Drama In Nyayo Estate As The Police Raid A House Party,Arrest Everyone,Beat Up A Girl And KTN’s Shaniqwa Shows Up At The Police Station (Photos)

House parties are increasingly becoming a dangerous affair to engage in. Ever since some young thugs decided to throw a party nicknamed ‘Project X’, vowing to sink to the lowest levels of morality at the party, any other raucous shindig since then has been closely monitored by hawk-eyed police and some very mean-spirited,fidgety neighbors.

You cannot even throw a decent house-warming party anymore before the whole thing has been busted and thrown into disarray some minutes past midnight. And that’s exactly what happened at Nyayo Estate last weekend when a contingent of some 10 or so Administration Police officers,armed to the teeth,raided a party in a house around the Estate that sent jitters across the place.

A lot of well-off people live in Nyayo Estate. Including Robert Alai,the blogger provocateur who is also the Estate Chairman – whatever that means.

Now,a party had started happening some minutes past 6pm Friday night. It had all the ingredients of what normally makes what the young people call a ‘lit’ party – insane amount of booze,a good serving of weed,shisha bongs,lots and lots of food,nyama choma,girls and girls and girls and any other thing you can think of.

By 7.30pm,more and more people had started arriving,with their dashing,sporty cars festooned with all manner of dazzling graffiti and with the heavily-altered exhaust pipes roaring and revving majestically into the posh Estate.

I am at TRM.

‘Yooooo Uko wapi !!!? ” Muzna Mohammed,my very good party animal texts me via WhatsApp.

”TRM… Kuna nini? Uko wapi nikam? ” I text her back.

To be honest,I desperately wanted to leave TRM. I was stuck in a silly Pizza date with a girl who was so godamn boring the date was starting to look like a Clinic appointment.

All she did was sit her fat a$$ there and gobble away on the Pizza like a Cambodian kid who had just been rescued from a gang kidnapping. I wanted the sh*tty date to end. Bad.

”Ebu nikukol… ” Muzna texts back. And call she does.

”Kam Nyayo Estate. Unajua Nyayo Estate?? Kuna bash serious ina-happen. Aki pleeeeaaze kam! ”

”Inaanza saa ngapi? Na naweza kam na beshte yangu? ”

”Ishaanza! Ilianza six! Kam mpaka na Mama yako ukitaka! ” Muzna toots.

Yipeeee.

Time to disrupt this silly date and to drop this Cambodian eating machine home.

”Babe… Eeerrr… Kuna place nimeitwa… Lazima niende saa hii… ”.

She looks up at me,slices of Pizza messily shoved up her mouth she can’t even talk without throwing around pieces of meat. She’s now starting to look like a Cheese factory worker.

I drop her home. And I’m off to Nyayo Freakin Estate.

I pick up Bob. And Bee. And Tom. And we’re off to Nyayo Estate.

The drive along the Eastern Bypass is uneventful. Except for a few stupid Lorry drivers who keep driving like their mother commissioned the constructing of that road.

‘‘Uko!!?? ” Muzna shoots me a distress text accompanied by what looks like a battalion of confused emojis.

”Utalala… Nakam ” I reply quickly while driving.

‘Nilale kwa nini??? Na saa hii ndio imeanza kushika! Yaani ushaalala? ” she replies,impatiently.

”Sorry. I meant Utawala. Utawala… Haha”

In no time,I am around Tuskys Supermarket and right at that left turn,I drive down that road that eventually leads me to Gate D: Nyayo Estate.

Some gate men need my ID. I give it to them and drive in without incident.

They had wanted to start a cheap small talk with me about where I am going and who is that mrembo and whether I have come with mazuri.

Pssssh. Ain’t got time for small talk. I drive down and hoot once. Hii sio Kanisa.

There are so many small gates and so many courts around the Estate that I get lost 16 times. I keep driving around until I figured something and hit the right driveway.

I’m driving past some eerily-silent house that looks like the haunted home of a very unhappy individual. Robert Alai must live here,I say to myself. And laugh.

I can see Muzna walking towards me. Phew!

She quickly squeezes her pretty little butt in the car and we drive off to the house.

My giy! The party here is on a whole ‘nother level.

For starters,there’s like 85 people here. Party looking like a Jubilee rally in Narok.

And the noise is so much you cannot even hear yourself breath. ”Cabu Gaaaahhhh” some girl who looks like she’s been drinking since 2003 hollers as she stumbles over to me.

That was one very tight hug. Very tight.

Most of the girls here look like they don’t believe in clothes. I can see so much flesh,so much cleavage,so many thighs this is starting to look like a tawdry red district in Thailand to me.

I want to do so many things – I want to drink,I want to grab a$$, I want to be hugged again and again,I want to hold some tatas,I want to smoke,I want to eat,heck,I want to eat someone.

But before I’ve even settled and made myself comfortable,a fight breaks out.

And it’s 8.57pm. Like saa mbili. Who fights at 8pm? The hell you couldn’t wait a few more hours?
It turns out to be some girls fighting over some dude who is fighting for some other girl who is fighting for food.

Total nonsense.

All the girls are talking English here. And you know how hard it is to maintain a decent American accent while getting your ass whooped. And your Brazilian weave shredded into pieces.

The fight gets so messy the silly girls have to be thrown outside and they’re now fighting it out on the driveway. It’s starting to look like a bad Nairobi Diaries episode.

”Musiangukie gari yangu!! ” some other girl yells,holding a Jack Daniels tightly in her hands.

I’m now in the kitchen trying to fix myself something to eat and then there’s another gang of pretty girls yelling themselves silly at the backyard. Oh come on.

This is gonna be a looooooong night.

It’s not even 10.00pm yet! And half of the crowd is behaving like Russian ruffians at a sloppy Euro soccer game.

As I am bending over the microwave trying to warm some meat,some girl throws her arms around me.

Man! Can’t a nigga be allowed to eat first? For the Love of God?

More and more people are streaming in. I need to ask Muzna to clarify to me what exactly is going on. Is this a normal house party or a Sauti Sol album launch?

Music is so f*ckin dope there’s even a DJ perched around the stairs,huge headphones over his head,totally oblivious of the madness going all around.

There’s a girl on every corner. And another. And another. The last time I saw so many pretty girls at a gathering it was at a Miss Tourism event in Malindi.

There’s even an MC! At a house party! An MC!

Oh wait… He’s not an MC. Just some rich loudmouth who is so drunk to sit at one place and wants to impress all the girls. My bad.

I swear there’s someone swinging with the curtains. As if I haven’t seen enough madness already.

It later turns out that the girls who were fighting have totally been unable to resolve their boyfriend issues and they’ve now decided to invite the whole vast Nyayo Estate neighborhood to their cat fight.

I can now see nosy neighbors peering down at us from their upstairs windows.

There’s two girls dancing on the dining table. I don’t even know who this house belongs to. And Muzna, the girl who invited me here is nowhere to be seen.

Some semi-drunk dude now walks right up to me and wants to know whether I’ve seen Anto. Anto? Who the hell is Anto? I don’t even know who I am anymore.

God bless the girl who passes me the shisha bong. Her name was Malika. Or Malaika. Can’t quite recall. And she looks like she’s just had anal sex.

Music is getting louder and louder. And the girls won’t stop screaming their titties off.

And then a loud knock on the door. The knock is getting louder. And louder.

Someone opens the door. It’s the Estate soldiers. They’re like a freaking hundred of them. Dressed in those navy-blue uniforms and shit, looking like North Korean zombies.

”Hii sherehe Iko na kelele sana. Na kuna watu bado wanaingia. mwenye nyumba ako wapi? ” the lead security guy starts,his heavy Luhya accent almost sobering me up.

No one pays them any attention.

”Mwenye huku ako wapi? ” a soldier asks me. I wish I knew. I don’t even know where the people I came with are.

And then the mwenye nyumba shows up. She’s Lyn. Or Linda. And she looks like she’s been high since morning. She’s also dressed like a Playboy Bunny.

She holds a half an hour talk with the continent of soldiers gathered at her gate. And it’s immediately decided that the music should be turned down. And that everyone should go home.

Go home???? B*tch I just got here!

A little argument ensues. Miss Playboy Bunny doesn’t seem to care much. She drives a sexy black BMX X6 anyway. You can’t care much with such a car parked outside your house.

All this time my head is going,Panda panda panda panda.

”Wasee imesemekana watu waende home… Ati this has gone out of control…. ” Lyn announces.

Her little announcement is met with a heavy chorus of boos. No one seems to care much about announcements here.

I’m sitting at a corner. Drink in hand. Not caring much. I,however,don’t know what I am sitting on. Could be a human being. Or a dead donkey. I don’t know.

The soldiers leave…. But they promise to be back.

Music goes on. Girls won’t just shut up. Someone is still yelling at the backyard. Three more people have arrived. The MC dude won’t just sit down. I need some more beer.

And I can see Bob is keeping himself extra warm with a girl that looks like she’s just dropped from a music video.

”Hakuna msee anaenda home!! ” Lyn,the host,declares.

Everyone screams in approval. Time for more drinks please.

”But wamesema wataita makarao…. ” Lyn adds. No one seems to be scared. Everyone laughs it off. DJ… More music please!??

‘‘Wanaweza hata ita Kidero pia….” Someone yells. Room roars in laughter.

Half an hour later. It’s now 11.52pm. Eight minutes to midnight. And then we hear another knock.

This time,it’s not a simple knock. It’s a loud one,a heavy knock. A determined knock.

”Usifungue hapo!” Lyn roars from across the dining table.

”Msifungue… ” everyone seems to be saying.

The knocks grow louder. And more pertinent. Man!

Something leads to another and some dude decides that it’s better to open the door and prove that we are doing nothing wrong than refusing to open and validate their accusations against us.

Door is duly opened.

And just then,an army of combat-clad police men ,actually anti-riot police men,pour into the house. Guns at the ready, mean-faced and spoiling for a row.

”Nini inaendelea huku!!?? ” their commander asks,moving around the house and asking the people to stand up and make a queue at the door.

‘Wapi mwenye nyumba!?? ” He roars. We can’t even trace Lyn. She’s disappeared.

Everyone sits up and we are all trying to act all sober and shit. Bob is yet to properly notice that there are cops in the house. The DJ has disappeared too. And Muzna won’t stop fidgeting with her phone.

”Pangeni laini hapa! Nyinyi wote! Pangeni laini kama watoto… ” we are ordered.

Quickly,we all stumble across the room and make a messy queue. Bee is too stunned to talk. Tom is still smoking. And Malika is laughing. WTF?????

(TO BE CONTINUED)