ZWWA short story 3rd Prize winner One intoxicated guy came from my back and pushed his way through the crowd in front of me. He hardly noticed or maybe he just ignored his dusty sandals made out of a worn out car Tyre step on my canvas. His foot felt heavy on mine that I was prompted without any second thoughts to give him a slight push off my foot. The man was sweating heavily and he was full of sweat smell. Wearing a vest that revealed his heavily unshaven armpits, he turned to me as he staggered on his back toward the other youth who pushed him in the other direction in frustration. “ Mmnh…niya how yemwayamba iyo manje?” (What is this now?”) Quizzed the drunk. I turned my attention to the barman. Being approximately two or three meters away from the counter, I gathered courage to push through the crowd. Wearing a serious face I quickly pushed through the people round me as I heard some drunk full of smell from the opaque beer murmur some words in displeasure with my action. My focus was on the barman, I had no time to waste on those around me. Now there I stood face to face with the barman. He never looked at me but I watched him attend to other guys on my right and left side. It was there and then that an idea was born, at the back of my mind. I stood there for a minute studying him before launching my missile which stood ready in its slot. I looked round me to investigate the kind of people that were there. To my satisfaction, it was a perfect time for the launch because the surrounding was conducive. No sign of danger or opposition in sight as I noticed all dizzy eyes and staggering youths around. Clearing my throat and frowning at the same time in readiness for the launch, I took the aim at the barman. -“Do I have to wait for the judgment day to have my change back?’ No immediate response I got from the barman as he passed the two liter container of chibuku to a buyer. A re-launch was inevitable and it had to be louder and right on spot. -“ Boi nikamba naiwe…siumvela?” (My friend am talking to you, can’t you hear me?”) -“How much did you give me?” asked the barman as he paused to look at me. With my eyes fixed on him I lied having given him a twenty thousand kwacha from which I got chibuku for five thousand kwacha hence my remaining change was a fifteen thousand kwacha. -”....And where is the beer you have bought?” he asked as he reached under the counter. Now that was a sign of triumph in my favor. I needed only a few more words of conviction to confuse him more. “ulipa nsaka kudala” (it’s already with my friends outside).
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