I went to visit a friend of mine on Ngong Road a couple weeks ago. Top lad, that one. We knew each other from childhood and I couldn’t be more proud of everything he has achieved for himself. He’s one of the country’s top music producers and is behind one of the biggest songs in the region right now. Dude is also one of the most humble and down to earth people I know; the success hasn’t gotten to his head or changed him in the least way possible. We still do the same old things we used to do.
I go over there every once in a while, when I can, and we huddle up in his studio with his brother and friends and talk about life, girls, money, and music while drinking deep into the night. When I went over a couple weeks ago, I stayed for 2 days and we didn’t drink anything else besides Kenya Cane, Pineapple flavor. I can almost guarantee you that I, initially, also had the same reaction you did just now when you read that line or that headline. But then I tasted it and it kicked my little black ass.
Right at the first sip, KC Pineapple (which is what we’ll be calling it here) tastes like, well, pineapples. Not just any pineapples though, because there are two kinds of pineapples with different backgrounds: there are pineapples that you find at the filthy Marikiti/Muthurwa markets and then there are those that you find at kina Carrefour.
Those that you find at Carrefour are the ones that look all cute with their make up on and their nails done and have their shit together and, to use a now popular expression, went to private school. But the problem with going to private school is that your privileged ass will come out as you went in; bland, tasteless, unrefined, a complete dunderhead.
The pineapples that go into making the KC Pineapple are found at Marikiti and Muthurwa markets. The messy ghetto markets, because these are hardened pineapples that have gone through life and seen some shit in their time; pineapples that know no privilege; pineapples that were handed nothing coming up and had to claw their way to the top. These are pineapples that, if they were musicians, would be Mbogi Genje…not Camp Mulla,
I do not care much for the KC Smooth; it smells like ass and tastes like ashy ass. It was manufactured for people who just want to get drunk. But the KC Pineapple is a different story; that baby was made for men and women who are aware of their taste and their drink. The KC Pineapple is as sweet entering the mouth and touching the tongue as it is going down the throat. The KC Pineapple is a drink that you can – and should – partake without a chaser because it tastes so smooth and so beautiful and will have all kinds of explosions occurring in your mouth.
But perhaps the two most important things I love about the KC Pineapple – and which are the things I look for in anything I drink – is that it swallows easy and has absolutely no morning after hangover. None whatsoever, I assure you. That baby does not become dramatic when you’re swallowing. There is an expression I used here when I reviewed Chivas Regal a while back; I said it “goes down kicking and screaming.” The KC Pineapple is the exact opposite of that; the KC Pineapple goes down singing soft melodious Gospel songs of Kirk Franklin and Yolanda Adams. Absolutely glorious.
The only downside for me about the KC Pineapple for me is that, right from its physical appearance, it is not an attractive drink. It does not come in an appealing bottle, you know, it’s not something you would buy someone on their birthday or when they’re celebrating a promotion at work. It is also not something you would buy on payday or at the club when you’re trying to get a girl in a little black dress to cross over to your table. KC Pineapple is a drink you buy for a chill evening at home with just you and the crew over silly banter of who will beat William Ruto to the presidency in 2022.