A House Party and Rickety Bones
I am young at heart. So young in fact, I think my heart is still toddling. While this is all fine and happy, my bones tell another story. It’s not that they are falling apart. Not all the time anyway. It’s just that they are not as young as they used to be. You know, like a few years ago. Got you curious? Ok here’s the story.
My friend, who also has rickety bones (I shall deny I said this) graduated a week ago. You see, at some point in life, we become quite set in our ways. This includes the mind’s diminished ability to concentrate. I mentioned this to my friend when she decided she wanted to go back to school. This is after I listed out all the cool things she would missing out on if she decided to get into the school routine. Yes, I’m a good friend like that. She is the stubborn kind however and she decided she was going to do the back-to-school thing against my wise counsel. She studied. She whined. She gave me hell in the name of homework assisting. She even graduated. I know! I am still in shock! She even had that small black hat they put on your head and the bathrobe to go with! All she needed was a pair of sandals and the bathroom-bathrobe-showercap-slippers look would have been complete.
Anyway, the university she was graduating from is one of those that is way out of town, with a campus here in Nairobi, to enable the disillusioned get an education. This university is situated in a town where no self respecting kitchen garden does not boast of a shrubbery or two of Khat. I wonder whether this is a coincidence, considering I hear (emphasis on hear) the stuff, chewed consistently, keeps you awake for days, aching jaws notwithstanding. The students would definitely need this to extend their reading time. So far is the town, that not all of us managed to go and witness her being given the power to read (tell me you get as confused by this statement as I do). We have new respect for her for this achievement. We decided the best way to show that we appreciate her effort was to put together a house party a week later.
And party we did. Those of us of ‘safe’ drinks of course were not caught up in the yelling and boasting of how soon we shall be retiring to a happy island with tons of women but watching and interviewing our rather intoxicated friends, squeezing out all those well hidden secrets was something of a comedy! Took a couple of shot too. You never know when you need damning evidence as leverage on good friends. At this point, I feel it’s only fair to mention that my sleep hour, especially without mind stimulation is as embarrassingly early as 9pm. I should also mention that I do love the comfort of a good bed and a firm mattress. An attempt at making rickety bones as comfortable as possible really. These are luxuries that are never available at house parties though. Grilling done, stories exchanged and bodies dropping all over the floor with sleep, I was beginning to nod off and those who had not collapsed on the floor or on seats or on counters were now focused on making me the butt of their half drunk jokes.
This is where my mission to look for anything attempting to resemble a comfortable sleeping place begun. The floor? Nah. Too cold and unforgivingly hard. Seats? Holding four times the capacity of allowed population each. The one available bed? I doubt it was going to be answering to the name bed the following morning with the weight it was currently carrying. Having done a complete survey of the place, I decided this house was in no position to bed me and my bones. At about 2am (that is a record for me), I did the inevitable. Carefully going over bodies of drunk friends and taking pictures as I went along, I grabbed the first pair of car keys I could find and walked out of the house, thankfully unlocked a decent sized car, curled into the back seat and slept.
I was woken up by tons of tapping (actually it was more like irritatingly loud knocking) of the car windows with 4 pairs of amused eyes peeking at me. The sun was up. Apparently they had been looking for me as I had forgotten to mention I was going to lodge in a car. Not that they would have remembered had I told them seeing as they were all half asleep anyway. I am not even going to speculate as to why they were wearing cheeky smiles or why they were each holding a camera. As for the rickety bones, half a day later, I am still nursing aches in places that were never meant to ache. Youth is good my friends. But so is old age. I haven’t been to such a smashing house party in a while. Would I do it again? Hell yeah! Will I sleep in a car again? I’m thinking of inventing a portable bed. One that can fit into a medium sized handbag. Hopefully, I can accomplish this before the next house party.