Drowning Acacia

The reason you haven’t heard me talk about the happenings at Acacia invitational is because I’ve been unwell. I’ve been going through the gruesome exorcism of scrabble demons that invaded my scrabble spirit on the eve and course of the invitational.

You see, Acacia is a small and almost exclusive club in the world of scrabble Kenya. Tucked away in an enviable address. Members and amici are barely a score in number. Those who have been baptized it it’s waters will tell you it’s akin to the shrine of a secret society complete with bloody rituals over the board.

Now, on the eve of the event, wise men travelled from far and wide, malindi, siaya, the great south nyanza,  mandera (Ama Benedict Powell Kiplagat sio waria wa moyale?) and all the far flung places you can think of to come pay homage to the scrabble lords of Acacia but with very ill intentions. All scrabble people have it -the ill intention. 

When I reported to Acacia for my usual pre-tourney dose, I found #Seaman gnawing at Bernard Koyyoko . It was man beat man affair.. By the time I turned to have a look at their board, seaman was lamenting. The scores stood at 516 vs 574 in favor of Koyyoko.

“Who scores 500+ and still loses?” The first demon entered my head at that point. Reason? The impending event was an open tournament and no amount of freaking out could save me from the shark tank.

An open tournament is one where Barcelona has a chance to play bunge FC or even Manchester playing against  Ligi Ndogo.. No immunity whatsoever. This meant that mimi Kama mnyonge would be up against these people who lose even after scoring 500+ and the people they lose to. More worrying news is, there’s more like them and even worse in the scrabble family. 

I left the club traumatized that evening, half wondering if it was too late to change my mind or if the blood bath that awaited me was worth my registration fee.. “Ama nilale tu kesho, eish! ” the demons were multiplying in my head on my way home.

Like y’all know by now, I’m queen of bad decisions, and I never quite learn. I showed up for day one. Kama mbaya mbaya.I was counting my bullets in my heart as I greeted the blood thirsty contestants that morning. #Onanism, he who taught me OCREATE the hard way, Allan Ombaso Oyende  of UBIETIES/DUBIETIES, Joash Manyasa  the Hawk, #Gongolo the mad man made in Alliance, my biskuti Benard Amuke , El presidente Fred Magu , the #MVP (he of the strategy beats mastery philosophy,) Sultan Sayyid Smartex  mtu wa VIHUELAS amongst others.

There was a silent but palpable vow in the air to beat Acacia lords, after they switched off stima in the last gathering of this kind.

Wenwa Akinyi  and Millie Kikech were playing possum huko Kwa corner, but we all know them.. stealthy and lethal as always. Muema Muumbi DaMu  was there too. He taught me THRAVE but conveniently forgot to include the hooks.

Let’s say on day 1 I was like arsenal: on top of the tables, or an elephant atop a tree – real but you don’t really know how they got there.

I beat Kikechi, the dreaded Seaman, Wenwa, respectably lost to KoYokko by kidogo margin etc. I went home 7 wins up. I was high up the standings yes, but well aware that all that goes up must sure come down. 

The day that followed, let’s just say I only managed 2 wins to finish at 9. #Sigmoid the Veteran played a desperate “SHERATI” which Damu immediately hooked to an imaginary frontal U. We still laugh at USHERATI jokes to date.

 Things were that thick. #Oyez beat #Mboya by a spread of 600..yes, read that again.. Hata Kama ni wewe, unaezapayuka kweli?

 Wish me quick recovery on behalf of team Acacia, who were all beaten and buried.. Well, almost.

Get ready for Jamhuri derby at Strathmore. I will be there. I never learn.

By Awuor Okado