Who knows why they named it an island because it’s on a road, South Lake Road, Naivasha. Maybe it was a metaphor for the lack of any entertainment spot of its kind around.
Whatever it is, Party Island Lounge is a behemoth; stadium-like with hundreds of seats and chairs and lights and things that shine and glitter and urge you to stay and spend your money and not go home early and get in trouble with your wife. Which is what a man’s life can seem like, sometimes.
Nothing happens at Party Island Lounge before 6:30 pm - then everything happens. When I was last there, a somber deejay was standing on a raised podium, presiding over a congregation below.
He was playing rhumba music but at a faster speed since it was just clocking 7 pm and like my 11-year-old son likes to say, “Your music makes me sleepy.” [He will come around].
We sat next to a shiny bar downstairs and ordered food bravely, for who orders fish in Naivasha but a courageous person? We had drinks [whisky offering is modest] and we floated in the magic of the music.
The deejay was so good I sent a waiter with a note I had scribbled on a napkin as if I was a character in the MadMen TV show. I wanted two songs played; Nzele by Madilu and Le Baron by Hèritier Wata, a song that has immensely tender memories for me for reasons that can't be shared in this newspaper. I also asked him to get a round of whatever he was drinking.
He played Nzele but not Le Baron, which is just as well because I didn’t plan to get emotional. He also never took my offer for a drink. I figured he was SDA.
On the next table sat three men in their mid to late 50s gathered around a whisky bottle. They looked like Naivasha businessmen who own busy hardware stores.
When they started dancing, one of them uncannily reminded me of my brother’s dancing style - which as you might suspect isn’t to be shared in this newspaper.
Shortly after 9 pm the music changed. It was time to leave because you always leave a bar (or an island) when you are having the best time.