The viscous substance that was prepared out of millet was actually a fermented potion containing some twenty percent of alcohol. A large mud pot sitting in the middle of the circle of people would get filled with this potion and warm water. An aluminum filter attached to the bottom of a reed was used as a straw to draw the liquid from the pot. There were people who came with their own straws but usually the same straw supplied by the vendor for each group would be passed around in turn and a tribal solidarity was built at the gathering. The groups would sit for hours in the darkness draining from the pot and the vendor would keep on filling the pot as long as there were people to sit and suck. At this place they crack jokes and communicate information both potential and insignificant as well as traditional jokes and folk tales.

One such story on Kongo-Lango, the local beer, runs like this. An old king of the tribe married a young wife who prepared on the first day after the marriage a special drink to gain favor from him. He drank and fell dissolved in its taste and slept over-boozed. The royal associates became suspicious about the unusual slumber and assumed that she had poisoned him for the throne. Immediately, soldiers arrested the young wife and slaughtered her. After a moment the king came back to his senses and learnt about the unfortunate events in great sorrow. Her name was Kongo. The king named the drink “Kongo Lango” (Lango is the name of the tribe) to honor the Spirit of his dead wife. Thus, Kongo Lango became their tribal drink honorably served to any visitor or at any celebrations.

The same beer that remains in excess after the night’s use would be distilled to make Waragi. It was the most potent alcohol I had ever tasted in my life. It burned my tongue and ignited, without fire, through my esophagus, alimentary canal, small and big intestine until it reached my bottom.