NEMA’s hollow threats on noise

It was nice of the environmental officers to finally move in on clubs that have been polluting noise in the city. I mean, compounding the existing garbage and traffic jams, these clubs only add salt to injury.

My problem though is that these officers are fixated on clubs and entertainment spots as if matatus drive about with noise governors attached to their conspicuous woofers.

And churches too as though divine kelele has heavenly mandate to pollute our peace.

Someone should tell them there is need to be equal opportunity pursuers of order. Maybe their trainers have a fixation with bars and clubs and that is why the dudes descend down to changaa dens to shake them down for a donation whenever business is slow in the CBD.

Like it happened last Sunday when we were celebrating the Mayweather win while sipping acerbic drinks that are illegal. I tell you that fight divided patrons at Mama Fatuma down the middle.

We had Team Pacman vs Team Money so you can imagine that evening after the fight when guys are busy collecting on their bets.

“I am not paying any debts, Pukwa Pakawa is the one who walked away with all the millions after a 36-minute thrashing,” Kitunda announced loudly for all those planning to claim from him.

A sober Seki, whom I would never have guessed was a boxing fan, put the figure at $12 million to be precise.

“For that kind of money, I can take punishment for thirty six days,” another drunk volunteered. And the bids kept spiraling just as though getting beaten was at auction.

Some said 36 years other claimed the entire lifetime and one joker actually asserted that Mayweather could punch around his entire clan for 12 million dollars.

Of course patrons roared with laughter at that. Mama Fatuma did not seem impressed and mumbled something about people who can sell their own mothers for a fee.

At the time, of course, the joint was rocking. Chang’aa was flowing. People in suits who come in kutoa lock before lining up in decent clubs later in the evening were ordering Mama Fatuma around in their hurry to leave.

“Waiter kwani hii pombe ni ya mama yako unachelewesha and the way we are in a hurry?” one shouted above the cacophony.

Regulars, however, ignored their snobbery and concentrated on other events making news.

“Ati Kerry has dared Prezda to close Daadab kama yeye ni mwanaume,” said a chap who always keeps a paper folded under his armpit. Someone asked who Kerry was and he was dully reminded that this was the visiting US secretary of State. “Kwani where do you live man! Under a rock?” someone demanded.

And on and on it continued with the only distraction being refilling of glasses. The place, which has the look of a cave in its eerie dimness was surprisingly loud.

What is surprising is that it comes complete with digital entertainment. The house DJ Misterscratch actually uses a laptop to mix the music.

Some say he really was a DJ who is yet to hit, and amazingly, he has not lost focus of the dream even at fote fae (45).

We are making merry when suddenly, strong torches shone into the shanty. “Wewe funga hiyo Kameme,” a man ordered.

When our eyes adjusted to the beams, we made out police and officials from Nairobi County. The cops were waving handcuffs over their heads while Kanju officers were threatening to have all of us arrested. And it wasn’t on chang’aa-related charges this time.

We had to explain before a judge why we were polluting noise.

“Mumezoea!” declared their leader. The entire neighbourhood has been complaining about this place,” he said.

I couldn’t imagine dwellers of a slum complaining against noise to the authorities.

Misterscratch the DJ was the first one to be handcuffed with his laptop as evidence. The rest of us were given a chance to plead with the officials for mercy for exceeding the 80 decibel within the city limits.

“Haki officer, the next time I want to let off a good sneeze I will drive all the way to Ruai,” one patron said looking at the noise recording gizmo the officers carried.

No one asked why they had passed over the church next door which was particularly loud during Kesha sessions.

After Mama Fatuma intervened, we were let off with a stern warning to keep it down henceforth.