Is it a shame not to know how to dance?

Seriously, is anything wrong with being a wrong dancer? Huh!

Well that’s what some friends have told me. Every one says it. They even say that you should dance whenever you go to parties if you want to have fun.

But who said it is a must to dance on parties inorder to have fun?

For some of us it’s food and more food and maybe more Coke/Sprite/Fanta because that’s means more free MBs and more surfing the net.

You know what isn’t fun? Missing a piece of chicken or cake. Like seriously, why go ahead and make a party when you know not all guests will have a piece either chicken or cake? That’s an insult to people’s appetite. We feel that our vain contributions to your party were embezzled.

There are about 5 people am still so angry with because they didn’t have enough cake on their weddings. I even wrote down their names so that I never forget.

So mbu dancing is ‘life’. Okay, maybe so. I also dance in church though that entails merely jumping up and down and running.

Running!

You should see me at Watoto central at the extreme back of the upper auditorium when it comes to the Hillsong song that goes, ‘we are running’

My! Kiprotich is my grandson when that song plays.

I believe I even lose about a calorie while at it. Which isn’t bad you know.

My girls always invite me to hang with them in club but I usually decline. That’s something I denounced in 2010. Some other time, the girls invited me to the beach. The thought of the breeze wouldn’t allow me to reject the invite.

In broad day light, but it felt like I was in an outdoor club. The strokes people were pulling right there were for the generation after I’m dead.

After 100 years. Good enough I had travelled with earphones. Having them in my ears gave me the illusion that I couldn’t see what was taking place.

One fateful day, I crashed a get together of some Mzungu I later learnt was a UN official. This guy didn’t forget my name several minutes after we had been introduced.

I could not recall his the second after.

After eating, several guests reached for the dance floor. I later realized I was the only one seated. I had to step up. At least for the fact that he still recalled my name.

I joined in and started imitating dance strokes so alien. Muscle pulls started almost immediately. These guys were old judging from music preference. But anyway what do I know about music?

We were dancing in a circle and everyone had to share a stroke. When my turn came, I felt like it was a pun intended. I suddenly recalled my friend back in the day. She was so flexible in her dance moves.

Now, you know Johnny Bravo? Okay picture the female version.That’s me.

So now you know me? Multiply by 2. That’s Fifi. No one could beat Fifi when it came to ‘go down’ strokes.

In the centre of the dance circle, in my head, I became Fifi. I wound my waist vigorously (that wasn’t so hard it’s actually the back that was shaking). The rest wound theirs too.Then I led my body down (still shaking back). That went well still.

The next move was getting back up. My body failed me. Instead I fell flat on my chest. The only thing on my mind was how embarrassed I would feel when I finally got up.

To my surprise, everyone had fallen on their chests in honor of my stroke. They were chuckling like it was the funniest dance move they had ever encountered and totally loved it. I was to sign autographs later on but oba what happened.

Being Fifi sadly, gave me the worst muscle pulls I have ever had.