You’re related to all, and it’s not cheap

You’re related (ahem!) to virtually all barmaids whose workplaces you frequent. This is Africa, and you, like most others out there, is a respecter of our traditional extended family system. And lest some of you have forgotten, Bongo is officially a socialist country—nchi ya kijamaa. Remember the ruling party dictum: ‘Binadamu wote ni ndugu zangu…’ All human beings are my brothers/sisters…

As everybody knows, drinkers are kindly fellows, not just with regards to one another, but to those that serve them as well, that is, the barmaids.

So when Claudia, the matron at The Family addresses you as you baba-mkwe—that is, father in-law, you don’t bother to ask, how? It might be because, at some point, while sharing a table with a certain young fellow, you introduced him to her as mwanangu—my son. In which case, she had declared it there and then, that you’re henceforth her father in-law, period!

A new kitchen girl has just been employed at this drinking and eating place you like for its serenity and low volume music. Call the girl Tina.

She has been directed to serve you—the mzee of ours—as most of the staff here call you. She’s more than medium in her build; has cool demeanor. It might be because she’s new here, you say yourself. Give her time and she’ll be behaving crazily like the rest of the team—Manka, Joyce, Zuwena…name them. The crazy lot!

Tina has served you with a bowl of supu ya utumbo (intestines soup) with two chapatis. When she comes to collect the utensils, you ask her what part of Bongo she hails from.

“I am from Mwanza,” she says.

The answer isn’t surprising, given her sizeable frame and mild manners, which, if you ask me, is typical of ladies from that part of our blessed Republic.

Somebody you know closely has never forgiven himself for “foolishly” missing what he calls “a golden chance” to marry a girl from Mwanza.

He’s looking forward to pushing an eligible son of his to marry a girl from that side…Ahem!

“You look good, composed and respectful,” you say to her. You see, son of Muyanza is a product of the old school, which is why to him, paying a compliment to a lady comes naturally. No ulterior motive. Some call that flirting; you don’t.

Your bill, which includes a bottle of water, adds up to Sh4,500. You reach for your plastic wallet and give her a ten-thousand shillings note, asking her to hurry up with the change for, you say, you’re being late.

Looking at you in a way suggesting she considers you not bad person, she says, while holding the banknote in the air, “Should I have something from this, shemeji?”

“Something like what, my shemeji?” you ask.

“Mtori, I haven’t taken breakfast.”

You say yes, even as you curse inwardly. In any case a bowl of mtori (a banana plus meat pieces broth) is only Sh2,000. And earlier on, she had reminded she’s “wife” to one of your crooked media colleagues.