I checked my watch for the umpteenth time in the last seven minutes. It was getting late.
“It’s getting late guys, I am going home,” I said.
Baba VaTata yawned as he looked at me.
“What’s the hurry for?” He said.
He called the barman.
“Bring some more beers,” he said.
Fatso and Rasta looked at Baba VaTata with anticipated pleasure. Rasta beamed a smile that ran from one corner of his mouth to the other.
I told myself that I will just linger for a little while longer and take my leave after that. By this time, every table in the bar was taken up. Other patrons who failed to find seats stood in little groups, enjoying their beer. This was a typical scene of Zororo Bar during month end.
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I had promised Mai VaMaidei that I would be home early. It was already late. Sometimes promises are made to be broken, but this was one promise that invited trouble if broken. I had no wish to break it, but somehow I had broken it. Trouble was waiting for me at home.
“Why do you look so worried?” Said Baba VaTata.
“We don’t need to stay up so late,” I said
“Your problem is you listen too much to your wife,” said Baba VaTata.
It was pointless to argue with him. He was always fighting with his wife. He did not make an effort to change. In the past I had tried to advise him, but it all fell on deaf ears. Anyway if a person does not take advice, people will just leave you. Oftentimes, people who don’t take advice will continue making mistake after mistake until they make that one big fatal mistake that will sink them for good. And by then it will be too late to make amends.
I was just taking the last gulp of my third pint of beer when Handitika approached our table. He was a malayitsha and made his money by providing transport to cross-border traders.
“This is real money,” he said. He was waving a US$10 note in the air. I could see that he was already inebriated.
“What you people need is a strong currency driven by market forces,” he said. He tried to sit down but there was no vacant chair. I stood up and gave him my chair. He slumped into the chair. I hope he was not driving. He was in no condition to drive himself home.
“Let me take you home, where is your car?” I shook him. To my surprise he came hurriedly to his feet. I suddenly had an excuse to leave the bar. We went outside while Baba VaTata, Rasta and Fatso remained behind.
There was fresh air outside.
“Do you think I am too drunk not to know what I am doing?” He said.
“I want these people to know what is real money,” he said laughing.
“One of my clients paid for my services in ZiG currency,” he said.
“So what?” I replied.
“The rate, it has hit the roof. I did not get value for my services,” he said bitterly.
He gave me his car keys and on second thoughts, he quickly snatched them back.
“I will drive you home and then I will proceed to my house,” he said.
It was already past midnight and I could not imagine finding Mai VaMaidei still sitting up in bed waiting for me.
*Onie Ndoro Onie@X90396982
