You probably have your own set of health problems, but I just want to say that I have a neck injury. Something is pinching my nerves.
How I got this is a beefy gym instructor twisted it while stretching me after a workout. I immediately knew something was off in the changing room as I pulled my shirt over my head.
“These people can paralyse you,” an ageing orthopaedic surgeon told me gravely two weeks later after I stopped hoping it would heal itself.
“Half of them don’t know what they are doing. They think that if you don’t wince then they have not stretched you.”
So, it’s with this rotten neck that I found myself at Quiver Lounge in Kilimani last Thursday after a physio session at Nairobi Hospital. I was famished.
I hadn’t gotten a chance to eat the whole day, and I didn’t trust myself to drive home without passing out in the car.
Quiver was the nearest joint to have something ‘homely.’ I wanted fish. (Surprise) The sun was setting, and a band was setting up.
They said it was a rhumba band called Bana Mazembe. I can’t resist Rhumba, so I stayed on after my fish, which means I also ordered a drink because who listens to Rhumba on a Fanta?
Oh, the fish was raised in a pond, I could tell. I’m from the lakeside, I can tell a fish that grew up free and happy and one that was caged.
Nonetheless, the chef tried his best with his spices and things. Shortly after 7.30 pm, the band started playing. The lead was a skinny chap with pants that floated over his ankles.
They played songs I didn't know, songs that sounded like I should have known them. It wasn't the most exciting of bands, to be honest even though you could see they were giving it their all.
Thursday was slow, at least by the time I was knocking off (8.30 pm) it was.
