The lost mzungu and other short stories- the alchol revolution

pg 2 n 3

In my humble opinion, the first line used by the battalions of subversion is the council askaris. This is not new, and these lowly police unit has a knack for interfering with the ritual of imbibing alcohol.  I do not totally understand their reason for doing so, but I highly suspect that their main motivation is greed and to a lesser level envy. Back in the days when enjoying that huge mag of beer, under the watchful eye of the mighty sun, these cronies of the evil powers that be used to emerge from the underground with huge contraptions to trap the soldiers of good as they communed with each other facilitated by their medium; alcohol. These contraptions henceforth to be referred to as lorries were used to block the alley on both ends, leaving us trapped like a rat in a trap.

But make no mistake, there was nothing remotely rat like about us and these fools soon realized the folly of their ways. For as soon as they descended on us expecting fear and panic to reign supreme, instinct gave way to reason and the only avenue open to us was to make a stand and fight for it. And so the hapless and sometimes helpless askaris would face the wrath of hundreds of students, most of them trained in strikology (the art of engaging armed police in prolonged combat with stones and all manner of crude hurl-able objects). And they would quickly jump into their mean machines and race away seeking the dark nooks through which they can be transported back to their hell holes and bear punishment from their evil masters for failing to conquer the knights of the order of the great keg.

Yet, with a single paper Kimondo the evil brought to their knees these great knights, no longer to wage war against the brown froth served chilled by the willy bar bar tenders across the nation. What good is drinking if we can’t drink at will, what pleasure is intoxication if it is governed by oppression, suppression and fear. That we shall drink from 5pm weekday till 11pm and 2pm weekends till 11 pm. That we can no longer assemble with our friends at our favorite joints simply because of the whims of one man, a man wrought by jealousy and handicapped by internal and external ugliness. For that is what one has to be to be so ruthless, for though he claims good intentions, it is but a smoke screen to garner support from fellow demons in the chamber at the bowels of hell.

Such a law have several implications above the obvious denial of the utilitarian purpose of life which allows all human beings the freedom to seek and pursue happiness without obstruction or denial. It means reduced sales in bars which cater to people who have adequate times at their disposal to pursue alcoholic intoxication at all times. It means loss of friendships which have been strengthened in the now forbidden times of drinking, when the only company apart from the broth is the constant chatter among friends. It means loss of great ideas which are shared in meetings in various pubs and brainstorming becomes possible under the guidance of a cold bottle. It is the subjugation of patriotism when friends can no longer feel free in a country that they call theirs,and such a loss must never go unchallenged.


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