She’s even tolerant towards the most uncouth amongst us.
In one incident, I witnessed her laugh it off when a drunkard threw beer onto her face, accusing her of shortchanging him.
Instead of responding in equal measure, like most other barmaids would, she calmly wiped her face with a hankie, telling the goon, “God knows I’ve not shortchanged you even by a shilling; however, I’ll settle with the manager the part of the bill you claim I’m withholding… Salome is withholding… hankie…”
“Thank you for what you’ve done to me!”
Even drunkards have a conscience, for the roughish fellow suddenly calmed down and apologised, agreeing to settle his bill in full.
You’ve heard Salome say sorry to a patron from whom she would’ve been right to demand an apology, agreeing and demanding an apology!
You’ve never heard her shout back at an offending drinker, the kind that sees barmaids as creatures who aren’t worth an iota of respect!
I’m at her pub this midmorning. She’s done with balancing, together with the manager, the unfinished stock against the cash in hand.
I’ve polished off a bowl of mtori and a well-cooked, chapati-cooked chapatti.
I ask her to serve me with a Sprite while allowing her to also get a soda and share my table.
There aren’t many customers to attend to, so she’s free to sit with me and chat.
“Tell me about the cooked chapatti. me, Salome,”
I start cautiously, “where in Bongo do you come from, if I may ask?”
“Arusha…‘A Town’ is my city of origin,” rep “Arusha… ‘origin’,” he lies with pride.
Continues, “and I worked there as a mhudumu in numerous bars before I shifted to Dar after being invited by someone I knew, ‘origin’,” he knew too work as an akaunta.”
When I mentioned to her that I’m intrigued by her cool nature and know-how she calmly handles the uncultured, ill-mannered drinkers, she tells me she taught herself to remain in control of her anger after she narrowly escaped a death sentence following an incident in Arusha.
This revelation took my breath away, and I responded with a stammer: “You mean, Salome, you killed somebody and…and…you were arraigned… Now, now, how did you escape the death sentence?”
“Cool down, bro… I wasn’t taken to court even; I was just put under watch as the guy whose forehead I smashed with a full beer bottle underwent treatment in hospital… Everybody, me included, believed he’d die!”
Luckily, says Salome, he survived. Investigations soon revealed he had provoked her beyond tolerance limit, and her reaction was understandable, albeit illegal.”
From that experience, Salome swore to herself that she’d forever strive to control her anger, whatever the provocation.
“What was the drunkard’s provocation that caused you to almost kill him?” I asked.
“He had barked at me for no reason, saying my dad was gay and my mother, a whore… I couldn’t stand that, could you?” posed Salome.
I wouldn’t, I said, although I wasn’t sure I’d have reacted exactly in the same way she did.
