Accommodation is never standard.

The shady people say “Rissot” and the more (they think) cultured will pronounce it “reezort”.. Either way, I was staying at the Yala Resort. And from the looks of the facilities, in no way was it deserving to be referred to as a “Reezort”. I was happily served by Sarafina and was given the best room in town for a liitle more than what you would pay for club entrance in the City. After a good scrub to wash off all the dust from pushing the two tonne 17 horsepower pick up truck to the other side of the country, I headed to the dining hall where I was joined, without invitation, by two ladies of the night.

Langa, poko, daughters of joy, ladies of the night, CSW and all other names conjured up every Friday night by a team of local experts in every local pub in the nation are used to refer to these ladies. These names are endless, but one with no front tooth (hereafter referred to as "no meno") and the other with flouride stained teeth (hereafter referred to as meno shokoret) were not quite the creatures you would expect to convince a drunken, red blooded youth from the City to part with his money. As a fact of matter, they would incline me to re-check the quantity of my wallet contents every hour to make sure I was not robbed. Aside everything, I think MSF (doctors without borders) need to organise a dental drive though Yala rissot.

“Iko nini?” I yelled out in the makeshift restaurant in reference to the food readily available. For those of you who may not have had the pleasure of eating outside of the comfort of a 3 star restaurant and consider “Terrific Tuesday” at Pizza Inn as your idea of roughing it, I have news for you. There are establishments with oral menus which will only be read out if you ask those key words. "Iko nini". Otherwise the waiter comes over and patiently leans on your table looking straight into your eyes waiting for you to read his brain, and decide what it is want to order.  This is no joke.  But it only makes sense if you earn Ksh 3,000 and some drunk comes and eats food worth half your salary with his other drunk friend and the two daughters of joy (No meno and meno shokoret).

*Travelling Fanatic TF

* Dumb Waitress DW

And the converstion goes like this

TF: iko nini dada?

..........Silence......

TF: (slightly agitated) WEWE!!!!

DW: (turning around from watching a Mexican soap on the tube having assumed the ever so comfortable hand in breast position) Eh?!!!! 

TF: Iko nini?

DW: Kila kitu iko

TF: Mko na steak?

DW: hiyo ni nini? Aiy...

TF: si ulisema kila kitu iko.. sema iko nini..

DW: Iko ugali.............. (silence)

TF: (getting extremely infuriated) NA?!!!!

DW: Na beef........... (silence)

TF: Eish madam, kwani hii ni interrogation ya police. Ebu ongea kama radio mpya. Sema ile yote iko..

DW: hiyo tu ndio iko ........ (silence alongside a blank look)

TF: si ulisema kila kitu iko?? Sasa imebadilika? (getting upset so my redness makes me look like a tomato with a beard)

DW: (still....blank look..).

TF: NKT.!!!!! Leta hiyo basi.

DW: Ugali na beef?

TF: kwani iko kitu ingine? NKT!!!!!.. annoyed, upset, hungry etc

DW: sawa....

So anyway, as usual, there is ALWAYS only ugali and beef. And I stubbornly and indirectly order for ugali and beef. And now I sit here, In Yala “Rissot” with No Meno and Meno Shokoret waiting for my Ugali and beef

My trip to nyanza.

I dont have anything against Kisiis, Drunks, footballers etc.. But cops, they are the patipati one wears when going to a public toilet.

So I don’t write about rugby because surprisingly, I rarely attend rugby matches any more.  Not because I have lost interest in the sport but because as time wears on, responsibilities take a toll and one is forced to choose between rugby and paying bills.

I was thrown in the thick of things when I was asked to supervise a project in Gem Dsitrict. OK, I don’t even know if it is a district, lakini they said the people of Gem have really somad and I should be very scared of them,.. WAPI???? Those are just guys of shags with inappropriate use of vocabulary.

So on my way north east from the glamour of Nairobi, I pass the usual drunkards speeding to naivasha for “one”.  I simply Don’t understand how a drunk person, (ir)rationally decides to drive his vehicle down an escarpment while severely intoxicated and  brags to his friends the next day how high he was as he sped down one of nature’s greatest descents. Anyway. This is not a “health and safety column” so shauri yako. Passed naiva–ho and into the plains that lead into Nakuru. These are the most boring of sites to see, it’s like watching paint dry. Don’t be cheated. There is NOTHING to see between those two towns. Just Uhuru’s land on your right and Government land on the left. (Somehow I feel these two people are one and the same).

