Hahaha this piece by Gabriel Oguda on ma3.....killed it
The past two weeks has seen me traverse the most dangerous places in Eastlands, on assignment. Eastlando, land of the rising sun, where the beat don't stop. Eastlando, where you go hard, or go home. Have you boarded those buses?
Those buses are spruced up. Disco on wheels. Chaos has nothing on those buses. A friend tells me there is one with a resident DJ on board. He spins the turntables and the passengers get to make requests real time.
There used to be one plying the Route 9, Eastleigh. It had a revolving satellite dish on top. You get in, and you're watching Arsenal vs Man United live from Old Trafford. Before John Michuki stepped in and swept them off the tarmac. Peace at last. Thank God Almighty, it was Peace At Last.
The madness is back. Back like it never left.
There is this fleet of spruced mini-buses plying the Ngong route. It is the closest you have come to seeing an automobile bounce on the road. You see the way broke university students walk to the ATM after receiving a text from their bank that the HELB loan has checked in? Those buses have adrenaline. And they are branded to impress, each around a thematic area, mostly of prominent historical figures or athletes.
My favorite is St. Leo Bolt; fully draped with the Jamaican flag, images of Usain Bolt all over it. And just like its persona, it was built for speed. On the road, it comes at you like Usain Bolt down the 100 metre Olympic race track. Mad bull, road rager, the life size image of Usain Bolt on the front coming to full life as it charges down the next stop. Get out the way. Either that, or you are minced meat.
Inside St. Leo Bolt is mad chaos. Dim disco lights. Plasma screen across the front. Dance hall music on stilts. If you saw it bounce coming to your stage, it is because it was gyrating to the music inside. And the young chaps in there love it. 'No calls, just sms' pinned alert greets you as you get in. If you check in and it looks like you're in a mobile club, it is because St. Leo Bolt was designed to be a disco.
The low light doesnt allow you to identify the faces of young adolescents, all you see is synchronized nodding of heads and occasional yelling to the chorus at the back bench. St. Leo Bolt is a lively person, and this bus does the man real justice. Life, in there, is served with a magnified spade.
Fi di backaz,
Backaz, backaz,
This a gyal yah waan
Backaz...
I get into this Kayole-bound bus this morning and you do not need to be told disco started early today. Backaz, that moster club banger by Jamaican dance hall artiste, Demarco, is off the chains. It is Eastlands' clap-back to St. Leo Bolt. Kayvo Kayforce once did a diss-track addressed to Juliani and Khaligraph Jones. In it he says; "Khaligrah na Juliani bado wachanga kwangu, 'ka ni mistari wanajua nawachenga kama Kanu; naeza take on Eastlando ka nyi ndio competition toe-to-toe let's go in every track I'm on a mission."
It's like Demarco stepped in on behalf of Eastlando and released Backaz to try stem the humiliation.
The youth of Kayole jam to Backaz like their life depends on it. And why not? It's a feel-good track, consumes you with adrenaline to your marrow, gets you to begin moving your limbs, even before you step into the mobile disco.
Until you watch the video, and scan the lyrics with a toothcomb, it begins to hit you that you're actually watching pornography in public with the full knowledge of Ezekiel Mutua, that humble diplomatic passporter obsessed with chasing bloggers around.
The kids over there killed morality and buried it in a shallow grave, a long time ago. They love Backaz, and Demarco, and Vybz Kartel, the Worl' Boss. If Vybz Kartel was to do a show in Kenya, the concert would be in Kayole, where the Gaza Gang, the most dreaded adolescent hit-squad in the entire Eastlands, operate from.
Every young Kayole-an you meet has a sparkling metallic tooth you'd think the dentist plucked off the original and replaced it with an aluminum foil. Foiled tooth, most probably from a bar brawl, chiseled at the edge, worn like a badge of honour, at the mid of the upper gum. And faded jeans resembling a pipette. When their peers are busy in Chemistry laboratories pipetting chemical reagents in a lesson of mole concept, the Gaza Gang have pipettes wrapped around their skinny thighs.
To complete the intimidating look is the thing around their necks. Good girls love bad boys. In Kayole, good girls fall in love with those shiny things around the necks of bad boys. Everything that glitters is gold. Hessy Wa Kayole has one helluva job. Power to her, or him, or it.
Cross over to Githurai and the madness doesn't stop.
Githurai-bound buses are murder. There is this superstition going on they are run by the Illuminati, since no one has ever seen a Githurai-bound bus pit-stop at a petrol station.
Tonight on opinion count we ask; 'Have you ever seen a Githurai bus stop to fuel?' SMS your response beginning with the word DEVIL to 666. We will sample your responses at end of this bulletin.'
Fi di backaz,
Backaz, backaz,
This a gyal yah waan
Backaz.
June 15 at 8:49pm · Nairobi · Public