Last Friday Night

You guys, I was a little late posting this but I wrote it Saturday morning. Finally getting on track here with the blog.

This country has its flaws. Most people are homophobic and you are looked down upon for public display of affection. But one law that I absolutely love is their legal drinking age law. You need to be 18 to buy or drink alcohol here, unlike 21 back in India. That’s great, since I don’t exactly want to commit crimes in a foreign country.

We decided that since it was Friday night, we would go clubbing. There is a bar called Frez, where tourists and locals flock alike and party. Hard. I was more than excited to see the nightlife of this place, which I already consider home. The idea was to pre drink and then leave, for we are all students and don’t have the money to get drunk in the club. After dinner of burgers (why even) we got ready and got down to business. I have never been able to pre drink, so this was the first time. I was quickly introduced to the game of King’s Cup, and God knows shit went down. I became two people’s drinking mate and it was just generally bad for me. I was stumbling at home, and it was not even cute.

Calling cabs for the club, we finally got there at around 10:00 pm, which was pretty early. We were one of the few people around, but that stopped nobody from getting on the dance floor. Ours was probably the first group to get started. Quick reminder to everyone, I’m a horrid dancer, but a few drinks in and apparently I don’t care anymore. The club itself was different than any I’ve seen before. It was open and weird disco lights kind of a thing, with sometimes green smilies projecting on the floor. It made me raise my brows, but when the crowd started filling in, it didn’t matter. It was all fun and games for a while. There were some women who danced with us, and boy were they good. One even tried to train me, but dancing is just not my thing. They were nice, mostly. Then the crowds started pouring.

At one point, it was just some girls dancing as the guys played beer pong. Some men joined us, and then two of them started dancing with two girls, one of them being me. I never got his name, but I knew he was a local. He towered above me, and was wearing some checkered shorts and a ha. Dancing at some distance was all fun, but then trouble started. I wasn’t interested in being intimate, and didn’t like the proximity and groping. Grabbing a friend, I went to the washroom to get out, hoping the guy gets the signal. Not really. Throughout the night, he kept trying to dance with me, hands over me as if my certain “no” didn’t matter. At two points, people had to help me get away (shoutout to Shelby and Adrian) and once I had to dig my nails into his hand. After that, at about 2 am, I was done with the club. I went out and home with others.

Oh, special mention to this other man who wanted to get me drinks and Indian men. How very considerate of you.

Basically, amazing place for a nightlife if you’re not super drunk or alone. However, I still have one question for all Zambians. Why do I hear Justin Bieber’s “sorry” everywhere I go? On the streets while people walk, children humming it in class, four times at the club and twice in the cab? What is it with that song and you?

I am trying to cure a mild hangover and a shitty mood, thanks the guy in a hat. So I shall go.


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