Hello my name is iCon and I’m addicted to coffee.
It’s been about 10 minutes since my last cup and I’ll be downing my next one as soon as I finish typing this.
I picked this horrible habit up as a child and amplified it to its current volume somewhere in the piss stained alleyways of Brooklyn, New York. Since then, I have been more faithful to that dark elixir than I have to any other aspect of my life. I’ve considered creating a contraption where I can put a huge bag of it on my back and siphon it into my body intravenously but I like the taste too much. So instead I nicknamed it “Unleaded Diesel” and created a ritual around drinking it. Yes, my coffee has a name. And yes, that ritual involves a dance.
Now, Kenya is notorious for having some of the best(and largest amounts of) coffee in the world. While in the US, we were forced to pay extra for a taste of that Kenyan AA and though it was diluted and
refined robbed of it’s richness, it was still the best thing on the menu.
So when I returned earlier this year, one of the first things I noticed is that everybody wanted to go out for coffee. Wasn’t I ecstatic? I set up about 6-7
dates meetings and began going out to meet these broads.
Shock. On. Me.
Be it Java, Dormans, Art Caffe or Super-Hyper-Coffee-Cafe, these places are overpriced for no apparent reason; and so damn popular. Like I said, I drink my coffee black. So I’m vaguely aware of what a tin of Nescafe costs and I know I can rely on it to supply me with a week’s worth of goodness. I also know that the cheaper(and sometimes better) alternatives would cost less and last longer.
Why then am I paying all that in one sitting just to drink out of a paper cup? By day 5 of my outings, I was ordering tap water(yes, for her too) because my wallet had slimmed down into a sliver.
Furthermore, why do these places charge so much for horrible food? I once went to the Java at Junction and we got fries that were so dry you could rub them together and start a fire. And you would need that fire to warm the rest of the food up because it was cold. And that plate of cold, old, tasteless food cost about 1,000 stones; which is 1,000/= more than it was worth.
And yet these women still want to go to these coffee houses. Why? Is it for the prestige affiliated to sitting in the murky basement of some building while sipping out of “Nairobi Java House” branded cups or to actually drink coffee? If so, are they aware that, with all due respect, those establishments are not nearly the best they could be? I’ve been to C-Grade establishments in the boondocks of Eastern Europe, situated next to pit latrines and garbage dumps that are substantially better*. Kenya is not a broke country and these companies are not tightening their belts. As evidence of both these facts, have you ever walked in one of these joints and found it empty?
You have to wonder who the blame should be directed to: greedy girls or greedy coffee houses. Either way, the bigger issue is why a country renowned in such quality kahawa has decided that it’s better to seem better than to actually be better. Shouldn’t we take national pride in this seeing as we already have the upper hand globally? This is like eating overpriced shitty pasta in Italy just because you want to look good doing it. With that said:
Dear Large Coffee House, please use the money you make to make the trip worth the coin. And Dear Bourgie Kenyan Women, if you want food, we can get food elsewhere. If you want coffee, I have a potful at the crib. If you want to be seen, let’s walk around Westgate Mall for free. If you just want me to spend money on stupidity, go fish.
And with that, I’m off to drink me a cup of Unleaded Diesel.