Dinesh Pattni A Nostalgic Look at Naaz Cinema Naaz ki Kahaani Meri Zubani. What a loss! What a sad sight seeing the excavator delivering its final blows onto Naaz just as a champion wrestler would do to his opponent in the ring when competing for a prestigious title! All that we now see remaining is a dusty mound of twisted steel and concrete that once belonged to Naaz cinema that was an icon of its time in the cinema world on the Island of Mombasa . Up till the time that the Naaz Cinema finally rose up at this site in the early fifties I think, M/S Samji Kala and their company Majestic Theatres ruled the roost. Other than the Regal Cinema which screen mostly English films, there was no competition and films lay canned in Samji Kalas warehouse at times for more than two years before being released. There were no DVDs or VHS or Internet then! Then the Moons loomed up on the horizon and the race was on! Enter Naaz with its popular movies like Awaara and others that gradually forced almost all roads to lead to Mithus Naaz Cinema. In no time, Majestic declared an all out war - fortunately to the advantage of the film going public - by offering special shows at special price..... one shilling all round, special ladies show, jagraan show, two movies for the price of one etc! Still Naaz stood tall and steady! In no time, Majestic Theatres changed gears and surprised the public by putting up the Queens Cinema almost overnight! And the rest is history! The demolition of Naaz Cinemas in Mombasa brings a sad end to a structure that had a very special place in the hearts and minds of tens of thousands of people, mostly Muhindis because of the screening of many of the magnum opus movies in that theatre. Apart from you and I being somewhat regular patrons of this theatre back then, it was a place where many relationships started innocently and went on to be sealed with the marriage vows! There were many other budding relationships that had began in earnest but were nipped in the bud by heartless elders before sprouting wings as the courting couple was caught red handed. It was a breeding place for many casual relationships and lasting friendships that went onto endure the test of time and there were also others that had just begun wetting their toes in the complex waters of intimate closeness but then hit the rocks due to some misunderstanding or a lovers petty row! This is not to say that Naaz was some kind of a secret den promoting unauthorized meetings and relationships. Its patrons was largely made up of decent individuals, families, friends and also the run of the mill type of patron who came, who paid, who saw and simply went home to wait for another movie! However, it cannot be denied though that it - like many other theatres of the time including the Drive-In cinema - was a kind of a secret meeting place, a refuge or a temporary safe haven from prying eyes and minds for those love birds who were mortally scared for their lives if they were seen in public! I knew a few of such Laila/Majnus that were seen there in the balcony of Naaz Cinema but they never ever took the risk of walking into the theatre together. Usually it would be the boy who would come in first when the lights were still on and then once the bell rang to signal the start of the show, the girl would walk in slowly and gingerly led by the shaft of light coming from the torch of the usher in front of her! The tickets were already booked in advance by the boyfriend a few days earlier thanks to Suleiman who was a self styled senior booking officer who did such favours to some patrons - depending on the strength of friendship. He also played cupid in a few cases! Syed Muhammed Shah popularly known as Mithu was the manager of Naaz and was always dressed smartly, mostly in safari suits or kaundas and on special occassions he cut out an imposing figure sporting a well pressed white shirt and a red tie.... all smothered with a nicely fitting butter tone suit and shiny shoes to complete the picture. He would be found strolling carefree in the terrazzo-covered foyer of the theatre taking stock of the situation and probably calculating mentally if the show was going to break even, or if he was going to laugh all the way to the bank or he was going to register a loss. A lot depended on the movie itself and the first releases were almost always money spinners at least for the first few screenings till the reviews from the patrons hit the street. I remember seeing Madari twice or thrice on a Sunday as it was being screened over the Eid festival and my pockets were a little deeper, warmer and heavier then! The story would have been very different if my late Father (may God bless him) had got wind of my escapades! Mithu would always be seen with a tin of 555 in one hand and a heavy bunch of keys in another. Sometimes when his hand was free of his keys he would be seen lovingly caressing his can of cigarettes. On rare occasions he could also be seen pacing the floor of the foyer with his hands clasped behind hi back. Mr. Shah was referred to as Bwana 555 in our little neighbourhood group in Kibokoni! Right at the front entrance of the theatre there used to be the all favourite popcorn machine. To the right was the canteen that did roaring business during all intervals. The inside was air conditioned and initially it boasted of a sky blue heavy brocade curtain on the stage and I think there were stars cut from golden