Another
Saturday night in Nairobi
Another
Saturday night in Nairobi
Tonight I am back
under
African skies, one degree south of the equator on the broad savannah. My crew
is all going their separate
ways,
very
early
tomorrow morning, and have all gone to bed. I will be alone for the next two
days.
A fist bump with the security guard at the main gate of the hotel compound and I
say, "Jambo". He says, "Mizuri", and raises the railroad-crossing style arm to
let me out. I walk across the street to The Gazebo. This is an outdoor
pub that serves burgers and small eats to locals. This is not a tourist
destination. The place appears to have been built in stages, some outdoors,
some under tent, and the main area is a large gazebo. I have been here before.
I have been here on a Saturday night before. Ordinarily, the Gazebo is
a very calm and quiet place to sit and eat and pass some time away listening to
the locals speaking Swahili. But tonight is Saturday
and the Gazebo isn't ordinary. Tonight the Gazebo has come
alive for a few late hours of rhythmic, unadulterated, African thump!!
An antique disco ball (straight from 1977's Saturday Night Fever) spins slowly
from the
center of the large round hut. Some laser lights blink
randomly and some other antiquated special effects devices
have been pieced together in an effort to make it look like a night club. The subwoofers come alive
and vibrate the air, pushing through
your
chest and
belly, setting cadence for the gyrations on the dance floor. The floor is full
of Africans who have come to wiggle the
night away. I am the only white person. I lean against a half-wall on the outer
perimeter of the gazebo-turn-dance floor and watch the locals move to the beat
of Africa!!
Lyrics to songs are mostly in Swahili. Unlike other African languages with hidden sounds and tones, Swahili has a fine balance of vowels and consonants that makes it very easy to listen to. The music is loud, but not unbearable. The dancers on the floor move to the music, swaying, stepping, bending, performing.
Most are dressed very
nicely: men in dark suits, women in long colorful dresses. I am there for
almost two hours, leaning on the wall for a while, sitting on the wall for a
while. The beat is mesmerizing. It's hard not to tap a foot or sway to the beat
and rhythm. Lyrics are known to the folks on the floor and most sing along,
very loudly, moving their bodies to the melody, engulfed in the music. This is
a fun break from the rigors of work and this must be how they see it too, a fun
break from the rigors of life.
I wander back across the street and take pause in the middle
of the street before returning to my hotel. I look up at the African sky and
think about where I am and how I got here. I am so fortunate to have a job that
takes me to so many places so far away, where I can experience the vast cultural
differences amongst the peoples of our world.
The gate guard smiles. I see his teeth in the dark. The music
fades behind me. I think of home.
Asante sana. Kwaheri.
...picture of The Gazebo, by day.