Sorry, not Sorry. 10 Things Nairobians should Never apologize about

In keeping up with last week’s trilogy, we still aren’t done with another installation of the tribal uniqueness series that we’ve been rolling out.
We saw what makes the Kikuyu stand out. And the Luo. And we almost delved into the Kalenjin but we didn’t really wade that deep.
Now, The Nairobi residents are like a community of their own. A tribe on their own. A special class of people on their own.
Nairobians have a culture and tendency that is not quite like any other tribe’s or city’s.
Nairobians can be snooty, snobbish, aloof, pretentious, haughty , arrogant and condescending.
Our village relatives – and friends – find us unbearable and sometimes annoying.
We don’t visit home often. And when we do, we’re a pain in the ass. And also, can be sort of mean and even stingy.
Our parents think we’ve changed. And we get rapped and blasted all the time for our mannerism. And also, why don’t we want to go to Church anymore!??
We’re Nairobians. And faced with all the manner of unending challenges that this city of sin has to offer ; city council, matatu madness, insecurity, maddening traffic gridlocks, spiraling food prices, mean bosses and meagre salaries, you can’t blame us for being the douchebags you always think we are.
We live as we want. We’ve got our own special city culture that’s fast and hasty and impatient . We pick up trends fast and catch on the latest fads quick. We’ve adapted to the city’s fast nature and have aligned ourselves with the cruelties and speed of the town. We move fast. Talk fast and act fast. We don’t trust easily. And don’t warm up to strangers that fast. We’re a little complicated. We’re Nairobians.
 
We speak as we wish. We’ve accommodated all facets of literature and speech in our talks. We’re Sheng buffs and also, we tend to want to always throw in a few English words in our speech. We speak fast. And speak loudly. It’s a noisy city anyway and if you’re not keen, you might now hear what we’re saying.
We drink like Irish sailors. We party hard. All week. Monday to Monday. We fill up clubs like ants in a sugar field. We drink ourselves silly all weekend. We out drink the sloppiest drunk down the alley. Nothing comes better us and the tipple. We’re under a spell. A beer spell. And considering what a rough time this rancorous town can offer, Monday to Monday, drinking seems to be the only viable solace.
 
Don’t be fooled by the smiles we may put up and the cherry selfie we post on the ‘gram. We can be a very snobbish lot. Very aloof and very unwelcoming. This city doesn’t teach us anything better. It’s a cold city. A mean city and a rough one. We can’t be all friendly and easy and chatty with anyone. We tend to want to keep to ourselves alot. And once you’ve been baptized by the waters of this town, you become a sick, snobbish twat too.
We dress like we’re homeless. Or like we’re in the Milan Fashion week. Or like we’re auditioning for a role on Our styles are funky and chic and wild and outrageous. Our girls walk around looking like Grace Jones. And our men will be strutting around dressed like Rupaul. It’s an eclectic mix. We’re fashion stars.
We snap everything and post everything. We take snaps of our food and our beds and our cars and our drinks and our friends and our church interiors. We can’t stop taking photos and selfies and posting them onto the Internet. We’re terrible addicts. We’re always on the ‘net. Always refreshing the timeline and always distributing likes and shares and retweets all day. We’re the Data Bundle gang. We live and swear by the Internet.
 
We eat like chicken. And also eat chicken. We’re not very much into healthy meals. We gobble up anything we can. From any street corner and alley. We pump hundreds of kilos of chicken and sloppy french fries down our bellies every month. We devour all manner of meat and gather up at petty, Makuti By Pass joints to clear away kilos upon kilos of poorly-prepared mbuzi choma. We eat anything as we sit behind our desks in our dreary offices. We’re lucky we ain’t dead yet.
We ain’t the most polite people you’ll ever meet. We swear like ruffians and talk like touts. We can be a little rough on the edges. And we may be a little too eager to start a fight and square off with anyone anytime and anywhere. We ain’t very polite and don’t really have alot of ‘sorry’ and excuse me and that you on our speeches. We didn’t really learn nothing from Mama. Our city is too rough to be kind.
 
We’re go-geters. End of story. We don’t sit around waiting for goodies. We haul ass ad move bread. We want to make it and want it bad. We push hard to get to the to the top and are unwilling to let anything stop us from achieving that success we yearn for. We might  sound a little prudish and unfriendly in our quest for success but we’re just made that way. We kinda want it all and want it bad. Probably thats why we don’t visit the village that often. Were out here tryna make ends meet. Getting at the top is all that matters to us anytime. All the time.
Let’s be frank here ; we sleep around. Alot. And not just sleep around…But sleep with anyone and anything we can lay our hands on. Here, men will easily and very comfortably go to bed with their fellow men. And girls love to kick it under the sheets with their fellow gilrls. in hand. We’re the Homosexual City. Sleeping around happens very easily here. It’s a busy town anyway..And also, a town with so much to offer and so many people to get it from. Between our drugs and our drunkeness and our lust, our sex life can’t be very stable. It just can’t.