Cybermischief
SEE YOU at dawn with pistols drawn ... Well, not quite at dawn. It was 1 pm in the West End of London last Friday when, out of nowhere, about 1 500 people appeared in the busiest shopping street and began squirting one another with waterpistols.
It was a kind of repeat of World Pillowfight Day when, in various cities of the world, people suddenly set about one another with pillows - feathers flying - to the consternation of police and onlookers, who were absolutely unprepared for it.
Both were organised by social networking websites. A posting on the internet said: "As soon as the clock strikes 1pm, let battle commence - get as many other people wet without getting wet yourself! Last one with a dry T-shirt wins!!!"
However, the water fight got a bit out of hand. It took the police eight hours to restore order, five people were arrested and one person required hospital treatment for facial injuries.
All the same, it sounds great fun. The internet can be used in all kinds of positive ways.
Lusikisiki
THE Oxford Street water fight bears a resemblance to the great Lusikisiki egg and tomato fight, in days of yore.
The internet had nothing to do with this, of course. It was years before the microchip had been invented. It was purely spontaneous.
A group us were taking refreshment in the bar of the Royal Hotel, Lusikisiki. We were camping down at Mbotyi, on the coast, and we had with us several large packets of eggs and several of tomatoes, which we had bought in the village for ourselves and for cottagers at Mbotyi.
Lusikisiki in those days was like a Wild West town – horses tethered up and down the main street, groups of Pondo riders galloping up and down in their colourful blankets and turbans, raising clouds of dust and whooping like cowboys.
Perhaps that created the atmosphere for the duel that ensued. A verbal dispute between two members of our party had ended in deadlock. The only honourable way out of it, we decided, was a duel. Each was given an egg. They stood back to back. They were instructed to walk three paces, turn and let fly.
At the end of the bar, the local police sergeant was guffawing at the scene.
Splat! Splat! The eggs flew. Then the antagonists dived for the packets for more ammo. Then everyone dived for the packets. It became a free-for-all. The place became a blizzard of flying eggs and tomatoes The sergeant and the hotel manager locked themselves in the office, watching developments through the glass door.
It subsided as soon as we ran out of ammo. The sergeant and the manager emerged, the manager to recruit a team of women with buckets and mops, the sergeant to levy spot fines on each one of us for bad behaviour, which he then handed to the cleaning women in payment.
Things were fun in those days, uncomplicated. I like to think we were forerunners of the pillowfight and water pistol artists.
Human computer
THAT same pub in Lusikisiki had a barman called National Cash, so named because that was the name of the latest accounting machine. National Cash had a mind like a computer (except computers hadn't been invented yet).
A pint of beer in those days cost 15 cents (Can you believe it?). Three of us would go into the pub and order a round. National Cash would get a scrap of paper and write on it, in a column: 15, 15, 15. Then he would add it up, making his calculations out loud: "Five, ten, fifteen … that's five, carry one. One, two, three plus one – 45 cents, gentlemen!"
Then he'd throw away the piece of paper. Then if you ordered another round of three beers, he'd go through the performance again.
It was good to see a man on whom the drill of primary school arithmetic had made such a lasting impression.
Lusikisiki here I come,
Right back where I started from …
Tailpiece
THE OPTIMIST says the glass is half full. The pessimist says it's half empty. The engineer says it's twice as big as it needs to be.
Last word
Always get married early in the morning. That way, if it doesn't work out, you haven't wasted a whole day.
GRAHAM LINSCOTT
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