It’s 4:45pm at the office and you just hit a presentation out of the park and dropped the mic to the content stank faced nod of management and a blushy smile from Thembi from finance. Celebratory after work drinks glint in the golden light of the setting sun and you’re asked if you’d like a beer or tequila, you say both, life is too short to choose between two things that you love. You reach into the bucket and pull out and icy Liberado, you’ve found chill.

The horizon has swallowed the sun and your group WhatsApp blows up, a simple request “let’s tear up the streets!” followed by high-5 emojis and dark skinned thumb ups, squad activated. You salute the work team and cab it home to shower off the stench of the grind and dab eau de turn-up on your wrists and neck. “We’re outside!” lands in your messages as you savour the last drops of your newfound fav and you slide down the stairs.

You get to the ride and the team is one man down because visa’s are hard to come by. First stop is the roof top beach gig and your boys are arguing over beer of tequila shots and you just drop a bucket of Liberado to end the argument and call over uBabes Wendawo because you and her are fam plus of course she rolls 6 deep – plus the twins – and soon you’re putting tables together and call it government.

The party is getting a bit to robust and stomachs are grumbling so it’s time to relocate. Someone knows a nice Chinese restaurant on the other side of town that opens till late, problem is, there aren’t enough rides for everyone and cabbing it is an schlep. So you do the only thing you can, you call up cousin Mandla and he rolls up in that VW Caravelle 2.6i Exclusive complete with the front passenger seat that turns around. Cousin Mandla tells you to look under your seat and you realize that he has Oprah’d you with a cooler fully iced with that golden Lib’.

You land at the eating joint and your uncouth selves line out of the caracara like it’s limo. You get seated and you end up in between the twins and they are debating about beers and tequila and you just grin. The grub is dope and you order some sushi and make quick work of it because your chopstick game is Shaolin. The vibe is chilled and the table is adorned by beautiful smiles and warm laughter of friends who are the family that we chose.

There is a table on the other side of the room and they people walk over to your tables and tell you that they are totally digging your squad’s energies and invite you guys to some exclusive party. Word. You get to the house in the North and you can hear the muffled moans of big speakers that spill out a hot tune when you open the doors. You feel like you just landed on the set of some East African music video that is bound to go viral. The swimming pool is glowing and the lounge is flashing neon strobes, making everything look like it’s moving in slow motion. You find your boy gob smacked by what you all are seeing and you elbow him in the ribs and act like the high life isn’t a thing. Then the host hands you a bottle of Liberado and you know you’re in good hands.

The dj is bringing out heaters only and soon your shirt is damp and the only logical thing to do is to cool off and chill in the pool. You find the two girls you had met earlier and now they are in the pool and you realize that when they said they were together, they meant it; now all you can do is admire God’s creation. That is until Themba canon balls the water with his chubby self and saves you from self-harm.

The party ends and someone suggests hitting up the hood for some chicken dust before everyone heads home. You fill up the caracara and soon there’s a smell of periperi chicken for uShorty feeling the air. But, of course, the caracara breaks on the side of the road but cousin Mandla assures you that he can get it to start. Nobody minds though. You and your friends sit on the roof of the ride and watch the sun come up.