First to arrive was Fatso. Immediately on his heels came Rasta. The later was already half drunk.
He dragged his feet as he approached our usual table. I was a bit surprised at his conduct. It was unlike him. He usually kept a cool head.
There were not many people yet. On weekends, Zororo Bar usually witnessed huge crowds. It was midday. Revellers were trickling in.
There was a big match coming later on live on the big screen. A number of people were in their team colours. Manchester United was playing at home against Liverpool. There was always excitement in the air.
I saw Tsano Solo in a group of early revellers.
Everyone called him Tsano Solo. It was not his real name, I was sure of it.
Keep Reading
- Magamba takes Open Parly to Naija
- Curtain comes down on Shoko fête
- Magamba takes Open Parly to Naija
- Curtain comes down on Shoko fête
Tsano Solo was not your usual kind of guy. He broke all records at high school. He was a 100-metre sprinter.
All the short races were his, the 200 metres and 400 metres. He ran races and had many medals to his credit.
It was no surprise when he was offered a sports scholarship with one leading university in the United States of America. His story had never varied since I had known him.
It was exactly one year since he had been living in the United States of America when he woke up one morning to find Spot, their family dog on his doorstep.
He had stepped back in shock. He rubbed his eyes. He called it by its name and it excitedly sniffed his legs and stood on its hind legs. Then all of a sudden it turned its back and ran away.
When he went for practice that morning, he also spotted Spot on the tracks but it quickly disappeared before he could get near. During the course of training that day, his track events coach Mr Evans kept asking him if he was well.
After that day, life took a wrong turn for him. He missed training. He suddenly had numerous excuses to avoid training. When he went for training, he felt a burning sensation in his legs. At one time he heard voices of boys herding cattle. He recognised some of the voices. It was surreal.
He ended mixing up with the wrong crowd and started taking drugs. Inevitably, his scholarship was cancelled.
That was the end of his promising career and he found himself living in the streets of Chicago.
If I were to take a sharp knife and cut his long story short in half, he flew back home a pale shadow of himself, his body peppered with little puncture holes, evidence of substance abuse.
He saw Spot once again at the Robert Mugabe International Airport, but it ran away. That was the last time he saw it and was later to learn that Spot had died mysteriously six months previously.
I had just finished recalling Tsano Solo's story when Baba VaTata arrived in the company of Handitika.
And just at that moment, Rasta belched. He staggered on his feet, as he struggled to maintain his balance, he failed. He vomited and lost his balance and fell in his own puddle of vomit.
“ I know his problem, his girlfriend dumped him,” said Fatso.
“So he can’t handle the heartbreak it seems,” I said. I felt sorry for him. His relationships always ended badly for him.
“What happened to that girl he sent for a nursing aid course?” Said Baba VaTata.
“As soon as she went to the United Kingdom, she dumped him,” said Fatso.
Fatso seemed to know everything. It was like he kept files on everyone.
“It is also time you should also consider settling down,” said Baba VaTata, his eyes looking directly at Fatso.
“It's hard to trust women these days,” said Fatso.
“So you mean to say men are saints and the women are not?” I asked.
“Look at him,” said Fatso, using his forefinger to point at Rasta. “I don't want the heartache,” he said.
I was looking at my watch anxiously. Manchester United was playing Liverpool. It was a game not to miss. The bar was rapidly feeling up. I also noticed Comrade Mobilizer. He was laughing uproariously with his group of friends in the War Veterans corner.
It was nearly time. Almost everyone kept looking at the big screen. Rasta was slumped on the floor.
By the time the match started there was a lot of excitement. More people were coming to watch the live match.
Five minutes into the game, the screen suddenly went dark. “Aaaah!” There was a sudden outcry. The electricity had gone.
The power supply company was a cause of many heartaches. A lot of unprintable words were uttered. The mood suddenly changed. All the excitement was gone.
- Onie Ndoro is a an IELTS tutor, ghostwriter and storyteller. For feedback: Twitter@Onie90396982/email:oniendoroh@gmail.com 0773007173