1978

The year is 1978. I enter Suzanna Night Club. The lights are dim. My trousers are tight and it’s hard to move. These bell-bottom things are over-rated. It was either these pants or no clubbing for me; I had to look cool. And this afro does get in the way when you are trying to check out this pretty young thing all the way over there. You somehow miss the fact that she’s winking at you. She may wink all night and you still don’t get the signal, what with all the hair in the way. So my approach is; look once, look twice, assume she’s winked, go and say hullo. I have outdone myself today. TVs are hard to come-by but the guy next door is son to big shot X. I can’t say the big shot’s name. National security. Anyway, my access to TV, however limited, has left all these en-vogue styles in my head; and I’m not one to let being cool pass me by just like that. So I got me the bell-bottoms, which I’m spotting today. I also got me one of those shirts with an open neck and belled sleeves. I have learnt that to button-down and show off some chest hair reeks ultra-sexy…and the medallion which grandma gave me just completes the look. I am looking like, smelling like, feeling like…hot stuff!

Suzanna Band is doing its thing. There seems to be a band for every professional group these days-police, military, prison, the works. I imagine the prison band secretly plans to go ruin the police band’s equipment; piss in their saxophones and rip the drums. Anyway, the band is doing a mellow one; a mixture of Luganda, Swahili and a little bit of Congolese. I know its Congolese coz of the Bolingo sprayed here and there. They have the crowd swaying and giving each other come-hither signals. I see her. She’s spotting disco platforms, curly hair and a sexy sexy catsuit. She’s sipping something. My heart’s beating fast. She runs her hand through her hair. My heart beats even faster. I start to move towards her. She doesn’t notice me. Not yet. I puff my chest up. She turns in my direction and our eyes lock. For a few seconds. She turns away. My heart stops beating. I hold my head up high, and start to swagger the way Kadodi had showed me. She looks my way again. I trip. I almost land at the feet of the band. I feel the whole club stop and stare at me. I look around. No one’s looking. No one but her. Drat!!! She noticed me…noticed me falling…falling for her. If only she knew it wasn’t just a physical fall I had taken…She turns away. I pull myself together; kinda hard with these pants tugging away at me.

The band leaves the stage. Music starts to blare from the speakers. Staying alive is on. The bee gees really have their way with crowds. It’s either their high-pitched voices, or the beats that are working this crowd. Only one thing is working me right now. I head straight for her, lift her off the stool, hold her close to my exposed chest and move to kiss her…she purrs, and responds, “Oh, Daddy cool!!”. That’s in my head though.

I go and sit next to her and move to say something. Then I realize how dry my throat is. And I’m suddenly conscious of my chest being so ‘out there’. And I’ not liking these trousers anymore, they kill my swag. I ask for a drink. I do a mental run-through of all the lines Opale had told me to use. I do not trust Opale’s lines. But its either them or I’ll spend my night seated here swallowing hard on saliva and clearing my throat but not saying a thing. She keeps looking around. I figure she’s still looking for me. She still hasn’t noticed that I, her daddy cool, am right here next to her. She must be slow. No worries, I have enough brains for our kids. They’ll get her beauty, and my brains. And my hair. And my nice teeth. And my smile. And my…ahem, still have to say something to her. I’m struggling; should I use “Hi, the voices in my head told me to come over and talk to you,” or “I’d marry your cat just to get in the family,” or “You know how they say skin is the largest organ? Not in my case,” or “I am conducting a field test of how many women have pierced nipples.” I know that if she walks out now, chances of meeting her again are very slim, especially since those fancy telephone things in movies are probably still generations away from hitting this part of the world. I take a huge gulp of my beverage and almost choke.(cough cough)

I tap her to get her attention. She turns to look at me. I’ve settled for “Hi, the voices in my head told me to come over and talk to you.”

“Hi…” I start.

She brightens up. Smiles from hair to hair. Stands up. Walks past me. Hugs burly guy who has just walked in. Then I notice the ring on her finger. And on his too.