#liquidlunch

The two women sit opposite each other in the nearly empty restaurant. One faces the entrance, the other has her back to the door.
Its nearly 2:30pm, and outside, the heat has risen to almost 26C.
One of them looks young, most probably in her late twenties. She wears her hair in Bantu knots, an orange scarf covers the back part of her head. A white shirt and jeans complete her look. She's drinking from a glass. It looks like Coca-Cola.
Her head is bent over her phone- she’s probably on Facebook or WhatsApp- as she furiously types away.
Suddenly, she lets out a laugh and calls to the other woman to, “Kyokka see here!”
She leans over the wide table and shows the older woman whatever it is that has made her laugh.
The older woman smiles as she looks at whatever it is she has been shown. Then she goes back to sipping her drink. It looks yellow, not yellow like lemon or pineapple, or mango juice, but a thin yellow with small air bubbles. She is drinking in short fast sips, picking up the glass and putting it back down in between each sip. The drink is soon over and she slurps noisily at what remains in the glass. She slaps the glass back on the table. She pushes it away from her, near the center of the table.
She folds her arms and closes her eyes for about a minute. Suddenly she opens them and turns her head with bleached damaged hair, as she bellows for a waiter.
A waitress is at her side in a minute. “Yes Madam.”
“Nfunira nga kyembadde nywa.”
“Kiki Madam?”
“Nkugambye kyembadde nywa, silly girl!”
The girl rushes off and returns about two minutes later, balancing a green bottle of Tusker on a small tray.
As she makes to open it, the older woman roars at her, “Not Tusker you! Bring Bell beer!” She calls it Berro beer, but the girl has got the message and scampers off like a scared rabbit.
The younger woman looks up from her phone and smiles at the older woman. She doesn't say a word. Then she gives a nod to no-one in particular, bends her head again and resumes tapping away.
The waitress soon returns with the Bell beer, the bottle-top clatters onto the tray and the older woman pours the frothy drink into the glass, a wide satisfied grin on her face.