My Night With Jay-Z

Basi bwana, Jay-Z was here! Yes, in Bongo, bwana!!  A good friend, Sia, dragged me and I agreed to go, though hip-hop is not exactly my scene.  I’m more of a neo-soul girl, you see.  Anyway, I thought it would also be a great chance to hang with my girl as we hadn’t seen each other in a while. 

So, there I was at my work station earlier that evening – at work, glancing at my desk top’s clock, “it’s eight now.  If I move my big African behind at nine fifteen-ish, I will have enough time to get ready.”  Nine fifteen-ish turned out to be nine thirty. At nine thirty I rushed home from work.   Si unajua I love my late working hours – so I practically had to rush home.  I quickly took a shower then headed to the usually supposed to be one-hour-plus-procedure dressing! Given that my whole wardrobe is black and nothing but black, dressing is a huge science I promise you! “This is too black … not in the mood for this kind of black … the texture just doesn’t go … not black enough … wrong detailing … Too revealing!” I almost jumped out of my skin, when the little people in my head said that! Since when is an evening outfit too revealing for yours truly?! “You have it, you flaunt it,” has always been yours truly’s motto! Sasa what was happening? Uwiii!!! Ooh Gawd, I’m ageing. Too make myself feel better, of which I’m very good at doing, I patted myself and said, “no sweetie, you are maturing – ahem – like fine wine.” Had to put the alcohol bit otherwise it would have been hard to convince myself. Alcohol always does the trick – whether taken or just mentioned. Lol.

So after putting on that evening face, we dressed – my, myself and I. It took a while convincing ME to go for the crochet top, while I wanted to sexy but classy top and MYSELF just sat there hating all of them. Lastly we settled for the sensibly simple number – okay, okay, so there was a tiny weeny little cleavage. But kweli I’m ageing! Too hell with maturing nicely, ati like fine wine! Who am I kidding?! We got there. Uwii, there were so many baby Lil Kim’s and Britney’s wanna-be’s swish-swaying there little tight behinds all over the place. Jamani, are we at the wrong place or is this a Miss Thang contest au? I almost screamed.  Anyway, so tight-assed Lil Kim and Britney wanna-be’s swish-sway their little tooshes, while akina proud, big and beautiful – ahem – Jill Scott sisi just glided gracefully. Ahem. Work with me jamani! I’m my own therapist!!!

After gliding with a lot of effort these heavy African trademarks we carry ooh-so proudly – for shoga Sia and I are both, ahem, well quite blessed – , we eventually get to the entrance. There we were ushered to the VIP section. I stole a quick glance back, no little baby J’Lo’s or Britney behind us. “Phew, at least!” Don’t ask. We got in – there was a stage. Wow, impressive. At about 1.5 metre high, it was set nicely at the corner of the Diamond Jubilee hall, at an angle, so that we could have a nice view of what was happening on the main stage – where Jigga was going to perform. We climbed up the steps of the stage, “creak!” I hadn’t been drinking, so why did I feel woozy! Yes, I had thought of having a glass of Southern Comfort on the rocks before I left my crib but time hadnt been on my side. So why did I feel woozy indeed? “Creak, creak!” Darn! The stage wasn’t assembled properly! Gently and carefully we made our way up, “creak, groan, grumble, croak,” the stage groaned under our feet as we moved. And it was not because of our proud, big and beautiful selves!!! Don’t blame it on the sistas now!!! I repeat – the stage wasn’t assembled properly jamani! The organizers had probably gotten their family to do it, under the spirit of “family day together.”

     “We haven’t been out in a while,” that always works with kids, “let’s go build something together.”

Kweli jamani! I mean which certified contractor would do such a shoddy job!! Uwiii!!!

     “It doesn’t feel steady,” shoga Sia commented. I was too busy looking at the people around me to be seriously concerned. Sistas and brothas were looking fly! Uwiii!! You’d think they had just jumped out of True Love magazine! We do True Love in Bongo these days.

The evening started with entertaining from some DJs fom Kenya and our very own Bongo. Darn, did they rock the crowd! Shoga Sia didn’t even want to sit as she moved and shook that booty! Waving her hands in the air – as if she didn’t care! Huu huu! Yeah, the VIP area had seats. Don’t ask.

Then the brotha, the Jigga himself, finally came on stage! Yaani!  Darn, the place suddenly erupted! Everybody was screaming, shouting, jumping, I’m sure some even cried! Shoga Sia was going on about how fine he is! Lol. Don’t you just hate Beyonce!!! By the second or third song, I noticed how wildly the stage was shaking. I looked around, nobody seemed to care, so I went on waving my hands in the air like a crazed teenybooper. Shoga Sia was jumping so hard, for a minute I thought she was possessed!

