Remembering Longonot

I still remember how I started this blog. It just seems like the other day. My profile reminds me it’s been more than three years. 

Three years. Three years of spewing nonsense.

Had I enrolled for a diploma and studied during the time I wasted on this blog then in  I would have been graduating twice in December.

I remember back then I used to stay in a quad room in Longonot Hostel with Mzee XZBGKL (tough name I know), Mzee Gythy and Mzee Wekemeu. People would drop in from six in the morning that it was difficult to know who lived there and who just passed by. In fact I rarely used my key as there was always somebody in the Idleness HQ either watching the Good wife, or arguing among themselves who between Zizou and Ronaldhino had the most talent.

If they weren’t doing those then they were playing bedminton, draughts, poker and the worst of all FIFA.

I’ve never fully appreciated people’s fascination with these games. Maybe its coz I’ve never known how to play. It was great though cheering Wekemeu the legendary striker. The man who made the AC Milan and the Barcelona defence tremble upon the mention of his name. The world media extolled his profilic left foot and the tantalizing pieces of magic that he unleashed upon many an opponent. Had he not just been a character in a computer program, Kenya would have won the World cup even before it started. 

Had he been real Gor Mahia would have been playing in the club world cup where they belong by birth right.

If only Mzee Wekemeu were able to control Oliech and co the way he controlled Wekemeu…….

If people were not playing ‘football’, they were playing scrabble. Now this was a game I really enjoyed. There’s no game in the world like Scrabble. That’s why whenever I buy a new gadget the first application I install is the Scrabble and then Truecaller. Truecaller is important. Trust me. Especially when your friends are a bunch of low life’s without any iota of basic human decency or a shred of dignity. People who will seduce you on phone with strange numbers and see how poor a flirt you are. I'm not saying it happened to somebody I know.

The scrabble games were so competitive that sometimes we brought our own fans to cheer. They were like a big hostile regional competition. Sometimes we even went without lunch as losers kept on asking for one more game to redeem their image.

Whereas winning didn’t get you any trophy, the bragging rights that it earned you was priceless. You were a true champion of the arena. A god to be worshiped for the day.

That’s why you just couldn’t afford to lose.

Especially if some you brought some yellow kikuyu lady to watch the games. Those ladies that are so beautiful that you feel they are doing you a favor by letting you do their assignments. You know in Maseno our neighbors were schools where girls’ heads were cleanly shaven just as my grandfather used to shave our heads using a Nacet Razor Blade. 

It dint help either that the only outings I went for were sports events  full of able bodied women who could tackle you if you failed to smile appropriately when smiled at. Finding one yellow lady amongst them was like finding sense in Ole Lenku’s statements. It’s what Shakespeare would refer to as looking for a seed in two bushels of chaff. You will spend the whole day searching and when you finally found one they won't be worth the search.

So you could understand why losing was out of discussion.

I don’t need to brag but it’s out there. I was great at the game. I still am.

Mzee Dimitri however was a maverick. Still is.He beat me again over the weekend.

He’s one of those guys that lets you think you are winning and then writes a word like XU or XIS or USQUE and gets hundred marks.

Then there was Mzee DXZBJKHL. 

Back then this guy was absolutely crazy for some very hot chick.They watched movies from morning to evening. All XZBJKL had to do was to buy some yellow mandazis from the tuck-shop and boil his lady love some coffee while the men sweated at the games.

There was this day when with a small number of tiles left, Mzee Dimitri was almost at four hundred points. I wasn’t far behind while Mzee DZXBGKL was barely past one hundred. 

He couldn’t lose this game. Not today. 

He really needed to impress his lady love.

And then the worst thing that can ever happen when the game is ending did happen.

He got J,X,K,Z to his collection of D,B,Z letters.

He had to think hard and fast otherwise he would face a subtraction of this letters and be condemned to utter shame.

A huge vein was increasingly becoming visible on his face and his hands were getting sweaty.

So like a genius he wrote XZBJKHL and pressed play.

Needless to say the computer rejected his word.

In an unanticipated fury he got up and roundly condemned the shallow scrabble dictionary that had refused to accept his legitimate word that the Queen herself would never dare reject.

For Mzee XZBJKHL that was the end of playing scrabble in that room. 

I remember life in Longonot Hostels.

I remember it for our diet there. I remember it because of the fried omena we ate on Monday, the milk stew omena we ate on Tuesday, the plain omena that we had on Wednesday, the deep fried omena that we had on Thursday and to break the omena monotony ,the omena mayai cocktail that we had on Friday.

I remember Longonot for the disappearing acts that we had when it was time to wash the greasy omena utensils.

I remember Longonot for the smoke from weed flouting across the window into the hostel.

I remember Longonot for The people. Mzee Fisi my friend, Mzee Bha our neighbor.

I remember Longonot for teaching me that tribe is just but a tag.

I remember Longonot for Beryl Mkubwa.

I remember Longonot for this blog. 

I remember Longonot for Wekemeu, the man of great worth who pushed me to start this blog, the man who pushed me to be consistent and continuously reminded me just how much big space there exists between me and real  writers of our time. The Bikos and the Palas.

I know I’m not where I should be but at least people in Sri Lanka read my blog.

So to Wekemeu, raise your glass.

USA President Uncle Barry salutes you on behalf of all great Luo men

 You are a great man!

………….even if Regina Re left you for that sweaty gym guy.