I am 26 years old. In those 26 years, I have only had two birthday parties. Though technically, it’s just one. If you think deeper about it, I have never had a birthday party. Because the first one was basically my friend buying his girlfriend and himself alcohol, using my money, while his cousins and sisters just happened to be at the right place at the right time. The second one was whack. But whack parties make for good stories, that’s why you are reading this. Besides, why think deeper when we can avoid thinking in the first place?
The first birthday party was never planned. I was in second year, and broke af. Side note: I’m still broke, but not af. I bumped into Musa (we’ve been friends since 2012, but up to now I’m not sure whether Musa is his real name or it’s Moses. I hope it’s Musa, because I can’t imagine being friends with someone named Moses) and told him that it was my birthday. He was like, “we should celebrate that.” I am vulnerable to agreeing to bad ideas. Food was on him, drinks on me. He was going to spend zero on food, I was going to spend almost half of that month’s allowance on drinks (for him and his girlfriend). And it was only the fifth day of the month.
Anyway, the party was fun. One of his cousins had gatecrashed the ‘party’ with his girlfriend. Actually, gatecrashed is the wrong word to use here. The cousin’s girlfriend had come over, and his on-campus roommate had refused to be exiled. So he thought Musa’s place would make good laying grounds (even without informing him beforehand). It was a good move though, because the girlfriend provided all the fun I was talking about at the beginning of this paragraph. Also, Musa got drunk and prayed for one hour straight. I don’t know why he hasn’t started a church yet.
The second party, and the last, was the following year. I was still broke af. Never let brokeness stop you from achieving your dreams, they say. I managed to buy meat and rice and prepared half-cooked pilau. Important life lesson: never prepare pilau when you are hungry. It needs patience. I also bought a few friends alcohol, and they got too drunk to realise the pilau was half-cooked. If they did, then they knew which side of their bread was buttered and never mentioned a word. By 7pm, Charity was already so drunk she only wanted to be fed by her love Steve- her best friend’s boyfriend. Later when we sat around and did merry-go-round introductions and a dance, she also claimed Matthew. And Collo. And me. Basically, everyone at the party was her love.
Matthew also got drunk and spilt drinks on his girlfriend. Even though she pretended she was cool, we knew she wasn’t. Because it’s never okay when a woman tells you it’s okay. It is everything but okay. I don’t think Matthew got laid that night.
The highlight of the night though was Nadia. She would take a glass of industrialized chang’aa (popularly known as Bluemoon). Then rush off to take a glass of water. She believed it would stop her from getting drunk. It seemed to work for a while. Because when we thought she had had enough industrialized chang’aa and tried to stop her from taking more, she protested that she wasn’t drunk. In that tiny voice of hers. “Sijalewa mimi, ata ona naeza simama na mguu moja.” Then she did that standing on one leg thing. And it seemed perfect. So we let her drink some more chang’aa.
We went to bed at around 1am. Charity was toast. Steve was toast. Matthew was toast. Dorcas was a little toast. Kate a little toast. Nadia toast, but believed she was sober af. Me, the designated driver as usual. I don’t know how everyone’s night went, but I can guess. Matthew suffered blue balls. Steve woke up at noon while Dorcas was already up at 8, so I’m guessing he got lucky. Two plus two is four, minus one, three, quick maths. I shared a room with Charity, so I’m sure how her night went. She woke up at around 3 to take a pee, and lost her way. I found her on Migingo Island. She was still toast. Just to be clear, nothing happened between us. I know your perverted thoughts.
Nadia’s roommate came to wake us up at around 7am. Asking what we had done to her the previous night. Because she had woken up at 5am crying. The roommate told us that Nadia had mumbled something along being hungry and unable to move her limbs. Up to now, we have never known whether the crying was from hunger or from discovering she was (temporarily) disabled. Or both. When the roommate tried feeding her, she discovered she was not only temporarily disabled but she was also unable to open her mouth. So the roommate gave up on her. And Nadia cried herself back to sleep. The roommate wanted to know if we had put anything in her drinks because everyone else seemed fine. Nadia later woke up able to move her limbs, and open her mouth.
Nadia claims that was her first time with alcohol. She blames me for turning her into a drinker. I believe her.