IT WAS 30 DECEMBER AND THE GIRLS WERE ALL IN KILIFI. Bottles on the table, music piping through a speaker, the beach and the Indian Ocean less than 200 metres away from the villa. Some of the girls had partied together in New York and Miami and Ibiza, and now they were on the Kenyan coast.
Like thousands of other young people across Africa who belong to a very specific social class, they had attended top universities in the UK and the US. After graduation, some had gone back to their countries and walked into fancy jobs in finance or consulting. Others had stayed abroad and lived in London, New York, Paris and the world’s other financial centres. Every December, they would go back home to visit.
A few weeks earlier, I had called up my cousin Maria and told her that I had been assigned to write about this international elite. Maria grew up in Nairobi, but went to the University of Pennsylvania to study engineering and now works for a blue-chip investment firm in New York. “Do you know anyone who fits this description?” I asked.
She laughed. For the new year, she said, she was attending a music festival, Beneath the Baobabs, in the beautiful sandy outpost of Kilifi. This was where the very specific social class I was seeking congregate. And that’s how I ended up in the villa with them.
It was 6pm and we were on the patio. There were people streaming in and out. “Yo, I’m telling you, I’m tripping,” said someone inside. “I’m high as fuck right now.”
Maria went into the house, and brought someone out on to the patio. She was wrapped in a towel and her hair was wet. “This is another smart girl for you,” she said. They went back inside.
The music from the house oontz-oontzed to a climax and everyone seemed psyched for the evening ahead. “You’re happy! You’re young! You’re beautiful! You’re single! You’re thriving!” shouted another voice from inside the house.
A tall girl came on to the patio. She had a flower in her hair and sunglasses on her head. She asked me if I could give her a pseudonym for the article. “Give me something sexy. I’ll be Lisa.” She paused. “No, give me Nyangie. I’ll be Nyangie.”
Nyangie asked: “Am I going to be featured as a smart kid? I got a full scholarship to a university in
