Ntate Moholo’s.com
LONG ago, girls used to cook like their mothers, now they drink like their fathers. This is one of Ntate Moholo’s borrowed African idioms from another country that can easily apply among modern Basotho girls. Why do I say so? Please read further to find out why…
Many thanks to those readers who kept glued to Ntate Moholo’s.com inaugural piece last Sunday. I know many would have wanted to respond immediately but I forgot to display my contact details. Now I’m wiser, and starting from this week I shall display my contact details. In case you missed it, my email address is: ntatesweirdworld@gmail.com. Indeed, Ntate Moholo lives in a weird world!
By the way, I’m not yet on WhatsApp, Twitter, Facebook or some other social media – I really have to tread carefully – but I am certainly reachable on Ecocash or M-pesa in case you want to reach me through other means. In fact, I prefer the latter methods because they have an added monetary benefit.
Thanks to Ntate Rethabile from Leribe and Mme ‘Mposong of Butha-Buthe whom I met during the week and who gave suggestions on topics for discussion in future articles. This is quite helpful and, like we said before, the best way to keep this column alive is to be interactive. Now let’s see what’s in store this week…
The nutty professor
Having noted that the column is still in its infancy and therefore not many readers were aware of my existence, I decided not to wait for any invitations to freebies, so I took myself out on a sojourn to ‘discover’ some of Maseru’s nocturnal activities last Saturday night.
Having tried in vain to look for a decent place where I could engage in real Maseru nightlife around the city I finally settled for a bar at the balcony of an “old English queen’s place” along Kingsway. I was drawn to the pub by loud music of the 1970s or 80s that was being belted from above. I can’t really recall what happened after I set my foot inside. What I can clearly remember is that 10 beers later, I was still on the dance floor, nostalgically trying out new moves to old music (oops, have I given my age away?) as taught by some young lass who had now become my dance instructor.
As to what happened afterwards? Well, your guess is as good as mine. Anyway, that’s beside the point; the point here is that I met a gentleman at the bar who told me he is a political science lecturer at a local institution of higher learning. What made Ntate both curious and jealous is the fact that that one in every three ladies that passed by gave him a hug and/or a kiss while I watched.
The nutty professor told me most of them were former students from the institution but he too, wasn’t so sure whether they were indeed, from his faculty or not. In return for a hug or kiss the students (former, current or otherwise) would be rewarded with a drink or two. Most of the drinks requested by the ladies were, by Ntate Moholo’s standards, expensive and had some very unpronounceable names.
The fracas
Ntate could not be left behind while the professor did all the charming so he joined in the buying frenzy! I still remember buying one drink whose name suggested that if you take one or more of them you would fly like a fish. Can you imagine what would happen if a fish flies out of water? Well, that is exactly what happened to my ‘dance teacher’ as the young ladies outnumbered us at the bar.
My dance teacher also told me she is a former student of some institution though I found it hard to believe. This ‘student’ (former, current or otherwise) was well mannered when she was introduced to me by the professor and was, by all looks, a potential candidate for Ntate Moholo’s company. We talked, we danced and she drank, and drank and then flew like a fish, figuratively of course!
I have seen quite a sizeable number of ladies getting over the top with alcohol but not with this young lady. She must have been a little over 20 and was really getting down with Ntate on the dance floor. But when it was time for other ladies to take to the dance floor with Ntate she became over-possessive and cautioned them to “stay away from my man”.
Ntate Moholo has never been as overwhelmed with affection in as many years as the ‘dance teacher’ was born, but that only lasted as far as she could control her emotions. She began to shout some unprintable words to the other suitors who did not take her actions too kindly. You know that feeling you get as a young man when ladies fight over you? Ntate Moholo couldn’t believe he was still an asset as the ‘best before’ date on his ID says otherwise.
Guards at the queen’s place tried to restrain her but she blew her fuse. Instead of trading insults with her own kind she was now trading blows with the guards who had to drag her out of the bar and we were all left in awe. That is when Ntate Moholo believed that witchcraft does exist in this country! And could you believe that underneath the bar at the queen’s place is an anointed room where church meetings are held almost daily?
Driving home via Constitution Road
After this fracas, Ntate Moholo decided to take a breather by taking a walk along the Kingsway roundabout. It must have been late at night, or should I say, early in in the morning as a group of bystanders of the fairer sex accosted me and asked if I wanted a “quickie”. By their looks and by my own judgement, they were thigh vendors.
In my drunken stupor I started to ask them why they were still roaming the streets at night and one of them, intelligent, young and beautiful, told me she was also a student somewhere (not again!). I left in a huff got to the parking lot and drove off homewards. After all this guzzling, the least I needed was to attract the attention of the police. So I took the road behind Constitution Road and that was a grave mistake!
You see in this country we are endowed with rights and privileges of how we can live freely and these are all well documented in our constitution. So this street, aptly named Constitution Street, houses many government departments among them the ministries of Health, Police, Manpower and others. But what happens when all you see when you drive along at night are young, skimpily dressed women of the night flashing at you and when you stop they swarm your vehicle to ask you, “how much?”
Gentle reader, trust me on this one. Nothing, absolutely nothing of what you are thinking happened afterwards. All I did was ask them a few questions about their trade and drove them to some dinghy place at the bus stop area where some people were still selling alcohol from their mukukus.
Angry bedroom manager
I shall forgive you for not believing my tale, just as my bedroom manager did. I have always made it a point to go home early after daddy’s day out. This time I was too early, as in “early in the morning” because as I got to my gate it was already 0500hrs and in the village the cocks were already crowing.
So what do you say to the woman of the house when you arrive home that early and all you do is smell of booze? I was expecting anything – fireworks, f-words and all, you name them – but the woman of God kept quiet.
They say silence is golden, but how do you feel when you sit around dinner table where everybody is tense and nobody talks to nobody? You create a story, and that I did:
“Ahem…what if they had killed me? The robbers ransacked my car and took away everything…” Dead silence for 20 long minutes.
“Ahem…” I tried to spin a new yarn. There was silence at first, but at least there was some response:
“If you have nothing to say why don’t you keep quiet? These robbers may have taken your clothes and money away but they were generous enough to leave condoms on your dashboard…”
I fainted.
Moral of the story?
Ntate Moholo commiserates with the bedroom manager and it is his wish that she reads this column. We all learn from our mistakes. I have now learnt a few lessons. Always be truthful to yourself and the people around you. What happens in Maseru at night stays in Maseru. Ha re ee!