Mfashumwana has been anxiously waiting for me to fail my New Year’s test! In case you have forgotten, I had suddenly seen the light during the Christmas period. The light was shining bright and that is why I found myself ushering in the New Year at the heart of a vibrant night prayer here in Kigali. This implies that my old habits of kissing a green bottle of Tusker would have to come to a halt. But did I pass the test? The answer is NO! Mfashumwana has since corrupted me by taking me to the famous Wahome’s joint situated near the King Faisal Hospital. Wahome is the guy who used to wet our throats at Car Wash several years ago. Now he has opened up this new joint somewhere near the King Faisal hospital. WOW! The Karaoke is great! The Tuskers are super! The goat meat is incredible! The ambiance is out of this world. Translation? Diaspoman has prematurely stepped back to the naughty old ways of guzzling frothy drinks with the likes of Mfashumwana! What a shame! But what is more shaming these days is that I cannot go beyond the 1st round. Not because my head cannot handle more than 1 round of drinks! It is because my pockets start to sniff, sneeze and cough in a manner to suggest that I am too broke for such outings. The problem is that my friends and foes all know that I am now a fully employed Diaspoman. That is why they do not feel bothered when they place orders of expensive drinks and loads of nyama choma! They all expect me to pay hefty! I guess I have to find a way of negotiating with Wahome to accord me special credit facilities. But before I get such facilities, I must get used to placing controls in place. I must be an auditor wherever I go for sips with friends. I must behave like an old colleague of ours who, during the mid 90s, used to keep bottle tops in his pocket so that he could easily reconcile the fagitire to his bottle tops. The guy’s name was Maddox. He was a notorious guy who cared for no one apart from himself. He always entered a bar alone and headed straight for the counter. He would then order for his favourite Amstel beer. When the barmaid opened the bottles for him, Maddox would insist on keeping the bottle tops. To him, these bottle tops were important as he would just keep them in his pocket for purposes of accountability. When the bill finally arrived, he would pull out those bottle tops and compare the quantity against the bill. If any variance in the numbers emerged, Maddox would raise hell. One day, Maddox surprised us when he walked in escorted by three dashing ladies. He told us that one of the girls was his fiancée whereas the others were her close friends. They settled down and as usual as the waitresses brought in their booze. Then, to the ladies’ surprise, Maddox kept all the bottle tops in his pocket. Everything progressed on quite well until the bill finally arrived. Maddox in his typical police like fashion proceeded to compare the bottle tops against the bill. Everything tallied. However, it was time to verify the quantity of the roasted meat. Unfortunately, the ladies had not kept count of the pieces of meat that they had chewed. Maddox became furious. “How on earth could you eat meat without counting the pieces? How do you expect me to verify the bill? Now I may be forced to open your mouths and count all those pieces of meat that you have mercilessly swallowed!” At this point, Maddox’s future bride started to cry in shame. It was a disaster! Now I feel that I should also try to adopt similar acts as things get tighter in the pocket. Let the waitresses at Wahome’s not be surprised when they spot a customer pocketing bottle tops and counting the pieces of roasted meat in the name of cost cutting! That customer will be none other than yours truly, Mr. Diaspoman doing it in the 2012 style! diaspoman@yahoo.com
