Between the two ends of birth and death lies a space called time and we fill it up with moments to make a life. “There are decades where nothing happens; and there are weeks where decades happen,” spake Vladimir Lenin. Before his recent baptism by the state and fourth estate as a revolutionary activist and more outrageously an insurrectionist, Kasmuel McOure was to the best of my knowledge, an individual who notoriously revved up the place at Geco Cafe.
The joint was a volume knob, Mcoure the force turning it clockwise. Finyaa. It’s not uncommon to trace Eddy Ashioya and myself there on Wednesday nights circa 8:30 – 9:30 p.m. It’s often our last stop before parting for home after an evening of Bible study because Ashioya is a moonwalk of a Christian – always backsliding. I definitely go to Geco for the music. Eddy is there for the girls. Yet for our differing tastes we both safely agree that all roads lead to Rome.
A week or two prior to the height of the Finance Bill protests would be the last time I saw Kasmuel. Nobody knew then that his ascension to national consequence was in the offing. Salimianga watu manze. This particular night was the encore concert and funeral fundraiser for the late Eddy Ogaga. People bury their own, their ilk and it aptly followed the who and who of the music industry were present. H’art the band, Watendawili, Ivy Alexander, Njoki Karu, Muthaka & Analo Kanga were randomly stationed among perennial early bird ticket scavengers.
Despite the vast artistic stardust in attendance, Kasmuel was still easy to pick out in the throng. Ashioya, fingered at a white lady snogging a sovereign Kenyan gent and jested, “Utapata huyo madam ndio anaamua kama unapata Visa au la,” When I noticed a man slightly short of mania and hysteria on the keys, charged up in a musical circuit. Typical of him, McOure was sheathed in a cummerbund black suit and a white dress shirt, if my memory serves me right. No tie but a bow tie. Martin Shikuku.
I conceded to Ashioya, “This man is clean and well kempt ni kama anashindana na Otile.” I also silently gambled that he must be SDA.
The sartorially magisterial McOure and life of the party pied piper soon found his way to the stage. He was emceeing and immediately he opened his gob, it was clear he had it. The silver tongue. His words were often fizzy as they were unwittingly witty, “Let’s show up for Eddy guys….you know a Rasta man never dies and when a Rasta man dies he never rrrrrots!!!’ It was all I read of him then, a lad who has a good time, puts the R in brioni and plays his piano like he’s working out an exorcism. That impression was never to last. I saw him again at geco last week, 31st July, Wednesday. I had Ashioya for company squirming a la the fin of a fish fresh out of water. Ashioya nauseatingly screeched, “There’s my leader, there’s my leader,” ovulating through the roof.
I couldn’t reconcile my first impression of Kasmuel with what I knew now, a month after parliament was occupied. This time I saw a man who resided in a country so bad it sprang him to life off the ledge. Irony much. At his table he held court seemingly talking to people in lieu of talking with them. Which is saddening because conversations at an establishment like Geco are usually about the time of your life not your lifetime and how many more lifelines. His presence attracted eyeballs. His eyes intermittently trained over his shoulder, wary of his whereabouts. My sight trailed his exit as he eventually left Geco surreptitiously as a serpent.
I’ll spare you the details for the revolution’s safety but what I’ll give away is it wasn’t overt. Luo men do not leave the club as he did. Minus whispering sweet nothings to a baddie and planting a kiss on her cheek. Kasmuel doesn’t have the luxury of loud departures, kicking at bouncers, high & resisting entry to his Uber or yelling “Niambie ukifika home safe!” He is now vapor. He is past tense incarnate. ‘Kasmuel was here,’… a moving trail. This is his new normal. He is in bumper health yet in the fight of his life. Our lives. The president is on brand to label us criminals because only such can beget such a government. Yet all egregious sinners are owed a shot at salvation. Ours is this Thursday. We might just answer MDQ; Nai ni ya nane? #nanenane
