There is a stuffy bar in Eldoret called Bungoma Ndogo Bar and Restaurant. I cannot locate it even if my life depended on it. This is because on the night that our friend Cherotich took us there, the Kenya Power Company had decided to bless us with one of their surprise black outs. Since it was her birthday, Cherotich would not let anything stand in the way to blow her twenty second candle in style. The reason why she chose Bungoma Ndogo was because black out or not, the operations of this den usually goes on. This is because nothing down here uses electricity. Bungoma Ndogo is lit with seven smoky koroboi's (I counted) and there is the famous Namatete Band for entertainment, well they are famous back in my village.
Having been a weekly customer in Bungoma Ndogo for the past three years, Cherotich could find the place with her eyes closed; something she confirmed given the black out. All the six of us formed a queue behind her as she groped her way through the poorly drained city of Eldoret. After a whole hour of bumping into random objects and people, we finally saw the flickering shadows of the patrons at the venue where Cherotich was to mark her twenty second birthday. the un-synchronized voices of Namatete band were being drowned by their drum-mist who seemed to have more energy than Kenya Power... it only made matters worse that the members were demanding for the singers to move along to the chorus since they were not familiar with the lyrics of the jam.
"That gentlemen is Bungoma Ndogo!" Cherotich announced much to the delight of my Luhya friends. Our entry was welcomed ceremoniously by half of the bar. the other half were shaking their drunk heads in disapproval.
"Watoto wa campus (campus kids!)" said one old ancestor who despite all the years of drinking, the booze had refused to kill him!
"You look like the son of Zebedayo!" The old geezer added poking me on the stomach with his home-made walking stick. Let me put it out there that I have no relative, not even on all my in-law's side going by the name Zebedayo!
"You drink alcohol?" the man who should be dead and a half years asked annoyingly poking me again, "Zebedayo owes me money you know!"
I was about to punch him right on his ribcage. If the cheap alcohol was not ready to kill him then, I was! but Cherotich intervened
"Kenny! its my birthday do not spoil it for me!" and she immediately and squarely dislocated the ancestor's nose. We cheered and soon everybody else joined us in the happy birthday chorus apart from the old people who lead the old dislocated nose out of the bar. The Namatete Band did a Bukusu rendition of 'Happy birthtay tuyu, Happy birthtay tiya Cherodich"
Then came the time to order drinks, we had to come to the hard decision on who should get drunk and who should not. Two were not to drink. Since it was Cherotich's birthday, it was unanimously agreed that she was to drown in whatever Bungoma Ndogo would throw at us. It was then that I noticed all my friends staring at me in a manner suggesting i should sacrifice for the team.
"No! No NO NOOOO!" I cried out in defense.
"Remember last time man..." They were referring to the first time the devil tempted me to drinking Black Ice. we do not talk of that dramatic day. I was out of the alcohol budget. Then Nakitare, my friend from the University of Nairobi, who is now writing blogs about me (nakitarenakitare.blogspot.com), backed out. We nodded understandably, he had found Christ.
Bungoma Ndogo does not serve anything else apart from Keg, cocacola and makhalange. Makhalange is basically something between Ugali and busaa (a local brew). As Nakitare and I ate our makhalange and cocacola, Cherotich and the rest of the birthday party danced themselves to drunken stupor. Despite being drunk, the birthday girl still managed to guide our way back to campus in the dark. I have been trying to find this base since January first. God bless Bungoma Ndogo
this article is also featured in Kenyawriting.com
Having been a weekly customer in Bungoma Ndogo for the past three years, Cherotich could find the place with her eyes closed; something she confirmed given the black out. All the six of us formed a queue behind her as she groped her way through the poorly drained city of Eldoret. After a whole hour of bumping into random objects and people, we finally saw the flickering shadows of the patrons at the venue where Cherotich was to mark her twenty second birthday. the un-synchronized voices of Namatete band were being drowned by their drum-mist who seemed to have more energy than Kenya Power... it only made matters worse that the members were demanding for the singers to move along to the chorus since they were not familiar with the lyrics of the jam.
"That gentlemen is Bungoma Ndogo!" Cherotich announced much to the delight of my Luhya friends. Our entry was welcomed ceremoniously by half of the bar. the other half were shaking their drunk heads in disapproval.
"Watoto wa campus (campus kids!)" said one old ancestor who despite all the years of drinking, the booze had refused to kill him!
"You look like the son of Zebedayo!" The old geezer added poking me on the stomach with his home-made walking stick. Let me put it out there that I have no relative, not even on all my in-law's side going by the name Zebedayo!
"You drink alcohol?" the man who should be dead and a half years asked annoyingly poking me again, "Zebedayo owes me money you know!"
I was about to punch him right on his ribcage. If the cheap alcohol was not ready to kill him then, I was! but Cherotich intervened
"Kenny! its my birthday do not spoil it for me!" and she immediately and squarely dislocated the ancestor's nose. We cheered and soon everybody else joined us in the happy birthday chorus apart from the old people who lead the old dislocated nose out of the bar. The Namatete Band did a Bukusu rendition of 'Happy birthtay tuyu, Happy birthtay tiya Cherodich"
Then came the time to order drinks, we had to come to the hard decision on who should get drunk and who should not. Two were not to drink. Since it was Cherotich's birthday, it was unanimously agreed that she was to drown in whatever Bungoma Ndogo would throw at us. It was then that I noticed all my friends staring at me in a manner suggesting i should sacrifice for the team.
"No! No NO NOOOO!" I cried out in defense.
"Remember last time man..." They were referring to the first time the devil tempted me to drinking Black Ice. we do not talk of that dramatic day. I was out of the alcohol budget. Then Nakitare, my friend from the University of Nairobi, who is now writing blogs about me (nakitarenakitare.blogspot.com), backed out. We nodded understandably, he had found Christ.
Bungoma Ndogo does not serve anything else apart from Keg, cocacola and makhalange. Makhalange is basically something between Ugali and busaa (a local brew). As Nakitare and I ate our makhalange and cocacola, Cherotich and the rest of the birthday party danced themselves to drunken stupor. Despite being drunk, the birthday girl still managed to guide our way back to campus in the dark. I have been trying to find this base since January first. God bless Bungoma Ndogo
this article is also featured in Kenyawriting.com
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