Plight of being mistaken for a moneyed gentleman

I enter this neighbourhood bar that’s just a short distance from home so as to have my routine last beer.

Yeah, the beer our good old Uncle Kich refers to as kamoja ka mwisho.

I had swallowed two at Family while watching a soccer match that ended with a win for Simba SC.

Now on arrival at this bar, I find Simba fanatics dancing to all manner of songs that highlight the might of Simba SC, aka Mnyama.

There’s this diehard Simba adherent—Mwana-Simba kindakindaki—who rushes to me, demanding that I reward him for “his” victory.

“You saw what my team did…beating somebody 3-0 wasn’t a small matter given that these middle-level teams are often bribed to play in a do-or-die style and beat the bigger teams such as mine…I deserve a beer from you..." rants the fellow, a well-known sponger.

Luckily for him, my wallet is okay today, so I ask Teddy the akaunta to give him one, albeit with disdain.

He grabs the drink and dashes to a small crowd of fellow Wana-Simba, where the talk is all about the greatness of their team and “super-coach” Fadlu Davids!

It’s after the Simba guy has left that I realise there’s a young fellow on a stool next to mine, drinking a big Kilimanjaro lager straight from the bottle.

He salutes me with a shikamoo, and, out of the blue, he starts to speak on my virtues, claiming I’m “the most respectable gentleman” in our neighbourhood.

Ohoo! I say to myself, I hope the chap isn’t also aiming to wangle a beer from me in sympathy, following Simba’s victory since his team is Young African SC, aka Yanga!

He says, “Wallah, you’re the most honoured mzee around… true!”

“Thanks, but surely, I’m just an ordinary old fellow who enjoys peace with everybody, which is no big deal.”

“No, Mzee wangu; you’re exceptional…Look at the way you succumbed to a beer demand from that funny Mwana-Simba, just because his team has beaten a ka-small team from upcountry!” he says.

He claims that “everybody” is impressed by the way I associate with both the young and the old in our areas; he orders one for us. I protest, saying I’ve had enough.

He insists, and I give in.

I need to finish this unscheduled beer quickly and go home, for Missus just texted to say supper is ready, asking if they should wait for me or proceed.

When Teddy hands me my bill, the young man grabs it and says, “Mzee, I’ll handle this one… haina shida.”

Well, this hardly ever happens, but here we are! I recover from the shock quickly and say ahsante.

I stand up, ready to leave, when the youth says, “Mzee wangu, something good is soon happening to me, your son.”

“Wow! What’s it, son?”

“I’m planning to get married, and it has been agreed you’ll lead the engagement delegation to my future in-laws and thereafter, oversee the dowry negotiations,” he says while asking if I could please have another beer.