I hated the guy! Why the hell was he looking at her that way? Worse still, why was she looking back at him that way?! Jeez! I could feel myself boiling with a silent hiss. This was a house party, not a sensual seduction theatre. Lord, I was going to punch somebody, to hell with pacifism. Divine intervention come down soon. Ok, everyone! Calm down! Breathe. Inner peace, inner peace… why was he still looking at her that way, stop swaying your goddamn hips… and you, woman! Stop drooling!
My inner battle was greater than that of the Spartan 300 (epic movie by the way), my army was ready but there was no battle. I was just observing how this guy just came and took over my girl’s attention. She was gone. She was eyeing him like she wanted to devour him, tear him limb by limb, painlessly of course, and devour him slow and fast at the same time, to enjoy every single bite or nibble depending on the voracity of her appetite. This was not happening, not to me. Wow! This was serious, I could not even say a word, I would be talking to a statue caught by this male medusa’s swaying hips.
Flash back an hour before that, we all check in for my friend’s birthday. Nothing wrong there, this was exactly as the good lord and the invite intended. Check in at 6 pm. For an epic Gemini bash, for one of our own, who annoyingly never got older than us despite many years passing… a guy should catch up at some point you think. He had a big circle, and big circles come with interesting fellows. Interesting fellows there were in this party… I had to contend with swapping stares of who was checking my girl, Penny, out and those *not cool, dudes* checking me out. It’s a slippery slope gents, choose a side, I can’t be looking out for two at once, I won’t have fun. But tonight is not for you guys, it is for our boy on his golden semi jubilee.
As is in any party, guys laze around purging livers and lungs for sins untold or just for mere existence as part of human anatomy. It’s cool, to each his own, some of us don’t want to return things in mint condition to the maker, you know, like that parable of the guy who buried some cash to return to the master. You never know, maybe you might get a new one when you get to the promised land. You don’t want to be that guy who was told to maintain his status quo of liver and lungs when every smoker and alcoholic got a new set in heaven. It’s like continuing with your old pair of shoes from last Christmas just because you kept them in a box, while others get new pairs. Not cool bro… Not cool. Or worse still, they are taken away from you… and you will be the only guy in the afterlife without a lung and liver. Is there an appropriate smiley/ emoji for that yet? I digress.
So anyway, we check in, everyone on their tight skirt/ shorts/ jeans and saggy jeans, khaki or some Kanye West type clothes… to each his own yes? Everyone sizing up who is who, who keeps with trends and the likes. Oh young vanity, so vague and frivolous. Couples take a seat and look bored because, well theres nothing new there. Singles mingle, a few get lucky some just flat out unlucky… the night is young I guess. Try harder, the harder you try the higher the reward. Maybe that adage is mixed up in my head right now. You understand what am saying though yes? Feel free to interject with a no if you are not comfortable with that position.
So the atmosphere is light, like a butterfly floating in between flowers. The ecosystem is balanced, no bees to spread pollen in the air. The butterfly needs no nectar, but knowing it is an option gives it a satisfied smirk you know. I run this habitat, it thinks. That is us, all of us. We are content being single or attached. Perfect bubbles with enough space for us to move around. Unless the bees were invited that is, or flies. The worst thing is that flies are simply annoying. They mostly have no vested interest, just an urge to disturb the peace. Enter Mr. LOP.
LOP, or Life of the party, came in as if in queue to some bongo jam, “Single boy”. It looked like a nice intro to the world, he burst to the scene and did an azonto jig. He seemed to know the lyrics, he acted them out; he grasped his head to signify a headache, staggered a bit to show he was drunk and poured water on himself to show he was cooling down on the beat. Impressive, but not quite. The Dj seemed to appreciate the effort to dance and kicked it up a notch.
The playlist played to his tune…
Oleku. He knew we were watching by now. He had us baited. He swayed side to side twisting his arms and doing something with his neck that threatened to dislodge it. He was gearing up for the main show.
Skelewu. The guy was moving to every single beat with different portions of his body. He was in perfect sync as he took the complementary shot of whatever was on the shot glass.
Caro. He fell into character and looked for Caro, I was considering helping him search for this girl, at this rate, and every girl in the room was swearing an affidavit to be a Caro. Lord have mercy
Personally. Now this guy was doing it personally and professionally and he wasn’t lying about what was going on in his mind. He had clearly mastered the video mix. Ok, now everyone was getting glued.
Jika. What was he wondering if he could? He pulled a single damsel and whispered in her ear. She blushed. Navy blue. Such a soulful song, what was he telling her to defy the order of colors of the rainbow?
Gobe. He was pure trouble. Biting his index finger and all. He was not mincing his words, whoever gave in, he would sleep outside their gate and show her Gobe “Trouble”
Ytjukja. “tingisa tingisa” blared through the speakers after the long uhuru introduction. What was this guy made of? Cartilage alone? Phew! He paused, tired perhaps? Nope, just teasing. He was moving from side to side both to beats and lyrics. He looked possessed, a singular stream of sweat cascading down his visage and his eyes closed. He was getting to an enlightened space.
Khona. I had not noticed the guy was moving to a desolate corner. Very sly guy, he knew we were all watching. He knew where to bait his prey. He had the kwaito moves on lock. Where did he do his aerobics, I would love to be there with him. Wait, I would just like to know where he learnt those moves
Happiness. His right leg remained suspended in midair waiting for the “Tsi” after the intro. Ok, he was good. He seemed to perfectly happy in his company. From the corner of my eye, I could tell he was perfectly in sync with the video of the song. Who was this guy?
Candy. You know that song that sounds like a kids’ play song from South Africa? He quickly transformed to those kids, he had all the playfulness and wit of a ten year old in a flash. Ok, now he was getting interesting. He did a jig to go with the metallic sounding beat in the interlude, I believed he was playing the instrument himself
I saw a guy walk over to the DJ, and the music changed swiftly. He did not stop. Everything we threw at him, he rolled up a sleeve and let up a new trick. He had a feeling tonight would be a good night, and wanted to be given everything tonight, and tomorrow he wasn’t promising but tonight… it was still young. He was shuffling and party rocking, and he had brought it to the house tonight. Did I mention he had his eyes closed for the most part? Then the Dj decided he wanted to feel the moment with Christina Aguilera, and he opened his eyes… there you are Achilles heel. He stood there and looked puzzled, and walked away, staggering and muttering. A few guys gave a standing ovation.
As the night wore on proportionate with livers and lungs, guys stood up to match up Mr. LOP but they all knew. He had set a precedent. As we staggered home after the party, we all knew, that we stayed glued to watch him. That he made us stand to dance regardless. He had woken us up. He was the life of the party.
donmu2ua 