Brian Odah.
Today I did not go to my regular church since I moved to a different town. Sermon: James 1:22 Something about how we are supposed to live and act our faith. Very nourishing(spiritually if you do not get it). It promised to be yet another good Sunday right untill my curiosity told me to follow the youth group after mass. You know a little chatting and getting to know a few more people never killed anyone. Atleast none that I know of, besides it seemed like a good idea there judging from how jovial they were. Been having a bad week sticking with happy people would be good for me.
So I am the newbie here and at first I keep to myself listening to their deliberations while going through Mwalimu Andrews article. It always kills it for me. They want to go practise for some inter-church youth dance competion that would take place the next Saturday in Kisumu. It seems like a big deal to them got me thinking maybe some of them have never been to Kisumu or are they just fiercely competitive? I hoped it is for the fun of going to Kisumu but I soon came to realise it was the latter. Now I am almost finished with the article and I am trying as much as possible to hold my laughter inside just to maitain my decorum. I tell you those articles are dead funny. The Kids turn on the music in the hall, daddy Owens Kapungala. The girls scream so loud, the last time I heard someone scream that much was when I was a literally a groupie at the Joe concert. (A friend took me there after his girlfriend miffed him, I am not the kind to pass up such a chance. Story for some other time. -If I feel like it suckers!) Anyway from the peripheral of my eye I see this kid approaching me he is like 10 or so.
The lad walks straight to me and challenges me to a dance off. Yeah A freaking dance off. Let me point out something about my dancing abilities, they are non-existent. I am as stiff as Dunhams Jose Jalapino in every sense of the word.
As soon as he blurts out his challenge the screaming stops and there is an eerie silence. Everyone is looking at as all quiet it is like they know something. I could feel the other guys holding their breath waiting for my answer. Ordinarily I would have turned down the challenge but this kid had me right where he wanted. At the center of everyones attention and then there is the little matter of my stupid ego. There was no way I could walk out of this. Damned if I do damned if I don't so I decided to go down the barcelona way, honourably. Nachapa hesabu za haraka haraka, Kapungala is basically Lingala and I have watched a few Koffi Olomide and Zaiko videos never mind it was 14 years ago. If I could just remember the moves and link up with the beat kidogo I could train myself as I continue with the dance.
Oh oh bad bad move, forgot this is not engineering neither is it programming it is something you either got or you don't. In my naivety I accept the challenge and the "DJ" for the day restarts the music again. No sooner had Daddy Owen fineshed saying "Papa fololo" than I realised that I had got myself into elephant shit. This kid is jigging it like he got no bones. They called him Young Zion, gosh! everyone knows him in these parts and thats why they were so eagerly waiting for my reply. Here I am looking woeful still trying to link up old memories and turn them into a dancing routine. My mind is telling me to give in and let it go but my ego would have non of it. So desperately I try to shake my waist and a non existent ass to disastrous results. I myself can feel how mechanical I am and it must be absolutely clownish for people who are seeing it. Young Zion on the other hand steps it up and I think he gets into his zone, like a master he wipes the floor with my tired "old " self. Then a not so bright idea hits me. What if you continue doing what you are doing but lift one leg and do it much faster. Now I am on auto and I am not analysing my decisions, everything is being thought out by the heart and lots of emotion in it and I am getting angry. It is no longer funny after a whole minute of clowning around. I adopt my new strategy. Soon as I lift my leg gravity says nay and I hit the floor with a mighty thud. I can not feel the pain because the embarrassment is just too much to bare. The music is stopped and everyone rushes to my aid.
I refused to be assisted up. I just pulled myself up and that is when the pain settled. I would gladly exchange my bum for a less painfull one at the moment. I hurriedly grab my newspaper and storm out of the hall to go look for some ointment and most importantly to escape from those mean little devils. Behind me I leave a bunch of youth bursting their lungs with laughter. The next time I go to that church . . . is next Sunday. I demand a rematch. Off to practise.
