In the heart of Nairobi, 'form' is not a piece of paper. It is a sacred contract. By 9pm on a Friday, the WhatsApp group that has been dormant since Tuesday suddenly erupts with a single word: "Form?" This is the activation signal.
According to unwritten rule number one, the person who asks "Form?" is not necessarily the organizer, but the mobilizer to a soon to be fun filled event. They are responsible for the initial momentum, even if they end up being the first person to fall asleep in the back of an Uber.
A Kenyan 'sherehe' (party) time is a suggestion, not a boundary. If the host says the party starts at 8pm, arriving at 8.15pm is not being punctual. it is being the volunteer handyman. You might find the host still in a towel, the drinks still warm in a supermarket bag, and the speakers being tested. To be a "pro," you must arrive when the vibe is in full swing, usually three hours after the official start time.
As the party shifts to a club or a larger lounge, the 'table sovereignty' comes into play. In a Kenyan club, your table is your embassy. Once you’ve secured a spot and placed a bottle on it, that territory is yours. However, the unwritten rule of a new guest applies. If your friend brings a friend you have never met, they are entitled to one drink and a seat. In the event they start ordering expensive mixers on your table, the 'Nairobi cold stare' is officially authorized.
Then there is the delicate matter of the shared bottle. Rule dictates that the speed of consumption must be democratic and modest. There is always that one person who pours triples while everyone else is sipping doubles. The unwritten rule is simple: if you finish the bottle, you are the primary financier of the next one. To finish the last drop and then suddenly remember you have an early morning meeting is considered a high crime against party humanity.
In the social media age, a party didn't happen if it wasn't captured in 15-second clips. However, the unwritten rule dictates that you must never post a video where your friend looks "compromised." If someone is leaning too heavily on a speaker or trying to eat a piece of chicken that clearly isn't theirs, you keep that in the archives. You must also never post your friends who don't want to be seen by their local pastors. You only post the 'lit' moments. The 'messy' moments are for the private 'receipts' folder used for Monday morning blackmail.
We all have that one friend who, when the bill arrives, suddenly has network issues or claims their Fuliza limit is exhausted. The unwritten rule is that you cover them once. If it happens twice, they are relegated to the Whatsapp group where the real party plans are made without them. In Kenya, your social credit is measured by how fast you "nitakutumia" (I’ll send to you) actually hits the other person's phone.
When it is time to go home, you should never let a friend request a ride alone in the dark. What kind of a friend are you? You must wait until the license plate matches, confirm the driver’s name, insist on the "Share Trip" link. It is written somewhere that the party isn't over when the music stops. It is over when everyone confirms in the group chat that they are home safe. Failure to send this text is a violation that results in ten missed calls and a panicked search party by 10am. Sometimes they can even call your ex to confirm if you are there.
Then comes the Saturday afternoon when the partying group wakes up, usually around 1pm. The rule is to laugh at the highlights and ignore the low moments when someone was crying for some reason. If someone called their ex 54 times, it is mentioned once for comic relief and then buried forever. We do not judge the 'sherehe' self from the perspective of the sober friend. Those are two different planets.
Finally, no matter how much you swear "I will never drink again" or " I am retiring from the streets," you are lying. By Wednesday next week, someone will post a meme in the group chat. By Thursday, someone will ask about the weather in Vasha. And by Friday at 9pm, when that "Form?" message appears, you will realize that in Kenya, the 'sherehe' is not an event. It is a lifestyle.
