A tale of two cities: Eldoret and Yerevan


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By Smitta

It was the best of times, it was the craziest of times … it was the season of hope, it was the season of going by air to Eldoret — for yet anutha Ian Keino party at his boon-dawgs.

It waz last Sato, huko kedo 2pm, n the Smitts waz sitting on a Zebra at Capital Centre on Mombao Road, hammerin’ a one few bab Guinea (not Bissau, where they killed theya silly bissoon of a prezzo), waitin for the call.

It finally came — from my homie n boy, Shaffie Weru. Eat a waru if you wanntu, lakini the Shaf waz there wit Maina Kageni, chillin in a Hummer for us to roll to tha airport. First, tho, I had to salimia the Sharonova’s relaz who waz getting’ into Capito Centre for a spotta shoppin’ – starting with tall Tiny Sherrie, n then Kuki wit her little boy, Azam.

A tiny cookie zamzam ham.

Hummer time — as the Shaf so deejayed in the moti, me swinging back seat, Maina Kageni, the cool lad, tald me all about his latest adventures … the week before, partying in Miami, then sailing ta Cuba to smoke Havana and drink mohjitos. N I thought ati I live a life?! Of course, eve before, MK had polished off a bottle or two o’ whiskey, n the Shaf inflicted the same damage on my good friend Smirnoff. We then made a secret pact — in fact I promised em to survive till I’m “54 … going out at 55” aass the Adam’s rock song goes, Shaffie will try for sixte fae n Maina sevente fae. If I waz not in tha bet, tho, I’d say eighte percent of those totals are oh so impossibo loco!

Charity looked good

At JKIA, we made our way to Jet-Link counters where a nice lass calld Beverly found out MK’s tikko wasn’t theya. Shaffie, been the marine he is, said he’d stay behind in Nairobi with Kageni. Me I almost stayed behind too, but then I thoth: “What tha eff will I rite about nxt week?” So with a sayonara, I bid me buddies dasvidanya, n pushed past Madame Charitski Ngilu (sorry, m’lady, but ya are a VIP so they hold ndegz for you while shoving wanyangarikas like us off it if we late). Charity looked good in her stunners — but I still insist me Tom Fords from Moscow are oh-so-more-mwah!

Too late 4 even a pre-flight pint, I boarded the Jet-Link. Man, those planes are fast! Tis like Churchill sed .. as u begin to ascend, youse already on the descent. Thank G for the flight dude, the extremely cool Benson who as the Rift horizon surfaced, calmed a panicky mister me. Yaani, I thot we were comin in too fast, yet Jet-Link makes a 27 minit meal of a flight that usedta be one hour via summa aero crafts dat were just ‘Air Mkoks’, shakin’ violently like world war one relic-skis wit epilepsy.

Once safe on ground, I united wit KISS’s Nick Odhis in a bako T-sho, n we shared beer n king fisher at the Eldee airport pub. Soon tha very cool Nderitu (Ndech) of S&L; security waz wit us … and on the road in Eldoret, he tole us the funkiest storoz.

Y’know howe Mercs came to be the mozz happnin’whips for miro leaders? Rowland, back in ’57, swan gem for free to Afri’s new Orezzos. Then Ministers fooloowed sweet, n Tiny minted cherry. As we rolled along, I hummed dat ole song – “pia Mug thoe, mi toto Lone row …”

Knocked outta contention

Ian n Martin Keino are the legendary Kip’s sons, so of course theya parties are always happenin’. I met some fab folk at sunset over beer n BBQ, n of course gotto find out all sorts about me ole skool mate Maanzu wit all his weird shrill ways sumtimes in his VIP dealings (n this is the part I congrat Bobby Mkangi for be-komin a commissioner, tho politiks of the dirt kind knocked the wonder-lad Cecil Miller outta contention. Summa wife-ohs, as we seen, need a whoppin’ to be-have, heh heh heh) …

Layter dat nite, I appointed me-self barman of the bash, drank like a samaki, missed me ride wen Nick Odhiambo rudi-d hoteli, n woke up on a couch in the livin’ room asubuhi, sunlight gently streamin’ down me face like tears.

