That’s why I Drink Beer
“Beer has a God-awful taste.” well, you’re not wrong.
I’m not an avid drinker. Alcohol burns my chest.
This is not an advocacy for beer.
What this is, even I can’t say. I guess you can term it personal opinion.
But anyway, beer right?
Americans you have it good. The size of your beer bottles are considerate. Over here, them wan use beer kill us. The bottles are so damn big guys, so damn big. Funny, still, I need three or four bottles to get tipsy.
Not an avid drinker, but in the old days, those college good days, I used to be. It never left me. And when I drink again, I drink well.
So yes, three four bottles.
But why Angel? Beer has a God-awful taste.
Yeah, you’re not wrong, it does.
Why do I drink it?
Vodka burns my chest. Spirit too.
Ulcer, it’ll kill me.
Now wine I love, but it is slow. The buzz takes forever to suffice.
Beer for me is it then.
The bitter taste is a reminder of life and how bitter it can get.
The funny thing is, after a few sips you get used to the taste. You get used to life’s maltreatment. Suffering becomes a way of life. The only way we know how to live.
I can afford it now, so why don’t I eat all kinds of classy foods? I don’t know, I’m used to my local jellof rice.
I still drink garri, I reckon all Nigerians do. “Garri is like a warm, comforting hug from the earth, a staple food made from cassava root that’s been a beloved companion in West African homes for generations.” No matter how wealthy. It’s our food. It takes us back. Those days you call suffering, those days we had the most fun. People weren’t betraying you, people weren’t using you. You only didn’t have money but everything else was genuine. You even had you that girl that loved the clothes you didn’t have. Now all that’s gone.
But not garri, not beer. We drink to remember. We drink to forget.
And so the taste gets easier to bear, like life got easier to navigate even if it was through shit. It no more stank. We loved through the smell.
And the final stage, the most exciting. You get drunk.
You forget.
You nod your head. We call that dancing. Slapping the laps too and hitting those feets on floor. Occasionally the chest pushes in and out in rhythm too.
You smile. No, you laugh. Uncontrollably.
First it was bitter. Then you couldn’t taste it. Afterwards it did the trick, and you got high.
Life.
You rock with it man.
You live.
That's why I drink beer. It is too familiar to life.
I hope we all find our high.
I hope we all live through whatever and find that smile.
That dance.
That laughter.
At the end, it is all that matters.
