Enjoying beer, bites; then sister of the ‘CEO’ strikes!

This is one of those rare cases in which I’m having a drink at some spot that’s quite far away from my neighbourhood.

It’s a nice joint. Sharp wahudumu.

Not the kind where you’ve to shout for someone to come and serve you, for they’d usually be busy chatting with fellow wahudumu or enjoying a drink with their favourite patrons.

Here, the wahudumu compete in ushering in freshly arriving patrons.

Even before you’re fully seated, someone from the kitchen is standing by your side to educate you on what eatables they’ve on offer.

I’ve just ordered my second beer when this young man Jack from my neighbourhood walks in.

Jack, regular readers of this column know, is one of the most accomplished plumbers in our area.

The very fellow who calls himself CEO when he has good money in his wallet. Yeah, the times he walks with a swagger, accompanied by at least two wapambe.

He’s alone today, and I suspect he isn’t carrying much cash. But I’m wrong, because after inviting himself to my table, he calls a barmaid and orders her authoritatively: “Add my dad two, and bring me six…quick!”

“Hey, Jack, why six at a go?” I ask, “There’s no fear the beer stocks here will soon run out!”

“Well, Dad, I’m badly thirsty, and, as you know, waiters can be slow,” he says as he picks up a bottle whose contents he polishes off in a jiffy.

Two friends of his soon arrive, and he orders each three-three before calling the kitchen boy, asking him to get us a roast goat “enough for four grown men”.

We’re hardly done with the full tray of mbuzi choma when this short, stout young lady you know as Jack’s sister walks in, coming straight to our table.

 “Jack!” she shouts to her brother, “Where’s Mum’s cash?”

“What cash? What are you talking about?” Jack shouts back.

“Rental cash… You went to her tenants and told them Mum instructed you to get the two and a half lakhs they owed her… Where’s that money?” says the enraged sister.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Jack.

“Etii… You don’t know what?” barks the sister, who grabs him by the collar and gives him several slaps. Then she goes for Jack’s wallet, which was stashed in his trousers’ back pocket.

She steps aside and counts what’s in the wallet.

“Yaani, out of the two and a half lakhs, only one lakh is remaining!” says the sister who turns back to Jack, slapping him further.

The rest of us just watch. Suddenly, the barmaid handling our table rushes to the sister and, at lightning speed, snatches Jack’s wallet from her.

She’s quickly joined by the kitchen boy, and together they extract what our table owes them.

The barmaid hands back the wallet to Jack’s sister, who counts and declares only sixty thousand.

She tucks the cash under the brazier, throws the empty wallet to her brother and walks away to a waiting bodaboda.