By Oyunga Pala

I am a reluctant dancer. Blame it on my two left feet. I am approaching middle age and I can afford to be picky. What passes for musical hits these days is nothing but noise to my ears.

I grew up in the age of crooners when no one broke a sweat on the dance floor and every session finished with a lovey-dovey number. I never realized how outdated my dance moves were until I went out recently with a young crowd to an evening party. In the beginning the music was mellow with the DJ drawing his selection from the 90s slow jam era. I was on the crowded floor, feeling hip, every song bringing back memories. All was well until the DJ in his inspired wisdom decided to pick up the beat because the bulk of his crowd newly out of college complained,

"Una Tu Bore". (You are boring)

Spurred on, the DJ pumped up the music and my younger dancing companion who had seemed quite mellow shot to life and killed my flow. Suddenly she was swiveling her derriere right in front of my crotch, my cue to draw in and meet the not so subtle challenge. Before I knew it, she had her knee up, my hand reached out to prevent her from falling not realizing it was a dance move. Shaking her head, seemingly in a trance, her hair extensions swiping my face and the insistent thrusting of her pelvis into my midriff left me feeling very... seedy.

Then she would repeatedly drop to the ground, her bottom rising throbbing on its own like an independent body part. A rapidly wiggling bottom is a showstopper and I was rendered a spectator. This was one wild pony. She danced like a stripper and I was the pole. All I had to do was stand and function as a prop. I considered getting a stronger drink to match her vigor. Eventually I signaled a younger companion and indicated that I had run out of breath. "I need a drink". It helps when you are little older. You can always feign fatigue and everyone understands.

Continue Reading: http://www.allkenyanews.com/2012/07/shall-we-dance/

Where is the dance taking place, count me in....