When barmaid tells you today she's free

Having a drink at a bar of your choice is a most pleasant thing. That a man can choose where to take a drink—let alone choosing what to drink from a wide selection of brands is a mark of an advanced economy—isn’t it?

I’ve a choice of three most convenient pubs within a radius of a few hundred metres, all located just a few minutes-walk from the place I call kwangu.

I’ve been at Family, the gentlemen’s bar as its regular patrons affectionately call it, and now I’m at this near-home outlet for the sole purpose of imbibing my very last beer before walking home. I settle at the counter and order a drink—one for the road, as they say. One of the wahudumu is seated next to me, which makes just the two of us at the counter. And she’s not in uniform, but that’s not my business, or is it?

She and I aren’t that familiar with each other, the reason being, she’s rather new here—you know the way bar staff keep coming and going!

I read my newspaper and disregard her presence. She’s clearly disinterested in me too, as she’s keeping herself occupied by gyrating her torso and swaying her head this way and that way to the beat of Jux’s song, Enjoy. At some stage, the mhudumu (call her Angela) turns to me, gives a cursory glance at my newspaper and asks: “How come you read in a bar?”

It’s a common question from a number of fellow drinkers and grocery staff who aren’t familiar with me. Those who’ve known me over the years don’t care, with some of them dismissing this man Wa Muyanza as a strange fellow. Yeah, suggesting he’s a loony of sorts who confuses bars with libraries.

 I’m digressing. To Angela’s question, I respond: “I read whenever there’s enough light and when there’s nobody I can talk to.”

“So, you consider me a nobody, eh?” she asks.

“Not at all… I’d have been chatting with you, but you were too busy dancing with yourself!”

Angela laughs off my accusation and pledges that she’ll not be dancing anymore, unless I agree to proceed to the dance floor and do it with her. It’s clear this girl has a good sense of humour!

“But you’re at work…you must focus on serving customers, not dancing,” you say.

“Who told you I’m working…can’t you see I’m not even putting on a uniform?” she poses and adds: “I am free today.”

“Okay…”you say.

“Don’t just say okay…buy me a beer because I’m free…you can even take me elsewhere so we can freely have beers together without interruption,” she says with conviction.

You’re impressed by her statements but that’s all, for, in any case, your wallet is carrying only enough for this beer you’re about to polish off. You give a two-thou note to the akaunta to whom you tell to keep the change, and leave.