Zimbabwe
Aaah, Zimbabwe. Land of the Matabele and the Zulu. Once great land of riches, gold copper, cattle and wildlife. Formerly Rhodesia, named after the homosexual Imperialist who tamed the savage tribes. His visions of a Cape to Cairo railroad thwarted by the terrain itself and the other European nations eager to divide up the continent.
I’ve never been there. But I’ll tell you a story relating to Zimbabwe. Our story starts in Munich.
The Munich Beerfest is a celebration of beer as only the Germans can. Litre glass Steins of beer, overflowing Beerhalls, beer, lederhosen, beer, Oompah bands, beer, singing, beer, German rituals and beer. You get the drift. Others have developed their own rituals here as well, such as the Aussie and Kiwi campers who descend on ‘Thaalkirchen’ campground in September every year.
Munich Beerfest 1990
The Antipodeans arrive with their campervans or tents from all over Europe a week before the Beerfest actually starts. In 1990 we got there on the Saturday afternoon a week ahead and by next morning it was closed. Full. They do organised trips to the BMW factory and Dachau, but basically it is about drinking and warming up for the beerfest. Funnily enough after being there for a week, when it opens on the Saturday many Antipodean campers leave on the Sunday as it is the end of the summer tour and they go back to England to earn more money. Then the Italians come in apparently.
They have developed a drinking game that must be seen to be believed. Contestants must drink one beer per minute for as long as they can. The rules? Simple. The beer is drunk from a used film canister. Seems easy enough. A film canister. Tiny. Sound easy? Wait for the rest of the rules. You must remain seated at all times. You cannot be sick. You cannot have a wee. Or you’re out. Ooh. Now it sounds tougher. Last one still seated and drinking wins.
It is conducted each year, and originated back to England where the Anitpodeans gather at “The Church” (another story entirely) regularly to, well, drink. The previous record holder was a girl, who lasted 140 minutes. 140 minutes in the one spot without a wee. That equates to about 10 stubbies of beer. An amazing feat for anyone, let alone a reportedly petite girl.
So the contestants prepare with big breakfasts, low liquid intake and many wee wee stops before the game. Now I warn you that this game and its shenanigans are quite rude and coarse, so if you wish you may end the book right here! You have been warned.
They bring their own chairs into a big circle, open their own beers before hand to let the gas go out and await the timekeeper. I remind you, girls do this as well. We struck one crew of rough girlies who were called the “12 tits on tour”.
The timekeeper enters wearing a funny green fluffy hat, an overcoat, and a watch. He has been doing this for the past three years and is rumoured to be retiring this year.
Just one part of just one beerhall at the Munich beerfest
The game begins. Each contestant drinks their beer to a great roar from the crowd. We estimate there are about a 100 people gathered, including support teams. I do not dare go in as I do not drink a lot of beer and am positive I will not reach 100 (the legendary 100 Club is status amongst this crowd). So I just help and support the three boys from our crew who are attempting the feat.
Thereafter, the contestants receive a 10 second warning and then drink. So at the 50 second mark a ready call, 60 second mark, drink. Our boys go well and we help them on. Every now and then the timekeeper calls a “piss-check”. Whereby his helpers go around and check the front of peoples pants to make sure they have not wet themselves without telling anyone, and without standing up. Charming.
A great hurrah goes up when the first person drops out with a big spew, quite early on. The drinking has been so intense for a few days now that some have not prepared well enough.
There follows a display of piggery that, as I said at the outset, has seen to be believed. People try to pee on the timekeeper. People spew on their mates near them. One guy pees on the guy next to him, who stands up outraged at being weed upon. Whereupon the timekeeper looks at him and yells OUT, because he stood up. Poor Toddy, we vaguely knew him and he was so looking forward to the event.
We watch across the circle as one fellow grimaces and keeps going, holding on for dear life. In the end he relents, stands with great relief and proceeds to write his name on the ground in front of him. Did you ever wonder what your sons, daughters and friends did at the Beerfest?
Our boys are doing well and getting a little tiddly. We lose ‘Budgie’ at the 77 minute mark and he is very disappointed as he was so close to the magic 100. Our last 2 get to 100, and a huge cheer goes up all around the circle for all the successful ones. The boys are pissed now. So pissed that we are reminding them to drink on the minute mark as they are too busy talking to each other in drunken speech that only they understand. We soon tire of telling them to drink and at around 125 we stop reminding them. They are declared out but continue to sit and talk for a long time, until one gets up to wander away to be sick and have a wee.
The contest I saw went for, no joke 4 HOURS. This massive Kiwi lasts 240 minutes, clearly the winner, before getting up slowly and wobbling ever so slightly off to the toilets. No lunging, no spewing, no letting go right there. Just casually saunters off to the loos. Amazing.
So that is one of the rituals that I assume still goes on. And all of this is before the actual Beerfest kicks off. This is just one of the games in the week before at the campground.
So that is it. An interesting if rude and revolting story, but what does it have to do with Zimbabwe I hear you ask? Well remember the girl who use to hold the record of 140 minutes? She was from Zimbabwe.