The real power of booze

| Wednesday January 6, 2010 00:00

Some people are dodging work because they simply can't function, with some people having what resembles a permanent hangover. Some can't even remember anything of what happened during the festive season because they were always squiffy.

On the other hand, some lost teeth and stuff like that after saying the wrong stuff to the wrong individual while sozzled, with the latter reacting with indecorous 'festive violence'.

My neighbour's friend's dog lost part of its tail due to such festive violence and it went missing for a day or two following that, and when it came back the whole of the tail was missing this time, possibly having gatecrashed on the wrong party. Some people ended up at loggerheads with traffic cops because of what I would like to call festive driving.

This is all because of the festive season which somehow for many people oftentimes comes in the form of booze. For the majority of people around the world the festive season automatically means imbibing on the inebriant. Now, January would be the best time of the year to quit booze, or at the least abstain, not only because people are broke and are in terrible debt, but also to give the brain cells a chance to recoup. The dead brain cells need time to convalesce, at least for the sake of another productive year.

Good. Now, you see, the mind is a very complex component of human life; an invincible 'entity' over which we have no control whatsoever, such that it could wander off without fuss and we can't do anything about it. It is just almost impossible to control what goes on in the mind. A combination of factors makes January the best time of the year for the mind to wander and give people such despicable ideas as suicide. Amongst others, such factors include being broke; being in debt; being in trouble; and having suddenly become alcohol dependent and craving for the liquid stuff, but having no money to purchase.

For the latter reason some people resort to glomming, the latter of which inadvertently drives the mob into a lynching mood. Such is the sequel to the festive season and the associated festive mood.  It's at times like these that the mind wanders as people reflect over the past year and realise with a bang what a waste it was, when the real meaning of all the debts incurred during a sweep of excitement brought forth by the prospect of the festive season hits at full throttle, realising for the first time that all was not worth it after all.  It's at such times that those that have a tendency to cope poorly with stressful situations and the impulsive ones consider a tight rope around the neck as a possible solution to this 'burden' called life.

Now, everyone will agree with me that if you have a simple headache, for instance, you can take a painkiller and oftentimes the pain will go away. Now imagine if you had 'pain' in your mind, the 'pain' being a torrent of worries flooding your mind, no matter what you do to bar them off.

There are several factors that may impart such 'pain' on your mind, the main and most common being alcohol, through the very organ that regulates the mind: The brain, as anyone out there would undoubtedly concur, is a complex organ; one not to be messed with, one so delicate and fastidious that any minimal tampering with it could result in multitudinous cataclysm. As it is, unfortunately that's the organ humans tend to temper with most through various mechanisms, the worst and most common of all being alcohol and its cousins drugs, especially during the recently departed festive season. I will talk of alcohol in this instance since it currently seems to be the one dogging our nation more than drugs do. I am going to focus on the effects of alcohol on the brain and leave the physical effects alone. I believe most of you would be aware by now that alcohol may cause other physical ailments such as alcohol liver disease, gastritis (it does damage to the stomach and causes pain), pancreatitis, seizures, etc, as well as social problems such as relationship difficulties, financial problems, poor performance at work and other work-related problems. I believe some of you may be familiar with people who brag about having a pot belly, which sometimes may in fact be due to a swollen liver, which in itself may be a disease caused by alcohol, with their complexion having acquired a yellow tinge, not the least aware that they in fact require treatment for the 'pot belly'. Anyway, enough about the physical stuff. Let me go back to the brain.

