Home > People > The art of Stripping

The art of Stripping

Last week I got victimized by some readers who felt short-changed because I happened to bring up the provoking subject of stripping then sort of diverted. Apparently some folks felt cheated. Well, accept my sincere apologies naughty boys and girls. It was not my intention to arouse anyone. Well since the topic brought about quite a bit of excitement, I feel obliged to bring it to the table; this time not as an appetizer but as the main course. Sit tight folks.

Allow me to first conclude the story of the two ladies that were seated behind me in the bus. These girls had some strong opinions regarding the business of stripping. One exalted the whole idea of shaking what her momma gave her and making men drool, while the other despised the concept. Well I just sat there eavesdropping while trying not to cheer whenever one of them made a good point. I didn’t catch their names so for the sake of this blog post, let’s name the pro-stripping chick Miss Cummings and the anti-stripping one, Sister Elizabeth.

Miss Cummings passionately defended her fantasy profession. She said that she loathed the way men always act bossy and domineering and that nothing would give her more joy than making a grown man sing to her tune just because she displayed some skin. At this point I was itching to contest her inaccurate argument. Really lady? Really? It’s all about skin now? Footballs are made of skin too but you don’t see us drooling over them, do you? I would have turned and asked her those questions but again, I didn’t want to blow my cover.

Sister Elizabeth argued that a woman’s body should be treated with more respect. That it should not be objectified. She further argued that men who visit strip clubs are perverts and it would be wrong for a woman to degrade herself to such levels. I was tempted to politely interrupt her and throw in a comment. Thing is, all men are perverts. It’s only that some are good at concealing it while others, well, others simply can’t help but ogle at scantily dressed ladies doing splits and sliding down poles.

Miss Cummings begged to differ. She did not find stripping demeaning in any way. She argued that unlike a sex worker, a stripper is not compelled to sleep with her clients. She assertively said that she wouldn’t mind getting a few handprints on her as long as it made men empty their wallets. I was itching once more: What if after some time the handprints became permanently printed on those parts of her body that were frequently groped?

I must have fallen asleep at some point because I can’t remember how the argument ended. Maybe Sister Elizabeth started quoting verses… I can’t really recall. Sorry peeps next time I’ll be sure to take coffee. Lucky for you, I have a personal story to tell about sliding down poles. Gays, don’t get excited; I was not the one that was up there getting naughty, I simply happened to visit a strip club. It was in my early years of campus when I first had this experience.

I am not wired to be one of those party pooper sissies. I believe in trying everything once. Ok almost everything – there are some strange people out there with some very strange ideas. So when my pals suggested we go to a strip club one Saturday evening, I was like “hell yeah! Let’s do this!” I had only seen these things on tv so the idea of getting the experience was invigorating.

Venue of choice was F3. If you’ve been to F3 before – and I know most of you have – you know there’s a long flight of stairs that leads to the main entrance. I must have ran up those flights. I was quite eager. Those of you who have been following this blog for some time already know that as soon as I got to the entrance the bouncer stopped me on my tracks. Mr. Bigfoot placed his gargantuan hand on my chest and demanded to see my ID. They always did that in my earlier years! Even when I carried a copy of the Daily Nation under my arm just to look mature. I would have bought a moustache if I had a donor. Lucky for me, they had no qualms with 18 year olds.

My walking style changed as I got in the club. You don’t walk like that Shaggy dude from Scooby Doo as you check into a strip club. No. You got to walk like a boss. You adopt a Lil Wayne walk and you stroll in. When I was finally inside I came close to raising my arms and screaming, “Woooohooo!” But I couldn’t risk getting thrown out before getting some action. I therefore kept my cool as we searched around from empty seats. I sat strategically sat at the counter – you know where drinks are easily accessible and seats are raised, meaning a better view.

Strippers have mad talent folks. Circling down a pole takes pure skill. Especially in an upside down position. That’s a calling. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was an ambulance waiting by just in case one of them accidentally dropped and broke her neck. They ought to sign up for emergency services those managers. Those girls put their bodies at risk. Men are at risk too you know. There’s always the possibility of a man getting a stroke and collapsing due to shortage of blood flow in his brain.

I am inquisitive kind of guy and I couldn’t wait for breaktime so I could grab one of them for a chat. And I insist folks… a chat. I actually had several questions in mind. I was curious to know why a chick would decide to be a striptease artist. I was curious to know if she loved her work. I wanted to know if the talent came naturally or if there’s some special institution that instills that kind of skill. And most importantly, I wanted to know if those were real.

As soon as I got my chance, I grabbed one (by her arm) and offered to buy her a drink. I’d never really talked to a stripper before and I might have said something awkward like “uko smart.” Mind you she was in a bra and a g-string. Anyway a few awkward statements later, I managed to break the ice. During our chitchat, Madam Stripper (let’s call her Destiny because I can’t really remember her name) told me some things that shocked the earlobes off my ears.

