Little secrets of city clubs

It is 8 pm at a lounge along Moi Avenue. It is midweek, and the few patrons inside are either catching up over a few beers to avoid the long matatu lines or celebrating low-key birthdays.

The deejay is playing old-school RnB, and the waiters look bored, hurdled over long stools, deeply in thought.

But as the clock ticks toward 9 pm, men start to trickle in, just as the bouncers clear some tables away from centre stage.

A plastic kiddie pool is brought in, and an electric pump fills it up. As we watch, a plastic pipe is connected to the bathroom just at the corner, and the pool quickly fills up with water.

Ladies and gentlemen, we are in the midst of a twerk pool party, and before we know it, a group of girls appears from nowhere, dressed in their flashy bath suits.

At this point, an energetic male MC has taken the reins of the night, working seamlessly with a different deejay, who drops dancehall jams that sync with the different dancer’s seductive rhythms. He names each, highlighting their strengths and their synchronised styles.

Forget Nairobi’s brutal cold, these ladies can warm up a night, stealing the show with an alluring performance, the tens of men now occupying all seats and space around the pool, eager to participate, willing to be splashed with water.

“Word of mouth,” says the host, when I pulled him to the side in one of the show’s intervals to ask him how the club was almost full in the middle of the week.

“I can bet you will tell four or five other men about this night, and those will find some time to come witness for themselves.”

After each dancer wows the crowd, they all go into the water and make a splash.

Incredibly, the show takes place just a few steps up from the streets, oblivious Nairobians rushing home unaware of how close they are to ungodly pleasures.

“Logistically, you cannot do such an event between Friday and Sunday because the place would be too full and disorderly,” he adds, informing us that the lounge streams the event live on its Instagram page. We check the feed, and it is live. And at one point, 66 people are glued in.

A chat with one of the dancers, soliciting for drinks while still in her wet birthday suit, directs us to another joint on the same street, located above an eatery, where a dancing competition is taking place.

We sit down just as another round of dancers take the stage, almost all dressed in booty shorts or figure-hugging dresses. There is little left for the imagination.

The entertainers from the pool party, dressed up, walk in and join the competition, a straightforward contest with the winner getting Sh2,000 for the night.

“In some places, they give us a bottle of gin or vodka to share. In other places, everyone leaves with Sh500, whether you win or not, so long as you participate,” says another dancer, conveniently called Angel.

She informs me that she is a university student on Thika Road. “If the fans love you, you are assured to be called back every week.”

The next day, we waltz into another club, also on Moi Avenue. We have been told that there is a twerk competition, and we walked in not expecting a full-blooded 'twerk fest' that would go on past 2 am.

This one is different, the dancers are bold, and the fans as wild and creepy because touching is allowed. The organisation is different, the dancers are introduced in batches, with the most endowed saved for later. The whistles that follow certain dancers are an indication of their popularity.

The winner is determined by the most noise she generates when placed next to her competition. There is genuine love from the fans, and the girls glow with admiration.

I asked one of the dancers over from a table they all shared, and in between tots of whiskey, she divulged that there are enough spaces and opportunities for the bold in and around the CBD.

“You just need two or three of these events a week to earn a little something,” says the young lady named Nzula.

She explains that some events, like the twerk competition we were at, were for pros, but that they all started from somewhere, in small clubs and avenues, some out of town.

“These things happen everywhere, as far as clubs in Thika. You build your confidence and skill until you are ready for the big game. We dance, we enjoy, we drink, we get paid and we live our lives.”

A patron next to us leads us to another seedy joint along Ronald Ngala Street, where women from different brothels converge for a strip-tease type of event. Alcohol is flowing, and so is flesh.

You won’t see posters, nor will you get an invite. But if you are in the CBD, walk through the doors and you will experience its secrets.