As the elites write manifestos for their candidature, the biggest drunkards plot on how to swindle the money from the candidates that are standing. Come to think about it, the craziest acts during the guild campaigns are done under the influence of alcohol.
It was a busy week as I followed different candidates around several rallies but my most memorable evening was when I was called to a camp of candidate who was standing for interior minister of a certain hall.
This guy knew I work for campusbee so he made sure he lured me into the first motivational drinkage for his campaign team. This guy thought he could change my non-partisan nature by getting me drunk. But I find it immoral to resist alcohol, after all he had insisted that we talk even after I had refused his offer.
It was around 1pm on Saturday, when I was called to a hidden bar in wandegeya where a procession was taking place. Am sorry to say that the ‘rich-guy’ funding this campaign didn’t look like he could even pay his bill. He was all timid and uncomfortable as people picked beers from the counter.
I put on a smack-smile when he saw me approach the counter. He proceeded to ask me what beer I drink. I asked for Guinness which was more expensive than the other beers they were drinking. He asked me whether I drink Nile Special but I hesitated to answer as I picked money from my wallet and paid for 2 cold Guinnesses.
We sat down and talked about how I should be on his campaign team. The extreme heat combined with Guinness made me refuse his offer in a rather rude manner. “You see, by the time you have to bribe your entire campaign team means you will probably lose. I mean not even you babe is supporting you.”
One of the supporters whose body and eyes looked like he consumes more waragi than food, shouted at me, “You man! our candidate has the most supporters and the most mugatti.“ I didn’t answer him because he mentioned ‘mugatti’ which literally means a financial token. At this moment there was no need to object as his crowds were rowdy. I just drank my beer as first as I could and pretended like I was receiving a phone call.
Phew! I was out of there. But my throat was happy until I remembered that I had to cover a guild rally at the medical school at Galloway. I panicked as I took a shower then used a lot of mouth wash and dressed up for the rally. I called some female friends who joined me in a car to mulago. Thankfully, no one noticed I wasn’t sober.
We reached Galloway at around 3.30pm and it was extremely hot. I was sweating Guinness as I waited for the rally to begin. But it turns out I wasn’t the only one suffering. One of the supporters of Roy could barely control his feet. At one time he even failed to pronounce the name of the candidate he was supporting. He saided “Vote Sse…fucking… forgotten his name, that guy with a bald head.” But his dance moves excited those who around him because this guy was definitely born in a ‘baaraa.’
It was at this time that I realized that most of the crazy supporters had in fact consumed a reasonable amount of alcohol. In fact one of the ladies asked me whether a certain guy showers. I mean the guy is always drinking a tot packs of empire while wearing the same radio-city-promotion t-shirt for an entire week. As we laughed at that guy, a minor scuffle erupted between different camps and some fans got kicked out as others fell to the ground.
At around 5pm, the rally was over and we left mulago and came to Makerere. I rushed to the rugby grounds so that I could watch rugby as I drunk. Unfortunately, the game was over and my drinking efforts were fruitless. One could see the disappointment of my throat on my face as I walked to my ‘kafunda.’
I slept for a few hours and went for the debate at Prime Time at around 9pm. I tried to relax because I knew the night was long. When the debate was done i rushed back to my kafunda and dressed up for the bar. I jumped onto a boda-boda to Panamera where I resumed my mission of downing as many Guinness bottles as possible.
Occasionally, I got interrupted my a good fan of this column (Drunken Tales) who wanted me to prove that I actually write true stories. He asked me to show him my Guinness bottles and I showed him my table and he was impressed. But as we talked, fine females snatched me away and I went on to enjoy my night.
I left the bar with a friend at around 5.30am. I escorted her to her hostel which was still locked until 6am. We talked as we both tried to avoid blacking out at the entrance. Finally, they opened for her and I had to go back to my place. That short distance turned out to be very long, I occasionally rested at some poles and trees as some random people bypassed.
Luckily, I got home safe, tired and drunk. I dropped onto my bed only to be awakened by a loud knock at 9.30am. It’s then that I realised I still had my converse all-stars on despite having covered myself with a blanket. But hey, there’s an app for laundry, a food delivery so my day went rather well except for the part where I wrote this drunken tale with an extreme hangover.
