Mwalimu Peterson, to his close associates, Peter, is a man I’ve known for years. Like this son from the slopes of Mount Kamwala, he loved his drink alright, but his amounts of the same were modest.
The kind of drinker who could pop into a bar, take a mere two bottles of his chosen brand and leave. He had no qualm saying no to an offer.
Like when, upon saying, 'Oh guys, I’ve got to go now, some work is waiting on my desktop at home, and the deadline is today at midnight!'
And someone would say, “Hapana, Teacher, get just one for the road.”
His response would almost always be, “No, thank you… Tomorrow is another drinking day, au siyo?”
That was Peter from five or so years ago. We now have a new Mwalimu Peter to contend with!
He has joined the league of drinkers who’ll continue drinking so long as there is still some money in his wallet.
Or, so long as there was a good-hearted drinker who offered to buy him one after he had declared he was leaving.
Many are the days in which the guy is left alone with the watchman after closing time at this bar you often frequent.
According to Rose, one of the mhudumu who’s close to me (ahem!), Peter becomes very annoyed, almost violent, when he’s begged to finish his last beer and leave since it’s past the drinking hour!
“Eti, past drinking hour? What nonsense! Who are you to tell me the time to drink is over while I’m drinking from my own money…”
He’d fuss on and on, using unprintable epithets.
On this other day, the manager threatened to strip him of his shirt after he failed to settle his Sh18k bill, ostensibly because he had lost his wallet.
“I’ve been robbed by one of your barmaids… My well-loaded wallet has disappeared from my pocket, and I’m sure it’s the work of your wahudumu…thieves!”
He was saved from the ignominy of going home to be welcomed by his wife, bare-chested, by a fellow teacher who volunteered to pay for him.
Now on this other day, when Peter turned up at our common haunt, he found me in the company of this good old fellow we call Mjumbe.
We asked him to join us, and he obliged.
Mjumbe and I had for long agreed we should find the opportunity to sit down with Peter and have a conversation on why he has lately been behaving in a way that’s in conflict with what’s expected of a teacher.
We waited for him to polish off his second Sere Laiti, then Mjumbe, looking at our friend straight in the eye, said,
“Teacher… Something not so well has happened to you, and Mzee Muya and I want you to tell us what the problem is.”
Peter’s response, “There’s no problem… everything is okay with me… why are you suggesting there’s a problem with me?”
I wasn’t surprised by the response, because, much as I’m not a professional psychologist, I’m well informed about the denial syndrome, which is almost automatic in victims of disturbed minds.
(More from our conversation with Mwalimu Peter in the next edition of The Pub).
