Diaspoman: How Béa’s joint gave solace to the troubled

Last week I narrated to you why Madam Béa introduced uniforms for her barmaids. This was because her clients sometimes used to mistake female members of the customer base of being barmaids. She therefore had to ensure that the barmaids were dressed in yellow blouses accompanied by blackish skirts. This was during the mid 90s at the now demolished Kiyovu of the poor. At this particular pub, the ratio of sodas to beers was like 0 to 100. That is to say that coca colas and sprites were totally unwelcome at Béa’s Joint. So, when patrons flocked Béa’s bar, an announcement was made in a loud voice for everyone to hear and grasp. This announcement was made by one of the main frequent customers. That is to say that it was either Aggrey or I to make that most important announcement. One of us would pull out a stool and stand on it. Then we would spell out the following; “Ladies and gentlemen you are most welcome to Béa’s Joint. It is our culture to always welcome you here and strongly advise you that Béa’s is not a place for soft drinks. Therefore, if your throat is the kind that demands for soft drinks such as Citron, then you are at the wrong place.” At this point, all patrons around would applause and thump their feet in real joy. This would be followed by a real binge in which crate after crate would be sized down to small pieces. Once crates were emptied mercilessly, certain things would ensue. One of those things that used to happen is that upright thinking men would instantly resemble cabbages. They would start to sing songs in praise of our creator. Some of them would rumble out songs borrowed from the army. They would trot around with a bottle of primus pretending to shoot the adui. To them, the adui was none other than poverty itself. It was always after such excessive drinking that our clients would remember how poor they were. That is why they usually sobbed openly and lamented the fact that their kids back home were already sleeping on empty stomachs. At least for these drunken people, they would not sleep on empty heads. For as long as they had guzzled enough booze, they would be ready to face the challenges of tomorrow. One such guy happened to visit Béa’s every night. He was commonly called Celibataire. After drinking himself silly, he would suddenly remember the fact that he was the only senior man around who had never been able to get himself a bride. After several rounds of drinks, Celibataire would pick up his bottle and start to cry like a baby. Then he would look at his bottle and begin to pose some tough questions; “Niko you bottle, why is it that I have failed to get myself a wife? Am I that ugly? Am I not wealthy enough? Are you the one who bought me this beautiful Carina?” After lecturing and questioning his half empty bottle, the client would then head for his Carina and start his car ready to drive home. But before setting off, he would plead with the ladies around for anyone who would be willing to marry him. “Why don’t you love me really? I have a Carina, I have a fridge and I have a colour TV!” However, the ladies would just laugh at him and instead refer him to Cadillac Discotheque. “Go try at Cadillac,” they would mirthfully shout back. After several attempts, he would slowly drive away in misery. Then one day, Celibataire thought he had hit a jackpot. He had been tanking himself silly at Béa’s and as usual interrogated his bottle to find out answers as to why he was still a senior bachelor. When he set off to his Carina, he heard the voice of lady requesting him for a lift. In his drunken state, he realized that he had finally found himself a suitable wife. He then stopped the car and let the stranger sit in beside him. Off he sped with his Carina to find a suitable spot in which he would propose to the lady. He found a huge tree and parked right there. Mr. Celibataire stretched his hand out to offer this stranger a hearty kiss. All of a sudden, the lady’s face was full of beards. What had happened for God’s sake? Meanwhile, the stranger was fighting back. “Boss Boss, its me Jean Paul. You do not remember me? I am your house boy!” Celibataire cursed and spat in disgust. He chased his houseboy out of the car and stayed under the tree to reflect on what had just happened to him… diaspoman@yahoo.com