He hardly drinks, but now when he does…

It’s Tuesday, which means, no one should be drinking before 4pm, the official opening time. Closing time is 11pm. On weekends and public holidays, well, Wabongo drink from any hour they so wish—though you can’t be sure that’s precisely what the law says—to midnight.

Now on this Tuesday, you’re on a freelance beat and at some point, you pop in to this familiar “grocery’’ to have a soft drink—yes, Wa Muyanza takes soft drinks too, sometimes.

You order a cold Bavaria plus a half-litre of bottled water, warm. As it were, after your longish walk in search of material for some story, you ended up with a dry throat. You didn’t even think of a beer, for after a past regrettable experience, you now avoid as much as you can, doing things that can land you in police hands. Yeah, like taking alcohol outside the official drinking hour, especially during daytime.

As you settle down to quench your thirst at one corner of the grocery, you notice this noisy guy at another corner, sharing a table with the kitimoto in-charge and two bargirls.

Before him are two unopened Safari lagers and one that is opened, plus half full bottle of Kasichana. The kitimoto man has the big Serengeti lager, while the girls are treating themselves with sodas.

Nothing much out of the ordinary here, except that the guys are having their beer very much ahead of opening time. Well, many grocery operators sell alcoholic drinks ahead of the opening hour, but they do it discreetly.

The Safari lager patron, however, is noisy to the extent that he shouts to people he doesn’t even know as they walk or drive along the road across the drinking establishment. It’s like he’s hailing to the cops to come and arrest him!

He’s a perfect act of comedy, for he’s neither addressing his tablemates, nor is he addressing the rest of us in this grocery. He must be having his audience, a very large audience, in his intoxicated mind. So sad if you ask Wa Muyanza!

His speeches—if that’s what one can call his disjointed utterances—are regularly interjected by expletives that would make you leave the place in hurry if you were in the company of your mother in-law.

You recently heard that a research carried out across Bongo towns and cities reveals Dar is on top when it comes to matusi.

From what’s coming from the mouth of this drinker here, it’s like those who were triggered to undertake the research on matusi in Bongo had him in mind. He spares nothing on expletives that mention private parts, including those of his own mother! What a pity that the use of dirty language has become part of our otherwise beautiful Swahili culture! Too much careless use of the “k” word!

At one point he walks to the parking lot and uses someone’s car trye as a urinal. He then staggers back to his table where he proceeds to unbutton his shirt and throws it to another table. Very embarrassing to all of us in the grocery, going by the many “Ouch!”; “Mungu wangu!”; “Ana nini huyu?!” and such other exclamatory remarks. It’s like many among us fear he’d soon take off his trousers and, God forbid, his underwear.

Several attempts made by the bargirls to put the shirt back on him end up in vain, as he wrenches it from them even before they’re half way into covering his torso.

A fellow at your table suggests the guy is a victim of a laana, that is, a curse, most likely that of his mother. “This is what befalls those who don’t send money home even when they are told their mother is very sick…” your tablemate suggests.

Another tablemate, Mariki, says he doesn’t believe in curses and opines that the guy is the type who drinks once in a very long time as they ordinarily have no money.

“He must have landed some good cash by accident and he’s now drinking with a vengeance…and chances are, he hasn’t eaten,” says Mariki.

Indeed, when asked what time the fellow started drinking, the girl serving our table reveals: “Ten in the morning”. She further informs us she hasn’t seen him eat anything.

Even as you leave the grocery at 4pm, the guy is still delivering disjointed speeches underscored by dirty language, speeches whose audiences are not visible.