Beer bottles fail to do as weapons

OPINION/EDITORIAL




Wilson-kaigarula

By Wilson Kaigarula

IN SUMMARY

I tried watch repairing but pulled out after a few months, after realising that the craft entailed application of in-born scientific creativity.


When I witness how so-called modern-era pupils behave, or their luxury-drunk parents programme them into behaving, I feel like laughing. A child is harassed by a daladala conductor who is almost as cruel, and probably crueller than Adolf Hitler, whereas the home-school distance is hardly one kilometre.

In the blessed 1960s, we trotted like litte goats along wet, sharp stone-ridden paths stretching for four kilometres one way. We weren’t licensed to wear shoes, as a deliberate means to toughen the feet.

During the races to school, we jumped over zig-zagging snakes, criss-crossed with wild pigs, and the whining of hyenas from nearby bushes was unpleasant music to our ears.

Blah-blah producer

Schooling was pleasant because it enabled us to, among other things, know a bit of the Queen’s language, through bits like ‘good morning sir‘, but which we pronounced as ‘gudu moningi saa’. The joy was circumcised by passing-resistant examinations.

Failure in the Standard Four exam meant that you became a super-villager: not super in the context of Ronaldo being a super soccer player, but in the context of being a villager by birth, a villager by permanent residence, and, excuse me, mwana wani, a villager by death.

I passed all exams up to A-Level, as a combination of good luck and inputs of something I won’t disclose from the spirits of my ancestors. But my passes were a borderline case between passing and failing, like the border between two sides of a phone handset’s key.

That’s why I never pursued complicated, extra intelligence-demanding professions like aeronautical engineering, marine biology, nuclear science and neurology.

If I were to dare do so, I would end up as humiliated a failure, as the team of a soccer team of which I’m the assistant patron, Tabata Unconquerable Boys, were to challenge Manchester United to a match !

I tried watch repairing but pulled out after a few months, after realising that the craft entailed application of in-born scientific creativity.

I ended up as a blah-blah producer, which involves stringing together several words into sentences, and which are ultimately published in newspapers.

When Kufa Kwaja Bar was ambushed on Friday, I ran for my dear life. I grabbed two empty bottles of beer which I had intended to land on the head of whichever robber would have dared attack me, but which the bar’s watchman claimed I had stolen ! Long live the watchman. God bless him till kingdom come !