MAN ABOUT TOWN
TEXT
JACKSON BIKO
ART
MOVIN WERE
JAZZ
NOTES
Jackson Biko, is a lover of whisky and
people watching. He likes to walk the
shadows of the city at dusk, picking
conversations of a people spurred by the
night and by their drink.
I
was there to get air. She was
there to smoke. Which is ironical,
isn’t it? One lung seeks fresh air
the other seeks to flood it with
smoke. Gorgeous Nairobi night,
nonetheless. There was a click and a
white light lit her face, illuminating
it as she torched her cigarette. Then
she nonchalantly looked out at the
traffic below on Waiyaki Way. She
was standing on six-inch heels. Long
beautiful face. Delicate chin. From
the build of her calves and the tone
of her arms, I could tell she spent
a lot of time on the cross-trainer.
She stood there smoking furiously
as I pretended not to stare. The
sky was starless. One floor below,
security men popped open boots
and bonnets and peeked into glove
compartments.
Once in a while the door behind
me opened and music, tittering and
the shrieking voices momentarily
spilled out. It was jazz night at the
Villa Rosa Kempinsky’s Balcony Bar
with Jacob’s Trio on Thursdays (Gogo
Simo on Tuesdays, Hott Rod band on