Passed Nakuru and then the stories start flowing. (sorry I forgot to mention how I was travelling with one my peoples who happens to be a plumber but can paint, do electrical, do plaster, a bit of masonry and roofing). Anyway, so Man Man starts telling me how we should not pass the route to kericho coz some guy had been shot at the forest a week back. The road is rubbish in that stretch (though has been worked on recently) but I was not doing a two hour diversion because of one bullet ridden body. I come from Nairobi. It means I would have to go through Mombasa to get home if I avoided all the roads someone has been shot in the last month.

The hill to Sechangwan is steep. Now it makes sense on how a tanker can overturn carrying fuel even if the driver knows its a bad road. Yet the trailer coming down against us was cruising at formula one speed and just flashing his lights. FOKO jembe you driver, if it were not for my gripping the steering tight and closing my eyes, I would have gotten your Number plate and reported you to the cops. Speaking of cops. A new trick for those travelling long distance; dress in your pyjamas, carry several 50 bob notes, crumpled preferably.  When stopped by these modern day hyenas (read cop), look distressed, like your boss sent you for work during your mother’s funeral. And ask him politely if he can accept the ONLY note in your crumbling wallet. Which happens to be the crumbled, wrinkled, tired, 50 bob note with Kenyatta walking with crutches coz it has chokad ile mbaya. Oh I also forgot to say I was in a beat up pickup carrying loads of construction materials thus the “stop and ask him for money” target across my chest.

Once you get past Mau summit and towards kericho, you get to witness beautiful tracts of land with tea and poster women picking their share for the day (of course for pittance pay). But Again I am not a “labour and free trade” columnist, so life continues. Its looks like a million football fields beautifully manicured and just waiting for kenyas finest footballers (if any) to showcase their skills.

Now this is where the shock started. Si Nyanza is BIG. We come down some escarpment and the heat starts. It’s like driving to Mombasa. But here, there are no yellow yellows. And then we drive for about an hour and we have not reached Kisumu. I thought Kisumu was the whole of Nyanza. I mean, with all these jangos that claim they are related to each other, I figured it can’t be that big. Shock on me, they have north nyanza, south nyanza, central nyanza. I mean, they even have time to fit in some bantu’s somewhere in there. Though from the sound of their language, those guys just forced into being Bantus. I cant believe I haven’t reached. GOSH...

so its not rugby

I have been unable to write anything on rugby partly because the league is boring and does not involve travelling, thus beating the purpose of writing journals of NOT travelling on a travel site. But I ended up working in Nyanza for a bit in the last two months and so was forced to travel. I didn't watch a Minute of rugby but had loads of fun meeting new people, getting lost on boda bodas and blending into different cultures. Key moments to be remembered include:

1. The amazing jango bash
2. Nyoyo and Omena staple diets
3. Backbreaking pickup with one horsepower
4. Low profile tyres on kenyan roads
5. Mchezo bus service
6. Long road home.
7. Maseno Ghost town
8. Armaggedon in Ilundi

Over the next week, I shall give small stories of how Kisumu and Nyanza are the next frontier. But not just yet. If you get my drift.

Driftwood sevens

the final tour for many people.

The big one. The last tournament in the circuit. The penultimate decider of the champions, the mother of tours and the biggest dent in the wallet. Not to be missed. With the breaking away of the unhappy rugby players from MSC to form the Mombasa Spartans (like they couldn’t find a better name), Mombasa RFC are attempting to assemble a patchy team so that they can be allowed to host the tournament as this is an obvious prerequisite to having your own tournament. But this should not deter you from attending. As the action will be non-stop. The crowning of the champions will be done on the island and song and dance will be the order of the day as sorrows are drowned and kings are crowned.


