The first night I arrived my hotel the barman told me Friday nights are ladies night at the club and it would be nice if I attend by 11pm.I wanted to, but I was exhausted from my trip &when my alarm woke me by 10:50pm I couldn’t get myself to leave my bed.
A kenyan guy I met yesterday told me Saturday nights at the club are usually the highlight of the week so I made plans to attend that one.
9pm I started feeling sleepy again. I didn’t trust my alarm so I set it for 10pm so I’d have enough time to stretch. I was up at 10pm & I felt as fatigued as I was the previous night. I didn’t want to take my chances so I told myself I’m going to hang in the bar with other tourists till 11pm when the party starts. No phones, no distractions. I set out with a sleepy eye&every other person at the bar was just in their own world. Some white guy offered me a cigarette&I walked away since I didn’t come to Zanzibar to fall victim of peer pressure.
I contemplated returning to my room to wait small but my bed has this sleeping magic so I told myself I was just going to lie on one of the beach hammock until the clock strikes 11pm in 30 mins.
The last thing I remembered was rocking myself in the beach hammock. It was too sweet. Then I heard voices whispering&I opened my eyes to find 4 security guys with torchlights in front of me. “I’m waiting for 11pm when the club opens.” I said sleeplishly.
“Its ten past two Dada.” One said in his Swahili accent. Jesus! I jerked up and sleep raced to the club. I wasn’t even thinking. I opened the door to find the white people dancing salsa to makosssa music. Flavor’s nabania came up and they were still salsaing happily. The Nigerian in me wanted to distribute white handkerchiefs to all of them. What is wrong with these people? I could not take it anymore. I exited the club and hurried down the stairs. “Where you be? The party is soon over!” I heard my Kenyan friend say behind me.
“Resting. You won’t understand.”
He said. “I understand. Homesick. I give you phone. You call your mummy. You call your daddy. You alright.”
“WHO SAID I WANT MY MUMMY OR DADDY?” I screamed. “You people salsaing to nabania are the ones that are not alright!”