Let us remember JOE MWARIRI. Of course he is alive. When I was in 2nd year at the university, I was lucky to be among the few, chosen by Dr. H. Mutai, to represent the school in the National Moot Court Competition on International Humanitarian Law. Together with me were the great Makori Dennis, Joe Mwariri, Janet Anyango, Joy and Dora Ochodo. We were hosted at the Silver Springs Hotel. Initially, Joe Mwariri was an ordinary law student who had crammed case laws on IHL until we reached Nairobi. On our first day Joe made a call to the reception demanding for slippers. He was very happy that a lady actually ran upstairs to attend to him. Luckily he knew how to dial the key pad and hold the set. The following day Joe Mwariri visited the bathroom in preparation for the big day. No sooner had he dashed in the bathroom than we had a violent and painful scream like a “wild” horse. We thought he had flashed himself down the tunnel. Mwariri had put the hot shower to the highest degree Celsius and the poor boy nearly bleached himself. We rushed in to help him, but the ego in him did not allow him to admit that he had suffered. During our stay, we went to Fogo Gaucho (a Brazilian Restaurant in Westlands). There was variety of meat. Mwariri tried everything (Very adventurous indeed). He later called for some sea food to continue with his expedition. I understand the particular food he ordered is derived from some shell before you eat the inner flesh. My brother Mwariri ate the entire dish without considering the outer shell. The only thing I remember Mwariri saying is “hii kitu haitafuniki bwana”. I nearly visited God in laughter. Later in the evening, at around 10pm, we dashed out in the Hullingham streets to secure some liquor. Luckily we got some bottles of Viceroy though at unfriendly price. Even though I remember Janet and Makori being very happy after the consumption, I was perturbed by the imaginations Joe Mwariri formulated. Lest you think he was done, Joe Mwariri pulled a serious one on me. On the final day, everybody was checking out of the hotel. Makori was our man of Nairobi- at least he knew few major bus stops. When we sought for his services on the direction to the bus station to Eldoret, Joe Mwariri shot up and immediately professed his wealth of knowledge on the capital city. So Makori left and I was in the hands of Mwariri. Our quest to reach the bus station lasted for quite some time because Mwariri’s ego was bigger than the capital city and the biggest city in eastern Africa. When we got lost, he said, “Omosh bwana hizi nyumba zinafanana”. You don’t want to know how I felt.
Posted on: Sun, 16 Nov 2014 07:30:44 +0000
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