the ultimate session by six o’clock. However, by that time we were half way through the business of the afternoon. We had the option of formulating a new session for the next morning, or extending the current session. After a vote that was narrowly won, it was decided that the session be extended so that we can have a free tomorrow.

Exhausted
The folks left the seminar room at 7.40pm completely exhausted. In fact they did not even wait for a discussion on that evening’s program. I was left with the task of clearing the room of our materials, which included an overhead projector, a laptop computer, some stationery and the power extension socket outlet, which I had to return to the hotel management.

Slowly, the quorum gathered at the hotel lobby from 8.30pm. By nine o’clock the chartered hotel mini bus was parked outside the main hotel entrance, ready to transport the group. The mood in the bus was now jovial. All were happy to have cleared the business that had necessitated the retreat. The day-out was quite a welcome relief. All started to agree that the hotel food needed a break, even as the bus made a right turn into the busy Malindi road.

Five minutes into the journey, someone drew our attention to the right side of the road and showed us the flashing lights that were Karolina Inn. Momentarily I recalled how a team of planners that I associate with back in Narobi had taken a project in Mombasa, to do a digital map for Mtwapa. I had done their systems, software and databases and was therefore in the know of their now frequent coast trips. I had wondered why they had been devoid of details whenever they were late to come back to Nairobi. They were quite shy of revealing the going ons at Mtwapa. They would just say, “It was good. We did the business but needed two extra days to finalize.” It was during a spur of the moment outburst in their city centre office that they had mentioned ‘that Karolina place’, but changed topic when they discovered that a stranger was in the house, and started talking about the ‘that District Planning Officer’s place’ and how they met and discussed business.

Karolina
Here I was, facing Karolina with lights flashing and the music booming. I played a joke on the driver by telling him to stop briefly so that we can appreciate the place. The joke-loving driver stepped on the brakes and said, “Sawa bana, sasa utajua Mombasa raha!” He then released his braking and we continued with our journey. The same colleague who drew our attention to the place now went ahead and told his story, but devoid of any details. He said there was a time he was convinced to step into the place for a drink. He hardly stepped in before he was ushered in with a yellow-yellow who was almost in her birthday suit. When he was finally shown his seat, the y-y was already seated on him! When we pressed him for details, amid loud laughter, he just brushed off the topic and told our team of eleven, “It was an experience that am not repeating soon, but you people are welcome to find out for yourselves.”

The two members who were not from Nairobi responded almost immediately. The driver was the first one, “Niliwambieni Mombasa raha.”
The manager from our hotel, who accompanied us added, “That was quite normal. They have now gone a notch higher, lakini after the third drink, you shall not notice anything strange.”

We were still on that topic when the bus slowed down and then turned into a compound on the same left side of the road before coming to a stop.
“Shukeni. Tumefika,” declared our head of delegation.
“What, here! Already!!,” was the reaction of many. The drive had not been long. In fact we were only about fifteen minutes away from our usual abode. We had expected a long drive. Nonetheless, hunger was setting in and so the disembark was a good relief.

Big
At the entrance of the joint, now filled with fairly loud music, we met a group of about five. The seemed like the hotel security. Our host, the hotel manager, went in and had a brief discussion with the team. After his discussions, he came back out and told us, “Tuko sawa, tuingieni.”
One of the security personnel asked the men to pass through his frisking hands. Just ahead, the ladies were asked to go straight in where a female security personnel, in full uniform was waiting for them. This particular lady was big! She looked like the no nonsense type. One who would easily rough you up with the slightest or no provocation. I did not envy the colleagues going through her security check. Since we did not have any weapons, our checking in and entry was smooth. We even managed to get in without paying the mandatory 100/= per head, thanks to cooperation between hotels as ensured by our host.

