MY BEER no longer intanden with my social factors

I have a crisis of beer brand loyalty (and yet there are so many real problems in Kenya *shaking my head). By loyalty I mean years of irrigating my throat with the jewel of Ruaraka waters, tusker lager (it’s more like my jewel though) and a few days of trying out other ales, stouts and lagers and by crisis I mean I want to quit ‘swallowing’ tusker. Uh-huh, you’ve read that right no moss , I’m quitting tusker! *sound of EABL stock price going down the shitter affected shitter. Here’s my problem with this crisp and refreshing beer and the only problem, BREATH!  What my brother from another not mother or fathee calls ‘breathing mafire’ .

 

 

 

 

You see back in the day when we were still ‘seeing’ books (two years ago*cough *cough) undergoing that torture that passes itself off as University education or higher learning, myself, supergitts, Toxikmusesi, kemboi, DannKariuki et al used to imbibe 'mishufa' (that name betrays it all *Kalonzo Musyoka voice*) like we had cancer and the cure was at the bottom of the bottle. Here's the thing though, our university had banned 'kanywis/tulevis' on school grounds

Sisi tulijua Mututho laws long before Mututho laws if I can put it that way. Yeah, I can almost read your mind. How did five sons of Ruaraka survive to graduate from that convalescent home, I mean University with legitimate first class honors from their respective programs and not get expelled, you ask? Here is how, Gitts never made it to the gate. Somewhere between 'Kampi Ya Moto' our local pub and the school gate, he'd always pass out in a trench or ditch and crash. I'm surprised that he was never mauled by a stray animal all those nights.
 
Kemboi would start talking to furniture and then get his phone to call 'Destinies' (inside joke) after some three pints so we'd prevent him from more drinking and get him onions and P.K. so he could stop 'breathing mafire'. Dann, as Kemboi swears is always lucky because he is a lefty so there was no way he was ever going to get caught. Moses was often the last man standing. He'd handle his froth , no staggering and walk straight through the gate. The watchmen never bothered to inspect him. You wouldn't either if you'd see the chap's physique. Sisemi yangu. Blogger reserves the right not to put himself on blast. This happened most Wednesdays and every weekend for 4 years. I miss you fellas. Remember guys how no one wanted to fika KYM late because you'd have to catch up? good times. It was a slice!

Four years later I am still battling with 'breathing mafire'. Kwanza vile tusker can fumigate a room that even has air conditioning. This really limits my 'quick ones' especially during the day around people and at night around my landlady (Yes, I live with my mom, don't judge). So, goodbye my beloved foamy froth!



What's on my playlist:
Les Nubians

What's on my menu:
Summit Lager- Tabitha Karanja calls it liquid bread. Any excuse to 'swallow' even at breakfast I guess
White Cap at -459.67 Fahrenheit
Soup ya mbuzi