Tonight Beth and I went to Via Via for dinner and music. It was fun, but the band called “Sounds of the Serengeti” which was billed as “African music” played about as many Mexican songs as they did Congolese! So rather than just walking to my local Cantina to hear “La Bamba,” “La Cucaracha” and other Mexican party hits, I flew halfway across the planet to hear them performed by a 5 piece rock ensemble from the DRC. These guys sat down at our table and started running game, but it was about as developed as Tanzania, so I had no problem shutting them down. Beth had a little more difficulty, as her predator was even more relentless. He went so far as to whip out his HIV test results, to show us that he’s negative. Which I think is actually a really good idea, but hey, why not wait until the 1st date, at least? He was explaining to her that they live together and have their own rooms, and that we should come home with them tonight. Ernest asked why I don’t like men in Los Angeles, and I told him because they’re all playahs. He was the first Tanzanian who understood what I meant, everyone else thought I meant athletes. Which of course are playahs too, but not just in the sense I’m talking about here.
So I asked him what the Swahili word is for that type of guy, and he told me it’s wachapaji. As he said it he kinda snapped his fingers, in a very “Fonzie” kinda way. I asked if the hand motion was necessary to the definition, and he said yes, it helps. So I said “Wachapaji hapa!” (There’s some playahs here!). Takes one to know one, I guess, and his game was relentless. His friend was even more insistent with Beth, but we both escaped safely into a taxi, after two free rounds of drinks. They even wanted to share the taxi, having us dropped off first. Knowing where we live is not the sort of information these guys needed, so we insisted on our own cab, and as we drove off, they went back into the club to try their luck with some other girls.
Amani, Mama Siara’s grandson, whose really got good game. I think more guys should try the ol’ shoes-on-the-wrong-feet trick, works every time!