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Flies could
be seen hovering over a half-full cup before panning across to dirty floors
moist due to moping taking place because it is the rainy season. The two
cubicles available were locked, the urinary is unbearably stinking— generally
it is an atmosphere which forces one to opt out. On top of the counter are
benches which are used for those who turn up at night for keg sipping.
That is one
of the pubs found in this lane that is also the home to a number of low income
individuals who congregate here to quench their thirst for ale. We call the
drinks chang'aa with my pal Alex, a lawyer whose
prospects of turning into an advocate are in doubt because of matter finances
him being a pessimist with regard to making money to aid him in contriving over
the set back. However, since he is still contemplating on his next move, who
knows?
Only
folivores partake of leaves. And I am not one. Moringa base is place to find
your favourite mogoka. If you are a guy who chews moringa or in local parlance
'mogoka' then you probably know where this filthy lane in Nairobi is found. It
has many businesses and you are sure to find anything here. Even a random whore
is just a call away.
Ideally, I
don’t remember the name of the street or is it lane. If anything, it is one of
those lanes that have been turned into hotspots for ale downing when it dawns
by the ever liquor seeking peons and blue collar proletariats who compromise on
hygiene and sanitation in lieu of spending an extra dime in the more ritzy pubs
are as realistic as the fact as they need to go to rehab (not me though). Since
most drink on the cold laden street, they also urinate on the drainages which
are not covered at night.
Moringa
base (Moringa are leaves that keep one sane to be able to talk for long) is
Juen’s beloved hang out open air joint. As a matter of fact, I had been to
Moringa sometime more than three years ago. Then, there was a place we used to
go watch football and also the place offers an avenue for cancer stick chaps
who cannot find a smoking zone demarcated for them in downtown Nairobi.
Juen said
that a reddish type of mogoka is good for men's libido which prompted a
colleague to ask a fellow unattached female
colleague if she was going to act as the guinea pig to verify if Juen’s hypothesis
as he claimed was true. That is, if you use the said mogoka, you go three hours
non-stop with a lady until that point when the lady being screwed says she
needs time to rest or runs out of fluid. (That is an unproved hypothetical
theory though. There is also the hypothesis of busaa having the same powers.)
Juen is a
renowned figure in this place (Moringa base) because he also does business when
free. He tells me he doubles up as a mogoka seller when things are not looking
rosy in matters finances. He tells me if he vies for MCA, he will be elected
unopposed.
“Mi
najulikana na watu wengi sana huku.”
He tells me
in his characteristic reprimanding loud voice that makes him mortifying if it
is your first time to meet him because his facial expression also complements
his words before he breaks into a smile that eases the tension. And true to his
statement his network of friends, associates and acquaintances perplexes me
because he barely walks five steps before colliding with someone he knows.
Guess they are shags buddies because this is also the place he boards matatus to
his father’s place.
Most of the
chaps he interacts with are high on the substance or are selling it outside
shops that condone them. Hustling their way out in Nairobi to make ends meet.
These chaps have bloodshot red eyes you would think they are what Abbas Kubaff
calls in his music, ‘Jicho nyanya.’ God knows that they are also
anorexic. Their gaunt faces and paled skin complexion as a result of overuse
makes them look like thugs who are synonymous to hardcore crime on the Eastern
side of Tom Mboya Street.
Juen also operates
a mogoka selling cube which I have never seen though he proclaims to own one.
Faecal waste are found on the trenches that are on this lane with score of
other garbage. I donno how I survived but I was on a mission to find out
something. There was a place where cheap food was being sold but it is now
under construction. I had to struggle eating chapo
madondo. The
waiters were ladies you feel like they serve you under duress. But they were
yellow yellow.
That
reminds me that there was this butchery cum pub we went for some boilo because when you buy boilo, you are
brought the meat in whole. Not like when you buy nyama chom or fried beef and some parts are
missing because a waiter saw it fit to deprive you off your meat.