coloured metallic fabric that were sewn on that heavy curtain to complete the picture of a star studded sky. There were hidden or sunken lights installed at various places that appropriately illuminated the entire curtain in a beautiful way. There was also a row of coloured lights that were hidden from view but cast very soft shades of lights along the bottom edge of that heavy curtain. Outsidethe theatre, one would find vendors of assorted goodies selling katchri, bateta, ganthiya, jugu, bisi, watana, dariya, hambul, chewing gum, toffee and other such items. Marhum Hussein Visram often parked his cart just before the steps of the theatre..... usually during the early evening shows and it was not unusual for my friend, brother and schoolmate Mohamedtaki Kermali Sherrif to open up his generous heart and buy us the ever popular mouth watering mix of kachri, bateta and ghanthiya from Hussein Bhai. After dusting the contents with his very own and very special blend of turmeric tinged coconut/mango/green chillie chutey that was never enough as far as we were concerned, Husseinbhai would deftly and carefully wrap the parcel in an old newspaper and then Taki would request him thus in Gujarati: Jarak mota kager ma dejo karanke amone ayanj besi ne kawu che (please wrap the stuff in a bigger sheet of paper as we would like to sit just near here and eat) and Hussein Bhai would oblige. Then we would retreat into the half lit well of the theatres metal spiral staircase which came down on one of the side walls located in the dusty lane between the cinema and the fence of the police station where we would sit ourselves on the raised concrete landing at the bottom of the gaazi, (stairs), then open the package with fumbling hands and unhidden urgency and spread the paper all around so that none of the rus (sauce) got away and dug into the mouthwatering mix. When the job was done, using our fingers like a wiper, we would both wipe the bottom of the newspaper licking off all the remaining rus (sauce) and the remaining little bits and pieces....... including the soggy printing ink left on the newsprint making sure that we got more than our moneys worth! This ritual that was always sponsored by Mohamedtaki took place on days when we would be returning late from the evening activities at Panju School or at times whilst on our way home from our tuition classes conducted by Aziz Master, the Ismaili owner of a commercial secretarial college somewhere off Salim Road! Masterji always had the lower part of one of his hands wrapped in a white handkerchief which I guess he used..... may be to cover the white patches that he had on that hand and also on other exposed parts of his body. He was thin and lanky and almost never let go of a cane that he liked to hold in his hand - the one covered by the rumaal (handkerchief)! On night, I also remember standing outside the Naaz Cinema in pouring rain, just by that spiral staircase, lying in wait with the hope of catching a glimpse of Sunil Dutt who was to make an onstage appearance as part of launching and promoting his song laden movie Ye Raaste Hain Pyaarke. Later on in life, there were a few Baluchi lads who were my neighbours in Makadara that worked as ushers in Naaz, Regal and Kenya cinema as well and therefore I was at times smuggled in by these kind friends..... so long as there was enough space inside the auditorium. When English movies were screened at such places, the feature film usually began after the second interval and so I would first finish my dinner and then go to either Regal or Queens and or Naaz to kill my time gulping kahawa that was vendored by the likes of Salim Karama who also resided in Makadara. Being my neighbour, he too would never charge me a dime no matter how many pegs of kahawa I gulped or even if I was there with a friend. Then the bell for interval would sound..... and the outside of the theatre would get crowded with patrons looking for something to munch or to enjoy a steaming cup of kahawa (sugarless swahili black coffee) or tangawizi (cinnamon tea without milk but with sugar) specially if it was a cool, windy and rainy evening! Then another bell would signal the end of the interval and all of a sudden the whole place would be deserted and it would be suddenly quiet as if the earlier busy scene was some kind of a dream. I would wait patiently for my usher friend to beckon me from the steps at the main entrance of the cinema. He would usually whistle and then shine his torch in my direction flashing it on and off to signal to me that it was all clear then! Grabbing a handful of hambul (some kind of roasted pumpkin seeds) - again free from Salehe the hambul vendor, I would make my way towards the entrance of the theatre where my usher friend would part the light-stopping heavy curtain at the entrance door and lead me to my seat by swinging the ray of light on to the floor in a front and back motion and once the right row was reached, he would raise the torch and aim it at the seat that he would want me to sit! There was an instance when I was still a kid..... may be 10 or thereabouts when there was a partial collapse of Naaz Cinema resulting in the death of at least one lady who happened to be the mother of a very very dear childhood friend of mine. Closing my eyes, I can vividly see the body of the lady lying in the mosque as preparations were being made for her burial whilst my friend was seated at his mothers feet