There is an art to being an alcoholic. Where each day and each drink you take is an inspiration. A moment of pure genius. The artistic alcoholic will know the best bars and all mannerisms of drinking dens. He will regard them as museums of high art. Churches to the heavenly portraits of alcoholic percentages. You’ll find him seated on a bar stool, usually the one smack in the middle, close to the beer taps. And he in his suede jacket will speak praises of the bar, “Ah my good friend. This place. This is the Louvre of beer here in Nairobi. Can you say the Louvre? No not like that my friend. Ukikuyu utakuua. Here take a swig of this. Just one swig. That’s it. Now let it go down quick and say Louvre.
See I knew it. That’show you do it. You let it roll down your throat like you are licking a woman’s tiita. This bar is like the Louvre. Where fine art lives. So enjoy it my friend. You’re in the drinking hole of drinking holes.“
And the artistic alcoholic will proceed with a lecture on the art of war: whisky edition. “Never drink on an empty stomach. That my friend is assured defeat. You will die quicker than you can say this is Sparta. All people will know is that this is matata because you and the floor will be performing coitus. You on top of it spewing your body fluids in less than three minutes“
The artistic alcoholic who will shall now call Jack (admit it, we all know an alcoholic with those short names, Jack, Steve, John, Brayo, Tom etc) will be the first to acknowledge the beauty of Waithera the forty year old barmaid. He will become the Picasso of modern day Nairobi with an eye for all things sculptures. “My friend look at Waithera over there. Look at those hips, the curvature, and the silkiness of her skin. Even her few pimples. Quite silky aren’t they. And let me not get started on her dimples. Eh my God. If you thought Lake Nakuru was a beauty you haven’t seen Waithera’s dimples up close…” and he
will ramble on and on. Once in a while the compliments come in handy for when the “cheque is yet to mature, serve me one on the house” because Waithera isn’t like anything he has said. But Jack all the same knows his words and he knows them best when tipsy.
Jack will always be the first to comment on the music. He is a master DJ. A music producer and vocal coach. Don’t believe me? Look for him during karaoke night. Mic in hand, he croons to I feel good by Beres Hammond, his eyes affixed on Waithera and his hips moving in a manner that is supposedly sexy. Jack feels good as he says, you don’t but who are you to say. Its Waithera that’s important and on this artistic journey of music, Jack feels good…” I feel good when youre wrapped up in my arms….” Keep it up Jack. Ikibamba Sana wapi nduru ya DJ Jack, right?
But Jack isn’t just one forgotten case. He is like all of us. We all want to be artists. Masters of the game and just like Jack we will all sing and dance. If not then why aren’t karaoke nights held at non alcohol places and haven’t you noticed that the most cheered singers are the drunkest of all, or the ones showing a little boob. Side boob works for me. I will cheer like Jack the DJ So if you are reading this on a weekend, if you’re reading this with a glass of whiskey in your hand, then take more of that drink. Go all Jack on us, cheer to the weekend or weekday and be the artist you want to be. In the words of Lupita and mine, ”with a little or a lot of alcohol, your dreams are for a few hours, valid.”
PS: The above article does not encourage excessive drinking. Do not drink and drive. Drink and sing if
you’re over the age of 18. And if your name is Waithera or Jack, well about time you accepted each others’ love.