Today I did not go to my regular church since I moved to a different town. Sermon: James 1:22 Something about how we are supposed to live and act our faith. Very nourishing(spiritually if you do not get it). It promised to be yet another good Sunday right untill my curiosity told me to follow the youth group after mass. You know a little chatting and getting to know a few more people never killed anyone. Atleast none that I know of, besides it seemed like a good idea there judging from how jovial they were. Been having a bad week sticking with happy people would be good for me.
So I am the newbie here and at first I keep to myself listening to their deliberations while going through Mwalimu Andrews article. It always kills it for me. They want to go practise for some inter-church youth dance competion that would take place the next Saturday in Kisumu. It seems like a big deal to them got me thinking maybe some of them have never been to Kisumu or are they just fiercely competitive? I hoped it is for the fun of going to Kisumu but I soon came to realise it was the latter. Now I am almost finished with the article and I am trying as much as possible to hold my laughter inside just to maitain my decorum. I tell you those articles are dead funny. The Kids turn on the music in the hall, daddy Owens Kapungala. The girls scream so loud, the last time I heard someone scream that much was when I was a literally a groupie at the Joe concert. (A friend took me there after his girlfriend miffed him, I am not the kind to pass up such a chance. Story for some other time. -If I feel like it suckers!) Anyway from the peripheral of my eye I see this kid approaching me he is like 10 or so.
The lad walks straight to me and challenges me to a dance off. Yeah A freaking dance off. Let me point out something about my dancing abilities, they are non-existent. I am as stiff as Dunhams Jose Jalapino in every sense of the word.
As soon as he blurts out his challenge the screaming stops and there is an eerie silence. Everyone is looking at as all quiet it is like they know something. I could feel the other guys holding their breath waiting for my answer. Ordinarily I would have turned down the challenge but this kid had me right where he wanted. At the center of everyones attention and then there is the little matter of my stupid ego. There was no way I could walk out of this. Damned if I do damned if I don't so I decided to go down the barcelona way, honourably. Nachapa hesabu za haraka haraka, Kapungala is basically Lingala and I have watched a few Koffi Olomide and Zaiko videos never mind it was 14 years ago. If I could just remember the moves and link up with the beat kidogo I could train myself as I continue with the dance.
Oh oh bad bad move, forgot this is not engineering neither is it programming it is something you either got or you don't. In my naivety I accept the challenge and the "DJ" for the day restarts the music again. No sooner had Daddy Owen fineshed saying "Papa fololo" than I realised that I had got myself into elephant shit. This kid is jigging it like he got no bones. They called him Young Zion, gosh! everyone knows him in these parts and thats why they were so eagerly waiting for my reply. Here I am looking woeful still trying to link up old memories and turn them into a dancing routine. My mind is telling me to give in and let it go but my ego would have non of it. So desperately I try to shake my waist and a non existent ass to disastrous results. I myself can feel how mechanical I am and it must be absolutely clownish for people who are seeing it. Young Zion on the other hand steps it up and I think he gets into his zone, like a master he wipes the floor with my tired "old " self. Then a not so bright idea hits me. What if you continue doing what you are doing but lift one leg and do it much faster. Now I am on auto and I am not analysing my decisions, everything is being thought out by the heart and lots of emotion in it and I am getting angry. It is no longer funny after a whole minute of clowning around. I adopt my new strategy. Soon as I lift my leg gravity says nay and I hit the floor with a mighty thud. I can not feel the pain because the embarrassment is just too much to bare. The music is stopped and everyone rushes to my aid.
I refused to be assisted up. I just pulled myself up and that is when the pain settled. I would gladly exchange my bum for a less painfull one at the moment. I hurriedly grab my newspaper and storm out of the hall to go look for some ointment and most importantly to escape from those mean little devils. Behind me I leave a bunch of youth bursting their lungs with laughter. The next time I go to that church . . . is next Sunday. I demand a rematch. Off to practise.
No comments:
Post a Comment