    “Ushindwe!” I had almost screamed at my shoga, hoping to drive away the demons that had possessed her, “kwa jina la Yesu tokaaa!!!”

Head bopping, shoulders swaying, hands waving, eyes popping – her eyes were practically popping out of their sockets – that’s the sign alright!  That’s how they always look – at least on telly, under the spells of the priests speaking in tongues.  As worried as I was, I was quite relieved that there was no drool.  Anyway, I didn’t want to upset her, lest the “wave your hands into the air” turned into karate chops. Sista was really in it! But if she had started talking in tongues, I promise you I would have taken off – for she was heading there! She was singing so loudly along … While the little people in my head could only sing along to one or two songs.  What are you grinning about?  Bwana eeh, I’m not ageing, I just have never really been a hip-hop fan! And blame it on the little people in my head!!! And by the way, speaking of the little people in my head, they convinced me that Shoga Sia had turned into Queen Latifah – after brushing away the possibility that she could be possessed.

Anyway, the music was so loud, that I couldn’t hear the stage groaning and grumbling anymore, though it was now shaking terribly. I wasn’t surprised nor worried as the room seemed to shake with each note Jigga delivered. The next thing I knew I was on the floor! Laying on my back! Not on the floor of the stage, but the floor of the hall! Part of the stage had collapsed right under us! A few majamaa fell on top of me. I bet they were darn happy! Shoga Sia managed to jump as she was standing. Mental note – never ever sit at concerts.

     “Sandra! Sandra!” I could hear Shoga Sia shouting. Suddenly we were swamped with bouncers. This one was lifting that one, this one was moving chairs. Then this one snatched my phone!

    “Hey!! Hey!!! Heeeey!! My phone!! My phone! Gimme back my phone!!” I had totally forgotten that I had a few men on top of me.

    “Sandra!! Sandra!!” I could hear shoga Sia screaming.

     “Get my phone! Tell him to give me back my phone!” I realized that my legs were up in the air as I was kicking them frantically – for those who don’t know yours truly – believe me it was a scene and a half!!

    “Sandra!! Sandra!!” Bouncer boy just held the phone back as if daring me to jump up and grab it from him. Jamani kama si dhambi, ni nini!!!? He had looked at my load with all my African curves and knew there was no way I would have been able to do that! Dhambi! Dhambi!! Dhambi tupu!!!

    “Gimme back my phone!! Gimme back my phone!!” These are the times I wished I was elastic! I would have stretched and kicked that ugly face in!!!

    “Gimme back my phone!! Gimme back my phone!!”

    “Sandra!! Sandra!! Please help her! She might suffocate!”

    “Nakusaidia dada!” Bouncer boy finally talked.

    “Fine help me! But gimme back my phone!”

    “Nakusaidia dada!” The phone was still at arm length mind you.

    “You can help without taking my fucking phone! Gimme back my phone!! Gimme back my phone!!”

The bouncer finally gave me back my phone, then helped me up – after quite some huffing and puffing.

    “And don’t touch my pockets!” I think I had shouted that as he was lifting me up – or was it the little people in my head. Bwana eeh, we are all Chagga – me, myself, I and the little people in my head.  If you don’t know about the Chagga tribe – we are supposed to be the Jews of Tanzania ati.  We like our money so much that, you drop a pair of scissors when operating on a Chagga who is under anesthesia, the Chagga will get up screaming, “that’s my money!  put it back in my wallet!”  Go figure.

Anyway, so the huffing and puffing – I mean I have trouble getting up when I’m sitting – schitt is seriously heavy! Now imagine the poor brotha trying to lift schitt and her sisters and the whole clan! So brotha quickly handed back my phone – he was probably thinking, schitt, sista is psycho! It was quite a sight, I must tell you. Imagine yours truly on the floor, with her feet up in the air, clutches on top of me. Yeah, I forgot to mention, there was a cripple who was sitting next to me, who I think also landed on top of me.

     After I had located my shoes, bouncer boy came back, “I saved your life, so pay me!”

Shoga Sia gave him one of her deadly looks and he recoiled. If he had said, “darn, lifting you up was a mission, I doubt if I have more energy to work, so help a brotha out as I probably won’t get paid having worked only half the night,” sista would have gladly obliged. But bouncer boy brought up saving my life ati! Saving my ass, that’s what he about did! Well, lifting it. Ahem. And almost stole my cell phone while at it!!


~ by saharasoulfood on October 18, 2006.

3 Responses to “My Night With Jay-Z”

  1. keep up chagga girl

  2. Whaat??!!! That was awfull!!! Manyama nyama and all!! eeew! Glad I didn’t see that.

  3. I like the way you flow and your focus on what can’t be found at Barnes & Noble or This is stuff from the kitchen I can stand the heat keep cooking Girl.

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