Bongo has come a long way. From the early post-independence days when a beer cost Sh2.50... yes, two shillings.
Shilingi mbili! Wabongo who were born in the 1990s and beyond may sigh in disbelief if you told them there was a period when beer was categorised as a rare commodity.
Old geezers of Wa Muyanza’s generation will recall how in some bars a drinker was made to buy a couple of mishikaki to qualify for, say, two beers!
Our Gen Zs and even some millennials might not comprehend the historical truth that there was a period in the post-Kagera War (April 1979) when one couldn’t drink as much beer as one wished, even when one’s wallets had enough cash to buy a crate.
Reason? Bia zimeisha!
Those of us in the public sector, who depended on monthly wages, could only enjoy a beer at month-ends.
We didn’t have side hustles like it’s common today when anyone is free to moonlight as much as he can, without the fear of being branded a bepari.
Remember the maxim, 'ubepari ni unyama'? Amassing wealth is the preserve of creatures of the wild!
We were a socialist country, you know! Wajamaa.
Clever fellows in the private sector were free to do anything for an extra dime, and some actually earned sizeable amounts of cash and could drink as much as they wanted even when beer prices were illegally hiked.
Bia za mwendo wa kuruka, or bia za magahamu.
Having finished Form 4, my cousin Zeal got a job in the private sector almost immediately and was “enjoying life” while I did my A-Levels, much as we were age-mates.
Even after acquiring my post-Form 6 diploma and getting a job in the civil service, earning the then reasonable pay of Sh960 (yes, shilingi mia tisa na sitini!), Zeal continued to stand head and shoulders above me in terms of liquidity.
One day when I revealed to him what my good monthly pay was, he laughed and said, “That’s the kind of money I often spend on an outing with friends!”
Friends. That’s the key word that defined my brother Zeal (aka Papa) whenever his pockets were lined, which was often.
And, in the yesteryear when streetwise fellows ruled the roost, Papa Zeal believed in having lots of friends around him. He never liked “eating alone".
I’d watch with envy at the way his friends would welcome him with jubilation upon his return from an upcountry working trip (he was then a partner in a clearing & forwarding outfit).
“Papa, we’ve been slowly dying of thirst during your absence…you’re our Rockefeller.
Welcome back, Papa,” said this lanky fellow one day as he strutted behind Zeal like a bodyguard.
With his ego ballooned like that, everybody in his crowd, at times with girlfriends in tow, were sure to eat and drink to their fill on his bill.
He was an easygoing fellow, too easygoing, one can say and that could have been his undoing. One younger bro tells of a day Zeal invited him for drinks and nyama-choma, for which he settled a bill of about 20k. Then as they parted, the younger bro got the shock of his life when Zeal begged him for “at least two thou” for his fare!
The jolly, life-loving clansman returned to his Maker on February 20, following a long battle with complications associated with diabetes and a bad heart condition. He was 72.
Rest in peace, dear brother Zeal, aka Papa, till we meet again in the afterlife.
