Drunken Tales of starting the Semester

The campus holiday came to an end. This meant that we shall see more light skins and crazy young ladies at the bar. The hard January days of drinking alone under the extreme heat were over. Even that babe who fetches water for the whole village in Kashari will be looking dapper since the semester has started. The first weekend is that time every drunkard leaves his or her room early to spend that hard earned money they just got.

I checked into my ‘kafunda’ at around midday so that I could clean and organize before the big evening. I even took a nap right after eating a whole grilled chicken since my wallet was wrestling with my pocket. At around 6pm, I dashed to office to finalise a few reports since I was preparing for a drunk weekend and I didn’t want to look bad on Monday.

At 8pm, my phone was buzzing with phone calls and messages from a tonne of girls who hadn’t been online in weeks. My ‘boys’ were busy asking me for where the plot would be that night. I neglected most of these messages because organised plot is usually slightly disappointing and I wanted something extreme for my first weekend at campus.

I drunk the last millilitres of Uganda Waragi that were in my whiskey flask as I thought of where to spend my evening. As the last drop slowly drifted on my throat, I could feel every microdrop tickle my thirsty throat. But the anxiety was cut short when I realised I had finished all the alcohol and the office reserves were empty. As if this wasn’t bad enough for me, a certain ‘Nyonyozi’ called me telling me I ought to take her out.

To be honest, this babe is quite hot but the hard texture of her palms and runyankole themed accent kept on reminding me of the Kigezi hills she must have been climbing during the holiday. Plus the Uganda Waragi kept reminding me that these are not the kind of people I need to relate with. Plus by the time you have to call me to remind me, then you are clearly not so relevant. After going through all this rage, I jumped on the nearest bodaboda back to my room so that I could pick the usual suspects, General Benja, and Counsel.

At 11.00pm we left my Kafunda to go the usual ‘Kachampale’ (**read bar*** effects of Nyonyozi’s english) where I paid for all the entrance coupons. I walked to the counter and ordered for cold Guinness bottles as my colleagues ordered a zinge of Bond 7. We then walked to a table at which I enjoy sitting everytime I go to Panamera. I could feel the excitement General Benja and counsel were getting as they galloped their first shots, it was sheer porn as their faces looked like they were having an alcohol orgasm.

The bar was a little full compared to what it looked like during the weeks of the holiday. I met a couple of the hardcore alcohol consumers as they officially opened the semester in the true boozage culture. But I will never forget this guy who walked in front of path as I left the loos just to call me by my first name. I was so surprised that he actually happy pronounced it well, that I felt to remember that he was my loyal bartender during the bazaar. He expressed his pleasure for the drunken tales series that I bought myself another round and he insisted on getting me another round. This meant I had four unopened bottles and my night was definitely going well.

The songs played, and hours passed as enjoyed my drinks until I heard the sound of a rural-urban excited girl shouting about how she was excited to see me. Damn! it was Nyonyozi, but her hands and juicy boobs were already in face and I couldn’t help it. I greeted her in the most calm manner as if I actually didn’t know her until she slowly moved her ‘garden-rough’ hands over my face where it was too much. I told her to let me enjoy my time with the light-skinned mubs girls who was seated next to me.

I was saved by the DJ who played a song that excited this mubs chana who got up, pulled me off my seat and started dubbing me. I felt relieved as I dubbed those ripe Kinyarwanda bums. This took my mind off Nyonyozi since I was having a good time. Unfortunately some coursemates interrupted me as I enjoyed the warmth of those bums. Max, a classmate mate of mine dared me to drink a quarter of Uganda Waragi

I looked at the borrowed  smart watch I had only to realise it was just 2am. I then galloped the whole quarter of the Uganda Waragi like a boss. It was at this point that I could feel the alcohol slowly eat up a few brain cells. But what the heck, I got up raised my hands only to see everyone staring at me like i had invented something. A few minutes later, I couldn’t feel a few toes but sitting down wasn’t a good idea because I could have blacked out.

I rushed to the counter and ordered for a cold CocaCola with Ice cubes and Lemons to make it appear as a cocktail. This punch was a remedy for the extreme levels of alcohol in my system. But I kept fighting the alcohol and soberness with shisha which gave me a constant height. Nevertheless I could still see familiar heads that had been bowed down to tables as some got carried out by bouncers.

At around 3am, I was joined by some females from the MUBS who for some reason never asked for drinks that time. In fact a certain, ‘Queen’ bought me a couple of Guinness bottles as I danced with her friends that night. I slowly danced the alcohol out of my system until the wee hours of the morning.

At around 5am, I felt elevation from the ground to the roof of the bar and I held myself to one of the number plates that read ‘I love California’. I then returned to the ground only to recognise the look of my friend who plays ‘professional rugby.’ Well, it was a sudden occasion but how many of you can say you touched the roof of your favourite bar without any effort. Unfortunately security tried to brief my friend but these guys were his friends and  the incident appeared like it never had.

I struggled to finish the last malt in my bottles because the sun was about to rise and my legs were tired. I gathered the girls from MUBS and we took a cab which dropped us at our places of rest. I struggled to remove my All star shoes and decided to sleep with them on because I was too tired.

That morning, I heard a loud knock on my door which woke me up. I opened only to find a coursemate holding a bottle of Bond 7 and six pack of Heineken. His face looked like that of a convict who wasn’t allowed to drink alcohol for years. He was so excited to welcome me back from the holiday. I opened the Heineken which I drunk as a cure for my hangover while he told me stories of how excited he was about the semester opening. This talk bored me so much that I dozed off only to wake up when I felt the scent of Chicken. I woke up, had lunch and begun drinking again but hey that’s a drunken tale for another day.