In the name of a beer
Jul 13, 2006
Need an excuse to gulp a crate of beer and take to your heels thereafter? Just join the Hash House Harriers, the wackiest band of merrymakers in town and the executive officers with a fetish for running while high.
By Titus Serunjogi
Need an excuse to gulp a crate of beer and take to your heels thereafter? Just join the Hash House Harriers, the wackiest band of merrymakers in town and the executive officers with a fetish for running while high. You wouldn’t tell their marathon from a street bash-complete with singing (or is it yelling?), boogying and, of course, swilling more pints of beer. Naughty? May be, but it seems as if all the bosses in town have caught the craze for ‘hashing’.
Recently, the merry bunch of hashers had gathered in a circle outside Alleygators, Garden City. Among the hundreds were Stanbic Bank’s Kitili Mbathi, MTN’s Richard Mwami, Uganda Revenue Authority’s Charles Gabunga, Arapapa’s Santa Anzo, MUBS lecturer Sam Sejjaka,
International Hospital’s Ian Clarke and Princes David Wasajja and Kenneth Kangye. And having downed a few pints, all took to their heels traversing through bushes and streams and mud for more than five miles.
But forget those gruelling marathons.
bout halfway through every run, I begin imagining a cold beer waiting for me. And it is a great way to get about,†says Justin Nsubuga, the PRO of international Air Ambulance. At the end of that run, the executives aka ‘wankers’ were back at
Alleygators and spoilt themselves with rib-splitting karaoke. You should have seen the half-drunken men and women crooning Wanchekecha, Dorotia, Swimming Pool and Seggwanga accompanied with the bawdiest dances. Those hundreds could have brought the roof down with their laughter.
But for all that excitement amongst themselves, these grubby guys and girls hardly knew each others’ names! They referred to each other with all sorts of lewd titles: Stripper, Mpuuta, Sexy Hillary, Night dancer, Loketo, Pig Daddy… whatever.
“The hash house is the one place where you can let your hair down and no one will judge you by anything except your sense of humour. It is a nice way to beat the stress,†says Dr. Ian Clarke of International Hospital Kampala.
For Kitili Mbathi, the fraternity calls him Pocahontas, since he likes to lead them during chants. Sometimes, during the run, he will sing out the Christmas carols and even nursery rhymes. The Alert Guards’ Director is best known as Night dancer because he is such a party animal. There is a Sunset Stripper because she did so once, after a run. Justin Nsubuga takes on from one Afghan city. Go to any hashers’ bash and ask for Sexy Hillary, and they will call you Dr. Ian Clarke.
Latest members in the club are called Ugly faces. And the initiation rite? They are showered with beer from head to toe; so are sinners, those who have had ‘sex on the hash’, that is holding each others’ hands or tapping another runner’s behind.
Still, no hasher must run like a hounded rabbit. You can set off on a slow jog, then walk, then stop to sit down and have a beer, or just roll down the hill, or to run topless… anything. Just have fun. Afterwards, you can gather with the in a circle outside a pub, chug beer and throw some bawdy stuff about.
“Every once in a while, it’s very offensive, but you take it with a grain of salt. You just say, ‘I’m not going to get offended tonight’.
And with a few pitchers of water and beer, you won’t mind anything,†says a hasher, who was fretted about having her name mentioned, for fear of ‘hash shit’.
And this happy-go-lucky lifestyle has had its toll on the execs. You will know a hasher by their boldness, carefree lifestyle and positive outlook on life and their obsession with Sudoku. Now, you can weigh the health benefits of running against the social benefits of drinking.
Need an excuse to gulp a crate of beer and take to your heels thereafter? Just join the Hash House Harriers, the wackiest band of merrymakers in town and the executive officers with a fetish for running while high. You wouldn’t tell their marathon from a street bash-complete with singing (or is it yelling?), boogying and, of course, swilling more pints of beer. Naughty? May be, but it seems as if all the bosses in town have caught the craze for ‘hashing’.
Recently, the merry bunch of hashers had gathered in a circle outside Alleygators, Garden City. Among the hundreds were Stanbic Bank’s Kitili Mbathi, MTN’s Richard Mwami, Uganda Revenue Authority’s Charles Gabunga, Arapapa’s Santa Anzo, MUBS lecturer Sam Sejjaka,
International Hospital’s Ian Clarke and Princes David Wasajja and Kenneth Kangye. And having downed a few pints, all took to their heels traversing through bushes and streams and mud for more than five miles.
But forget those gruelling marathons.
bout halfway through every run, I begin imagining a cold beer waiting for me. And it is a great way to get about,†says Justin Nsubuga, the PRO of international Air Ambulance. At the end of that run, the executives aka ‘wankers’ were back at
Alleygators and spoilt themselves with rib-splitting karaoke. You should have seen the half-drunken men and women crooning Wanchekecha, Dorotia, Swimming Pool and Seggwanga accompanied with the bawdiest dances. Those hundreds could have brought the roof down with their laughter.
But for all that excitement amongst themselves, these grubby guys and girls hardly knew each others’ names! They referred to each other with all sorts of lewd titles: Stripper, Mpuuta, Sexy Hillary, Night dancer, Loketo, Pig Daddy… whatever.
“The hash house is the one place where you can let your hair down and no one will judge you by anything except your sense of humour. It is a nice way to beat the stress,†says Dr. Ian Clarke of International Hospital Kampala.
For Kitili Mbathi, the fraternity calls him Pocahontas, since he likes to lead them during chants. Sometimes, during the run, he will sing out the Christmas carols and even nursery rhymes. The Alert Guards’ Director is best known as Night dancer because he is such a party animal. There is a Sunset Stripper because she did so once, after a run. Justin Nsubuga takes on from one Afghan city. Go to any hashers’ bash and ask for Sexy Hillary, and they will call you Dr. Ian Clarke.
Latest members in the club are called Ugly faces. And the initiation rite? They are showered with beer from head to toe; so are sinners, those who have had ‘sex on the hash’, that is holding each others’ hands or tapping another runner’s behind.
Still, no hasher must run like a hounded rabbit. You can set off on a slow jog, then walk, then stop to sit down and have a beer, or just roll down the hill, or to run topless… anything. Just have fun. Afterwards, you can gather with the in a circle outside a pub, chug beer and throw some bawdy stuff about.
“Every once in a while, it’s very offensive, but you take it with a grain of salt. You just say, ‘I’m not going to get offended tonight’.
And with a few pitchers of water and beer, you won’t mind anything,†says a hasher, who was fretted about having her name mentioned, for fear of ‘hash shit’.
And this happy-go-lucky lifestyle has had its toll on the execs. You will know a hasher by their boldness, carefree lifestyle and positive outlook on life and their obsession with Sudoku. Now, you can weigh the health benefits of running against the social benefits of drinking.