On several occasions I have said that I want to stop drinking….completely, because there are some funny things which sometimes happen after swallowing cold, frothy liquids.
There was a time when I came home in the wee hours of the morning, and I went straight to the kitchen and slept on top of my old freezer. It was my last born daughter, the Natural Disaster who found me.
It would have been better if the little rascal had remained silent, but the girl rushed to her mother and told her that I was dead on top of the freezer…..what followed after that was not a pretty sight.
The problem with drinking too much frothy liquid sometimes is that I have very weird dreams, which usually earn me painful ribs because my wife always uses her elbows effectively to wake me up when she hears me talking in my sleep.
Recently after the new president was sworn in, I happened to watch the whole thing in the comfort of Zakayo’s Pub, with a healthy supply of frothy brown bottles coming my way.
After the swearing in ceremony, Oscar the Hawker joined me, and we did justice to the Ilala products until very late, when I decided to take myself home.
I found my wife asleep, and I thanked my ancestors because finding her awake is the same as finding an angry lion at your doorstep, you either kill it or run from your house.
I crept in bed as silently as possible, and as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was thrown into dream land, and this time I found myself surrounded by massive bodyguards who looked as if they usually have bald men like me for breakfast.
I was still wondering what was going on, when I heard a loud voice coming from several speakers announcing that the First Gentleman had arrived.
“Now we can see the First Gentleman, famously known as Baba Boyi, making his way to the podium….please give him a warm welcome as he goes to sit next to Madam President,” he said, and I heard deafening noise from all around me, that is when I realised I was in a fully packed stadium.
The muscled men in dark suits and dark glasses ushered me to my seat, next to my wife, Mama Boyi, who sat as if she owned the country….that was before I realised indeed she was the president.
Madam President, without her frying pan, looked at me as if I had just trespassed from the toilet, before giving me a very strange smile that sent shivers down my spine.
Soon it was the turn of the president to address the nation, and I watched as another group of heavy bodyguards ushered her to the waiting microphones.
The crowd went wild as she stood there, looking at them with what most confused with love in her eyes, but because I know her better, I knew they were in for a surprise.
She lifted her right hand, and the crowd suddenly went silent, and I had to admire the way she handled herself. My admiration was crushed soon after she started talking.
“My fellow Tanzanians, I am glad to stand before you today as your president, and I promise things are going to be okay, just trust me, we just have to put men in their places,” she said, and the women in the stadium went wild.
She said that from now henceforth, any drink that had any sort of alcohol, whether strong or light, is banned, and that anyone found in possession of any alcoholic drink will be considered enemy of the state, which means facing the hang man’s noose.
In the middle of the crazy noise from the women, she looked at me with a very wicked smile and winked, and I found myself shrinking in my seat.
She said that for many years because men considered themselves as the superior gender, she was going to make sure that we come down to size, which will include flogging if necessary.
I ordered my security detail to take me away, because suddenly I felt my blood pressure rising at a very alarming rate, and my knees suddenly became weak.
The nosy loud voice on the speakers announced my departure, and I made a point of looking him up afterwards and send him to his maker before the week was over.
“Now I can see the First gentleman making his way out, and somehow it seems he is not feeling well, because it is obvious his bodyguard is supporting him,” he said, and I could hear the women in the stadium booing loudly.
I ordered my driver to take me to Zakayo’s Pub immediately, and my motorcade left a cloud of dust as it sped away from the stadium.
I found mzee Zakayo sitting dejectedly outside the pub, holding his chin in his hands as if he was on the verge of suffering a major heart attack.
I could hear loud clucking of chicken inside, and when I peeped inside, I saw a big number of broiler chicken busy eating chicken feed from what used to be beer crates.
“Baba Boyi, your wife…sorry…Madam President will kill me one of these days, because now I am forced to rear chicken in my pub because she issued an order that all bars should be closed with immediate effect,” he said.
I was still wondering what was really happening to this country under the leadership of my wife, when I saw Jattelo coming my way.
He looked at me as if I was the devil himself before spitting on the ground and walked away, and in his hands he was holding a bottle of mineral water.
The loud scream coming from my mouth woke my wife, and instead of being a good wife and calm me down, she smacked my ribs with her elbow. The pain is still fresh!