Ahadi ni Deni

Ahadi ni Deni

“The best was saved for the last. Like wine, Avril was uncorked with flamboyance and glamour. The comrades went gaga. She was clad in black top and equally black jeans- effectively limiting the imaginations of men. They could only feast their eyes on curvaceous hips and nothing else.”

Ahadi ni deni is a Swahili proverb for “A promise is debt” when literally translated. I had promised my readers that there will be a special coverage of the Cultural Week activities in my blog throughout the week of June 24-30. Well I did pen two plays: one featuring the model who ended up being the Miss Chuka Plus and another for my club of Theatre and Arts. You see when Roba approached me with an idea of doing a skit overnight for this gorgeous Brenda to “help her nurture her talent” I was like do I write a skit or study voluminous  notes for the CATs lined up that very same week?

I thank God because I did all that and more. I overachieved. But that joy was short-lived. Brenda did not stage her play neither did we cast fully. We were told the problem was ‘technicalities’.  Technicalities sound a legal jargon. Like it was borrowed from Supreme Court and dropped smack at Chuka University Pavilion Grounds. The damn technicalities hurt me when I recall. Look, there we were on the stage, eyes shooting at us like bazookas and on the sidelines a jealous MC gesturing that the time was up and mind you were not even 10 minutes into the show. What’s more he made sure that we shared faulty mics which were barely enough. The problem is not sharing but caring. Why on earth can someone keep new mics idle and give the actors the outdated, old and inaudible? The disappointment was expected. He was begrudged.

The drama was not because of our actions on stage but because of how we exited the stage. It was one of those commercial break moments when one set of performers left the podium for the others to show what they got. Right between the transitions the MC jumped in and said “clap for them” effectively drowning our voices and evicting us from the stage. We forgot our costumes behind. Is he not a hater?

We laughed at the embarrassment backstage. We looked like a salivating Big Brother Chase evictee begging the camera to take her back. Our plot was crushed. Just like that. It seemed as a death of a youth. Before the destiny is defined, before the peers and the teachers realize what sort of potential the young man had. Before the parents know and taste the fruits of labor of love. Before any of his siblings realize his presence he was gone forever. Eti to pave way for models to strut their stuff on the red carpet.

Doesn’t that sound tired?  Hogging the limelight is not easy. It is even harder for those who think sharing is only limited to Facebook posts and likes and not applicable in real life. That was Friday June 28.

Saturday June 29, 2013. This may as well go down the annals of history as the most expectant afternoon in Chuka. People did homework early.  They had lunch before lunch. They sat and waited. The yester night had seen student leaders confirm rumors that Citizen Crew will grace the occasion plus a loaded entourage of the local industry’s finest.

The event was supposed to start at 2pm if the posters and fb updates were anything to go by. But the infamous habit of Kenyans doubting everything was evident. They did not want to go and sit at the pavilion waiting for artists. Unlike voters who had advertisers reminding them about their sacred democratic right to vote, comrades relied on their instincts.

By 4pm the show had began. Citizen Radio’s Willy M Tuva aka ‘Mzazi’ was around to nurture the upcoming talents. On stage was Refigah of Grandpa Records. He is revered for producing club bangers such as Fimbo and Maswali ya Polisi by DNA. His humor and style made the audience forget for a while that Mzazi, Avril and Big Pin were missing from the action yet they were the main men.

I take issue with Chuka University students. They are a bunch of conservatives. Fundi Frank is busy telling them to piga nduru ikibamba sana or mkono moja weka juu and they are just there staring at him like a statue. They are a let down to the performers. Where did the ululations, screams and insanity go? Some told me it was still day time. They are nocturnal. They like dim lights and dark corners for them to respond unequivocally to the show runners.

But it was not all gloom and doom during the curtain raiser moments. The bold ones took to the podium and stole the show. They gyrated with the guests like they were auditioning for RDX’s ‘Bedover’. Such stuff is what Basra Abdullahi is made of. When I met her at the backstage the eve of the showdown she donned figure-hugging micro complete with dark chic shades. The last time she tried it was pathetic. This was during our photojournalism field assignment and we needed a subject to frame. She offered herself when everyone refused claiming they’d no busts to capture yet take bust shots we must. But there she was daggering with Big Pin! Gosh! That was quite something.

