John Ekongo
21 September 2007
opinion
Windhoek — Everybody is going green. One can say that green is the latest hype doing the rounds.
Every one I know has Green Cross shoes, drinks green tea, has a packet of green vitamin herbs next to his desk and bedside, shops at Woolworth's for green organic foodstuffs and takes green lunch at "Medici Bistro and the Bay Leaf Coffee Shop".
To me the only good green thing that exists is my green 340ml bottle of Windhoek Lager. Please understand me, this is no promotion, nor am I advocating its use by undeserving youth, it's just plain talk straight from the pit.
Not so long ago, people rated Tafel Lager as the premium beer. I had no qualms with that; I still remained with my Windhoek Lager. Recently, however, I was irked when I discovered that Windhoek Lager stocks in my neighbour's shebeen were dwindling.
Apparently, people have come to love the green bottle now as well, hence the depletion.
What pains me is the type of people consuming my favourite brew - that's what hurt me most. They have absolutely, completely, most definitely credit guaranteed disrespect for the tastiest of brews world over.
At one drinking hole in Okuryangva - I will not mention names -
the place is unlike my type of hang out spot and a man of my standing to be seen there would earn me a front page article in Max's juice pumping paper for obvious reasons. Even the new Sun paper (don't ask me what happened to the Sun that rises on the other days other than Thursdays).
At the place, I saw a not so impressive dreadlocked Rastafarian youth with trousers so loose behind, you would think that nature's call remnants ended right in his pants and not the toilet pot, you get the picture. He was clutching a whole Omukonyo whiles gyrating (the word as borrowed from Pastor Goroh) on the dance floor. First, he can't dance, besides shaking his dreads perilously and believes he is Ziggy Marley, even the tunes in the background were as clear as day light that it was the Doggs' Inakusha. For a moment, I thought of asking the DJ to play Sunny Boy's Bozza Bazza in honour of my Rastafarian brother, just to get him out of my sight and the dance floor.
You see gents, Windhoek Lager is a classic beer, you drink it with class and poise, and even the Italians don't get close to it. You must appreciate it, with value and good conversation about stock markets crashes, finanincial liquidity, bonds, share prices and market values you get the point. Not like Tafel Lager conversations where the discussion is about "outiese ons moet gaan toeslaan vandag daar in Kleine Kuppe of jy is my cherry and waar is my bier"- see the difference?
So guys, Tafel Lager got a brand new look and all those who have been swamping around my favourite brew of green and gold Windhoek Lager, with pleasure please switch back now.
For long, you have tarnished the image and the reputation of the premier lager with your gushing of a well devised drink that I have so much come to love with my own heart truly and dearly (like my first love).
In fact, it was there when I passed school, it was there when I needed encouragement to propose a member of the opposite sex. It was there when I was a miserable unemployed little twit with a university degree and no job offers, it was always there no matter what.
So the bonding was angelic (sorry for the word). That is why I wont take it anymore of you colleagues running to my Windhoek Lager. I so much took it upon my own conscience to even negotiate on your behalf for Tafel Lager to change its image, so that at least you can feel proud again. In fact, you have to thank me for that.
I am sorry, for my outburst, but let me politely end. Leave Windhoek Lager alone if you don't have class. Let it be as Good as it Gets.
Aai tog I was never this angry Sorry Ngoo.
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