The Sunday Mail
THE moment Chihera unbolted the disused freight container she uses as a storeroom for her tiny bottle store in Kuwadzana, Harare, more than a dozen men and two women holding opaque beer containers staggered out.
The operation was executed with military precision.
Members of this doddering group largely had their clothes tainted by rust, thanks to the decrepit container.
They rushed to the nearby grassy corner to relieve themselves.
As soon as they were done, they made for the bottle store to buy more beer before requesting Chihera to lock them up again.
Although the imbibers knew that they could suffocate in that container, they were willing to take the chance just to down the wise waters.
Chihera women are risk-takers.
Barely 500 metres from this spectacle, four men in drunken stupor struggle for balance as they battle to pull their colleague from an algae-infested stormwater drain.
“Shellaz, ukaramba uchinetsa takuzongokusiya wakadaro; tine zvekunoita mberiyo (Shellaz, we will leave you here. We have other issues to attend to),” bellowed the tallest member of the group, while rescuing the guy who had slipped into the drain while relieving himself.
Queer as this sounds, these are some of the challenges guzzlers are having to contend with during this lockdown.
A lot is happening as drinkers and alcohol suppliers craft ways of exchanging the wise waters for money without detection by the police and other security agents.
To contain the coronavirus outbreak, the Government has issued a 21-day directive for people to stay at home.
So deadly is coronavirus that it has killed thousands of people worldwide and left more hospitalised.
The virus started in Wuhan, China, and has since spread to various parts of the world where it has killed a lot of people and disrupted the world economy.
Police, in some cases with the help of council officials, are moving about to ensure the directive is adhered to.
While the directive is for the well-being of the public, it is the stay-at-home aspect that has not been well-received by imbibers.
Gentle reader, drinking beer is like a little cross most guzzlers will carry to the grave.
They cannot miss an opportunity to get a fix.
“Ndiri seni hangu kana ndisina kunwa upenyu hunenge husingafambe. Asi ndikangohuti tede ndobva ndanzwa mashugira (I cannot live without the wise waters. They make the world go round for me),” this writer was told straight in the face by one pint-sized bloke in Mabvuku.
“Ndingararamirei ndisingatore ukorwa? (What would I live for without beer?),” quipped another.
“Beer is sweet. It makes life worth living and we make good decisions under the influence of alcohol. It is a good pastime,” one woman told me in Glen View.
“Mhoro doro, mhoro hwahwa
Shamwari yangu yandinoda
Mhoro doro shamwari yangu yepamoyo
Unombonditandadza shamwari”
These are some of lyrics by Elijah Madzikatire and his Bero Band in the classic yesteryear hit “Mhoro Doro”.
There is something about beer that makes the lion in most people roar.
The extent to which they are getting to get beer is worrying.
The way they are doing it will leave us with a lot of stories to tell after the lockdown.
Shebeen queens are not to be outdone.
They invite people over to drink in the comfort of their homes under switched-off lights and with strict instructions not to talk.
What surprises is that the rules are followed to the letter from the start, but wait until they are drunk and you will see all manner of drama.
But why venture out to drink away from home even in these difficult times?
“My friend, drinking beer from home is impractical. You will be under strict control from the madam, so better do it away from the house ndozongouya ndakwana,” one man told me.
