I got a new camera last week. Her name is Sonia, when I placed her next to Jacky I could hear her tell Jacky to step aside, “there’s a new chief in town.” I felt sorry for Jacky. The truth is I will never leave Jacky, she means as much to me now as she did when I first held her.
Dear Jacky, I know that things have not been the same ever since I introduced you to Sonia; we haven’t been going out as much, just you and I. Probably on my next adventure I will leave you lying silently on that goddamn cabinet. I want you to know that you will always have a special place in my heart; even though some people want me to sell you to them, I refuse to go all Joseph and his brothers on you. I will treasure you together with the moments we’ve had and my children will hold you like I do some day. So Sonia is bigger and fits very nicely in my hands, so she has a couple of other million pixels in her, so Sonia is higher up the ranks, so what? I don’t like her zoom anyway. But Jacky I have to leave you there for some time, I need to learn Sonia’s ways; this is not the end of us, I dedicate my 15th post to you.
The KICC, this piece of architectural beauty was designed by a Norwegian, Karl Henrik was his name. Ok I just googled that but you’re welcome.
I’m 28 floors above the central business district; it’s silent up here, almost deafening this, silence. My eyes can see just far enough to peek into Nairobi National Park, I can see the stretch of road that is Mombasa Road, Times Tower looks like it’s only a few feet away. In the far distance I here hooting but that’s about it, the rest is peace. Apart from swimming, I also have a fear for heights but being up here takes that away somehow. I don’t know if it’s just me but, do you ever feel like throwing stuff from high places? Just pick something up and see how far it can go? Well, that and peeing, don’t look at me like that Wanderi I know you’re also dying to know how that feels.
As the warm breeze blows over my face I think of the settling dust in Lokichogio as the herdsman in directs his flock back to the homestead, I think of the old woman in Kinangop repeatedly digging on her piece of land, I think of a chap called Okello in Rusinga hauling fish into his canoe, I think of the loud screaming of a new born child in Pumwani hospital, yet, in this turbulent sea of events, you are handed an undisturbed sandbar for just 150 bob. By the way, spoiler alert, I might try to make this place seem like paradise somewhere here.
At the reception desk you pay that modest price just to be on the rooftop but if you want to carry your camera up there, assuming it’s bigger than your palm you have to pay 7k. I’m told this by the guy there who, if you asked me looked kind of gay. Ok, maybe he didn’t but come on, 7k? The only alternative would be to leave the camera there, and this was Jacky.
‘‘She’s only a small kid, are you sure you can’t squeeze her in?’’
‘‘I don’t think I can do that.’’
‘‘Ok now you’re just being gay.’’
I didn’t say that last one. Come to think of it this guy was an Ok person; he was the only one smiling among two other female receptionists. There’s something about a gloomy faced receptionist that tickles my boxers in a bad way.
Back to the rooftop. As the sun sets you can feel it in your ear, you can taste Nairobi at the tip of your tongue, you feel the wheels of the city moving along below your feet but you will only realize the beauty of the peace up here when you’re alone, when it’s not a Friday and there aren’t a couple of university students imbibing cheap liquor to celebrate after an assessment test. As soon as the dark starts creeping in, the receptionist comes up to let me know that time is up, the air up here is different, and it dissuades you from leaving but you have to, before the fare to Kitengela hikes to 100 bob. When I’m reunited with Jacky, I take this one from below.
Remember that paradise thing? Well if it wasn’t a complete success I couldn’t give a hoot, it’s never that serious and they don’t really pay me enough for this shit.