A day in life of a Holly : Lamming With a Rasta Gyal.

My last post almost got me in trouble as the missus apparently got to read it. She was a bit pissed off but being the cool, calm and collected type, she did not cause no drama. On the contrary, I just got myself out of the friend-zone to become a suitor (pun intended). Plus, hey, Ethiopian chicks are heavenly. One thing she commended me on was the fact that I am an honest person *pats myself on the back*, I guess it comes with being Holly. On that same trend of telling the truth and nothing but the truth, lets roll.

22nd Saturday 2014.

On the night of 21st, my sister Mishu called to inform me that she had a studio session the following day and being the last born she is, I had to accompany her. Truth is, we have a special bond with her; she always looks after my well being so whenever it comes to anything concerning Mish, hell yeah I gotta do it. Come Saturday morning and I wake up, take a cold shower (not that I have an option really) put on my clad and dash. A few steps out and I realize I don’t have any money on me, so I have to come back and chill for a couple minutes before the M-Pesa shops open so I can withdraw some. During that short dull moment, the devil visits with a brilliant idea and being idle, I absolutely play along. This is the thing, my mind, under Satan’s spell, tells me that since the M-Pesa shops are always opened at 0900hrs, around the same time that the Liquor store opens, I should have a ‘milky breakfast’ instead of the normal mango juice, wholemeal toast and a banana. So as I amble my way to the bus stop, I make a quick stop by my favorite store and buy a bottle of Amarula. Since I can’t carry it to studio (though I so wish to) I pour a glassful and just when I’m about to give the store girl the remainder to keep for me, I see a friend who I ‘trust’. First mistake, I hand him the bottle plus my house keys with instructions to ensure it is safe by the time I return. We will see how that goes.

On the ride to town, I have a bottle of stoney on my hand and a glass of Amarula in my head. Life is good *zonefam voice*. Since I don’t have a novel to keep me busy, I tweet all through the journey to avoid the obvious temptations. Umoja ladies have a way of dressing their attractive thighs that can make a brother fall into temptations. Add that to the fact that the amount of blood in my Alcohol (read Amarula) is very low, you already know how it goes. Mish calls to alert me to bring along my phones’ usb cable or a flash disk, non of which I have, so I gotta make another stop at the Samsung dealers in town to acquire one. While there, I meet Kid Willy who is my guide to the studio as this is my first time visit and the only thing I loath most after slow internet, is getting lost. On our ride to Ngong road, I’m sited next to the driver while Willy is at the backseat so I keep texting to remind him not to let the bus pass our alighting spot. Being the good kid, he remembers that and we get to studio safe, sound and happy 😀 ( by happy I mean the Amarula is perfectly up to task). Now we have to wait for Mishu who calls after every two seconds to inquire for directions. Ladies never cease to amaze me. The producer, Superprodusir Chris is one cool lad, we chill.

Finally, Mish arrives and we get straight to work. The producer listens to the song and after a few rounds of replay, we are good to go. Recording begins. I don’t know much about what happens thereafter but I remember hearing a sweet positive vibration from a very far away place, in my sleep. By the time I am jerked off my slumber, it is my turn to lay a verse! The song sounds good already, something you can peacefully smoke to. As I record my bit, I envision my Homie Kast One lamming to this in the streets of Los Angeles while getting stoned, magical! After the session is done, we are just sharing jokes and stories when guys start talking about the music scene and how some group has apparently ‘sold out’. I try to defend their move and make these guys reason from the said artists’ point of view but like my grandma would say,’napipigia mbuzi guitar’. The best thing about my heavenly glass of Amarula is the power of wisdom it instils on me, hence I know when to end an argument. This has also been very essential in all my relationships, I avoid trouble by shutting up whenever Amarula signals me to. Try it at times and thank me later.  Mishus’ brothers are already here to pick her and they offer me ‘a lift’ to a place I don’t have the slightest idea of. I’m like fuck it, let’s roll; as long as I’m outta this zone, I’m all good. Before I take a seat in the car, Mish reminds me that I be careful since it is a Benz, I die slowly inside. Once inside, it’s fun moments and endless stories as she shows me around like a small kid, or someone who has just visited from the shagz. I just play along.

We drive through Kileleshwa and as we pass by the police canteen, some memories from last year (when I waited for someone who never showed up) races through my mind. I smile at the thought of it and how things turned out. We love, we learn and let live. Heading to Westlands where I will be dropped, Mishu hands me her iPod which I’m to take to some guy in town for repair. I stuff it in my pocket without looking twice, my mind is roaming far away plus, the blood to Amarula ratio is now nearing 1:1, this is not good for my body’s’ operation. I bid the guys bye at Sarit centre and take a mat to town. Suddenly, I get a text from a KU girl friend stating like “Hi dear, are you around? I was wondering if I……..” Pause it right there first; guys, when a lady asks if you are at home and follows with the statement ” I was wondering”, be ready to play host. Jesus knows I’m not ready, all I want is to get home to my bottle of Amarula and some good music. I ignore the text and start chatting with some other girlfriends, I’m confusing the replies and their names so the ladies are getting really pissed off. God I have so many girl friends!  I’m not bragging or something but let’s just say that I can comfortably live in Uganda if you know what I mean. When I get to town, I remove the iPod from my pocket and that’s when shit hits me. This kid gave me an iPod in a purse?? Like I’m seriously gonna carry this lady purse in broad daylight? Imagine me pussyfooting my way in town, with all my gangstar swag, carrying a purse in my hand. I’ve never known any other severe form of torture.

The walk of shame from Koja to National Archives lasts forever with every idiot I pass giving me that ‘weak nigga’ look. Ooh I hate you so much Mishu. Nairobi streets will never be the same again for this G, ever. I just lost all my street credentials in a flash, all thanks to your stupid purse 😦 To console myself, after dropping the iPod with the repair guys, I have to cure this shame. No better remedy than a cold glass of Amarula and home seems too far away right now. I need a quick solution and here is where I start regretting leaving the bottle at home. I could have broken a few rules, people do that all the damn time. I have to get another bottle, having a stock is never a bad idea too, you know? So I go to the next M-Pesa shop on sight and withdraw a few gs and dash to the nearest liquor store just behind Accra Plaza. I order for a takeaway glass as well. Armed with my best companion, now I’m ready for that long treacherous ride to my hood. I don’t give a damn what it will take, but I gotta drink me some on the Matatu. I take a seat next to the window and open my Amarula box, remove the bottle and pour a glassful. The lady sited next to me can’t deal. I sip and sip and sip, ooh God I’m blessed. Just then, Jesus decides to visit like a thief, the way the good book promised. Only this time, He comes in the form of a bus preacher. If hell is real, then they must be waiting for me already. During the whole sermon/journey, I drink my hard earned liquor while listening to the preacher.

The priest/pastor/prophet/bishop or whatever title he poses approaches me and inquires what I’m imbibing, to which I calmly respond, “wine”, before adding “well, the bible says a little wine is good for thy stomachs’ sake Mr. god, you have the bible, I got the wine, let’s share”. Everybody bursts with laughter. I’m done, Lord send me an angel, please don’t let the devil win this.

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