There was a blackout in our neighborhood. KPLC can really push you to unreasonable limits, this one time was different.
From 12pm into the night my neighbors and I decided to hurdle together like people in a small village. I finally knew their names, so much for “nyumba kumi”, Collins said he couldn’t stand the darkness or the boredom so he wanted us to go this place called Blaxx. I hesitated for a while because I didn’t like going to places with strangers. But there was no way I was going to go and sit in our ghostly house alone.
“Tutumie mat?” Collins asked.
I gave him a sharp look that he ended up looking the other way. How could he ask the five of us to use a matatu at 11pm in Karen? Karen may be for the rich but it is also not the most safest place, actually no place is really safe. So I insisted on Using an Uber. The Uber driver wasn’t too pleased because we were six people, he carried us at an extra cost. You must remember in Kenya everything is a business. Off we went to Blaxx, all this time I thought that Blaxx was in the Kobil gas station which is not far from Galleria. The only club there is Club Legend, so it clearly wasn’t Blaxx.
The Blaxx club is on your way to Stedmark Gardens, a rough road with a few taxi’s on the way.
We took a corner on the left and there we were, Blaxx. Blaxx was a shock to me, for starters I had never seen the “oodi dance” in real action. It was “mabati” bar with a red light that was flickering with a few guys dancing around the area. I looked perplexed and I almost froze in horror. What exactly was I meant to do?
“Vee kwanini una kaa shocked?” Collins asked. What was wrong with that boy? we were three girls and him and his friends allowed us to go there? How could they? To be honest this was beyond a local bar, or Njoroge’s bar at the corner, it felt unsafe, too new and not in a good way. For starters the waiters were drunk and they didn’t have their attires on. Anyone might as well have come and asked us to buy something and we could have since they didn’t even have a till number.
“Uta Kunywa?” Asked the waitress. I gave her a half smile just for formality and asked for a tusker cider. It was Ksh 160, to be honest that was really cheap until she asked me for money “ya kutoa” so it was 190. This is was the most dingiest place I had ever been. Some fake Tanzanian’s came to us and held our glasses while pretending to talk to us I assumed they were trying to drug us. The air was stale and slay queens that you would see in Brew Bistro were there drinking Keg to our surprise. A glass of keg was Ksh 50 that it was what Michael and the rest opted for. I held on tightly to my tusker cider as Collins and Cindy decided to make out.
I was surprised that they were actually an item, they looked so meek in the estate. Their love got a bit too intense and they decided to try dances on the plastic chair, while Cindy was grinding on him they fell off and broke the chair. The drunk waiter declared the plastic chair broken and said that it would cost KSh 800. How in the world was something like that going to be so expensive?
In the end we ended up paying KSh 800 for a plastic seat. We were soon surrounded by Maasai’s who were offering to bring plastic chairs for us. I was in denial that I would even be in that situation but I must admit that was the cheapest Tusker I have ever had.