Ernest Bazanye Sempebwa
My dear Nairobi
How are you doing? How are Wangeci, Omondi, Gupta and Kipchoge? Please tell them I said hello, and that I received the paypal receipts. Everything is in order. As predicted, most of the specimens arrived intact and should begin breeding in a week or so.
It has been a while since I was last over, I know. But I have been quite caught up here in Kampala lately. We are undergoing a particularly aggressive surge in alcohol consumption right now and as a patriot, you understand, I have to stay and make my contribution.
I did plan to come over last week but I heard the news that Nairobi Water And Sewerage Corporation was shutting down water supply for significant parts of the city so as to carry out maintenance work on one of their key plants.
Nairobi, I am not coming over if you don’t have tap water.
I keenly remember last time I was there, I met a young gentlemen on one of your streets. He wanted my wallet and iPod. I was not shocked at that, of course. This was in the early 2000s, when you had that regrettable crime wave (which I blame Red San for. Never liked the look of that boy. It’s the way he walks. He inspires delinquence.)
At the time I was quite accustomed to being robbed in Nairobi. So much so that I always carried extra wallets, watches and iPods whenever I ventured forth.
This robber, though, was at a disadvantage in that he did not have a proper weapon to threaten me with. He explained that he had left home with a knife, but it had been mugged off him on the way to this street. The most he could threaten me with, he explained, was putting me in a headlock and punching the crown of my head very hard.
Now, having the ninja skills all my clan members are gifted with, I did not immediately capitulate, but then he raised his arm to begin. The stench that exploded from the underarm was so intense that I very suddenly became aware of the fact that iPods would soon be obsolete and I may as well get rid of the thing now.
The experience left a deep scar. Because the capillaries inside my nostrils burst and there were some lacerations in the lining of my sinuses and it would be months before I would be able to grow hair again, so the doctors told me to just stay away from Kariobangi.
That is only one of my reasons for not travelling over, however. The other is depicted below.
Mr and Mrs Simba decide to take the kids out for dinner at Javas. Look at the excitement on their faces. They are so excited about having customers for dinner.
Maina said I shouldn’t be so worried, and that the last incident was months ago, but that does nothing to reassure me. It just means the next incident is even closer than we think. The lions are close. And getting closer.
And who is to say the hyenas won’t come out too? It is one thing to be eaten by a lion in the middle of the street in Nairobi, but a hyena? There you lose both life, and dignity.
But enough of that. Is Zuckerberg still there, by the way? I heard he came to visit. That must have been nice. I am sure you had a great time.
He is probably still there, though. I am presuming so because Zuckerberg is an American millennial and from what I have heard, though they are fun, easy going types they are also very entitled and suffer from separation anxiety. You invite them to your place and they go to your fridge and get the leftovers and eat them straight from the pan, with their fingers.
Now, I know you guys, like almost all Africans, place a great premium on hospitality and treating guests with grace, but I have to advise you people, Nairobi, if he is staying, make him pay rent.
You fed him Ugali, which made me suspect that you didn’t want to overstretch your host budget, but I can assure you, that boy can pay his own way.
Take him to a nice restaurant and let him splurge. Trust me. He gat dis.
Just don’t take him to Javas until you know where the lions are.
Anyway, it is becoming late here in Kampala and, as you know, those in my tax bracket are legally obligated to uber to two bars a night, or we are not allowed to have sex with women in their twenties, so I have to leave now. Be good to yourself, Nairobi. I love you.
Bazanye, son of Bazanye
Muzukulu of Sempebwa
Born of Nagawa
Also called Elenesiti