But I wasn’t here to catch a ride. I needed a place to sleep until morning, and I knew exactly where to go. Tea Room also had its fair share of cheap hotels—exactly what I needed for the night. I wandered the area, glancing at the faded signs advertising “rooms available” until I found a place that seemed just bearable. It was a run-down building squeezed between two taller ones, a relic of a time when Nairobi’s city center had been more prosperous. The neon sign flickered above the entrance, casting an eerie glow on the sidewalk. A small bar occupied the ground floor, and I could hear loud music and laughter spilling out into the street. I hesitated for a moment, but the thought of a bed, however uncomfortable, was better than wandering the streets.
Stepping inside, I was immediately hit by the warm, suffocating smell of alcohol, sweat, and cheap perfume. The bar was packed with people—mostly men nursing their drinks, but there were also a few ladies sitting around, their eyes scanning the room. I was barely inside for more than a second when I felt their gaze shift to me, like vultures eyeing fresh prey.
“Eh, kijana! Karibu sana,” one of the women called out, her voice heavy with an enticing drawl. She was seated at the far corner, legs crossed, and eyeing me in a way that made me uncomfortable. Her friends giggled, and I could feel the weight of their stares as I walked past. Her eyes lingered on me, sizing me up, and I caught a flash of curiosity mixed with something more predatory. I forced a nervous smile, giving a small nod as I moved past, trying to avoid any unnecessary conversation.