« Sabassa Moonshine | Main | Relevee »
March 25, 2005
Who Hates Fun?
Santana - Live at the Fillmore 12/31/68 - Soul Sacrifice
Well you've been clamoring for a 15 minute extended jam song since September, and now here it is. No one can say I don't give the people what they want. Some of you might be saying, "what is this accursed dad-rock?", and others might be saying, "Molars, you goddamn rascal". Etcetcetera. Answer to the first question: it is indeed dad-rock, sent to me by my own dear Dad via the magic of the internet machine. However, it's just so good, I couldn't not post it.
"Y'all don't think this is a soul sacrifice, I got news for you", then wilderness drums and a motherfucker (g) of a bassline. Suddenly, an organ pops its head up, busting into everything and romping around in every conceivable manner like a (cartoon) blue whale that's drunk on paint thinner. But that only lasts a minute (comes back later, in a big way). Santana takes the lead here, his guitar sounding both articulate and relaxed. Drums are still with him, hanging tight. Someone shouting in the background. It just goes on like this, and it gets better and better. New Year's Eve, San Francisco, 1968. You know they had fun at this show.
And now some words from Dan-
The strangest thing to happen yet.
The chance of earning 100,000 shillings has made for some interesting proposals. Three weeks ago, I received an odd one by SMS. "Daniel, I've a suggestion on recovering the stolen items. It's a traditional one! Come to Hostel B Room
118 at 1 pm today. I'm Onyango Nduri."
Naturally, I assumed that I was being lured to Hostel B so I could be murdered for my silver (or are they lead?) fillings, the only thing that thieves have yet
to take from me. So at noon I borrowed Suzie the German's picante-flavored pepper spray. With this, I decided I was sufficiently indemnified against any
unwanted dental work.
Weaving through a dormitory that can best be described as "Lorton prison on visiting day," I made my way to room 118. Opening the door, I was immediately
assaulted by the odor of curried Vicks Vapo-Rub. It smelled like murg paneer being served in a boxing gym. My sense of smell was not far off. In one corner of
the cell was a bubbling pot of brown liquid. Along the opposite corner was a collection of out-dated computers. Seated in the middle of the floor was a
shirtless Onyango Nduri, displaying a physique that suggested that he should be more comfortable shirted. By his position on a mat, I would guess that he was
trying to change his state of affairs though a desperate series of sit-ups.
"Daniel Yi, right? Please sit." I chose to sit on a box next to the computers, so as to be as far away from the boiling brown liquid as possible. After an interminably long period of small-talk, made all the more oppressive with his continued refusal to put on a shirt, the Luo finally got down to business.
"I read the poster you put up, the one with the 100,000 shilling reward, and I am very sorry. Susanne was a friend of mine." "But don't worry. I think I know someone who can help you."
He got up from his mat and began to assume different positions around the room as he spoke. It seemed to me as if each position was meant to maximize the effect of his words.
"I once knew a man from my birthplace in Kisumu." Onyango said as he stood looking wistfully out his small window. He turned his head to look at me and
sort of arched an eyebrow. "They say he has powers. Powers to see things and cause things to happen."
Excitedly, he started moving towards me. More out of wishful thinking than fear, I fingered the pepper spray in my pocket. "If you want, I can bring him here." He was only a foot away. "He can cast a spell and force the thief to bring your things back."
I asked him how he knew it would work.
"I have seen him deal with theft four times in Kisumu. All four times, the thief returned with the things in broad daylight. Once, it was an American couple who
got their things back. If you want, I can even give you their email address." Onyango said all this very fast, while doing a little a goat dance. The undulating movement forced him to stop a moment to catch his breath.
He started up again, claiming (I think as a joke)that the diviner was said to have had something to do with Idi Amin's downfall in Uganda, and the recent election
of Mwai Kibaki in Kenya.
As far as cost was concerned, Onyango only could say, "It depends on the size of the job and the ability of the person to pay." I wondered outloud what the
difference in price would be between altering the course of East African political history and recovering a laptop. "You will have to ask the diviner that."
I told him that the whole thing sounded like a great idea. It would satisfy my academic curiosity. Further, in Kenya I've been robbed in every way so far except by 'elaborate scam.' I thought it was good to complete the circuit. So we agreed that he should cart this diviner in from Kisumu. As I walked out his door,
Onyango grabbed my elbow. "The diviner only has one condition. The only thing is, no matter who brings the things back, you cannot press any charges against
him." Hmmm.
Anyway, now I am still waiting on this diviner guy to show up and do his stuff. The only concern is what another Luo (a born-again Christian named Ken Odak)
brought up a couple days after I first met with Onyango. Odak said that he had 'no doubt' that we would get our things back, provided that we bring in the diviner. But then he ominously added, "at what cost?"
Odak said that the diviner works by calling on evil spirits to assault the thief. This neither Susie or I had no problem with. But it seems that as soon as these evil spirits are agitated, they don't stop with just the thief. They go after the people who called on them - that is to say: us. He concluded with a remark
I believe to be from "The Game" (the Thursday night movie on campus). Gravely looking at us, he warned, "once you get in, you can never get out."
Susie seemed a bit distraught by this, saying that maybe it would be smart if we didn't take any chances with things we don't know about. A laptop is just a
thing, after all, she said. Well, to promote mutual understanding, I proceeded to make fun of her mercilessly. For the sake of cross-cultural exchange, she did not speak to me for several days.
Read installments one, two, three, four, five, six, or seven of Dan's correspondence.
p.s. I promise to have some good news next week about the upcoming contest.
Posted by matt at March 25, 2005 08:00 AM
Comments
kev, do you have something you need to tell me? is work getting to be too much for you? i think i prefer when you write like an oversexed rhino on e to the dad-rock trip.
Posted by: matt at March 25, 2005 12:07 PM