Our plumber declares he’s a CEO, drinks big!

The music volume from the huge speakers is reasonably low, and the few drinkers there are aren’t very noisy, thank God.

It’s probably because nobody has taken much beer, Konyagi or K Vant. Mambo bado!

You know our bar habit: the more we swallow, the noisier we become since everybody wants to speak at the same time, in which case, if you don’t shout, nobody will hear what you’re saying and benefit from your great wisdom (ahem!).

We’re all enjoying the relative peace when this young fellow—call him Jack—clad in knee-length denim pants and a singlet (our people call it singilendi) arrives in style.

Yeah, his arrival is in style because right behind him are two fellow youths who, like him, have in their hands a bottle of Heineken.

They’re walking with a swagger meant to show it to all and sundry that they’re guys of significance. And, why not? If you’re consuming a brand, the bottle of which costs more than twice what the likes of Wa Muyanza are taking, you’ve every right to feel very important.

Jack’s friends remind one of the toughies that accompany big local celebs such as Diamond Platinumz or Jux, toughies who, essentially, are of no consequence since Bongo is a safe republic and we don’t have goons that are likely to harm our celebs as they enter a venue.

It’s just a show-offish swagger displayed by normally ghetto youth in America.

Our youth, more so those in the entertainment sub-sector, must practise it too. What’s up, men? Yooh!

The trio soon find their space at the counter and settle without demanding stools. They immediately order beers, and these are issued promptly.

Anybody who makes an order for a beer whose small bottle costs Sh4.5k deserves prompt service, doesn’t he?

Jack soon notices I’m here and moves to greet me. “Hello, mzee wangu, it’s now I’m realising you’re also here… I’m really sorry for my oversight.”

“It’s okay. How are you doing, son?”

“Fresh, mzee wangu. Things are going the right way with me … Things are very good, I must say,” he says with a wide smile.

I know the boy is a plumber. Given that the water sector in Bongo’s commercial capital has made remarkable progress over the past decade even as the infrastructure remains largely dilapidated, plumbing is now one of the most lucrative undertakings.

Young artisans with the knowledge on how to mend broken pipes and leakages aren’t starving. Hail VETA!

“You mean you’re getting more and more jobs, Jack?” I ask.

“Oh, yeah; and I don’t have to work anymore… I just get contracts, and some young fellows, some with a lot of education, do the work… Me? I’m the manager, and you can actually call me CEO,” Jack says.

He proceeds to order Rehema, the akaunta, to give me two and “moja-moja kwa vijana wangu”.

The two vijana, by their mere appearance, are much older than Jack, but so what? Jack is their boss, their CEO!