Mwamba only needed to get the quarter finals and with the fantastic four preparing for Delhi, it was gonna be steep, but not impossible. so instead, We'll start from when I was pandaing Modern Coast Bus in Nairobi and all buses were fully booked and we had to sit in the last row. Where the bus hits a pothole and you get thrown into the air like your on a see-saw. Somehow, I spent the entire trip asleep while Bobby was busy counting the number of potholes on Msa road. Bwana PS of Roads, Bobby says his survey shows 38 serious potholes between the two Cities. With the levels of corruption and inefficiency, it will take 16 chinese and a million black men (and a special budget of 1 billion) to fix those 38 holes.


we arrived Mombasa at 5 am and slowly made our way to Jundani hotel where we pleaded with the somali to give us a room to shower and freshen up for an hour for kidogo chumz. 'BLIZ dont take long, My bhoss will gam early" he pleaded with us. 


so a quick shower and breakfast of mahamri and chai choma on the streets gives us enough energy to tackle a fun filled saturday. In we walk into MSC and with our muscular build and arrogant swagger, the watchies salute and quickly usher us in without asking any questions. (ok, perhaps i had more of the arrogant swagger than the muscular build). but bado njiliingia bure.


at the pitch was the complete array of fun and games.. and this is not including the rugby going on. the excited msa teenagers were already at the bottom of their first vodo. and it was only 10 am. the refs were fighting with some strange revellers over a tent. The union guys wanted to sit near the halfline but some rowdy guys had already taken charge of the area and mike mwanja was trying to look serious and chase them away. Mike, poor planning on your part cant be a ticket to harrass kenyans who have come to watch rugby. 


The VIP tent had so called important people but noticably, it had Big Ted. The guy had jazad the tent mpaka the guys huko nyuma had to sit on stools to see above him. and alipatiwa kiti ya chuma from the main club coz the plastic chairs had a technical hitch. I think it may be that they are unable to hold anything heavier than a rhino.


Nondies fielded one of their best teams of the circuit and got further then they were used to. kudos to the lions. Sevens was not meant for everyone. Bobby six (flanker) killer was forced to watch from the sidelines due to a broken finger. (maybe Big Ted sat on it?).  


Homeboys came with an ice bath also. Though I don't understand why it was very similar to a large blue bucket from Roto Moulders.  Perhaps its a new state of the art cooling system that was made in Industrial area. Anyway, they got the concept and that's what matters. Cool your players to save energy. 




Now on to the bigger game... !5s rugby

Kabeberi Sevens

Mwamba won. and in a show of complete arrogance, they did a dance after the trophy to show the fans that, "not only were we not training so hard to win this, we had time to practice this rubbish dance"..... I mean honestly, at what point in a rugby training session (in amateur rugby) does a team stop training and practice a victory dance. I understand it with professional footballers who get their dance replayed in SKYSPORTS and get endorsements based on their robot (that tall lanky guy who once played for Liverpool FC) dance. But this is amateur rugby. So out of order. humph.

I have taken so long to write this that I have forgotten exactly what happened.... But it was something to do with Mwamba winning and Humphrey Khayange giving a serious "stool" to  Sydney "the bullet" Ashioya that got the entire stadium up on its feet. And with that sealing of the win, Mwamba only needed to reach the quarter finals of the next tournament and walk away with the title.

so i pack my bags and go to Mombasa..... for the raha and ahem,...also the rugby..

Dala Se7ens

4^th Sep dala sevens:

I had not been to a rugby event in Kisumu City for approx 9 years. And i was sure the change will be amazing as all this was pre-Raila and Pre-Obama and we were still under Baba Moi. From what i vaguely remembered of Kisumu in the year 2000:

An experience. The ocean makes women woozy and weak kneed. In kisumu, there is no ocean and only several boda bodas and motorpikis zooming past hooting constatntly. The agitation of the passengers, pedestrians and matatu drivers is dangerously climbing to tribal clashes level. One day, kisumu will explode. And raila will step and in and prove to all doubters that he has a fanaticism support in Nyanza that is closely rivalled by only JC himself.

The smooth talking jaluo sales persons will keep you entertained for the entire trip. The one selling “window wassing liquid” for your windscreen, to the “Kuful” merchants at the busiest round about in Africa. Several places to visit including the highly acclaimed “lunch at the beach” serving Ugali and a large tilapia are a must see. The heat is almost unbearable so carry your sunscreen BIG digagas (preferably not purchased from mutua at the traffic lights on your way out of Nairobi) and a massive hat. Underwear, extra clothing, toothbrush et al are all extra luggage that might not be necessary depending on your hygiene standards and motives for the weekend.

If a person travels 350 kms in a car travelling at 100 km/h, how long will his journey take? That was the theory I used as I left Nairobi at 0600 hrs intending to reach Kisumu at 0930 hrs. All within the Kenyan highway speed limit. That journey took me four and a half hours but nilifika on time to watch most of the games.

