The musings at “mama whites”

by Jude Victor.

When my friends first introduced me to “mama white hot and cool drinks ” I thought it was a complete waste of time . First of all the name of the famous chill out was a full sentence. Secondly, the name was an oxymoron. Curiously, I asked Frank my pal and initiator; what was white about the drinks, or was it the woman owner who was white?
Todate, I have not received the answer to my questions. I soon realized that I really didnt need the answer, I wanted to experience it like all the guys in my group. As soon as I found it convenient, I paid a courtesy call to Mama Whites.
I had moved from inside the university hostels and was looking for a chill spot around Rongai town , somewhere to spend my evenings. Truth be told, I’m not an indoors kind of guy. It’s more of a curse or maybe I got licked by a dog, a common African myth for the folks who can’t warm their own houses, so help me God.
My friends had really made a big deal out of the place basing on the stories they always came back with. At Mama Whites, apparently was where dreams were made and discovered , where families were made and broken , where friends became brothers , where sexuality discovered and intriguingly, where I found my niche.
At Mama Whites, the magic does not really begin to happen until a little bit past midnight, when the floor appears further and the ladies somehow change into damsels in distress. It is where bar maids who looked plain at 6pm become slay queens by midnight. It is where talent meets adjudication and star performers are instantly made. It is where words turn to lyrics, and where shadows complete the moves for the overnight musicians.
Midnight at Mama Whites is when blurred vision is supposed to be treated by one more mug of keg. By this time, no one cares whether the glass is brown or white and whether the contents are hot or cold.

Mama Whites is where those with double left feet get to showcase their dancing skills. On this particular day, my pal Frank actually thinks he could sing, he walks over to the DJ and requests an open mic with a karaoke beat , everybody is amused and Frank has everyone’s attention as this was something that had not happened before.
At this point my Frank is so drunk he doesnt even not know the song he actually wanted to sing. But to entertain his kegmates,’ he does a two step hip hop move ,throws his hands in the air, bends and assumes a yawning position ,discovers he has nothing so he just drops the mic and runs back to our table.
That was my first times at Mama Whites hot and cold drinks cue to get out and maybe hope for another successful day in which, I hoped, I would actually get to score some beautiful damsels , I later did but that’s another story for another day. Until then, I’m going back to my chill spot ,the Mama whites hot and cold drinks for my most awaited keg Chronicles.

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