Wazee’s chance to be spoilt by kin

We’re done with a solemn matter that brought our extended family together in Manzese, one of Dar’s most famous shanties. Given the kind of people some of us are, it’s not like we’ll all drive back to our different locations of the city. No way!

This being Dar, a city of hustlers, none of us has ample time to spare for ndugu, so we’ve to take advantage of every opportunity that makes it mandatory for us to gather.

So, here we’re at this bar in the heart of Manzese, a township full of life, where various house designs—including storey buildings that qualify to be called skyscrapers—share periphery walls with ordinary mwananchi’s dilapidated structures.

The joint we’re in boasts ample parking space and we’re enjoying our drinks against a backdrop of music that isn’t too loud. We’re fathers, brothers, sons, nephews and nieces seated together like equals, chatting liberally.

As Chinua Achebe would put it, "A child who has washed his hands can eat with kings." Esaya and I are in the company of kin young enough to be our lastborns, but does it matter?

These are vijana who’ve washed their hands well, and from the look of things, their pockets are well lined, for they seemed bent on spoiling their wazee.

Our son Didi, however, shocked Esaya and I when he ordered a Sere Laiti for himself.

"So, you also drink, Didi?" Esaya asks Didi, an online fashion dealer who has posed as a teetotaler in all the years some of us have known him!

"Yes, but just a little, once in a while," he says as he fills his glass like he isn’t keen on drinking. Braza Kay, one of our senior-most sons, who is a seasoned drinker—like fathers like son—winks knowingly at me, somewhat suggesting that Didi is just kidding us.

Which is okay anyway. Why? Didi is not yet married, meaning before us, his fathers, he’s still a child and should watch his step till he becomes a dad. He has to give us grandchildren before he can liberally enjoy our company.

Braza Kay is totally free with his wazee. He has a good job, is a proud father of three, and has pledged to continue getting kids till he names me. Mpaka aniite!

Another of our sons in our company, Yatera, is a father of two and like Braza Kay, his brand of poison is Windhoek aka Windoki.

These two can afford the exotic, imported brand and we can’t question that since they can afford it. Their younger dad, Dr Chidi, also a Windoki subscriber, is a father of two and one of them, a Division One material, joined Form Five this year.

The identities of female kin in our crowd will remain secret because it’s certain some members of our extended family will cry murder if they learn that "they also drink." Beer is still considered a man’s drink in families with strong rural backgrounds. The Muyanzas aren’t an exception.