Short-change them on education and healthcare, but don’t take away their fun
When I was a soldier medic working in a military health facility, Monday mornings were always special in a different way.
Even before we had opened the doors, a long line formed bringing in the sick and wounded from the activities of high-octane weekends: mostly young males with dislodged joints and missing teeth from bar fights, vicious stomach bugs from consuming three-day old protein after endless swigs of tequila, and inevitably, the signature blistering of a new herpes infection, offered up like a burnt offering in the privacy of the doctor’s room.
The females had their own issues too, many of us partial to the same bar fights, poor diet and promiscuity that plagued the ranks. There is something bewitching about the hours between Friday evening and Sunday night that require the services of a professional exorcist.
More important for my introspection is the duality and even multiplicity of personality, that human beings can be so many things at the time, some of them in direct contradiction.
As soldiers, we wore the uniform proudly and swore oaths not to bring disgrace on the forces; standing tall in full dress at parade, the distinctive honour of serving was plain to all.
Rules and regulations were upheld without question, absolute discipline was the code of conduct, and discipline of mind and body was enforced with zero tolerance for weakness or stupidity. That was from Monday morning to Friday evening, when the demons escaped the strait jackets of our camouflage and wreaked havoc on our lives.
For many of us, life was a constant state of breaking and building, our lives shabby construction sites in various states of ‘unfinishedness’. Regardless, we plodded on, finding pain and pleasure in unusual places.
The powers that micromanaged us all week could easily have swept into force to curtail our Bacchian weekends, but they understood that sticks must be provided alongside carrots for us to stay in line, in full military readiness.
Which brings me to the furore over the Nyege Nyege Festival and the outstandingly bad idea that it be banned. As a helpful caveat, I have never attended nor intend to, mostly because it sounds like something I would do 20 years ago.
Nevertheless, I can understand its attraction and make space on the rustic bench of my life for people who enjoy it. Adults who have earned their right to make mistakes and learn from them, and in fact require these lessons to grow, need creative outlets to blow steam. Otherwise, you have a powder keg of unrequited passions to contend with later.
The moral giants amongst us would have us believe that this festival is a danger to the indelicate fabric of our society, but when we have stopped laughing at them for this truckload of manure-scented hypocrisy, we might point out the obvious fact that governments with tendencies to micromanage peoples’ weekend activities are never popular and may even hasten their own demise.
You may take away their healthcare and short-change them on education, but for the love of all that is crazy and good at the same time, don’t take away their fun! It is counter-intuitive to make the citizenry miserable all year round, just to give relevance to all these curmudgeonly Ethics and Integrity monitors wrinkling their noses with displeasure at the whiff of a good time.
God forbid that people indulge in drink and drugs and questionable sex! Good luck stopping them.
Ms Barenzi is a communications professional and writer
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