Prime
'Reason why boss blackens his hair'
I’m at this drinking place near home, heading there after spending virtually the whole day at a far away, decent drinking establishment.
A really nice place I won’t name lest the ads people charge me with offering free PR—enjoying drinks and bites while waiting for Tanesco people to—as the Waswahili would say—return electricity to our side of Dar.
Electricity returned sometime after sunset. Our domestic assistant had duly called to give the good news but as usual, I’m not going home straight.
Why, as it is customary to all seasoned drinkers, I need to have one for the road at a bar that’s just a few minutes away from where I live.
As I partake of my all important, last beer, I note the bar’s proprietor-cum-manager arriving with a medium-sized personable youngish lady. He walks her to an isolated table and together, they take seats. He orders drinks.
Now wives of owners of establishments such as this will often drop in, ostensibly to “brighten their eyes” and have a drink or two plus, maybe, some eatables. Word has it that the wives fervently insist on this arrangement.
The main idea being, or so it’s alleged, to make it known to all and sundry—to all the barmaids, to be exact—that their boss has a permanent, legal partner out there. Yeah, the mother of his children!
So, my hunch being that the great looking lady is the bar boss’s wife, I proceed to do what any investigative (!) journo worth his salt would do—verify the hunch. So, I say to Sara—this barmaid who believes she and I are great friends since I’ve bought her a drink at least twice: “That must be boss Peter’s wife, isn’t she?”
For an answer, she lets out a chuckle which gives an indication I’ve suggested something incredibly stupid! Noting that I wasn’t impressed by her reaction, she blurts with a sneer: “No way, this man cannot be having any wife!”
“But why, he looks old enough to be a married man, doesn’t he?” you say.
“I know he’s old, even his hair is naturally gray; it’s actually much grayer than yours, but he paints it black to fool the girls that he’s a teenager,” says Sara.
I ask her why she’s judging her boss so harshly and she says she’s not being harsh but only telling the truth.
“What truth?” I ask.
“That he’s a mhuni—a man who seduces every girl he comes across, including his workers” she says.
“Has he ever seduced you?”
“Yeah; many times!”
“And you…”
She doesn’t let me finish, for she quickly interjects, “There’s no way I can give in to the mhuni…in any case, it’s rumoured that he never agrees to use protection!”
Oops! That’s all I can say as Sara dashes off to attend to her other customers.