shaken and dazed, tired and sad and not knowing what had happened and not quite ready to grasp the situation and fathom its implications. He was in fact a year or two younger than myself. This was one of those heart wrenching experiences that I was exposed to as a kid. Now I can also recall sitting at the foot of the bed in the home of my phui (fathers sister) as she lay there cold and still. I was handed a white hand towel with which to swat a pesky fly that kept on sitting on her face all the time! I think I was probably 7 or 8 years old then! The exclusive weekly ladies shows were a hit with all our women on the Island who had nothing better to do and - in most cases, unknown to their husbands - had managed to save a few shillings through cutting corners when planning the daily meals. On that day particular day of ladies show, all roads led to Naaz cinema. These festively draped women, dressed in all their fineries would be seen hastening towards their destination in scorching Coastal sun. There was no tropical rain storm vicious enough that could force these women to stay in their barracks! It was one determined army whose sole target was to conquer the inside of the theatre. Some in their buibuis and others dragging a couple of little ones behind them whilst ordering another little one to clutch her dress so as to keep pace with her. Some would take buses whilst others would pad their hooves. Some others would even show up in cabs as there were no tuktuks or matatus in that era! The entire place would be swarming with women of all ages, all kinds, all colours.... cackling away as many little ones who were in tow contributed to this din in their own ways through their howling, wailing and often, their njava-script crying! It was like a mad house out of control! Many Swahili, Baluchi and Arab women anointed themselves with assorted attars... all having their own distinct fragrances. Others would be sporting strings of sweet smelling flowers like asmini and mtundaufu in their hair. There was however one specific breed in this crowd that also literally fumigated itself and its clothes with auood and the fragrance in many cases was very intoxicating even to a pea brained katoto like me. One of my neighbours in her 60s at the time was very fond of a perfume called Bint-el-Sudan! That smell is still stuck in my brain. Re-living that xperience, I wouldnt be surprised if one of its principle ingredients was composed of ordinary kerosene mixed with tincture of iodine! The smell was simply disgusting! I will move on but not before mentioning yet another group of mostly middle aged and older women from one section of the womens fraternity at these exclusive shows. This is the group that perpetually smelled of curry and spices! They were like mobile tadka and dhokra! This was also one place where a girl dressed in the miniest of micro mini skirts would be seen rubbing shoulders with her grandmother in burka, or with someone in a hipster sari or another one in kurta shalwar not to mention the buibuis, the ninjas, the chadors and the ridas! Hijab or the plain head covering so common today had not yet been discovered amongst the Muslim women in Mombasa although one could occasionally see one or two at the most. Countless memories now lie in the debris of Naaz Cinema. The mound in the picture probably still smells of the blood, sweat and tears of all those who were responsible for initially erecting it physically and then from all those who then nurtured it to its glory! If one listened carefully to the sounds emitting from this mound of the fallen theatre, then amongst so many other sounds and smells, one would probably hear the deep sighs of those that were dumped at the alter by someone who failed to show up despite a promise....we shall meet inside the theatre after the lights are switched off!! It probably still emits sobs of women who cried their eyeballs out whilst watching heart wrenching movies like Dosti, Do Badan, Anand, Bhabhi, Choti Bahen and Dil Ek Mandir amongst countless other films with sob stories! Fine tuning the ears further may also detect the cacophony of sounds that were generated at the busy canteen during the interval. May be a person with an Alsatians nose could also enjoy the mouth watering aroma of freshly popped popcorn and also of french fries not to mention the sweet smell of the State Express 555 that the manager almost chain smoked! I think that the cocktail smell of all those perfumes, Bint-el-Sudan, colognes, attars, auoods, asmini and mtundaufu may still be permeating the ruins! Naaz is a huge warehouse of many many memories..... many sweet ones punctuated by some sad and unhappy ones as well. By the time I finish this quick recollection arising as a result of the last nail being pushed into the coffin of this theatre, the waste from the site will have been carted off to land fill sites and some of it ..... to Kibarani. My hunch is that from now on, that plot could be occupied by the spirits of those who are no longer on this earth but had a very strong bond and affiliation to the theatre in its hay days. Who knows if I may one day undergo an experience of the third kind and see Mr. Mohamed Shah hurriedly walking away with smoke from his 555 trailing behind him as he vanishing into the thin air! May be even Suleiman the senior booking officer and Mithus confidante and right hand man could be seen lurking in the dark or may be someone