Fucking and Punching.

Si basi umfyeke! Manzi asha ingia box, unatake nini sasa?

Lakini sitaki kumkuta. Huyo manzi ni emotional sana. Amenidai sana!

This went on for a while. Whenever 2 or more Kenyan men are gathered under the banner of Smirnoff there will be talk of sex. There were 5 of us. I did my best to maintain teetotaller status. It didn’t happen (we Mũdũ wa Mũmbi nyua johi kana tũrowane bara nene! Said Big Burly Bartender man also known as Mũdũ wa Shuva. I did my best t decline (nyĩ ndinyuaga johi). He said (ĩhĩ gũtirĩ kĩdũ ta kĩu. Kana dũreda nyamũ ici ndũru?)

The argument didn’t go very far. Keys were taken (smash and grab!), a mug was foced upon me; half Smirnoff with a splash of lime (for colour of course). A typical Friday night!

Two bottles of vodka later the girl in question was suddenly more attractive Basi nitamfyeka kesho. We Mũdũ wa Mumbi una CD? Sure I did and gave it to him. He later forgot about it. Ngai! Karibu nimfyeke bila CD!

I din’t get drunk that night. Plenty of water, half a loaf of bread and sneaky tips to the bathroom took care of that. Vodka is a vile Russian cunt! When I got back from one of my bathroom trips two were already comatose so we did the obvious; took a marker and scribbled all over them. Those left fell about the place and we laughed. One took of their shirt. And so I watched vaguly amused, vaguely drunk, vaguely bored and definitely aroused.

At some point a scuffle broke out. (ati umeniita nini? Wewe matoko ya mtu ngũkũhũra ũhane ta mbũmbũ cia mburi!) I laughed, hard. I then recalled a pretty (innocent) maiden who search for intoxicants had led as her way earlier that day. Mũdũ wa Shuva always ready to convert others to the Cult of Smirnoff said to me “Rehe shuva tũmũrathe” (unofficially the best metaphor ever!).

Later we had to drag the girl to her room.