I surmised that ‘That column’ would have meant Ink Spills. I was flattered. Ink Spills is now referred to as ‘that column’, which means it is steadily creeping towards being referred to as ‘the column’ – an upgrade of ‘that column’. We are making progress, albeit at the pace of a tortoise with arthritis. It is still progress, nonetheless. When you meet a fan, there are sometimes unexpected perks. Instead of asking for a selfie, he insisted on buying me a fat cake and a Stoney ginger beer. That’s when I realized fame in Botswana comes with snacks and not necessarily huge contracts and money. I believe that when we get to the point where they call Ink Spills ‘the column’, then we will upgrade to more serious beverages. One of the fans offered me Cool Time – a frozen liquid refreshment from the Arctic Circle (I think), a neon-red, cylindrical tube of frozen, flavored sugar water. The kind that splits down the middle and stains your tongue for days.
He offered it right when I was trying to look serious. Nothing kills journalistic gravitas faster than dripping raspberry juice down your shirt. That left me wondering if this is the new currency of appreciation, like forget flowers, bring ice pops. I used to think fans would ask for selfies or autographs. The pressure to pretend I actually loved the Cool Time barreled down my system, and I started sucking on the refreshment. My tongue felt like a crime scene. But I persevered. For the fans. For the optics. One fan was not particularly happy with one part of my previous column, where I said ‘Do not bring a laptop. A laptop suggests you might actually do something like playing Solitaire in the middle of a very serious speech delivered by the first citizen.’ He told me he loves Solitaire and is not happy that self-righteous, know-all columnists with questionable credentials are always taking potshots at employees playing Solitaire- the only thing in our country that does not have a ‘system is down’ affliction. I was a little fascinated.
