Despair is now creeping in!

It was a Friday and Matata felt it was reasonably sound to unwind with some booze after a week-long stress. 

Friday night was always special to the man they call “chikaka,” at pubs. Drink with friends, dance to the sounds of some local band and just have a lot of fun. 

It was a time to celebrate what life really meant.  Of late, it had been very stressful at the work place. All this “ hapa kazi tu,” slogans flying around as if there was any difference it was making. But, wait a minute there was a difference in town since JPM came around. 

The city’s road to the airport was under expansion. To Matata of all things JPM had done so far if that road expansion becomes a reality, surely he will have won his vote come 2020.

Matata wondered about the quality of the road. These local companies cry to be given contracts for such work. When they are given, the problem is the quality of their work.

 May be JPM will look into that too and press the boils as well.

  Thinking of this boil press business in other ways irritated Matata. 

His boss at the office, Malingumu was threatening to ‘press’ him also because she thought he was a boil of some sort. She claimed he has become an alcoholic. “That woman is stupid,” he thought in anger.

 “How dare she question my job performance? I have been working for the last twenty years in that office and I have never got any warning memo.” 

He shook his head in despair, “Maybe that is why she never got married,” he laughed for a moment then went on thinking, “Who would marry such a donkey?” he asked himself.

“That bright red lipstick permanently on her thick mouth, she looks like vampire.She looks like a witch or was she a witch after all? You never know with people from Sumbawanga, they always have issues.”

Malingumu made him feel uncomfortable nagging him about work in a way he didn’t like. In addition to his list of problems, he felt depressed and isolated since he lost control and shouted those nasty word at Mama B the other day. Such drunken happenings make him feel so embarrassed. It made him think of quitting the drink all together but so far it seems he had failed.

Not because he hadn’t tried so hard. First he had tried making rules for himself to manage the drink.

“I shall not drink when I am angry or when I am sad.” That didn’t last long. Then, it was “I will drink only beer, only wine instead of shots.” The price of beer and the like kept going up as usual and that was the reason for that rule had to be abandoned as well.”

“Soft drinks mixed drinks,”

“Drink only on days I do not have work the next day,” and so on. The rules kept failing one after another. He was back to square one when his wife left him for another man.

Matata was on his third beer at a small pub named Changanyikeni. He noticed the beer in the glass he was drinking from had no foam.

He poured some on the floor. No foamed appeared.            

“That drink is flat I am not going to pay for it,” he told the short dark skinned barmaid who was serving him. For a moment the girl looked at him with smile. Matata thought she had not understood what she was being told. “I am saying, this drink is flat,” he said holding the glass up front.

“You see it has no foam at all. Please change it now,”

 The girl laughed a little. That angered Matata to a point.

“Is this the way you serve customers here?” he shouted.

“Hapana Mzee, you remember when I first served you drunk a packet of spirit from that glass. It is that spirit that cuts the foam.