The bar is hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, all competing with the music that dominates the atmosphere. Conversations swirl in a dirty cloud of smoke. The bar is semi-lit blue with age-speckled bar lights. It is Friday night; that explains the crowd. The crowd is young, mostly students from the recently opened university in town. The university will add a little color to the small town and just maybe make it alive. The dance floor is full as patriots dance to the music emanating from the deejay box. The tables are also full. Business is good during the weekends for the bar owner.
At my table, we are six. It is a clique. We all like getting high, funny that is the only reason that brings us together every Friday night. We are from that university that has been opened. Our table is full of muted color of bottles. Each variety. Everyone has her own taste. I am in a body hugging, pretty low cut neckline, short red dress. This is how we ‘turn up.’ In the shadowed room, I twiddle my hair in a seemingly absent-minded manner. I know what am doing. I have seen the way men look at me. I fold my leg over the other, dangling my silver heels and showing more leg. I see him.
He is seated with his friends, maybe colleagues from work, judging from the folded shirts on the arm and the half dangling ties from their necks. They seem to be having a very serious conversation. I stare at him for a little bit too long, he stares back. I bite my upper lip just a little. I don’t want to ruin my expensive make up. I have mastered the art of seduction and practiced sexy signals and flirty drinking techniques in front of my hostel mirror at least twice every day. These moves always come in handy. He beckons the waiter with the professional smile and points at our table. Bingo! I might have just hit the jackpot.
The waiter sprints to our table and bends and whispers to me. ‘Mdosi anauliza utakunywa nini’. I look at the man she is referring to, holding that gaze for a few seconds. ‘I will have wine. Sauvignon blanc…get me that one and get my friends a mzinga of Hennessy.’ She is surprised that these brands of liquor even exist in the bar. She jots them down probably because it is the first time she has heard of them. She must be new. I don’t know her.
She brings the drinks and takes the bill to the man’s table. These are the privileges you get for being young and beautiful. They are all hungry for my youthfulness. The generous man sends the waiter again to my table. ‘Amesema uende ukae naye’. This is the part that I don’t understand. Men volunteering to buy you drinks but you have to pay by giving them company, probably even going back with them to a hotel room and I assure you it won’t just be sleep that you will be trying to catch. I will catch up with my girls later, let me see what this man wants.
The girls are used to me being the bait. I attract the men then get them drinks. I approach Mdosi and as he tries to stand, his legs buckle. He is already intoxicated. He stretches his arms out for a hug and I gladly reciprocate with a hug and a smile. I mean, the guy is already paying for a 13000 Kenyan shilling bill. A hug is the most he will get though. I notice that he is stout even without the heels, I would still be many inches taller. He has a ring…married men…oh boy!!Apart from being pregnant with beer and nyama choma, he is not a sight to behold but am sure the number of zeros in his pay slip compensates for his looks. I sit next to him and after exchanging pleasantries, he orders the waiter to get me another bottle of Sauvignon blanc for his table and another glass. Wow! The bill just elevated. 17000 that is. His friends keep the conversations going, talking about politics, foreign affairs, strict wives and money.
The night flies and its 3AM, most of my girls have gone home. I am still keeping the man company. His time is over, his already dosing off. I have been trying to get him very drunk and leave him on his own. He came alone, I mean. He already slipped a couple of thousands in my palms when I mentioned new shoes. I have assignments to do the following day and two bottles of wine to drink. I am sure my friends did not finish the Hennessey. An after party for us in the hostel. I look at him and excuse myself to go to the bathroom. He is hesitant to let me go and I assure him I will be back in five. Just at the bathroom hallway, I tell the waiter to get me my bottle on his table and to order herself two bottles of beer on his bill. She smiles. She understands these things. She gets me the bottle. She must have picked it when Mdosi was nodding his head to sleep. I glamorously walk out of the club, my heels still on, my head still sober, my dignity still intact and coyly smile. I am darn good at this…