Ghetto Dances: My resolutions for the year had come to nought

When I look back  in retrospect, I have many regrets for the year that is drawing to a close.

I was so full of hope when the year started. I remember telling Mai VaMaidei that,”This is going to be my year.”

I took a sip of beer. It tasted unusually bitter. The music was blaring loud from the cheap JVC loudspeakers which were mounted on the walls.   Tobacco smoke hung in the air. There was too much noise in the bar. Rasta had gone to place an order for more beer as we waited for Fatso and Baba VaTata to arrive.

I had not achieved anything on my wish list for the year. All my resolutions for the year had come to nought. When the year started, I was so full of vigour with big plans for my own start-up business.

I had even challenged by Baba VaTata then.

“I will be driving a sleek car before the year is out and I will take you boys for a ride in the countryside for a bit of sport.” I had made this declaration in January in this very same spot.  As I continued to sip my beer, all I could reminisce on were the countless failures and humiliation at the hands of my landlord.

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In the background, someone was trying to sing above the music that was coming from the JVC loudspeakers. It was irritating.

 I also noticed  Comrade Mobiliser two tables away from me. His black, gaunt face looked more weary and the light from the fluorescent bulb made his tired countenance look like it was chiseled from hardwood.

Rasta came back clutching three beer bottles. He could hardly hide his excitement.  I did not share his excitement.

“The year has been kind to me. My recent contract has paid me so well I will be able to extend my parents’ house,” he said. Rasta was a painter just like his father before him. This was awesome news but this hardly improved my mood. In fact it had the opposite effect. The year had nothing for me.  I had only managed  to keep a roof above my head which was hardly an achievement.

All I can remember very well,  were  the taunts and insults  from my landlord, Mr Tigere.

It was just at that moment that Baba VaTata and Fatso joined us.

“There has been a terrible accident along Shumba Street,” said Fatso breathlessly.

“What happened?” I said.

“The driver of the Honda Fit was speeding  and failed to negotiate a dangerous curve.  He hit a pedestrian before he rammed into a   lamppost and his car rolled over twice,” said Fatso.

“Some of these drivers are so reckless,” said Baba VaTata.

A couple of years back he had lost his younger  brother to a “hit and run” accident.

The festive season had become notorious for the high accident rates. That’s why I abhored  travelling during the festive season.

My mind went back to my resolutions for  the current year. I had achieved none.

A sure way to instant riches was to join politics. If I can become a Member of Parliament in the near future, I could get my hands in the cookie jar. Anyway, that was a tall order. It’s not easy to build a political base overnight especially when you are a security guard. Over the last ten to fifteen years I had seen quite ordinary folks win a ticket to the august  house and their miserable existence had changed overnight with such perks as top-of- the-range land cruisers, designer suits and house loans. The time was not ripe yet to make resolutions on politics. I was not yet ready to serve the people.

I had to start making realistic new resolutions for the coming year.

Personal development was top on the list: I had to be more organised, learn a new trade or skill to get a good paying job. My current job at Amandwandwe Security kept me in perpetual penury.

One more thing, I had to quit drinking beer. I could save myself some money and in the process improve my health. It was high time I had to be pristine and leave behind my sinful ways.

During the current year, I had hardly visited my relatives. I intended to cultivate good relationships with relatives and friends in the coming New Year.

“What’s wrong with you?” Said Baba VaTata. “Have some more beer,” he added. He had noticed that I was lost in deep thoughts.

I stood on my feet.  My mind was made up. To my surprise I walked away from it all. The beer tasted bitter anyway. As I walked away, Fatso said,” What’s  wrong with him today?”

If only I had done this early in the year, maybe I could have achieved one or two of my resolutions. The problem is, it is difficult to give up on old habits. It is even more difficult to walk away from your friends even if they stand in the way of your dreams.

• Onie Ndoro is a an IELTS tutor, ghostwriter and storyteller. For feedback:  X@Onie90396982/email:oniendoroh@gmail.com 0773007173