Nightlife at the Kenyan Coast: Yusuf

A few days ago, I met Yusuf. Quite a character he is frankly. An interesting and very entertaining one. See, we went out with Yusuf. To one of those pretentious, exorbitant places that are only so not because they have anything special to offer but because the owner picked a sweet spot (read affluent neighbourhood) to set up camp. Also, the owner is a foreigner which translates to that being part of the attraction of the place. If you can’t travel abroad, this is as good as it gets. Kipya kinyemi…

So all the patrons come here with their fake British or American accents fully in tow. Part and parcel of the whole lip stain, clutch purse and silk tie combos. The ultimate status symbol.

A while back, just speaking fluently in English was more than enough. Now we want to order in French and sigh loudly at the poor waiters when they do not understand. “Who hires these people?” This will usually be accompanied by eyes rolling and a dismissive order placed in forced Swahili spoken intentionally slow both to prove how hard it is for the speaker to enunciate and to emphasize the waiter’s apparently inferior intellect. And of course, in these places, the car keys are never inside the pocket.

Back to Yusuf. After spending an entire day complaining about my choices in music, I was indignant. How dare he! So fellas, this is how we found ourselves sampling the night life.

The only time he’d stand up to dance was when local music and lingala was olaying. The irony of course, does not escape me. A tall, almost white man, dressed in a kaftan amidst the sea of suits and everything else pretentious vigorously dancing to our local beats (quite well, I must add) while everyone else sat down the minute it started playing as if to dissociate with it. “I don’t listen to Kenyan music,” says a Kenyan to me when I dared to ask. And, “that’s my jam!” When finally the Dj decided to play trance.

So there he was, this Yusuf busy gyrating to the naked astonishment of everyone around us who had decided this music was only suited for the ears of the lower echelons. And God forbid should they come back to this club again to listen to this ‘bad’ music. The masks finally fell and they joined Yusuf in his dancing spree while still pretending not to know the songs. Hilarious.

The night ended and I penned this with very few hours of sleep but it just got me thinking…