Tucked away in the valley at the foot of the hills is
a banda...From the hill top, all you can see is the roofing thatched with dry
grass, figs and twigs. Proper and neat thatching, I must add...the kind you see
in tourist hotels who try to create the traditional look that detests the
modern unity of architectural glass and tiles. This valley divides the hills
and its inhabitants but the banda puts them together most evenings. It creates
daytime acquaintances and night-time buddies!
Identity? ‘Kwa Munyui’ which when translated directly
means ‘At the drinkers’. Here, village men meet, chat, laugh, toast to their
successes, build solidarity in their failures and most of all pour their woes
to Munyui, the bar tender. Munyui has heartily run this trade for about fifteen
years. He still tells a story of how he began with 10 bottles and about two
regulars before becoming the much renowned tavern owner that he is.
He has taken time to brighten the interior of the
setting. Vanishing the mahogany surfaces that have to often put up with spilt
liquor from the daily drunks, putting up colourful cardboard quotes that remind
the clients to stop hugging the mugs too close for their liver’s sake and often
rearranging the Mixmaster array that knows too well each client’s preferences.
Munyui knows every customer by name, he makes the
extra effort. Knows them from both hills, and he knows which hill each comes
from. He knows what to serve by looking at them, by the manner in which they
swing open the loosely-hinged door and the posture that they take on the stool.
He knows when to make it strong, moderate or light. He knows when to mix it up
and when to pour it plain. That’s his job. A man is as good as what he knows he
does best.
Weekends mean longer working hours. After a long day
in the farms, the men like to cool off at the valley joint. The wives have much
to worry about but they have made peace with it, or so I believe they have. The
harvest season is the best time for him. He makes great sales as almost every
client feels the urge to buy a round of drinks for the entire bar members.
This tavern is not one of those proverbial ones you
watch on TV where the major (most respected) client is a bearded men who kicks
the door open with his cowboy boots, adjusts his complementing cowboy hat by
tilting it to a measured angle that only he knows of, straps off a rifle from
his belt, shoots in the air and in ensuing silence from the other pub members sits
at his designated bar stool, adjusts his pot belly and without a word is
presented with beer in his special mug! Then the chatting can proceed! However,
just like every drinking joint, there is a chairman, I am made to understand.
The one who stands out as the most celebrated and adds that ‘culture
extraordinaire’ to the tavern. His name? ‘Gitobu’.
More about him on part 2...
