These days after some sports aerobics at tennis club, I join colleagues at the counter to have some serious swallows. But if you think that those serious drinks are in form of frothy beers such as Skol or Heineken, then you are absolutely wrong.
These days after some sports aerobics at tennis club, I join colleagues at the counter to have some serious swallows.
But if you think that those serious drinks are in form of frothy beers such as Skol or Heineken, then you are absolutely wrong. Instead of sipping on cold glasses of Amstel and Primus, we find ourselves gulping litres and litres of mineral water! Phew! I really believe that if our old folks from the village saw what kind of things we were drinking, they would admonish us as soon as possible!
For them, drinking water was a taboo! That reminds me of a time when we received visitors all the way from a place called Rukara. It was over 14 years ago when Aggrey and I were sharing a small house in Kiyovu of the poor.
As young lads who had just completed school, we were more than pleased to be sharing this house, which had been abandoned by the owners after the war. When we first entered the house, the stocks of food and drinks that were kept in the store surprised us.
We sat down every evening and crushed all those bottles of booze with little mercy. They were so many that we always invited friends, relatives and in-laws to participate in this tough exercise.
As days passed by, the decrease in stock levels were equalled by the increase in booze contents running through our bodies. Actually, we had little blood running through our veins. Most of it was alcohol.
That is why you would find our eyes blazing with fire early in the mornings. By midday, you would never want to sit next to us in a twegyerane, as our bodies would be emitting alcohol in the name of sweat. It was so bad that regular commuters would decline boarding buses in which Aggrey and I were seated.
Those commuters were always stranded at this payage bus stop, as taxis were very few indeed. Every morning, Aggrey and I would run up to the stage to catch the Gikondo bound taxis. We had been lucky enough to land jobs at the NGO compound situated at Gikondo. Our boss was a very tall elderly man from Europe. He used to dress up in shorts and was always smoking a pipe.
His tobacco was very strong and I guess that saved us from any disciplinary action that would have cropped up. You see, our boss could not tell that we were constantly drunk. This is because the smell of his tobacco over powered ours.
It was those very heavy heads of ours that convinced us to invite our old folks from Rukara village for a weekend. Our heads had decided that such wonderful stocks of booze should not pass by without the blessings from our old uncles. We therefore dispatched one of the office drivers to sneak off with the Land cruiser and head for Mutara province. He was on a special mission, to pick the old men and women from Mutara, to come and help us clear off the merchandise.
Sure enough, they arrived safely. Without wasting much time, they began to clobber bottle after bottle. All along, Aggrey and I had believed that we were the Rwanda champions in terms of drinking. No way! Now, right before us, we had mother of all champions.
They guzzled all the beers in the house in haste. Before we could realize what was happening, our elderly visitors had started to harass the whiskey and Gin bottles. And before the night was over, they had floored everything!
The next morning, Aggrey and I woke up early and agreed that we had to call CHK hospital for an ambulance. We were so worried about our distinguished guests from Rukara. We were convinced that they were probably unconscious and were in dire need for re-hydration.
But to our surprise, we found our guests seated out in our garden, conversing and looking very fresh. In fact, it was the both of us, who needed urgent medical attention.
Feeling concerned, Aggrey hurriedly carried 3 bottles of boiled drinking water to the garden. Our visitors appeared to be very happy to receive this much-needed water. They competed among themselves as to who would drink first.
Then they all agreed to fill up all their glasses so that they could propose a toast to our good health. What happened in the ensuing few minutes left us completely bewildered.
After each guest took a massive swig of the drinking water, they all sprung up from their chairs spitting and cursing. They immediately picked up their bags and demanded for a driver to take them back to Rukara.
They were really angry and disappointed. What was the matter? Why had they reacted in such a manner? The explanation was simple; our visitors thought that the drinking water was nothing else other than Uganda Waragi!
H2O! Drinking water was considered a terrible sin especially since there was a better substitute in Uganda Waragi. That is why I strongly agree with my friends who would suggest that these old guys would not fancy joining our aerobics club where mineral water is a necessity!