You should always think about yourself before making decisions; if you cannot, think about those around you; and if you still cannot, think about your future; posterity does not forget.

This saying is more like a song in the small town of Jakulikuli, where many of their young people live carefree, not minding the consequences of critical decisions affecting their lives. The worst part is when it pertains to gambling, they can practically bet with their own lives. Oh yes! If one can stake all his life’s savings over a football match, what else is left? If you are still doubting me, read the story of this group of friends:

Tseku is a peasant farmer, and a poor one at that. He is married and has a daughter who is three years old. Since he has been a reasonable man — at least before he met his bad egg of a friend — he and his wife, Kuhe, resolved they would hold on with child bearing for the time being.

Tseku’s friend, Ajankavyar is a bachelor, renowned for his reputation in womanizing, gambling and drinking. He is barely three years in Jakulikuli, but his reputation is heard of, far and wide. He was the one who introduced betting into the town. He has never lost a bet, but his spending habit causes him to never achieve anything worthwhile with all the money he earns from betting. His is a situation that could be best described as one with a leaking purse. Despite his womanizing habit, he has a girlfriend Suzzie, whom he fondly calls “My Regular.”

Since the two men became friends, things changed for the unfortunate Tseku, who was unfortunate indeed to have met the most unfortunate youth without any ambition or hope for the future. He is a hardworking man and a faithful husband who tries his best to fend for his family, but when Ajankavyar entered his life, he was the unlucky one to have been influenced negatively. He became a gambler and drunkard. He, however, still has a little dose of fortune left to have escaped the grip of womanizing. And it is appalling, the abominable things they usually bet on, such as who can finish 12 bottles of beer for 1000 Jakizi — their currency; “finish a crate before me and have my girlfriend for the night,” Ajankavyar sometimes bet, but would always win anyways; and other unimaginable things.

The worst that happened recently was what taught the gamblers more than a life’s lesson, similar to what Kenny Rogers sings of in his classic The Gambler:

“Every gambler knows that the secret to survivin’ is knowin’ … when to walk away and know[ing] when to run”[1] of which they did the exact opposite.

After so much drunkenness, having consumed not less than 12 bottles of beer each, Ajankavyar challenged his friend Tseku to a bet, “One more crate, first to finish. I bet My Regular if you win, for one night,” he proposed. “What do you bet?” he asked.

“Haha!” Tseku laughed hysterically, almost falling off his chair. His only mistake was his inability to think before responding, or perhaps he did, but must have forgotten his thinking cap at home, to have responded foolishly: “My wife! Ehn? No! Not my only Kuhe,” he sounded indecisive. “Okay, money. I bet my money: Fifty Thousand Jakizi!” he said with all seriousness.

At this, Ajankavyar jumped up out of excitement, almost crashing the table full of glasses. They had other regular drinkers around, who cheered on with applause. “You don’t mean it,” Ajankavyar teased with laughter.

“You know I do,” Tseku affirmed. Not only was his proposition foolish, but even his acceptance of the offer in the first place. It’s never been in his habit to womanize or cheat on his wife, so it wouldn’t be likely for him to claim his prize even if he won the bet. But he didn’t think rightly about that. His friend is a cunning man, which is why he never loses a bet. People think it’s luck, but behind that is his subtle act of cheating. One other thing Tseku did not remember was that the “Fifty Thousand” he declared is his last and only savings remaining. And he had resolved with his wife that part of it would be used to enroll their child in elementary school, and another part to cultivate yam seedlings and other necessities in the next farming season. Anyway, they had sealed the deal, and the referee, De Chair as he is popularly called, was ready to officiate the game.

“O boi,” called Ajankavyar, “You wanna try me abi? I don dey warn you now o. Na only three you don push down. Me I don finish eight!” he teased his friend. “You still get option o. Let me stop here and collect half my price, I dash the change,” he advised.

“Getaway you,” Tseku replied. “This time around you are going to lose jankavially,” he challenged, and the whole arena was filled with roaring laughter. He was yet not in his senses, in fact, he was not an inch close to it, but drifting miles and miles away from right thinking. If he were wise, this would have been his opportunity to apply one of the rules of gambling, “knowing when to walk away.”

Ajankavyar had finished his eleventh bottle! Although he could barely see, he simply held out his hand to collect the last bottle which De Chair handed him. “O boi, I dey tell you o,” he warned his friend, and once again made another proposal, “Last chance,” he said, “You can stop at your sixth bottle, and I will give back Ten Thousand. You know say I like you.”

“No way,” protested Tseku. “I go finish you today,” he boasted, and raising his hand, he almost fell off his chair, but for the cheering fans who held him up. It was obvious he had lost this battle, but since he had lost his senses earlier on, it wasn’t possible for him to realize it yet.

The following morning, Tseku was found by the road side on the way to his house, stinking beyond what anyone could bear for a minute. It was only his new-found friends, the swarm of flies, who found him attractive and kept him company.

Ajankavyar on the other hand had celebrated his victory at his house with “My Regular,” who managed to walk him home and cater for him.

Meanwhile, De Chair was on his way to Tseku’s house to retrieve the prize from him. In Jakulikuli, a bet’s a bet. You win or lose; and either receive the prize or pay price. If only he had known the ignoble condition this loser was in currently, he would pity him, although pitying is not one of the rules of gambling. Not only did Tseku lose the bet, but he also lost his fortune, and almost lost his marriage, had his kinsmen not bailed him by pleading with Kuhe to stay, at least until he recovered from his state.

It is now planting season. Unfortunately, however, notwithstanding his plans and preparations, Tseku cannot afford to achieve them. He could rally his peers to help him make the heaps and ridges, and his wife would serve them a sumptuous meal, but there would not be money to buy sufficient seedlings. Another problem is their daughter’s school fees. Not only had Tseku bet away his family’s means of livelihood, but had also gambled with his daughter’s future. All these infuriate Kuhe who cannot bear the thought of not having enough food in the coming months when it would be harvest time, but also of having a crying baby at home.

A few days after Tseku had recovered, not only from his drunkenness and sickness, but also from his foolishness, he resolved never to go into gambling again. Even with this resolution, other gamblers gambled on it, “I bet my One Thousand, he will gamble again.”

[1] Source: LyricFind. Songwriters: Don Schlitz. The Gambler lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC