Um, so. Hmm. Where to even begin about an event that was so unpredicted and unbelieveable that we couldn’t even believe our eyes or ears when we were actually experiencing it?

Well, it all started on Tuesday night when my friend Julia (a summer employee) suggested we grab drinks with her friend Kerrie at a local bar. Normally I’m rather game for an activity in Nairobi that involves leaving the very isolated guesthouse. Unfortunately, since I’ve been back in Kenya I’ve had terrible allergies and this had been the worst day so far. I had gotten hardly any sleep, my nose was stuffy and red, and my head felt like it was swimming in medicine.

Still, it was a chance to go out and meet some new people, and Julia promised an early night; we were to meet Kerrie at 8 pm. I threw on my fleece, dragged a brush through my hair, and grabbed my bag, promising myself I wouldn’t drink for fear of aggravating my sinuses.

On the way to the bar Julia got a text from Kerrie that sounded frankly bizarre, “Here, there is some sort of weird Motorola launch party going on”. Confused as to what it all meant, we didn’t think much of it.

The bar we chose is called Casablanca and is well-known for its great mojitos and shishe pipes, and pretty much every other cocktail you can imagine. The building itself is inspired by Moroccan architecture with large white detailing and cozy couches and cushions inside. In the evenings there are large fires set outside for people to sit around and drink. It’s actually a very nice place, AND apparently the venue for this week’s big Nairobi party…

The taxi driver dropped us in the parking lot of an Italian restaurant behind Casablanca, and we walked through a very stacked row of cars towards the bar. We heard loud music blaring through the wall, peaks of huge white tents, and a search-light in the shape of a Motorola “M”.

In the compound a huge party had already begun – an obviously PRIVATE pary – complete with fancy tents, posters of fancy gold Razr phones labelled “Dolce Gabbana”, beautiful women dressed in Egyptian costumes (guess they were confused as to where Morocco was) toting around more gold Razr phones, and passed hors d’oeuvres. We were also the only misungos (non-Africans) there.

We found Kerrie and the three of us huddled together, finally deciding that we should stay and take advantage of the event. The inside was fairly empty (everyone was outside with the music and the dancefloor that we’d be fairly unnoticed.

Julia went to the bar and got wine for her and Kerrie and a soda water for me, and we found some couches off in the corner and did some serious people watching and laughing as this massive event went on outside.

Hours passed, we enjoyed some of the tasty free food, and eventually returned to the bar where we ALL decided to take advantage of the open bar – malibu and pineapple and screwdrivers for everyone! Hey, there’s vitamin C in fruit juice!

It was completely surreal, all of it. Photographers were coming around taking pictures of all the glamorous Kenyans, important business conversations took place in dark corners, and the place continued to get more and more crowded.

But no one said anything to us or gave us strange looks. I guess in a culture where all too often the color of skin indicates power, there’s less of a chance of people questioning authority. I find that rather sad but frequently the case.

Around 10:15 we decided to call it a night feeling that we’d had plenty of a good thing and it was time to go crash. Certainly not the night any of us expected to have, but one of the more memorable ones at that :o).