will hear the thumping of his rubber stamp that he so rapidly banged on the tickets that were flying out of his booking office.... and then suddenly him slamming shut the window of his booking office after slapping the dreaded HOUSE FULL sign on it as if to tell the disappointed patrons that they could now go home or rush to a nearby theatre like Majestic, Queens or Regal if they wished to as there were no more tickets. Suleiman was one guy who was partially responsible for disappointments and miseries of so many patrons though I refuse to talk about those half a dozen ticket touts who made all the hay possible by scalping the scores of tickets that they had on them! Strangely enough, as soon as Suleiman magically disappeared from the premises before briefly taking refuge behind the locked doors and the booking window of his tiny office, these black marketeers emerged out of nowhere like a menacing shoal of barracudas that suddenly appear from the depths of the ocean ready for easy prey! These guys were absolutely ruthless in their trade and rumours of inside collaboration at almost the highest level were not uncommon but I will let all those souls rest in peace! Late Suleiman, like so many others from his community, lived in Kibokoni and I used to meet him almost every night when I was part of a baraaza with my other Baluchi neighbours when he would cycle down the narrow stony path on his way home from his daily duties at the Naaz Cinema. Then upon reaching our baraza, Suleiman would dismount his horse and sit amongst us and join the conversation and partake in the bitings and tea or kahawa that flowed freely! Suleiman was very articulate and he was very fluent in Kiswahili. The women folk would ask him for a quick review of the movie if they were planning to see it and he would gladly oblige them with his personal critique! On most days, getting advance tickets from him was a piece of cake! The Baluchi girls from the baraaza would use their charm and sweet nothings language and lavish praises upon him and then as he was still reeling from the effects of those praises, they would shove a wad of paper money into his hand and charmingly request for X numbers of tickets ......on rare occasions, mine as well as I was a kid with no money..... maskini Ramzani wetu. (Oh! Our poor little Ramzan! they would pout and chirp!) They sponsored me mainly because the older women of the household who had no interest in seeing any movies ever, would insist on a male chaperon and if the brother or a cousin was not available, then I would be selected as their Dobberman. Though I was only knee high to a grasshopper, the mums considered me one smart cookie and trusted me as their watch dog for their frisky fun loving daughters and always pulled me aside to tell me: Baba Ramzani, usiwa-wache hawa ndugi zaako pekeyaao. Watunze sawa sawa na wa rudishe haraka.... cinema ikisha...... hatutaki mwende ku zurura hapa na paale..... ume sikiya mwanangu mzuri.... Mungu aku bariki! So saying, Bi Hadija would stroke my head with motherly love and kindness and then digging into her bosom, she would pull out this old brown weather beaten, body warmed wallet and hand me a penny..... saying: Haya mwanangu pokeya hilo peni na nenda kaji nunuliye chakaleti kwa Bereki! (Here my son.... take this penny and go and get yourself a candy from the shop of Bereki.) Well..... Bhai I had best of both the worlds. A free ticket every time this group wanted to see a movie outside the special ladies show plus special hugs and kisses from their mums plus the precious penny and then the opportunity for me to be seen amongst a bevy of some of the prettiest nymphs of Kibokoni at the time though none was bold enough to be seen open faced when the lights in the theatre were on...... for as soon as the lights came on they instantly turned into mothers of all ninjas as they drew their buibuis tight and right across their angelic faces! It did not end there because at interval time, they would dig into their purse or where ever else they hid their pochi (wallet) and pull out notes and loose change and send me on a number of errands to the theatres canteen so as to get them chips and drinks including an ice cream for myself if I wanted one..... it being my choice! Sometimes Suleiman would send in an usher with handfuls of packs of freshly popped corn from the machine in the foyer..... all paid for! Once in a while he would even throw in king size cokes or pepsis! Upon bringing the flock back home at the end of the show..... depending on the time of evening or night..... more money would be raised and then the boy of the house.... call him Hamisi, Bakari, Charo, Saidi..... would be dispatched to Mamadi Rekoda with a big bakuli and be asked to fetch kababs and all the other goodies that Job the owner of Rekoda sold. Life for me then was one long picnic pleasantly interspersed with food and drinks, song and dance! However, the honeymoon did not last for ever and like all other fun things in life, this phase of my life also came slowly to an end as people moved, some others got married and settled down, some of the Mamas passed on and screws began to be tightened at home as apart from my poor health, my parents also wanted to keep me focused on my schooling and also protect me from undue and negative influences. May Naaz rest in peace!
Posted on: Sat, 06 Dec 2014 14:56:49 +0000
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