It may surprise you that we village girls don a pair of gumboots in a semi-urban club and dress shabbily. Blame it not on us; for reasons that I will explain.
On that Saturday afternoon, the 'sponsor' will call you: "Nitanunua kanyama my dari (I want to buy you some meat, my darling)." You look around and wonder how you'll leave without raising suspicion, which includes taking a bath and changing into nice clothes reserved for Sunday and other important occasions.
You also don't want people stopping you on the way to ask where you're going dressed smartly. So you'll probably take a shower or not, stay in 'home clothes' then pretend you're going to the fields to get the cows to the boma or spinach for supper.
You'll sneak out of the compound and head to a deserted corner where the 'sponsor' will have parked his pick-up.
He'll open the door without getting out of the car and instruct you to "ingia haraka (get in quickly)" as he looks around for any person who could be secretly witnessing the activities. His pick-up will today be unusually clean.
He uses it to carry cow dung manure and other farm products. Rumour has it that his potatoes gave a good yield and he collected good money from it.
He'll roar the engine to your first stop at a rural shopping centre kilometres away outside a bar next to a butchery. You'll pass by the butchery, order a kilo of roast meat then inquire how long it will take to be cook.
"An hour," comes the answer. You'll then get into the bar and wait for the choma over a bottle and another of beers as the 'sponsor' lies to you how he would have married you on first sight were he still young.
Beer and good company has a way of making one crave for yet a better time and this is why he'll suggest you go to the next big town for a nice time, after all, the car has enough fuel.
He'll drive. Booze also has the magic of giving someone the carefree attitude that throws away the thinking you are ill-dressed. In the new town, you'll find yourselves the best place with the best music.
Get on the dance floor in style, dancing lame because the music there sounds much better than in the villages. Of course the good speakers and amplifiers make everything go, Thitima!
And that dear people is how we villagers find our way in those entertainment joints sometimes in gumboots and smelling of cow dung. Forgive us, it is not always planned.