Zippy the Kisii, Ian’s lady, waz up already organising brekker 4 everyone.

I had sosez n vodoski for Sunday brekker, b4 I sat wid a gang of relaz there chini ya mti, chapaing storoz n chewin’ tha breeze with wonder Ian n Marto n company; till Ndech rudid for me n Nick O to return airport … then Nairobi.

I’ll tell ya. When u been vodo-ing for 24 hours, with a four hour break tween two n six am, u tenda get Smirnoff amnesia. Dat means I coont recall my flight back, or the Sha droppin’ me flat. All I recall is lisenin’ ta rock full blast, incensing shizzle like Incubus’s “Warning” with lyrics like – “She screamed out the warning/ Don’t ever let life pass you by! Floating in this cosmic Jacuzzi, we all float face down/ watching life pass us by …”

No wonder there, then, that at one point — I had me neiba the Iranian Hossein in a chokehold, tee hee …

Beat from the Eldoret weekend, you bet I waz dazed when I shewed up Mondae at the offy for us to commemo three years since those effing Armenians raided us. Twas Big Paul (Melli) who led us in tha celebrations, and our GMD Tsar Paul who had put together the whole ‘exorcise the Armenians’ show –— dat hopefully will chase their blinged-up spectres away …

Media bosses

KTN n Standard staff really spoke LIVE about watt really happened dat morn three years back. The KTN chiquitta Nao shabby Mwendwa who the Saska-Margayan crew caught up wid at styudio. Whacko Jacko, the big poto-graffer, who was G3 butted in our old offis in Likoni. Then wid media bosses like Linus of NMG, fab PQ of Kiss-Star n me pal MG (Mach Gaitho) in the hao, our bosskiz also spoke out — multi-lingual Linus of KTN, OK (Kendo) who hid at the ‘Treason Hotel,’ Kip Tanui tearin’ into a bad cop Cheruiyot, big Bundo n tsarina Zipporina on the whats-n-nots, n also me, tummy in knots (shades n slippers) delivered a scathing ‘order order’ ode to tha day called ‘Yerevan.’

Donno where Yerevan is at? Don’t worry — if you are an Arse fan, you’ll find out man. Coz dat where ya soccer caravan is headed — to Yerevan. Ambassadors of UK, Dep USA dope mathen cool Lindner of Germany waz also in the house.

They say dogs bark, but caravan moves on! One Paul Muite mentioned dat de storo dat mighta led to raid, as revealed by Mi Chuki, waz an imaginary one on the Baks two wives. Next day, hell waz let loose again as the first man n first lady (there ain’t any other any!!) frowningly explained how they are a six person fammo –—two, wid four tois!!!! (the exclamations represent the kids).

Two, three or four

Big deal! Maj of miros couldn’t care less if a dude has no seen wife like em oh one waz, one like the Baks, two like he-whose-name-we-do-not-know, three or four ka muislamu flani! Personally, I’d’a wanted rapid press confskis like the KRcy-Bak man one called on:

(a) famine. (b) corruption (be like Obama, he talks economy, not manenoski za Michelle).

© Kids, who are our future, the young Pulsers y’all.

They’re realising the old gooses don’t give a dizzle about em, havin’ taken care of their own tois (however many) n all I can say is pass ya exams like the KCSE yampions did. N havin’ noticed dat four (Maugo, Nyaosi, Mosigisi n Bo Sire) of tha toi tenners were Kisii, my good pal Martin Godfrey Owuor send me an SMS ati : “Pwana, Ongeri has really helped u people pass exams ..” Ha ha. Wait till I catch the fool in Othumo where me, CEO, Stevo n Co are rollin’ to dis weekend in Ash’s harshest whipskis.

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