Dancing On Tables
It often happens that I meet people I never thought I would again when I am totally zoned out while walking, thinking about pancakes or a cute puppy that I just discovered on Instagram, or trying to remember a new word I just read and forgot to write down so it slipped my mind. It happens a lot [everything from meeting these folks to recalling that bedlam means chaos] and most times, it is a huge pain, mostly because after the meeting and exchanging numbers, we will most definitely never talk. But sometimes, and very rarely, it morphs into a beautiful friendship that knocks my socks off [and you should know how much I love socks].
I feel like the second time we met was Heaven-sent, because that was the moment we became friends again. Before that, she was just someone in my past. I can confidently say that after my last K.C.P.E paper, she never crossed my mind. But one day, four years later, fate came into the picture [Ha-ha, I’m making this sound like a soap opera, right?] I was going for computer classes in April 2015, dreaming of going to Multimedia University of Kenya in September that same year [Yes, I actually wanted to go to MMU]. I was adamant. If they did not call me, I would go on self-sponsored program. I had told my dad this, countless times, but each time he just blew air out of his nose [same way you do before sending the four laughing emojis] and looked at me, probably thinking “does this one know university costs money? And SSP programs’ fees are much, much higher than where the university calls you”, but he still let me dream.
After classes (computer) I would walk with two of the people I was in class with to town then get a matatu home. On this day, as fate would have it [I brought up the fate thing so I could say this], I forgot something in the classroom (let’s say keys because my memory evades me). We were already in the CBD and if I remember correctly, the classes would be closed immediately the last person was out. But I needed those keys (if that’s what I had actually left behind) because how the hell would I get in the house otherwise? A girl had to go back and beg the cleaning guy to open the door so I could get my keys. And a girl had to go fast.
I wasn’t seeing what was in front of me. My brain was preoccupied with getting to the class and the keys then straight home before I got drenched in the rain. The world around me had faded to a blur, as it does most times, and I had not seen her until I was about two feet from bumping into her. I immediately knew who she was, but not exactly who she was. I don’t think you actually get that. I mean I knew where I knew her from…just not her name, or her face. It was her skin color. Ginger [that’s what she wants you to know her as] has always had skin that is almost yellow. She is the proverbial lightskin. And immediately I saw that shade of yellow I knew, without a doubt who she was, but her name evaded me. I didn’t tell her this, mainly because she called me by name which meant I would have hurt her feelings asking hers. She told me she was going to MMU, and even though I still had not received the nod from my dad, I told her I too would join her in a few months. I knew I wanted to go there, I just needed to convince him [which I did]. We exchanged numbers, and for reasons of my security, I will not tell you what I saved her as.
I’ve tried writing about her before, but it never felt right. The words did not move in the correct sequence and I just knew, in the way only I would, that it wasn’t the right time. There are a lot of things to write about when it comes to her, but this is AA, and she had a story on it, so that’s what we will read about today.
Ginger was in second year at the time. It was Friday afternoon and class was dragging as usual. I don’t know how the most boring of lecturers get the Friday afternoon class, but the government needs to set up a comittee that will be tasked with investigating the root cause of this problem. These classes drain you of your life force and leave you in desperate need of air and life, so it is only understandable that most campus students need to unwind come Friday night, and our sweet Ginger was one of them on this night. She got her posse together and after a fun time getting ready [because getting ready is the best part of going out], they went to a club that was frequented by students from all campuses around Rongai. It was one of these hip new places that have just opened and where students go because they need the selfies to prove how hip and up to date they are.
“Ey, you guy [I never understand why anyone would call someone this], did you go to ABC club last weekend?” asks random dude 1 on Monday.
“Yea man, I was there Friday. It was maad” says random dude 2.
“Really man? Coz I was there on Friday with kina Ginger and I didn’t spot you. Kwani who were you with?”
RD2: Aah, si you know me you guy my guy. I just chunguliad and left
RD1: Oh, heh, si Ginger killed manze, that dress my guy wooosh [because onomatopoeia was something they learnt in school]
RD2: I saw her snap man
RD1: By tha lemme see your pics on Friday. You must have been there when I wasn’t. Were there bad chilles?
RD2: Uh…Yeah man. So bad…uh…so bad that I forgot to take pics. You have to live in the moment sometimes G
Ginger was being totally “bad” this night [please don’t mistake being bad with being irresponsible, though a girl can do both in this era]. She was dancing. Ginger loves to dance. Anytime music plays you will find her bobbing her head or whining her waist polepole. She loves to move to music. In the midst of this unwinding, there was the taking of shots, the whining of waists, the bumping of heads and the dancing on tables, all her.
It will be important to make clear that I was not surprised, especially with the dancing on tables. Because if I was to make a bet on any of the people I know, the bet on ‘most likely to dance on a table on a Friday night in a club’ [and I probably need to find better names for these bets] would most definitely go to her. If some random person came to me and said “Hey, Mirriam, I saw your friend dancing on tables” and I asked “are you sure it was a friend of mine?” and they said yes… I know what I would say. I would say “Oh, that must be Ginger”. Not that my other two friends don’t have the DOT (Dancing on tables) gene…but the best bet would be her. She is the most upbeat person I know, meaning in a place with louder beats, she will definitely be up, literally. At some point, she blacked out. The times I heard someone blacked out because of alcohol consumption was at a house party and they had too much of it but were not active enough, ergo sitting down trying to figure out the meaning of life, and the alcohol got the best of them. But this? This was new to me. She doesn’t remember blacking out, just waking up next to a girl she did not know, in a house she did not recognize and… to top it all off, in Karen.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. What is it with Karen and these girls? Last week’s house without food had the same location. Right? Because me too! And I promise Stormi and Ginger are different people. Maybe this is the storytelling version of Déjà vu. You know? How all this is just too eerily familiar and all that. Maybe today’s story is last week’s déjà vu. Or last week’s is today’s? aargh I’m muddled [that just means confused, but there is this book I’m reading has me going back to the dictionary like I did not learn any English, so I thought why not throw that in there? Have us be a couple of muddled people. Muddlers Ha-ha] Want to know what she did? Well… she got her ass home and vowed to never go out clubbing on top of tables ever again. That’s what she did.
Also, I know what her name is. Please don’t think I have had her as a friend all these years without knowing her name. I am no boy.
[Send me an email on firstname.lastname@example.org if you have an AA story that you want to tell here. Remember, you get to pick any name you want. Isn’t that cool?]