The closer I approached kisumu, the more the heat. As we went down the escarpment from kericho, I was tempted to stop there and watch the rugby through binoculars. This heat was deafeningly loud (I have no better word to describe that feeling).  Past chemelil we cruised, where a passerby taught me how to steal sugarcane from a moving tractor after which we dove straight into the world’s busiest roundabout. This place is sooo confusing yet there is some order in the chaos. The boda boda baskeli wait on one side and the boda boda pikpiki wait on another. The “kuful” traders ply the centre and the mtumba vendors line one side of the road opposite the vegetable hawkers. Too much for one place. But kazi inaendelea. We took a right past the new tusky’s leaving behind the empty nakumatt warehouse at the kisumu gates.

As I enter the kisumu polytechnic gates, i hear the MC proudly announcing that kisumu is proud to host africas biggest sevens tournament. With 32 participating teams in a two day tournament. This is what I would gladly call rubbish development policies. How do you put Kisii RFC against Kenya’s finest in a pool game. Why can’t there be a parallel tournament on another pitch for these small teams? How does Dennis Mwanja dislocating Sibwor Omondi’s (some random guy) shoulder develop rugby?

Anyway, so I look for a place to sit and the rugby clubs have occupied all the tents with their respective teams. There is no space for a non-affiliate fan. You either sit with one of the teams. Or you roast under the sun. Kisumu organisers, you need to organise yourself. Not scatter tents around the park like it’s a raffle. NKT.

Day one was BORING. I mean it was an utter waste of time. Watching big teams run +50 points past a small inexperienced team was just sad. All in 15 minutes of rugby.  Day two was not as bad. The top teams were announced. And at least we knew the action will start at midday.

The Kisumu sun was burning. The girls were out and the drinks were flowing. Kweli this was going to be a great final. Kenya Harlequins play Mwamba RFC in the third final in a row. The warm up was serious and the stage set for another titans clash.

Gloria daddy’s gal was in attendance with a black dress and a black kofia. IN THIS HEAT?? Surely?? Anyone able to advice our good friend how black absorbs heat and makes it unbearable to stand in public looking like it’s a funeral? Wacha tu.

Doc was thea as well in small shorts and the look of the Quins tent when she entered the ice bath to cool down was priceless. What were the Quins guys expecting? A Baywatch moment? Ok, the shorts were kidogo hotpants-like, but she was not ati going to flick her hair and rub her bossom with the ice cold water... calm down boys, the Finals are just round the corner.  Speaking of the ice bath. The Quins boys are taking sports to another level. And for that, I thank them. Ice baths cool the body quickly and you save energy and detect injuries much faster. These boys will have a longer playing career than all their counterparts. so for that, Kudos.

Mwamba made an example of Quins by wiping their multi-coloured kit on the green and came out on top and took the lead in the series. Two out of three. Just one more and three out of five will secure them a title shot.

The final whistle blew and it was a sprint for the fans. From Kisumu to Nairobi in the shortest time possible. Redbull was the choice of drink for the driver to keep me on toes for the return 350kms. I arrived at 11 pm on Sunday night more tired than the players. But definitely happier than all but the 12 who took the cup.

Next week, Kabeberi. Is this not a Mwamba tournament? Let’s see.

Prinsloo Sevens, Nakuru

Another introduction to the Prinsloo sevens would probably be more befitting, but that’s for the ones who care more about rugby than the ills on the pitchside.

28^th Aug Prinsloo sevens:

The tour of tours… Nakuru is a few hours from Nairobi and with the nairobians obsession with naivasha, its just a few kms up the road from the gommorah that has been created next to the lake. Guaranteed to be the place to party with all your Nairobi buddies (other than Msa over Christmas) on the streets till early Sunday morning and suffer the whole of Monday trying to orient oneself to the shocking order and discipline required to switch between party and work in a heartbeat. I would suggest taking Monday off and giving yourself time to recover from such debauchery. Nakuru has been reputed as having a growing fan base and is bigger every single year. And everything costs half price. From burgers to beers to chips fungas who drink half price black ice. The only place you must fork out is for the lodgos that will be charging a premium for this special weekend.

