Its not cliché ;Open a travel kitty

Have you ever felt different kinds of emotions at the same time? I am talking opposite side of the scale kind of emotions. Like fear and love, hope and despair, contempt and admiration. All these flooding your body at the same damn time. Even just to imagine it, is to feel numb. This is what Fridays at school felt like. On one hand there was the excitement of being free for the next two days, free to go anywhere, free to hang out with whomever. And at the same time, there was fear. Fear you may end up not making anything exciting out of your weekend, fear of meeting people you loathe wherever you will hang out, and fear your wallet may not allow you to make anything exciting out of it. But not me. Every Friday the ‘women in history’ lecturer put that last full stop on the chalkboard (egerton was/is a world class university, the irony is not lost on me) and uttered those 8 magic words “that’s all for today, see you next Friday” I automatically felt Goosebumps speeding up my arm. It’s like the usually cold Njoro temperatures suddenly became a tad warmer. I swear I would even feel my favorite Willy poze’s song fanya beckoning me to get loose. Our women in history lecturer was of medium height, dark skin and with the most slothful speech I have been compelled to listen to in my over two decades of existence. From the moment she says “hey class” and throughout her drone, she has you wishing it were possible to press fast forward on someone’s live speech. It did not help that she had put her 4 hour marathon class on Fridays. The class would disentangle into a loud uncontrollable crowd barely seconds after she left. As for me, my eyes would automatically scan the class like they were preconditioned as I located my squad. Yes, this was exactly the Taylor swift kind of squad only that we were underprivileged, did not have singing voices, and were not famous to warrant that kind of media attention.

All the same, Fridays were our days. We lived for them. But let this not fool you, we were clueless and as broke as everyone else. The thing with my squad and I was, just the possibility anything  exciting could happen on a weekend and that there was enough time to flow with it was enough to look forward to them . We had no clue where we would go, stay, length of time there or how we would even get there. We just rolled with how things flowed, always looking forward to the next adventure. I guess it was this kind of randomness that made it all fun.  Kind of like how we were all totally random personalities coming together. Anika was the loud mouthed one who always spoke her mind, Ann the funniest yet too sensitive and Kattie the quietest and you could almost not feel her presence if not rattled. I sort of was a blend of everyone. It may be why I always felt I was the queen bey. Silently. Because am sure everyone else thought the same for themselves.

In the spirit of randomness, I remember one particular Friday, a life changing Friday.  Even now months after graduating, am still thankful for that Friday, a tad embarrassed, but all the same thankful it happened. On this day, the Njoro weather was unusually forgiving. No winds, no rain, just calm. It was the perfect day to let loose. We did not really have any plans but there was this poster I had stumbled upon, not as much stumbled as one that was difficult to forget. It was of one DJ Mustapha playing at a small club called farmers inn just on the outskirts of Njoro town. I had never been to those sides and lord knows I crave new places. Besides the weather gods were in agreement. But mostly because the DJs biceps were bursting out of his tiny muscle t shirt. You had to find out for yourself if they were anything close to real or one of those pictures where vin diesels body is photoshoped into a face. The degree of pettiness when you have free time is just baffling! So we decided this was our destiny that day.

Njoro is a small town about an hour’s drive on a poorly maintained road from Nakuru. We arrived at farmer’s inn where dj Mustafa was playing a little before 11 pm with our painted faces intact. And  cheesos! The poster had not prepared me for the beautiful creature at sight. Mustafa was about 5’8 worth of gorgeousness. He was lean, dressed right  in one of those tight skinny jeans that has most skinny boys looking funny. He had brown boots on and a bomb bomber jacket. Even as he played with his killer headphones and eyes locked on the decks, you could not fail to notice how he wore this crooked smile that had one side of the upper lip appear somewhat raised a few millimeters higher than the opposite end revealing the most perfect set of white teeth. It was a terrifyingly beautiful smile. This is what Nyashinki must have been talking about when he says “tabasamu ya kupapasa macho”. Just that sight alone made the night fantastic; we danced away literally leaving our bodies on the floor. It wasn’t much the good music as it was the fact that we did not really have money. Dancing is how you don’t draw attention to your empty table ladies and gentlemen. Not that we were bad dancers or drinkers per say, but being  the feminists in training we were, there was no way we were going to let random guys buy us drinks and then let them  objectify us by dancing  disgustingly on our backs.

You can only dance too long. The dreadful hour came; Time to leave. This is where we come to the reason for this post. I had no idea what we were thinking when we walked to this joint with no money. That’s what spontaneous thinking does to you. You are possessed by ‘don’t care’ demons and you find yourself at an unwalkable distance from school with no money. Believe it or not, we had to come clean, leave the high road and explain to the only other last person packing to leave why he had to finance our trip back to school. The breath stoppingly handsome DJ. It was embarrassing. Anika cursed us as we forcefully bestowed that responsibility on her; she struggled explaining as she blushed between words. On the flip side, at least we got a chance to hear more than “ Nakurus finest dj Mustapha on the decks’’. That accounts for something doesn’t it? It still did not hide us from looking like a bunch of smitten hormonal broke members of the female species

So on this day we made a pact to open a savings account just for travel and random stuff. You can’t really be random when you are church mouse broke. You can’t afford to get lost in a new town and interact with random people. You can’t make any poor decisions as one of my friend like s to say. You will need to have some money saved at least. We opened an account calling it sincerely focused because we knew having the kind of energy we had it also needed some degree of focus. It doesn’t have to be a lot, even 500 Kenya shillings a month in the travel kitty will go a long way. Speaking of, I heard there is a natural spa somewhere in Naivasha, the voices in my head calling to find out if it’s true are just getting too loud. I smell a trip.

So just to highlight why you need to open a travel kitty as soon as yesterday, especially when you are a random kind of person;

  1. It’s the only way a random YOLO lifestyle can be sustained
  2. You do not want to be embarrassed like we were
  3. No one will have an excuse to miss out on a group activity if you are the squad kind of person
  4. It’s the only way
  5. It’s the only way.

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