I can shake my booty better than you!
|Its early Thursday morning, 3am to be exact and there is a taxi traffic jam outside my hotel in Mwanza. This in a city that has maybe 50 cars max, all used imports from Japan with some still sporting Japanese characters, and not a single stoplight or even stop sign.
There is a taxi traffic jam outside my specific hotel, because I’m staying in Hotel Deluxe, which is the epicenter of Mwanza’s nightlife. First, there is the ground floor bar, which fills by dinnertime with a colorful assortment of locals who make it standing room only by nightfall.
Soon they are lured up a padded red vinyl staircase to the first floor by the thumping beats coming from a surprisingly sophisticated disco, complete with three disco balls and plenty of hot young locals. Those thumping beats can also be conveniently felt from my hotel room, which I’m sure is located directly over the main speakers.
For that reason, and a few others you can imagine, I’m busting my moves on the dance floor, showing them the best ‘white-man shuffle’ I can manage, while the DJ’s flown in directly from Nairobi, East Africa’s musical center, fill the house with fine fresh beats.
Even pulling out a Swahili and English rapping Massaii moran, they made those beats last late into the night. I, however, had to call it quits when my left knee started to feel my age after too many moves, and I got the spins after too many Kilimanjaro beers.
Luckily for me, I can just crawl upstairs to bed, sleeping till noon to prepare for the party that starts again tonight, disco dancing at Hotel Deluxe.