As I had told you last week, Mombasa was getting funny and as the probabilities of encountering a real jinni bird were adding up each day that passed, I had to start drafting an exit plan – although I still had the Mombasa myth in mind which goes that: Kuingia ni harusi, kutoka ni matanga (getting in is a wedding ceremony, leaving is a burial ceremony), which points to the fact that you may easily get into Mombasa and later find it difficult to leave when time comes because you will find yourself hesitating.

Well, I should confess that the situation of having to deal with two birds under one roof put my mind in motion and it was made when I settled down to watch a World Cup report which featured the famous FIFA Soccer Parks and the life that goes on there.

For those who don’t speak football, FIFA Soccer Parks are open areas created for people who   are not able to enter stadiums to watch World Cup matches. Here, giant screens are erected to allow these fans to follow World Cup matches live.

But don’t mistake me for a football fanatic – I am not even a real fan. When I was watching the Super Sport 3 report, I saw something that strongly attracted me, therefore prompting me to break the myths that surround a foreigner in Mombasa.

The reporter was interviewing fans after a match between Brazil and I-don’t-know-who and ostensibly Brazil had won the match. When it came to interviewing Brazilian fans, I noted that majority of the fans were birds and they were almost everywhere blowing yellow Vuvuzelas.

This made me remember a report I had seen several years ago when Brazil had won the World Cup and were treated to a big grand reception when they returned home.

The players were treated to overdoses of eye nutrition by local birds that were half naked. I can remember very well that the entire city of Rio de Jeneiro was swarming with birds only dressed in bikinis dancing to Samba music.

I also remember this day because I had problems trying to control my friend Tonto whose excitement made him vow to relocate to Brazil, something he has not done to date. Here was a chance to fulfil his dream for him. That is how I took the decision to go to Vuvuzela-land.

I left the house while the two birds were still asleep and stepped into the street with a resolve to be in Vuvuzela-land as soon as possible. Due to the ongoing financial crisis that has even gripped countries like the US and the UK, my pockets were also crying out for a bail-out so I opted for road transport.

Lucky enough, I was not the only one going, so I teamed up with other fellas (among them were birds, but they were all paired up) from different nations with whom we shared a bus that was heading to South Africa.

It was fun all the way as we passed through several countries, attracting attention from people as we blew our Vuvuzelas to show off that we were heading to the World Cup. But my mind was not settled as I was anxiously anticipating the time I would reach the Vuvuzela-land and hit the Soccer Park.

We finally arrived on Monday night after a match between Chile and Brazil – and what a perfect timing! Although it was at night, you would think that the town was burning due to the dominant yellow colour that was all over the place as Brazilian fans were celebrating their victory over Chile and therefore winning a deserved ticket to the quarter finals.

As I had seen on TV back in Mombasa, the park was overflowing with Brazilian birds who were drinking, dancing Samba and blowing their Vuvuzelas!

It was utterly spectacular. I stood there watching the fanfare for a moment trying to plan how to ‘get into the mix.’ I found myself sucked into the fun in no time and I started jumping up and down, trying to fall in Samba steps.
Out of nowhere, thinking that I was a Brazilian fan, a bird handed me a T-shirt and told me to wear it so I don’t look odd.

Things were kicking off the way I wanted, weren’t they? After putting on the yellow T-shirt I melted into the crowd of Brazilian fans and started dancing Samba like I was a real Brazilian.

As things got heated up, it became a two-by-two affair. I won myself a fair Brazilian princess who only spoke Spanish and only understood the word football and World Cup.

Since I had met birds who had even more serious language problems, I knew I could handle this – and I did. By midnight, I had known her name, her home city, her civil status….well, that’s as far as my first night in Vuvuzela-land went. Join me in prayers to ask Sir God to help keep Brazil in the competition until the finals.

You never know, if they win it, I might end up going with my in-laws to Rio de Jeneiro for further celebrations.

Ends