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Lenox Mhlanga 

One thing beer drinkers will certainly celebrate is that fact that the price of beer did not go up. It would have been suicidal for our premier brewer to tamper with that. Particularly as we stare that dreaded January disease in the face. 

Many parents are already sharpening their begging skills and reaching into their rich bag of excuses come schools opening. And don’t dare say we were not warned that the excesses of the festive season will surely come back to bite you in the butt. But reality always has its way in the end, and ‘I told you so,’ sounds like an insult.

Regret dominates the last minutes of a year that I indicated last week as largely forgettable. And for many reasons that I won’t care to state here. Lest I bore you to an early grave. However, the stories will hog the limelight for the better part of 2020, shared liberally to all who care to listen over a pint of lager if still affordable.

Every wife’s nightmare is that of worrying where hubby is in the wee hours or what we call emathathakusa. Unable to catch a wink thinking the worst when he would be obliviously having a time of his life exiting 2019 with a bang.

I am sure every female that has a male companion wants to know what really goes through his mind at that time. Seek comfort in the fact that you are not the only “beer widow” in the neighbourhood. Research on what would really have happened to your person of interest when he rocks up the front porch at the crack of dawn would draw varied and interesting conclusions. 

What really goes on in his befuddled brain, women often wonder.

Zambian humourist, Melvin Durai has identified five levels of drinking. And for argument’s sake will not reveal any names. Just fill in the gaps with the name of your worse half.

Level 1: It’s 11o’clock on a weeknight, he has had a ‘few’ beers though even that figure is debatable. A little angel appears on his right shoulder; “Time to call it a day mzala, the wife must be worried.” He gets up to leave because he has to work the garden the next day (It’s the holidays by the way) and one of his friends buys another round. Here at level one, he thinks to yourself, “Oh come on, this is silly, as long as I can get at least seven hours of sleep (snaps fingers), ngi-sharp! (I’m cool)”

LEVEL 2: It’s midnight. He has had a ‘few’ more beers. He has just spent 20 minutes arguing with himself (Indicating his state of inebriety.) He gets up to leave again, but at level two, a little tikoloshi appears on his left shoulder. And now his is thinking, “Hey! I’m out with itshomi zam’ ngifelani vele? (I am out with my friends, why worry?) These are the good times! As long as I can get five hours sleep (snaps fingers) ngi-sharp!

LEVEL 3: One in the morning and he has abandoned beer for some green, blue and red poison with a name he can’t even pronounce. It’s served in tiny glasses and one has to light it up with a match before one slugs it to the back of the mouth. He has just spent 20 minutes arguing FOR himself. And now he is thinking, “The waitress is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen!” At level three, he loves everyone and anything. On the way to the toilet, he buys a drink for the stranger at the end of the bar because of his face. He also likes his reflection on the water inside the toilet bowl. “Aren’t you the most handsome guy in the universe?” he thinks. But at level three, that tikoloshi is a little bit bigger…and he is the one buying. And he is thinking to himself, “Oh, come on now, as long as I get can three hours sleep… and a blood transfusion (snap fingers), ngi-sharp!”

LEVEL 4: Two in the morning and the tikoloshi is bartending. For the last call, he orders a bottle of Two Keys. He is now the subject of an argument! This time on his way to the toilet, he punches the guy at the end of the bar, just because he no longer likes his face. His ‘friends’ decide to leave, right after he is thrown out, and one of them knows a 24-hour bar (Read shebeen). And here, at level four, he actually thinks to himself, “Well… I’m only going to get a couple of hours sleep anyway, I may as well… STAY UP ALL NIGHT, yeah! That would be good for me. I don’t mind going home looking like Alcoholics Synonymous. Yeah, I’II turn that around and make it work for me. She will understand. Besides, as long as I get 3 hours sleep tomorrow… ngi-sharp.”

LEVEL 5: Five in the morning, after unsuccessfully trying to negotiate with the bouncer at the door to be allowed back in, he and his friends wind up in a sleazy night club across town with guys who have got out of prison as recently as that morning. It’s the kind of place where even the tikoloshi is saying, “Tzhengidakwe blind!” (I am drunk and disorderly). At this point, he is drinking some kind of clear liquid, something like the power paraffin powerful enough to power a Boeing 777. A woman with fresh stitches from a previous bar fight comes over, and he thinks to himself, “Someday I’m going to marry this girl!” One of his friends stands up and screams, “WE’RE FLYING TO MARS!” and passes out. Our man crawls outside for air and then hits the worst part of level five – The Sun. He wasn’t expecting that at all. One never does. He staggers out of the club into broad daylight meets people who look at him shaking their heads saying, “Utshaywe yizinto umuntu lo!” (What is it that beat up this guy?)

Let’s be honest, if you are 19 and you stay up all night, it’s a victory like you have won the World Cup. But if you are over 40, then that sun is like God’s flashlight. At this point, he will say that ever-common prayer. “I swear, I will never do this again as long as I live and this time I mean it!”