I am back in the land of 1K hills, with nothing to show for my adventures in Vuvuzela land apart from a yellow Vuvuzela. As I told you, my bird hunting adventure in Vuvuzela land was a complete disaster, an unprecedented setback in my bird hunting life. However, I had my consolation last Sunday when the Spanish kicked the behinds of the heartbreaking Dutch to take the World Cup. To me this was sweet revenge because it is the Dutch who ruined my dreams of attending a World Cup bonanza - samba style in Rio de Janeiro. Had the Dutch gone on to win the World Cup, I would have been disappointed, although I did not give a hoot whether the Spanish won. Well, now that I am back at home, a lot is going on in my head. First, I am thinking about Mombasa with some feeling of nostalgia. After what happened to me in Vuvuzela land, I am wondering why in the world I ever contemplated leaving Mombasa in the first place. But then, I also wonder what would have happened if I had stayed on. How would I have managed to handle two birds, one white, the other black and the owner of the apartment? Well, perhaps if I had stayed on I would have added another accolade to my bird hunting career. But then anything would have happened in Mombasa and I don’t want to think about what would have happened if things decided to go bad. Nonetheless, I intend to go back there someday, this time prepared to stretch my limits. Well, last Saturday one of the birds that I have hunted before bumped into me after my arrival from Vuvuzela land and thought I needed to be woken up because she observed that I looked low on spirits. She gave me a date for Saturday and who am I to decline? Especially after my abortive ventures in Vuvuzela land. She told me she had something special to welcome me back home. I told her I would be ready for her date and all she needed to do was to name the time and place. She said she would call me and only then would she give me the details of our date. I had no comment and I left for home to have a rest until the next day. I had to wait until the evening of Saturday for her to call me and I can tell you I was eagerly waiting for this date. When she called, she sounded excited. The first thing she asked me was whether I knew how to dance the Kinyarwanda traditional dance. I wondered whether she was inviting me for a wedding because that’s where I usually see traditional dances. She told me it was not a wedding but somewhere ‘special.’ Well, I was willing to take anything just to get over my experiences in Mombasa and Vuvuzela land. Well, we met up at MTN Centre and had a lengthy conversation that took us through the ‘good times.’ After that she said we should start going and she showed me to her ‘Vitara Grande.’ At the Gishsushu junction we turned towards Remera and at first I thought that perhaps we were going for a party in the Eastern province. I was confused when upon reaching Kisimenti, she turned right, in between some building until we reached the next road leading to town from Remera. We then crossed and entered the Alpha Palace Hotel. I was even more confused. In the parking yard she asked me whether I have ever heard about something called ‘Igisope’. Well, well, I told her I had heard about this but had not attended any of them. She then told me that we were there for this. I asked her to brief me what goes on there if she did not want me to embarrass her. She told me that there was nothing extraordinary apart from dancing to traditional and old school Kinyarwanda songs. When we entered, the aura of excitement hit me in the face. People seemed happier than in most dancing clubs that I have been to. People were dancing with permanent smiles, something you don’t see in KBC or Caddie. Soon, the excitement caught up with me and I found myself on the floor dancing to songs like “Ancilla weee”, and others until I later found myself removing my shirt. I left very early in the morning, feeling very much at home. Ends
