The question is; is Uganda Waragi's swag version -Volt a beer, or hard liquor? Who has ever seen a beer which looks like this high voltage drink?
That is not the only confusion and hullabaloo as pertains to Uganda Waragi Volt. If anything, is this thing called Uganda Waragi Volt, or Bolt? See, the radio DJs that extol the virtues of this drink on FM radio variously call it Volt and Bolt as they like.
Talking of Uganda Waragi, why is it that Kenyan ladies are drawn more to this tough liquor, which I had thought was a classic case of Inzoga y’Abagabo, pretty much the way that Turbo King is out of bands to good girls and ladies.
Go with a Ugandan girl out, and chances are that she will order for the classical “chips and chicken” or a platter of akabenzi, coupled with any beer that does not look very cheap and dark like Turbo King.
Yet go out with a Kenyan lady, and the chances are high that she will settle for “half waga (waragi), Fanta Citron and indimu (lemon).”
When the bar you’re at runs short of Uganda Waragi, your Kenyan companion may reluctantly settle for the Tanzanian version of Uganda Waragi – something called Konyagi. Just to bring you up to speed, konyagi is the Africanized version of Cognac, and is a term that is very popular among village drunks in the vast Kenyan and Tanzanian country sides.
The problem with Konyagi is that it comes in a bottle shaped like a lotion tube, and since I’m not a lotion man and since I abhor body lotion to the death, that alone is reason enough for me and Konyagi to not mix. No. Never!
The other problem with Tanzania’s Konyagi is that when you buy one for a Kenyan girl, you will also need to buy at least half a kilo of indimu to spike it up a little so as to produce that killer punch and introduce a bit of flavor to an otherwise flavor-less liquor.
When you gallop large quantities of Uganda Waragi, or Waga, or UG, whatever you call it, the feeling you get is that perhaps the distilling process happened in the middle of an orange plantation.
On the contrary, and sadly so, when you drink Konya without generous drops of indimu in it, the feeling you get is like that of digging into a mound of ubugari bw’imyumbati without any sauce to accompany it.