Dreams of Brighter Days

The other day my friend Sam dragged me to his local somewhere along Thika Road. It was reggae night. Sam is crazy about reggae. I don’t care much for reggae music so I was not that amused. We get there and the place is packed. Sam is a regular here so Shiro, his favourite waitress, manages to secure us sitting next to this dreadlocked couple. They are chewing a fat bunch of what looks like freshly plucked khat. They welcome us warmly and continue draining their half-full bottle of Gordons.

”Kawaida” Sam makes the order. Shiro brings our drinks and after blessing our departed, we start to imbibe. The place is painted red, yellow and green. Bob Marley is smiling down on us from the murals and paintings across the hall. The music is loud. The MC keeps interrupting the music with his commentary. His little jokes are hilarious I have to admit, but annoying at the same time. Maybe it is because he is a tad too personal. Tarrus Riley is next on the decks. The MC does the thing again.

MC: ”If you feel like you have me wrapped around your little finger...”

Crowd: ”You’re Wrong!

MC: ”Kama dem yako anadai kukuacha ati juu hauna kakitu unamuambia aje?”

Crowd: ”Don’t come back!”

The energy in the room is crazy. Everyone is in a trance. Dancing, drinking, chewing, singing along. The smell of a freshly sparked joint fills the air. Some nyama choma arrives on the table and the dreadlocked couple invites us for a bite. We decline but the gentleman insists. I grab a long rib and skin it to the bone. A skimpily dressed cowgirl passes by and Sam gets two tequila shots for everyone. We are now a family of four. The couple tells us the story of how they met. They seem to be in love. God When? I can almost hear Sam’s thoughts. Moments later, our new friends excuse themselves and ask us to watch their drinks. The lady needs to pee. Or pick someone. It’s noisy so we cannot hear them clearly. They come back minutes later with another female lady in tow. She is a cousin to the dreadlocked lady or something of the sort. We squeeze her in. We are now a family of five.

She is Sam’s type, this new member. Light-skinned, petite, and dreadlocked! They vibe immediately. Before long, I am third wheeling. Sam is whispering sweet nothings into his new catch’s ear and the dreadlocked couple is busy doing couple stuff. Then there is me. Alone. I stare into the crowd. Hundreds of people, unified by their love for reggae music. They seem happy. They are happy. Busy Signal’s Dreams of Brighter Days comes on and everyone goes nuts. They sing it word for word. I do not have someone to whisper sweet nothings to so I open my Shazam and scroll through the lyrics.

As I open my window and glance through my window
I realize there’s no turning back
Than to complete life’s journey though things get contrary
But got to make it to the top

See, am searching for ah way to survive
Working so hard I know Jah will provide
Both see, oh, am keeping my head high
Mama tell me da limit is da sky

Maybe it is the liquour, but words have never hit home harder than these did. In these times of economic turmoil, inflation, maandamano, reduced life expectancy, high cost of living, Shakahola, and increased crime, all one needs is a reminder that things will eventually get better. In this lonely moment, I realized that I have been far too rigid. I have lived my whole life only listening to a certain kind of music, eating a certain kind of food, dating a certain type of women, doing a certain kind of job, meeting a certain kind of people. Here I was, actually enjoying myself at a reggae festival, surrounded by four complete strangers, hundreds of reggae fans, and a drunk Sam. It was one of the best night-outs I have ever had. When the night ended, Sam ditched me and drove his new catch to her place. Men, huh?

On my Uber home, I made a resolve to be more open-minded. To try out everything and anything as long as it is legal (I am too pretty for prison, lol). I challenge you to do the same. Attend Mugithi night even if you don’t understand a word in Kikuyu. Try salsa or kizomba even if you have two left feet. East sushi or tacos, even if you have heard they taste like shit. Go to Luo Festival even if the only Luo words you know are Tibim and Tialala. Try coding even if you sucked at math. Date a Nigerian man. Ditch the T-shirts once in a while, put on that suit, see how it fits you. Ask that girl that is not your type out for dinner. Play basketball even if you are four feet tall. Paint something. Follow Formula One even if you don’t know how to drive. Show up. Give it a shot. And no matter how much life is shafting you, dream of a brighter day. It is on its way.