It was Saturday morning and the twilight of the rising sun hit my eyes causing me to have a reflex action as I woke up and tried to figure out what was going on. The absence of a wailing alarm from my trusted Nokia gadget quickly reminded me that it was a weekend and therefore my presence at the office wasn’t needed today. A smile started to form on my face as I hopped out of bed and looked over the busy road outside my shared flat. The sight of teenage girls in bright mini skirts and bikini tops and their male companions in beach shorts and huge, dark sunglasses out and about made me realise how much I’d overslept. As I stood there, my mind started pondering how I was going to spend the day given that I had now been officially single for a whole week. Some four or so weeks ago at this very moment I would have instead been waking up to the tantalising aroma of bacon and eggs from the kitchen as my girlfriend made it a point to come over spend quality time with me at the weekend. Unfortunately, things went bad between us as I was spending more time working than with her, and in the short time in which I could see her I would be too tired to chat and cuddle. But, as they say, life’s an ass and it can shit on you sometimes if you’re not careful —  and I hadn’t been careful!

As a black African in the middle of a small town in East England I have to travel long distances if I’m to have any hope to speak to someone else in my mother language. Don’t get me wrong, the English are nice, friendly people but sometimes when you’re a foreigner you need that ‘homely’ feel that you can only get from eating your traditional staple foods or just sharing a joke or two in your language and downing some beer from the motherland. La vie est belle!

That Saturday, after a rather long bath I fixed myself a quick ‘African bachelor’s breakfast’ of a can of Carling and some toast … strange, innit? We are used to that reaction — some people think our culture is strange too. I was really feeling the void left by my departed girlfriend. The bin was overflowing, tea towels were dirty, the sink was full of dirty pans and now here I was having a beer for breakfast! I got a hold of my South African friend who lived a good sixty miles away from my little village of Hathern in Loughborough. Interestingly, he had received a call from some fellow Zimbos (street lingo for a Zimbabwean) living close by his place so this made for a good ingredient towards a fired-up weekend among other workaholic African bachelors. I rushed through my breakfast to make sure I’d get over to ‘the African entertainment capital’ of Milton before any hot gossip had been shared around without me.

Along the way, my friend rang back to let me know that we would be meeting at the usual spot (we call it ‘the Hole’), which is a large open space at a farm currently being rented by a fellow Zimbabwean for agriculture but also entertainment purposes. He had converted this former horse farm into a family centre (or rather a bachelor and spinster centre) ideal for meeting new people and having a good BBQ or gochi gochi/amawoso as it is more popularly known among South Africans. This place was perfect for those with huge egos eager to show off their latest babes and ‘babies’ — and by ‘babies’ I’m talking about sleek Mercedes CLKs, Nissan Z3’s, X5’s and the prestigious Hummer H3’s. With almost everyone in attendance donning the latest American designer labels from head to toe, a newcomer could mistake this place for a 50 Cent video set. Chocolate skinned, long-haired girls, mixed race, ebony, Latino, blondes, brunettes — every type of girl you might fantasize about is usually in here somewhere and sipping on some Tia Maria, Amarula or Smirnoff Ice. All the money making ‘ideas’ are conceived here over a few drinks, and this is also the place to sample the latest music from home as the ‘big shots’ show off their mighty in-car sound systems.

As I slowly navigated my way into the yard, I was met by the sight of some light smoke slowly filtering into the air as revellers carefully tossed and turned chicken pieces over hot coal briquettes stands. If there’s one thing that’s close to an African man’s heart, it is undeniably his love for a piece of barbecued meat! I don’t think there is any ethnic group in the world that loves meat more than the Africans do. I think we take it from our ancestors who are renowned for their hunting prowess and love of a good barbecued meal.

My friends were waiting for me at the hole with an inviting piece of hot and spicy chicken thigh and a frosty can of my favourite Carling beer. I quickly noticed how low I was still perched in the rankings among all my friends who, since we last caught up had upgraded their cars for a better models with low mileage and loads of extras. I was still driving my trusted 1993 Nissan Micra with economical 0.9litre fuel consumption! No matter, no one would to be successful in convincing me to change my ‘baby’ because the bond I had formed with her was just fine with me.

Drinks flowed and the quantity and quality of good barbecue available would have ignited a nationwide PETA demonstration against the Africans and their meat eating habits. We discussed the situation bedevilling our beloved Zimbabwe and people joked about the inflation and how we have set records for having millionaires among almost every citizen. People joked about the political impasse and how the opposition is slowly taking over our country, we joked about how the opposition leader’s portrait would look strange hanging in a government building. People joked about what the President and the opposition leader chatted about on the sidelines of their meeting earlier on. Such is the way Africans live their lives, as if we don’t care but deep down we are patriotic through and through. When bad things happen, we try not to focus on them as it does little but kill our morale, so instead we look on the positives so as to draw more motivation. We joke about our problems but are surprised to see the world mourn on our behalf. Look around and see how many vigils or protests have been staged outside Africa by non-Africans over human rights abuse or the lack of democracy? Darfur, Somalia, Ethiopia, Kenya and now Zimbabwe, have all made news headlines in Europe, America and Australasia but still our citizens joke about their own ‘bad luck’ and keep looking to the skies (or to the spirits) for a resolution… What a religious lot we are!

After all was said and done, as that Saturday turned to night some lucky ones among us checked back over their phones to make sure they really HAD saved that girl’s number. Some people actually meet their soul mates at these gatherings as almost all attending are singles and only a few couples frequent the Hole. This week I was lucky — not in matters of love — but in that I enjoyed a wonderful day as single man just having great fun, chatting to friends and meeting new people. It was enjoyable checking out the new car models and listening to the latest music hits from the motherland. Nothing beats a good beer and a good laugh, even when I’m this far from my home.