Some male drinkers leave their seats and join them. The power of the woman, eh?
It’s Saturday evening, and I’m seated at my own table at this small bar that’s served by only two wahudumu and an akaunta. At a table next to mine are three ladies, two of whom are very talkative. Hypers!
I’m keen on the ones that I’ve concluded are hypers because their activeness makes the whole place lively. They’re animatedly talking to one another throughout while their companion, who looks much older than them, has her eyes glued on a smartphone, busy chatting over her beer.
And the two aren’t just talking; they’re also moving, swinging this way and that way to the songs selected by Diana, the akaunta and self-proclaimed resident Deejay. I’ll confess here that I’m a dance fan… I love dancing myself.
But since I’ve grown into “mtu mzima na heshima zake", I’m forced to hold myself back unless I’m in a thoroughly convenient environment. And this ka-bar doesn’t pass muster in this regard, so I’ll just encourage others to dance as I watch and enjoy their performance, I tell myself.
I raise my voice and tell them, “Why don’t you good girls stand up and dance properly—you’re good dancers, I swear!”
“No way!” says the girl nearest to me. She’s in jeans and a cream T-shirt. Her mshikaji is in a dera, the long, flowing, free-size gown that really flatters women, especially the bodily endowed ones. The Miss Bantu variety.
The two joyous ladies continue drinking and dancing while seated, and then the one in jeans twists her neck towards me and says, casually, “Basi, kaka, si you buy us one-one…?"
Ohoo! I say to myself. The innocent compliment is now costing me! But being a typical Mwasu, always careful with the contents of my wallet, I ignore the request without uttering a word. However, that doesn’t stop them from continuing to dance while seated. More so after the Akaunta plays their request, Haturudi Nyuma by Kidum, the Burundian musician, featuring Juliana Kanyamozi, the popular Ugandan singer. To this one they dance while singing along.
Then, the song Moyo Sukuma Damu by Lameck Ditto is on, and with this one, the two girls stand up and dance seriously. I’m impressed and stand up to give a tip to the one in jeans and a T-shirt. Some male drinkers leave their seats and join them. The power of the woman, eh?
The akaunta abandons her chamber and joins them. It’s getting more exciting; it’s like we’re in a nightclub now!
When the song Tubonge by Jose Chameleon is played, thanks to yet another request by the ladies, I too fail to resist, move to the “dance floor” and join the party. I happen to be a great fan of the controversial Ugandan musician.
It looks like these ladies can’t realise I’m a mzee who was already up and about when the young teacher-turned politician from Butiama marshalled forces and managed to kick out colonial rulers out of Tanganyika.
Yes, otherwise why would this lady in a dera pull me from my chair to dance with her to the singeli song Umerogwa, a naughty song by fellows who call themselves FreshBoys! Duh, I say to myself as I meekly follow her. I dance with her awkwardly for a couple of minutes before dodging her; this, to the pleasure of a young man who joins her, holding the bended girl in a style that I wouldn’t!
When the two ladies return to their seats, the girl in the T-shirt and jeans asks me, "Are you still denying us a beer, mzee wetu?”
“Have it…you deserve one from me, for sure…call the mhudumu,” I say with sincerity.