DJ Flash was spinning the wheels of steel and knew only too well that we wanted the best. The moment of moments had arrived. We were taken back in time all the way to 2003. By then I was in Standard Five. I remember singing along ‘Boomba Train’ of E-Sir. When Big Pin eulogized him my heart was broken and of so many others who knew him albeit little. I looked at the 29 year old Pin and wondered how big E-Sir would be if he was alive. He would be a Nail. Then I regretted that he would have come with the Ogopa stable colleagues to thrill his fans. I looked up and I think I saw what many of my peers did not see: E-Sir smiling down at us from open heavens.

The live show turned out to be an anniversary of sorts. Big Pin tore into our consciences further by invoking that we too should remember fallen artists. A decade later, I reconstructed how Wicky Moshi and K-Rupt looked like. They are the soldiers who walked this path before Avril and many others.

Then Fundi Frank reminded us about a very fundamental fact: That Nameless and Wahu are graduates who chose microphones against papers. So those who think that books alone are enough better ask the parents of Tumiso. I am not saying that you leave your degree half done and hit the studio. No. Discover your talent early and nurture it.

Amid the jigs, waving, screams and the sweating the bigger picture did not depart us. Why were we here? Why now? We could not be reminded in a better way than by playing the ‘Najivunia Kuwa Mkenya’ theme song. This track evoked patriotic passions. It underlined the need to celebrate diverse cultures. It read the minds of the organizers of Cultural Week. It was not supposed to be a lip service or a PR engagement for the cameras and when the spotlight is turned off we return to negative ethnicity. It was a sincere vow that the 50 years of Kenyan State should teach us one thing: appreciation of one another.

Mzazi lived up to his name. He is a caregiver. A dad for the celebrities and an uncle for the wannabes. Himself a big name, he doesn’t tire from recruiting new talent from around East Africa. His radio and TV shows are international and integral in integrating the EAC bloc. He has discovered many youths. To prove that, he unveiled Kimani (Stage name is Key- Money). This dude is a wordsmith, a master of

the art of the spoken word. He spit like a cobra. His mistari about Hiphop and Rap are just wow! He’d to return to the stage due to public demand. He did not disappoint. He left comrades begging for more. A poet he is.

The best was saved for the last. Like wine, Avril was uncorked with flamboyance and glamour. The comrades went gaga. She was clad in black top and equally black jeans- effectively limiting the imaginations of men. They could only feast their eyes on curvaceous hips and nothing else.

Her renowned hit song, Chokoza attracted three little girls who I was afraid they were learning “bad manners” too early. She took the cue by being ethical. She gestured DJ Flash to pull off the track. The vinyl spinner played a decent song by Avril and the girls danced quite well. She saw them off with a hug after enjoying the limelight.

Darkness had now engulfed us. Salsa and 254 dance groups had the privilege to share the podium with Kenya’s greats. Avril acknowledged that the two dance troupes were quite something. M Tuva said that they can be baked for better quality. The local artists had their recorded labels taken by Mzazi and Refigah as samples for follow up.

Into the anticlimax now. There was a blend of Ragga and Reggae music with Lingala fusion. It was a take-away session. Models and dancers outdanced one another to please the comrades and get away with free T-Shirts. Dancing was not enough. The verdict lay with the comrades who judged the best of the best by approval and disapproval. Frank, the incoming Mr. Chuka could not hide his joy as he was dressed by Avril to sport a new Mseto Campus Tour T-shirt. She hugged him. The other model clanged tight on M Tuva’s chest as if she was saying “please don’t go”. The marked the end of high –octane performance by Team Citizen.

In the vote of thanks section one voice rose above the din. It was Geraldine Ndila the CUSA Organizing Secretary. During her campaign pledges she said she would invite Mseto East Africa. “I have all the connections”, she bragged. I now believe. My vote did not go to waste. Indeed ahadi ni deni.