Destiny told me that she was in a committed relationship with a man whom she deeply loved! At first I thought it was a joke and I burst out laughing before seeing the stern look on her face. I cleared my throat and asked her if her man knew what she did. She said he had no idea. I asked her if she felt guilty when random men buried their faces in her bosom all night long. I mean that is cheating right? She said she didn’t look at it that way. As far as she was concerned, she wasn’t cheating since she had no emotional connection with those men, and she never slept with them. According to her, what she did was a job like any other. More or less like modeling.

Just to test her resolve, I asked her if she would join me for drinks on her off day. Her answer: Not in a million years! Guys, being rejected by a half naked chick is humiliating. I therefore told her a made up story about having connections with Ogopa Djs and how I was responsible for scouting talented chicks to feature in music videos. That got her attention. She however left me in the cold when I burst out laughing and revealed that I was merely a first year campus student and had no idea where Ogopa offices were located.

Well, that’s my story. I wouldn’t mind getting to know yours. Feel free to share your thoughts on the topic. That would make my week bearable. If you’ve ever visited a strip club and you have an experience worth sharing, do share. Don’t shy off even if you fell in love like T-Pain.

Categories: People
  1. thatguy
    June 11, 2012 at 3:57 pm

    ati bigfoot, newspaperr and ogopa djs scout…..lol. i see that conversation already. This has brought tears to my eyes boss.

    • June 15, 2012 at 12:27 pm

      Hehe! You should share your story with everyone… about the pen… that was too funny!

  2. June 12, 2012 at 10:23 pm

    hehehehe…you’ve got a sense of humour there!

    re drooling, the ladies do drool at footballERS and they are made of skin too 😉

    • June 15, 2012 at 12:28 pm

      Are you sure it’s the skin you drool at and not the lunje squoks?

      • June 25, 2012 at 9:22 pm


  3. June 13, 2012 at 10:41 am

    ..I’m with you on one thing: Stripping is truly an artform. I remember confessing to my boys that I had never seen strippers so they took me to see them when we were in coast claiming I wouldn’t like the shows in Nairobi. We ended up at lollipop (I think) inside Tembo. The women had gorgeous bodies and the way they moved….you feel like you’ve entered a whole different world that doesn’t feel quite real. And that’s the whole point of the show no? To leave people nicely dazed and conjuring up all sorts of fantasies. Of course I had to spoil it by looking at some of the patrons and their stupefied looks had me laughing silly…

    It got me thinking though. About the human mind…how addictive it can be for some people and that’s when it’s not so funny anymore…

    • June 15, 2012 at 12:32 pm

      “…you feel like you’ve entered a whole different world that doesn’t feel quite real.” And Nyambura got charmed. Were you tempted to… you know… touch? Hehe I’m glad you brought up the stupefied looks… you’d think those boys (and charmed girls) are watching a magic trick!

      Readers, if you are addicted, please see a shrink before it’s too late. By too late I mean proposing to one of them and erecting a pole right at the center of your living room.

  4. Sarah.
    June 13, 2012 at 3:39 pm

    Never been to such a joint but I lived a block away from a strip club for four years. Their parking lot was always packed to capacity on Tuesdays at lunch time because apparently on this side of the ocean strip clubs serve free lunch on Tuesdays. I always thought to myself of how disturbing an image of some dude seating there eating his lunch while ogling at strippers would be.

    • June 15, 2012 at 12:36 pm

      Are you serious about the free lunch part? Hahaha that’s not even disturbing, it’s too funny! I wonder how much of that food finds the target (the mouth). If you lived a block away from one and never got tempted to walk in and negotiate working hours then you got a very strong will.

  5. Alex
    June 20, 2012 at 4:28 pm

    Miss Cummings? Hahaha… Special!

    My last trip to the strip club was confusing, on the one hand the chicks were hot, but on the other hand they couldnt ‘dance’ very well. In their defence though, it wasnt F3, seems the further downtown you go, the less acrobatic they become (they make up for it in other ways apparently).

    PS. So you pulled Destiny off to the side to pick her brain, didnt believe her when she said its just a gig, tested her and got rejected, then baited her with false promises only to cruelly dash her hopes… Are you trying to get slapped? Hahaha…

    • June 20, 2012 at 5:26 pm

      I’ve actually been downtown… not a story I would share here. Destiny needs to learn some stripper courtesy! I was at my prime in first year and for her to reject me like that… I just had to redeem myself.

      • Alex
        June 20, 2012 at 5:33 pm

        Hahaha… Special!

  6. Liberty
    August 21, 2012 at 11:50 am

    I bet most guys have been to Casablanca (Mombasa) & they loved every minute of it……….hehehe:) Sister Elizabeth…….really??

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