He says hi above the cacophony of a Singeli song, and I say hi back.
Abrah tries to speak to the akaunta, saying something that I guess is, “Can I have a beer?”
It takes a long time before the accountant can hear what brand he’s ordering, thanks to the noise.
My beer isn’t yet opened as Abrah and I try to converse, but we can hardly hear each other.
I’m placing the palm of my right hand on my bottle’s top because I’m feeling rather agitated by the fact that Abrah and I can’t have any meaningful conversation. It’s too noisy!
Abrah and I urge the akaunta (call her Stela) to reduce the volume of the music, but she ignores our request.
“Wazee, I can’t reduce the volume because drinkers here want it loud. Her exact words, Watu wanapenda saundi.
It’s like, those of us who prefer reasonable music volume aren’t people!
We’re both holding our bottles in a “protective” way lest she open them against our go-ahead.
She looks at us straight in the face and says, appealingly, “I beg you to move to the table over there, at the back, where the noise from the speaker won’t affect you much.”
She insists that without Saundi, most people will leave, which would be bad for business.
We shake our heads this way and that way in unison, meaning we aren’t in agreement with her proposal.
Abrah signals to me that he can’t stand the “madness” and says goodbye to me by way of waving while saying something I can only guess is, “I am going, I can’t stand this madness!”
The good thing is, there’s another drinking outfit, a grocery, near his house, which, much as it lacks in vibe, has some sobriety.
I’ll be alone now, meaning I won’t mind the noise that much. I shut my mind out of the music madness and focus on the contents of my newspaper.
It’s not the best way of spending time in a bar, for in drinking joints, one should soberly interact with fellow men and exchange ideas, kubadilishana mawazo.
Or, share information on what’s going on in the country or even across the world.
But then, in most of the kinds of bars that Wa Muyanza and his ilk frequent, there’s nothing like that.
The interesting thing is, despite the din, i.e., the sound, most patrons are seemingly quite okay with it…happy.
Engaging in animated conversations, laughing, giving and high fives!
Some are even talking on their mobile phones!
But maybe this is all fine… for us, the hoi polloi. Makes us forget the miseries that underlie our lives; yeah.
When there’s enough noise around you, you get drunk faster, which means you spend less money to attain the purpose that takes real drinkers to the bar... to get drunk.
