It was a common joke at the International Institution, whenever we referred to the two best known and documented sex maniacs, Stakes ‘Girls’ Chitambo and Deograta Kamugode that they had had so many sex partners they sometimes met them and had no idea why such persons were smiling at or trying to be friendly with them!  ‘Girls’ made it clear that it didn’t really matter though there was a time when he kept a diary complete with dates and other important statistics like names, residential addresses and work places, where the partner was willing to release such.
The regularity with which he was finding himself with new partners and even the circumstances later rendered this exercise untenable so he gave it up.  So he indeed was sometimes accosted by ladies who knew him by name but of whom he had no recollection of ever having met.  Some got pretty vexed about it while others told him it was all right since he was a known hooker, a rake that swept everything in its path, or a wreck in life that did evil sex things to and with all sorts of people and he felt no remorse about it.
It was more common with me to not ever recognise women I had been with the previous night.  The reason is simple. Whereas my friend ‘Girls’ is a born, straightforward womaniser who identified beauty in all sorts of women including young girls selling fritters or old women starving and craving for attention from males, I usually only lost it and misbehaved when I got myself drowned in too much alcohol.  Of course I would sometimes have a faint recollection of my misdeeds.  If I had been in the company of Dexter Kabotolo and/or ‘Girls’ when the misdeeds occurred, they told me about it, in many cases mostly teasing me over my choice or whatever other misadventures might have accompanied the escapade.
“But ba Meexy zoona, olo nicitengetenge ija ndule yanu yamailo inacilamo (Meexy really, even if you have to get ladies anyhow, your choice of last night was totally hopeless),” would tease Dex.  “Gelo mendo monga pulanga yopangila coffin ija yakudala ya black yotailamo ba kaili (how could you pick a girl with legs like a piece of timber for making those old fashioned black coffins in which they used to inter prisoners)!”
“And very protective of her,” would add ‘Girls’, “as if anyone would grab such a one from you, Meexy, hahahahaaaa.”
“Aini kuikumbata tight nokalipila ba michopo monga bangaifune mbuma yanu ba Meexy (and holding her so closely and warning off the boys braaing meat as if they would make a move for such a mess of a woman,” that would be Dex.
“Cinakupeleka kuti kwamene unabwela matika suit yonse ai (Where did she take you for you to return moments later with your suit all mud)?” would follow up ‘Girls’.
They would tease and chuckle and laugh and whatever else at my expense knowing all the time I must have been so drunk I must have ended up slipping and falling in mud on my way from wherever the so called ugly lady had taken me.
“Olo wadwala kaswende ba Meexy ufunika ucitokamba ati (even if in the process you contact a sexually transmitted infection) you should be able to say it was worth it because the woman was very beautiful. Manje ba Meexy ni zesco donsa mama malinga cavala knicker pasanga lokoto (but with you Meexy you just tug anything as long as it is in knickers!  I even wonder why mukalibolumiwako na njoka olo mphasi cabe musanga mwamene mupangila vopangapanga vanu (It’s a mystery how you manage to not get bitten by snakes or red ants in those bushes where you go to make whatever it is you make).”
“The alcohol puts them off,” would tease ‘Girls’.  “When they prepare for a bite they smell so much alcohol so they are dissuaded lest they themselves reach their homes dead drunk from biting a drunken imbecile!”  This causes uproarious laughter.
When I went to a joint along Kafue road to drink one beer on my way from visiting my wife’s cousin in Chilanga one early evening, I was soon mobbed by a cluster of excited scantily dressed ladies who obviously didn’t want me to enter the pub before congratulating me.  One of them, and again not the most beautiful, was excitedly telling her friends I was the man she had told them about.  As they hugged me and congratulated me shouting among other things “Munabacita bwino mwandi ba brother bacilamo (You ‘did them well’ brother because it’s too much)!”
I was about to protest mistaken identity when some of the things she was saying to her friends sounded a bit familiar so I decided to bask in my glory and perhaps be able to glean something about my escapade a few days back when drunk as a fly, I had made yet another majestic stopover at this joint.  After all the excitement from the girls, I decided to invite the main actor in this whole thing for a drink inside so she could tell me all the details.  What I was told I now reproduce hahahahaaaa!
Early evening on the material day, and after agreeing illicit sex terms with this sex worker, she had suggested we go into one of the rooms which was going for K60 per hour but I stated in no uncertain terms that such an amount would buy me six Castle Lites so we should instead drive a few hundred metres into some open space between the Kafue road and some buildings adjacent to it and get busy in the back seat of my wife’s Starlet.  We did just that and parked about 200 metres away in semi darkness but before we could get too busy, some man appeared on the scene and authoritatively asked us what the hell we were doing.  He threatened to take stern action against us for fornicating in public and the like.  While the girl started apologising and asking for forgiveness, I did my zipper, stood up and faced the man straight like boxers do when sizing each other.
“And who the hell are you interrupting my pleasure here and threatening me with fake charges?” I roared at him.
He identified himself as a guard though he was not in uniform and did not look like a guard.  I told him he was a masquerade putting on a charade of a show where he had no business interfering.
“You are not a guard!” I shouted at him.  “You knew what we were doing here with this girl.  You saw us leaving and parking here so you came from the pub to satisfy your curiosity.  You think we are a pornographic video for your free viewing?”
He was being nettlesome and argumentative, assuring me that if he blew his whistle, I would be thoroughly scandalised, that I would be on Picture of the Day on MUVI TV and that that aside, I would receive a definite and very sound beating from the passersby who would be attracted to the scene.  He wondered why such a ‘big man’ like myself would want to have sex by the road side in a ‘car boot’ (the fool) when I obviously had a home with a wife starving for sex while I was busy playing with bitches as he called them. In case, if it was important to fornicate with bitches couldn’t I do like the others by paying for a room?  The girl was busy pleading with him to have mercy on us, while also pleading with me to apologise.
“Let him blow his stupid whistle,” I retorted rudely.  “Go on and blow your whistle.  What do you think this girl is going to eat if I don’t finish what I started and pay her what she has charged me?  What will prostitutes eat and use for feeding their children and paying for medical fees and sending children to school if your likes will come and interrupt us good Samaritans when we get a chance to help them?  I will count six and if you don’t bloody blow your so called whistle or disappear, I will pick my wheel spanner from the car boot and you can start counting the number of teeth I will knock out of your mouth! ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR…!” and the bastard, instead of blowing his non-existent whistle quietly walked into the night now threatening to return with a battalion of police officers from Embassy police post.
The girl said after the man had left I insisted on finishing the business we had come for or else I would charge her for my fuel (and it was only 200 metres away from the pub).  She was scared the man might organise drunken thugs and return to beat us up so she begged me to let her go back to the pub, that I could return the following day and get free services from her for my heroics and so on.  I assured her the thug would not return and so, reluctant though she was, we sat chatting about such people who never minded their own businesses etc. for a good twenty or so minutes before I drove her back to the pub and went my way.
Talk about reckless drinking!  Here I was, threatening someone (in the dark) with a severe beating when I surely would have gotten pounded myself!  I could have lost my teeth instead!  Yaaaba!  Enjoy your Sunday mweee.