Loud
When we moved in, the music got louder and quite inviting to dance. The dance floor, a depressed part, just after the main entrance was still empty, though the flashing lights were doing their thing on the emptiness. Scattered around the establishment were a few revelers – countable – most having a drink, few having a meal, one or two just walking about or idling aimlessly. There was a fountain that was combined with a swimming pool construct, on the middle part of the sitting arrangement. We found ourselves at the extreme end of the pool, just next to the perimeter wall. Our table had been booked and therefore set in advance of our arrival.

As we settled on the table, we wondered why there was so much hype about this place, yet it was just an ordinary place? The host just told us, “It is just a good place to eat and drink. They usually have some shows later on.”

Reflections
The next night when we went to sober up with a few drinks on the next compound to our hotel, we tried to reflect on the night before. This Sunday night sobering meeting was just for the three members of my committee and two other invited colleagues.
“Did yesterday really happen or am I dreaming?,” the lady in the group asked.
“That was reality, you are not dreaming gal,” we confirmed to her, almost in unison.
I was also in need of assurance that we were not dreaming, nor had stepped onto that insect! (But the insect caused only loss of way, not loss of reality!).

Two ladies hovered around our table, then sat just on the next table behind us. They ordered nothing. They just sat there engaged in small talk. They ensured that they kept glancing at our table of four men and one lady. Out of curiosity, the men folk on the table occasionally glanced in their direction. They were not bothered by the attention, nor were the folks on our table. On the next table, a white man and an African girl were in deep embrace, while sipping a common bottle of some drink. She had a small black tight sleeveless T-shirt that cleaved on her as if it was part of her skin. The front part was cut in V-shape – more like U shape. Exposing most of her frontness. She had a skimpy short pair of shorts. When she passed by our table, presumably to take a call, we were exposed to quite a view. She seemed not to mind.
On the table behind us, the two ladies kept their attention focused on us. We occasionally glanced behind, just in case they pounced – you never know – this coast place was turning out to be quite a challenge to handle the type of surprises that just emerge from the blues.

Reality
My mind could however not fully comprehend yesterday, and in the midst of football game being shown on the big screen elevated just in front of our seating location, I started to flashback….

After our dinner, which was quite sumptuous, we settled down to small talk and some drinks. As per tradition, it started raining, forcing those on the exposed parts of the establishment to move towards our tent. For a moment our sheltered sitting place was jammed by the steadily swelling crowd of revelers. The music had been turned two or three volume levels up. The ten minutes rain, with its characteristic heat, finally ended and the revelers resumed their scattered sitting places. We started seeing a main stage being swept, part of which was over the fountain pool. One side of the pool was just infront of our sitting position, though there was still an exact ‘pool side’ seating place, with the pool wall serving as a base of placing drinks. These seating places had however not been taken, and therefore we could have a view of the pool, stage and the activities.

Explosion
Alas! There was some distance sound that seemed like an explosion, followed by an abrupt stop to the music, then the lights were off.
“Ah, stima tena,” someone in the crowd shouted.
“Sounded like a transformer explosion,” someone else volunteered loudly.
After some moments of confusion, the lights came back and the music resumed.

At about eleven-thirty, we had the first official announcement, “Welcome to Saturday night show at Club Labamba. Tonight’s show shall be the bomb! We have lined up various activities including acrobatics, stage dance and the final show – the show! Feel comfortable and enjoy. Only one usual request…”
What would that be, I wondered.
“Please do not take any photos!”

The acrobats stepped onto the stage and showed their talents. They made various formations as they danced to fast paced benga beats. With every awe there was applause from the now jammed establishment. I saw them perch one of their members some three human beings up! The men-only troop danced their way out of stage even as the gathering asked for more. There was also a traditional dance by some girls. Thereafter, we saw a ballet-like performance between a gentleman and a lady, as they danced ‘lady’ by Kenny Rogers. But Kenya Power, being no respecter to even such a performance, ensured that the power went off for a few seconds. This forced the performance, that was about two minutes done, to be repeated from scratch. This repeat spoilt some surprises, but the elegance and dress, especially of ‘lady’ was something to be watched over and over again.

