This week, a colleague and I found ourselves reflecting on the almost two years we worked from home during the height of Covid-19. We both agreed that human beings, even the dyed-in-the wool introverts, are social beings.
That period really took a toll on everyone and the uncertainty that the strange disease induced was too much to bear. It went on for so long, that I was sure that we were doomed to a life of wearing masks and keeping to ourselves for the rest of our lives. It was a depressing thought.
It is interesting, though, how fast we tend to cast aside situations that once held us hostage and put us through so much grief. I guess it has to do with our inbuilt mechanism for survival, which urges us to leave the past behind and focus on the future.
But I don’t think Covid-19 will ever be a distant memory for many, especially those who lost loved ones and those that lost their livelihoods and are still struggling to regain their footing. With this in mind, it is, therefore, a relief when one can find some humour in such tragedy.
Lawbreaking Kenyans, intent on continuing to imbibe in crowds in spite of the virus, would be ushered upstairs where the lodgings had been turned into drinking dens.
Apparently, the beds had been propped against the walls to makes space for tables and chairs that had been ferried from the bar downstairs. Police on patrol in search of lawbreakers, none the wiser, would peep into the bar and find it empty.
In retrospect, perhaps there is nothing humorous about this, because it might be a revelation of a society with a drinking disorder…
We had not seen each other for months and were itching to get out of the house, catch up, share a meal and feel alive again.
The restaurant had a spacious outdoor area, the main reason we chose it – we were still wary of the virus, and here, we could practice social distancing. Being an observant person, I immediately noticed that every table had a tea flask or two, as well as teacups. I remember wondering, in passing, why everyone around us was drinking tea, yet it was a hot day that called for a cold soda or a tall, cold glass of juice.
At first, I assumed that it had to do with the immense relief of finally being able to get out of the house and socialise outdoors, but then I noticed that everyone else, apart from us, was visiting the washrooms with unusual regularity even for tea.
And they were some staggering to and from the washroom? Wait a minute! The waiters kept refilling the tea flasks… That is when I finally came to the realisation that the colourful tea flasks were holding alcohol, not tea. Same thing for the cups.
