I am a functional teetotaler, which means I lead a perfectly normal life without relying on alcohol. Being a teetotaler means I have mastered the art of saying ‘no’ to the ever-tempting siren song of cocktails and beers. While many are debating whether to have ‘just one more drink,’ I am out there savouring my sparkling water like it's liquid gold. I always remember what happened the night before, can drive at any given moment, and wake up with zero regrets and a fresh head—no hangovers while across the aisle my friends are searching for some salty food and grandpa headache powder. I am proof that you can have a good time, remember it, and even feel great the next day. Cheers to that! Being a teetotaler though means you always have to answer these types of questions:
‘Do you have a medical condition?’ ‘Did a bottle of wine try to kill your family?’ ‘Is that a religious dictate?’ ‘Are you on a break?’ ‘So, what do you do for fun, just remember everything?’ ‘How do you survive parties? Do you just vibe off other people’s regret?’ When you imbibe the holy waters you never get such questions. Your questions go something like ‘Do you take alcohol’ and when you answer ‘yes’ the response is usually something like ‘Praise God, hallelujah’. Today’s column though is not about ringing the plaudits for the sobre bench. No! Half the population doesn’t like being reminded of the Dos their mothers preached incessantly in their youth. This past weekend I was at a Get Together with friends who graduated from the University of Botswana in the 1900s – 1993 to be precise – which is a long time ago in the past century. We are the pre-Google, pre-bluetooth, pre-agriculture-infused alcohol cohort. Basically, civilization seems to have started just after finishing our Bachelors degrees. I am not making any claims that we had anything to do with the fact that civilisation took off in a massive way just when we started working. But it is a welcome coincidence. Please throw the plaudits in that box over there in the corner! When you drink Fanta in such events your level of sophistication is very low and suspicion hovers around you and never leaves.
I mean most people are drinking from funkily-shaped glasses and you are gulping from a can. Egad! People are swirling their drinks slowly and talking about their history and where they were brewed, in slopes and valleys by strange white men in countries outside Africa while you know very little about your drink except that it was brewed somewhere in Broadhurst. It was a tough conversation and as it progressed, my contribution was reduced to; ‘Oh absolutely’ ‘Great point you are making there’ ‘I totally agree’ These types of responses are the Swiss Army knife of blank brain moments to mask your shortfalls. A friend who stopped short of saying ‘Hey Fanta man, do you have a definitive guide to repelling bees’ then suggested I try Glenfiddich, which is a massive upgrade from a no liquor position. Whisky drinkers are a sophisticated lot and they will start telling you about the age of the whisky so this was the genesis of my whisky journey. Apparently that is a very important dimension of a whisky.
You never hear beer drinkers telling you the St Louis Lager they are drinking is five-years-old. The first sip hit me like a warm hug from an old friend who smells suspiciously of campfires and ex-girlfriend’s cologne. And I switched on the whisky face— that unmistakable wince and sigh combo that follows the burn - as if you're both suffering and savouring at the same time. But inwardly I was stuck at suffering – no savouring. I rallied and swirled the glass like a master sommelier, but deep down I was losing the battle faster than a squirrel with a caffeine boost. I started trying to pluck off words that could be used to describe my drink but got them all wrong. I called my drink ‘peaty’ and everyone around me nodded in confused agreement, pretending to understand. My friend, the one who started this whole ‘try-some-whisky’ saga patiently explained to me that Glenfiddich is not peaty, has never been peaty and will never be peaty. So for now it seems like my future with whisky is bleak. But I have to try again, I want to try again. Taste buds and budget willing! Not to mention friends high on peer pressure bundles.
(For comments, feedback and insults email [email protected]) Thulaganyo Jankey is a Rapporteur and training consultant who runs his own training consultancy that provides training in BQA- accredited courses. His other services include registering consultancies with BQA and developing training courses. Contact him on 74447920 or email [email protected]