“Finally, ladies and gentlemen, the show!,” the announcer said.
And to keep all reminded, “And remember not to take any photographs, please!”

Sleep
I was jolted back to reality when our madam said that it was mid-night and she was not going to deprive herself of sleep anymore. I was voted to escort her to the hotel compound, which was just next door. I took the break and escorted her upto the hotel reception, a five minute walk.
I came back and found the two ladies behind our table still there. One was dressed in a short tight flowered dress and long black boots. The other was in a T-shirt and tight blue jeans. They kept their focus on our table, now with four men, even as we pretended to ignore them.

I took out my camera and took a photo of the three gents – just to have something to remind them of their escapades some day when we are back to the city.
“Wewe! Umesahau kwamba ulipewa warning usipige pige hizi picha zako!,” was the reaction I got from the guys.
“That was jana! And that final show, was it a reality?”
“I thought you see better with specs! And you had them!!”

Flash
The camera flash brought a flash of memory….

The final show started with four ladies dancing to some music as they moved towards the embankment of the pool, just in front of us. When they finally settled to their dance, I noticed that they had a loose blouse, the loosed ends tied into a note in the front. They had a wrap, whose ends were equally tied onto a note on their right waist. The wrap was too short. With their dark complexion, I needed to adjust my specs to confirm if there was anything beneath the wrap or this was it! As I started to comprehend, four gents, with swimming shorts and no tops joined the ladies from the opposite end. They did their dance, before finally doing a ‘bend over’ number. This song is supposed to imitate intimate action – and the four couples ‘did not disappoint’ in demonstrating ‘action’. Did I see some lady with legs raised, exposing her very small undergarment! Or there was none!! This part still confuses me.

At mid-night, after the show, the music was open to all. The dance floor was filled to capacity. The music was hot and varied. The DJ surely ‘rogad’ us, with his mix from all parts of Kenya and beyond. Our faint-hearted-four left soon after the final show. The die-hard-five remained to teach the Coasterians a few dance moves, especially the Western Kenya dance that requires an oiled shoulder, flexible waist and loose feet. And the dancehall had quite some ‘vituko’. From jungus that can’t dance – unless you call random motion of hands, legs and body in no particular pattern as dance. To ladies who were bumping us on the dance floor – was this a signal or what!

Interrupted
“Hebu turudi kwetu tukalale,” one of us declared, interrupting my busy mind. It was now 1am.

As we left the establishment, one of my colleagues confessed, “You know, when I went to the washroom, just a few moments ago, I found one of the two ladies on the washroom corridors. She approached me and asked whether she could come with me to my place.”
“Eh, wacha, urongo!”
“True, she said that she charges 2k for all services!”
“And….”
“And that is why we are getting out of here - fast!”

Back to business
One week later, we are presenting the draft report to the committee. We can not help but have the last laugh as we reminiscent what happened after the events of the Saturday night show. First, as we getting back into the bus ready to travel back to the hotel around 3am, when one of us asks to be shown the washroom. He is shown the tyre of the mini-bus… and that is the tyre that he washes! But precedence has already been set by someone else in the same bus!!

Secondly, in the bus, we all agree that the constitution recognizes Kiswahili as an official language. It is for this reason that we now decide to translate our policies, late in the hours of the night, into Kiswahili – just to obey the constitution. The group comes up with the following translations:
Liquidity policy – Sera ya maji
Savings policy – Sera ya uwekaji
Investment policy – Sera ya mali yetu
Dividend and Capitalization policy – Sera ya ugawaji and herufi kubwa
HR policy – Sera ya watu and nguvu zao
ICT policy – Sera ya tarakilishi
Procurement policy – Sera ya biashara
“How about ‘Loan policy’,” I asked aloud.
“Si unajua tu, kuwa lonely. Kwa hivyo, hiyo ni ‘Sera ya upweke’”

But wait till you hear the sentences that the 'policymakers' formulated from such innocent words like 'fanya' and its conjugations.

WWB, Nairobi, August 15, 2011