Now, alcohol is a very potent substance which is absorbed instantly, without having to go through the rigmarole of the whole digestive system. It has no time to go through the whole digestive system; it simply takes the first convenient exit in the stomach and gives the nervous system a nasty and potentially rampageous visit. At this point, as the drinker continues to imbibe, the booze now exerts its effects, taking its time. It does so in at least three different ways, namely:

l It depresses the behavioral inhibitory centers and makes its voluntary victim to become more talkative, more self-confident and less socially inhibited. This is the point when people say the wrong things and embark on an unnecessary gasconade, sometimes bragging about what doesn't even belong to them in the first place. Some may even start thinking they are superman and attempt to fly, with obvious results. Manners disappear and people say the wrong stuff to others. Naturally quiet people become jerks.

l It slows down the processing of information from the senses and makes its voluntary victim to have trouble seeing, hearing, smelling, touching and tasting; also, the threshold for pain is raised. I have seen people getting bashed while sloshed and not feeling a thing until after the intoxicant has abandoned them. I believe you have heard of people who literally drive over a roundabout? Right, there you go.

l Inhibits thought processes such that the drinker loses the ability to use good judgment or think clearly. This is the point when the mind switches into the 'passion killing' mode.

Also this is the time when people drive like they are aspiring to take part Formula 1, with little thought for death and non-Formula 1 wannabes. With some individuals, fists suddenly become readily available as well as other handy instruments used for fighting.

Booze is actually a depressant. Unfortunately a lot of people tend to have the misconception that alcohol is in fact some form of a quick-acting antidepressant simply because they feel more gay, talkative and self-confident after a few stiff ones. You see, with prolonged alcohol drinking, nutritional intake becomes compromised, especially with individuals who tend to cure their hangover with more booze, and hence have alcohol for breakfast.

As such the individual misses out on important nutrients, the most vital of which is thiamine. Thiamine is a vitamin vital in regulating our cognitive functioning. So imagine what would happen to someone who continually drinks on a daily basis for several years in a row, with little food intake. I guess you have seen the kind of people I am talking about.

These are the people you see staggering all over even when they are cold sober, and can hardly remember what day/date it is. Every day is a new day to them. You could introduce yourself to them ten times in a day, but still they will forget your name fifteen times, a minute after you have introduced yourself.

These are chaps suffering from what's called Korsakoff's syndrome, a syndrome characterised by severe memory loss/ inability to form new memories, confusion, unsteady/uncoordinated walking, disorientation, irregular eye movements and confabulation. Confabulation is a plausible but imagined memory that fills in gaps in what is remembered.  For instance, if you met a man with this condition, say at a bar and you asked him how he ended up at the bar, he may give you a luxuriant, sound account of how he got there. He may tell you that he was in bed in the morning and a cousin walked in and asked him for accompany to go check on an uncle at the bar, ended up in a meeting with the owner of the bar, and somehow a grandfather bought them beers.
What the poor soul is not able to remember in this case is that he in fact walked to the bar by himself to imbibe, with neither the company of a cousin nor a grandfather, both of whom might not even exist in the first place. That's the real power of booze now.

Can you imagine how it would be like to come home to a relative who can't remember you, or confabulates and tell you that he remembers you from back in Primary school; saying you were in the same class back then when in actual fact he went to primary school twenty years before you were born. It's not so cool, is it? Or imagine a relative or friend who, after years of a long, riotous marriage to alcohol, suddenly can't walk straight even when hundred percent sober, can't remember what day it is or where they are and insults everyone like never before, with no regard of the consequences of doing so. It's not so cool, is it?

To those who are on the pruno, I would like to warn that even as you imbibe, just remember that the battery acid added to the hooch by the staff at the mokokoonchebile 'brewery' may do its own additional damage, such as stiffening and tightening the throat, with the result that in the long run the poor throat wouldn't allow much food to pass through. This would be in addition to the brain damage done by the high alcohol content of the mokokoonchebile. That's a pretty bad combination, trust me. So go easy on the home brew.

As you sit in the bar having a few stiff ones just remember that things could get really stiff upstairs if you don't watch the 'traffic' of liquid going through your mouth. And as you look left and right to see if there are any cars coming before crossing the road, carrying a six-pack of booze, just beware that in a number of years' time you could be crossing the very same road, carrying your six-pack of beer and looking left and right, but this time not looking for traffic, but trying to figure out where exactly you are. A re bo nweng re bo tshela metsi bathong, ah eh. This is not even funny.

Nsununguli Mbo
Melbourne, Australia