Wanyore

By that weekend, we knew who was meant to be in the final four. If Impala, Quins and Mwamba were not in the semis, money had been poured and we should have stayed at home and promulgated with kibaki and his cronies. Speaking of promulgation, that was a State disaster. First we had a wanted man on our lands, then a rubbish poet who dared to say”tutapromulgate, tutanavigate and everything gate”, in a state function? Surely! She should be tried for treason. Is that what we are showcasing as Kenya’s finest? And then we thought the shame was over. But it’s not over till the fat lady sings. And then Achieng Abura and her counterparts stepped in. She made a crying shame of herself and all Kenyan artists in that makeshift ensemble. But there was one knight in shining armour, Eric Wainaina, Ulitusave ile mbaya, as unexciting as your song was, it was fit for the day’s purpose and you wiped the floor with the other artists’ mediocrity. We thank you for restoring some pride in Kenya’s performing arts.

What a Mess

I digress…

So instead of watching the first few fixtures of rugby, I sought shelter in a relative’s house in Nakuru to watch the promulgation after which I headed to The Nakuru Athletic club. The venue was not yet thronged and left me wondering if the promulgation is affecting attendance levels.

As the sun rises, the action rises and the cars start filing in. Levi Onkoba drove in with his office posse of Clifford Kinyua and Paul Sadat. They needed a four wheel drive vehicle to tow in the large amount of sense diminishing liquids in their possession. This group was behind the almost successful Nakuru street party. Were it not for the rain, it would have been a close contestant to the days of B&H street bashes.

The point five (pronounced “.5”) mafia were also in the house with their ability to enjoy copious amounts of alcohol while still knowing where they left their handbags and wanalala wapi… not many a woman can manage that. Ask the long legged Kisumu TM what happened to her wallet and forehead after a few vodkas on Saturday night. I’ll bet you anything she won’t remember and blame it on the AAAAAA LLLL COHOL... so as much as you love them or hate them, the point five mafia is here to stay in Kenyan rugby.

Cliff in the four wheel drive

Dr Mogere came with doggies that look like toys and I got a bit of female attention pretending I was the owner of these pets. Though I was certain I saw one of the doggies going to a corner with a mongrel of Nakuru. So I am sure a few months from now, the flawlessly white, 8 inch tall, fluffy called mumble will give birth to a brown, no fluff, no tail, 2 feet tall “mbwa koko” called Rambo.

After being defiled by the mbwa koko, they ran to safety

Cliff wa safaricom came with a brand new, black, tinted MPV and instead of offloading hoards of scantily clad, alcopop drinking teenagers, he offloaded gallons and gallons of drinking water for some random team. Such a waste of a nice car, he should have just bought a pickup.

And now to the rugby… The National Rugby players arrived in Nakuru late as they had to march past Kibaki at the promulgation ceremony so were excluded from most of the games on Day One. But the superstars were included in day two and Mwamba gave a better show of themselves and took the crown. Edgar Abere (breath) took MVP, two times in as many weeks. If this boy is overlooked, we will only forgive the selectors and coach if they bring home the commonwealth crown.

Horace Owiti redeemed himself and scored a try in the finals to make up for the past weeks (almost) unforgiveable mistake. Collins Injera has not been as amazing as we all wanted him to be. But perhaps that is because we are waiting for him to do something Godly while all he is doing is creating gaps for Abere to shine.

The move of Wilson Kópondo to Kenya Harlequins shocked many, but he has been very instrumental in Quins campaign to getting to the finals on both weekends and this is a platform for him to get to greater things. For those who don’t like Quins, where was he to go and who was he to replace? All clubs have wenyewe and no matter what happens, Wilson kopondo will be on bench even in Homeboyz if he is not on good terms with the management. Kopo, you made a good choice and you are playing Top flight rugby with a solid structured side. I am not too fond of several Quins players but I feel they know what the club is doing, so all who have issues meza wembe.

The night came and the party continued into the wee hours of the night as the deejays kept the music playing and the KWAL stand kept the throats watered. Nakuru is a perfect place to party with cheaper prices on everything and a vibrant night scene down the road at the Multi levelled Taidy’s and the spacious Summit disco.

All in all, rugby was the winner and two teams were stuck at the top with a win and a runners up position each. We all await the Dala sevens to separate the men from the boys. 

Photos courtesy of Ministry of Rugby and Viga Mogere