WITH the passage of time, Lazzo had learnt to get to grips with miscellaneous behaviour in the hood.
Every sunrise brought with it new revelations and this typical day, he got wind of someone’s demise in the night!
The grapevine has it that he was clobbered by hoodlums in the dead of night and as usual every other detail remained in the annals of mystery.
The incident was recipe for speculation at the watering hole where many theories flew in the humid and cigarette smoke atmosphere.
Still, one son of the hood had gone on a pleasure jaunt with his mentors who turned out to have picked his pockets during the drinking binge.
But his missus had a different version that in fact, Lazzo’s mentor who was a security guard off the main highway branching to the hood was paid as he knocked off during the night shift.
From that point, he and his rewarded erstwhile colleagues decided to head southwards towards Kafue town.
After the overnight escapade, he picked a quarrel with his mates whom he accused of having dipped into his pockets.
One of the principal suspects unleashed fists of fury to the
complainant who bled profusely during the drunken brawl.
Quickly, the assailant rushed to alert the long arms of the law as one patron disclosed that in fact, he knew the son of the hood well!
“What happened?,” asked the slant forehead man curious as usual wanting to acquaint himself with the details of gossip.
“It’s your friend’s son who went out with friends but he ended up helping himself to the ‘buyer’s cash!,” another patrons declared with a tone of a witness but who never was!
“But you know that young man and you cannot doubt his ability to surprise the hood with his antics!,” said another patron as if complementing  the previous speaker.
Another wondered why citizens in the hood found themselves roaming in the night when they should be indoors.
“You know very well that entertainment thrives in the night around here and by the time one checks for time, it’s too late,” said the slant forehead man.
“Anyone who has lived here for a long time should know that the ‘Anthill Pub’ area teems with hoodlums who lurk in the dark parts of the hood.  One evening, I overheard them planning to attack me because I had bought a couple of bottles that night,” he disclosed.
But as they schemed to waylay him, he had figured out their plan and moved out of the watering hole briskly disappearing into the night.
However, a few minutes before he made the first turn, he saw a band of youths hastily trying to catch up with him.
He then hit on an idea as he was two metres away from a deserted roadside stall which during the day served as a selling point for barbeque comprising pieces of pork roasted on a four-legged metallic stand.
The man sneaked into this makeshift structure which was covered with sheets of polythene plastic as he listened to the footsteps of his pursuers passingby!
“He has disappeared behind that house!,” crisply declared one of the hoodlums as if urging his mates to quicken the pace towards the fleeing fugitive.
Fortunately for the hiding man, none of the youths had an idea anyone would be hiding there!
Again, they walked hurriedly back to the watering hole after
their futile hunt of a possible victim.
When he was sure that they had all left, the hiding patron of the hood sprinted to freedom with his heart in his mouth.
He had just survived a possible mugging by the night marauders who are naturally ruthless that after battering someone, they also take the clothes off  him!
At the watering hole, a woman disclosed that although there were isolated cases of hoodlums reigning supreme in some parts of the hood, she ran into a police ‘shishita’ (loitering) dragnet.
“I saw this mini-bus heading towards me and driving rather slowly and then I got concerned because no normal bus was supposed to be moving that night and suddenly, a cop came out and ordered me into the bus with several passengers!,” she disclosed to a receptive patronage.
At the Police post, she lied that she was coming from work at the casino off the highway leading to the hood and was heading home when she ran into the cop dragnet.
“I was lucky, they understood and let me go home that night!,”  she said like a repentant wrongdoer.
She further disclosed that she left the watering hole rather late but with the current load-shedding, the watering holes closed much earlier than usual and there was no need for anyone to be loitering in the night unless they were hoodlums.
Lazzo observed that isolated cases of the worst had happened to some people out on a pleasure jaunt in the hood.
He noted that like some desperate characters in the central business district of the city who sometimes take refuge in incomplete and abandoned buildings, their character sketch aptly fits the misfits of the hood!
The worst however was running into a pack of them as the challenge hinges on a remote chance of survival without a scathing.
As the patronage debated the recent happenings in the hood, Lazzo simultaneously recalled his previous personal experiences.
Lazzo began to think that he had joined a myriad  members of society that thought the hood was all they have had was apparently  their destiny.
But had he a choice? He concluded that there were issues man had no control over and one of them was the choice to dwell in a typical habitat like the hood.
Lazzo could see that the draining of lager glasses was accompanied by constant consciousness to the contemporary culture of load-shedding which tended to make  patrons sit on their edges.
The blackouts came suddenly and momentarily sending the patronage into a trance of darkness and instant adjustment to candlelight, ending the loud music reverberation from the gigantic speakers!