The election week came with its sad and lovely moments. Since all my drinking partners were hiding in their homes or travelling upcountry, it meant that the bar was nearly empty and I wasn’t going to look like a divorced guy who is problem-drinking at the counter. The whole week meant I had to drink indoors as I tried to endure the excruciating pain of looking at the same presenters for over 54 hours.
But thank God, the week came to pass and people were back at campus and life was ‘sort of usual’ with lecturers turning up for lectures and more texts requesting me to take certain people out.
On Tuesday, I happened to be bored and thirsty at the same time. Luckily, a friend brought me samples of homemade wine for me to taste. But these bottles had no alcohol percentage on their close-to-premium-packaged bottles. At around 8pm, my thirst hit its peak and I tasted the wine which seemed humble on the tongue but its scent could tell that it was relatively strong.
After galloping two whiskey-sized glasses of the wine, I called general Benja to join me in this humble battle. We drunk as he told me about how he had travelled to the East to cast his vote. I teased him about how his transport didn’t make a reasonable contribution to the overall tally. He grew bitter and started reminding me of the arrests, losers and the mobile money blackouts. I filled my glass and started drinking because I hate political arguments and drinking or having something in my mouth is a way of avoiding responses.
The first bottle was over, and as I opened another one, some law students barged into my room. In fact, one of them attacked general Benja for supporting a defiant candidate. This started a ‘primary-like’ argument of my Dad’s car is better than yours- only this time these guys were arguing about Besigye and Museveni. I momentarily refilled their glasses so that I could divert their attention.
Time was flying, I couldn’t believe it was already 10pm but I blame the counsels’ continuous expression of their knowledge of election statistics as if we all don’t have televisions at home. Counsel BP asked me which political party I support. Suddenly, the room became silent.
I told everyone “Look here, you all support ‘Fwaaaa’ political parties!” I was interrupted by bitterness and arrogant jeering and I added; “I support a political party called ALCOHOL because it brings everyone together!”
The room was on fire with laughter as I got people to agree in a while. In fact, General Benja was so happy he refilled my glass until the wine bottle was empty. I then opened the last bottle but the expression on Counsel BP’s face wasn’t satisfactory to what I expect from my guests. I then unleashed a 5 litre jerrican of the same homemade wine and everyone was happy. In fact one ‘fool’ (basing on his previous political arguments) shouted; “alcohol political party Oye!”
We emptied all the wine into our glasses as Counsel BP discussed how FDC babes have teargas in their something-somethings but general Benja said he hated NRM but he knew that those babes are in a well kept condition though their mouths might smell like ghee. “The only problem is UPC babes might not give ‘head’ later on, they might wear underwear bigger than Miria Obote’s hair,” my alcohol influenced mouth shouted.
Everyone laughed but General Benja killed us after saying that babes who voted Mabirizi might call their ancestors during chaw instead of moaning. “As for Kyalya supporters, they are just feminists and feminism is a political party for the ugly” General Benja added.
This was getting out of hand as whoever felt offended left one by one since the wine had taken a heavy toll on our lines of thought. I chased these guys out when I realised it was 1am. But the alcohol just couldn’t let me prosper so I ended up failing to move my feet and just dozed off.
I woke up a bit late the following day and reached office at around midday. I had a rather brief day at work but my colleagues asked me to join them at hidden hangout to watch news at around 8:45pm.
As I had started drinking Guinness, someone joined the talk and started a discussion similar to the ones I had last night. I drank my beers as if I was on a competition until the pork arrived and I started clearing the lean pieces of meat. Luckily, our love for beer and alcohol supersedes that of politics so we drunk the evening away until the ‘defiance and steady progress’ talk started again.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I jumped onto the nearest bodaboda and went to my favourite bar. I found some of the usual campus girls I usually hang out with. And trust me these babes don’t support UPC (**wink). But the challenge was that my pen wasn’t sure of which political bum to vote for amongst these girls. But the alcohol always helps me choose wisely. Well I have until the next drunken tale to prove that.
