Not every buddy is a friend

 Who are your pals, exactly? Do you have friends who enrich your life or take anything away from it? Many people have seen life changes for the better or worse as a result of the companions they choose to surround themselves with. Consequently, how you select your mates is important. I met a man in my neighborhood one Saturday when I was in my 20s and living alone. We had a long conversation about a variety of topics. He gave me a drink invitation to a local bar the same night so we could talk for longer. He had a good voice. I accepted his offer, anxious to meet new people and establish friends. When we first met, we did not have enough time to talk. I therefore believed that our meeting that evening would give me a chance to get to know him better. He placed a beer order for us not long after I took a seat. We spoke and drank. I can't recall what we discussed. But one skill I do possess is the capacity to hold lengthy conversations on a variety of issues with people of every age, academic level, gender, race, or social standing. We could talk for hours if you're interested in talking about music, parties, pets, books, movies, politics, business, religion, or relationships. I'm willing to talk with you about anything you want to talk about. Even if I didn't know much about it, I would still be paying attention and interrogating you. I've discovered that individuals enjoy being heard and having their questions answered. He placed a new order for my drink when it became empty. I objected, but he would have none of it. He reached for the opener and opened the drink for me with an amicable demeanor. After some chit-chat, I was able to finish the second bottle even though I had practically had my fill. I told myself that was it for me when the second bottle was nearly empty. Not another bottle, please.

But before I could say anything, lo and behold, he ordered another bottle and cracked it open. We had been at the bar for almost two hours. I decided it was time to enter. The man was uninterested in it. He questioned me about if I had a child at home to nurse or a wife who would be upset if I arrived late. Other than the desire to return home and sleep, I had no compelling justification. He urged me to sit down after dismissing all I said. I pondered the circumstance for some time. He would be offended if I insisted and went without drinking that beverage. But I recalled Chinua Achebe's quotes, according to which men ingest poison out of fear of offending someone, and that the only remedy for alcoholism is the ability to say "no." I questioned whether keeping up with him wouldn't put me in more trouble. I sat down as he continued telling stories because I knew that the taste of beer would never be alluring enough to for me to become intoxicated. But then I had a thought. Was it this guy's goal to get me drunk so he could later claim that I had consumed so much alcohol that I couldn't find my house? If he had that as his goal, it would not be accomplished. Prior to it and up until today, I had never been intoxicated. I thought of the saying among my people: Eneke the bird claimed that since people have mastered the art of shooting accurately, he has mastered the art of flying without perching. I also recalled a proverb from my ancestors that stated that when the drumming changed, so did the dancing step. In my head, I told him, "Two can play this game!" The tavern was located in a wide-open area with a bare, sandy floor. The ground had a modest slope to it. On the lowest section, I was seated. The bar was beginning to empty. I would raise the bottle to my mouth as if I were taking a draught before setting it down next to me. I would tip the bottle nearly to the floor as we continued to talk, the music blaring from the speakers drowning out the sound of the beer bubbling inside the bottle. The beverage would spill briefly over the sand before seeping into the ground, giving the ancestors a chance to partake. I would again raise the bottle to my mouth for a short period of time before placing it by my side to serve the libation to the dead. The bottle would go dry soon, and he would place another order. I gave up arguing with him and made sure I wasn't being stingy to the ancestors.

Only the two of us remained at the pub as the night drew on and everyone else left. We carried on playing our game. By midnight, when the bar's owner was about to close, my beer-giving host decided it was time for us to go. I thanked him for being so kind. Home was approximately four homes distant, or 200 meters, down the deserted street. I walked home after we said our goodbyes. I'm not sure if he observed my voice and footsteps to see if they were the same as they had been earlier in the evening. I didn't interact with the man again after that. I always told him I had an engagement when he wanted to meet at the bar whenever he spotted me. I eventually stopped spotting him around the neighborhood. Most likely, he relocated or had some sort of change. I made no attempt to find him because I had no idea of his whereabouts. I wasn't even certain I could recall his name. I didn't miss the short-lived romance at all. In life, I've met a lot of lovely people. I've had good luck with the friends I choose. Perhaps as a result of the friends I select. I attempt, as Benjamin Franklin said, to be slow in making friends and even slower in letting those friends change. I steer clear of individuals who are willing to harm their friends with alcohol, tobacco, heavy drugs, and call girls. That is not being generous. That isn't friendship, either. That is hostile behavior.

Tweeting as @BrandAzuka

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