One of
Juen’s lady students joined us for the meal it being end month and he was
feeling papers. Actually I don’t remember her name. For real, but I remember
she was one chic who albeit seemed to have standards, she was unwilling to make
it to Moringa base. The meat was more than one kilo and we were going to water
it down with some illicit second generation liquor I refused to taste because I
was not ready to go blind or kick the bucket soon since the contents are not
KEBSIFIED. I resorted to my Tusker malt brand which is more trustable.
It was the
time when a crackdown on all wines and spirits had been taken a notch higher
and it was hard finding a place where you can buy ‘chang’aa’. But
Juen said he found them ‘chini ya maji’ because black
market is real in downtown Nairobi. Even the police who are supposed to be
enforcing the law sometimes find themselves among those caught up in the melee
of indulging in illicit.
As a
Jameson and Johnny Walker chap (I have been doing these because of where I stay
and the people I interact with), I must admit that these cheap liquor have
counter effects because they make one a slave due to the cheap amount they are
being procured. They also have a nasty smell and you meet people who have lost
hope in life taking them.
I did chat
the student, let me call her Vera. And guess what, she was also my student.
Yes, Vera was among those who stood out because her adiposity clearly
distinguished her from her petite and lean mates who were also maybe from
teenage rampage. She initially rescinded coming to where we were because she
never knew who she was going to find. Think she was flabbergasted to see me.
She was
going to sit an exam that evening and wanted me to tell her the probable
questions which I had no idea of. Clearly, she is not young, I could tell that
her age was ripe judging by her built stature. She knew what she wanted and had
had her fair share of frustrations and inadequacies in life. She was well and
aptly dressed and we did chat about mundane stuff.
This led us
to the recent survey that portrayed Kenyan men as the most faithful. She was of
the contrary opine which made me ask her which men are not faithful. She told
me that I should rephrase the survey of Kenyan men being the most faithful in
Africa to being not faithful.
This prompted
me to ask her about which tribe she considered not having faithful men. She
started by saying the Kisii are the most unfaithful closely followed by the
Meru. I told her to substantiate but she could not but intimated to something
to do with matoke. She also said Luos are very faithful as long as you give him
what he wants and know how to make a lady feel loved and tendered. But Kuyos
are the worse than kisiis or merus. They may have as many as ten women in
different places and if you have an altercation with one, he pretends he has
gone to meet his boys for a drink but in reality, he is with his mpango wa
kando.
I must say
this are not the kind of places I can take a lady. It reeked of insolence and
penury, not a classy place I prefer going to give a lady the impression that I
am man enough. The street is too banal and there is a high likelihood it is
teeming with peddlers and hobos who are quite frequent. The sorry state is due
to insecurity but as a person who is being brought to get a new experience, I
had to oblige.
Moringa
Base has deteriorated in standards and no matter the measures put in place to
curb the eyesore that it has become; it still becomes the murky and sordid
place that it continues to be. The ‘Kanjo’ once in a while pass by the place like
when I was there to collect their dues especially now that there are some
businesses that have no licenses.
On the
given day, the owner of the kiosk being frisked was outside doing business. He
is a certain bearded Rasta with a turban on his head. Juen told me he makes a
lot of cash because he has vested interest in matters dealing with mogoka and
mirra.
On my way
out of Moringa base, I met one Anto, an advocate in the making who was a former
pal in high-school and campus mate though he was in Parky while I was a main
campus boda (buda). He was in Moringa buying cigarettes for someone I was not
aware of. I was just wondering how one could be able to buy a workmate
cigarettes while he never partook them. Worse is, he knew where they are sold.
We
exchanged phone numbers because I had left Juen with Vera to have some me time
because I thought she was feeling my loose vibes and could have been swayed to
change allegiance. That was not something I was aiming at. I was almost
sandwiched between two Githurai buses one moving at a very high speed while the
other in stationary motion. I saw kissed death but vowed never to pass next to
these vehicles. This was a lesson learnt and that is why I should be having
class and standards. Death may appear far but just like that you may find
yourself going to meet the creator through the idiocy of someone eager to make
money at the expense of taking into account human life which keeps him in
business.
HASTA
LA VISTA BABY.
[Picture
source: Google Images]
