In the heart of Harare lies Highfield, a place everyone calls “Fio.” It is a suburb with a spirit that never sleeps and a thirst that never runs dry. 

In Fio, life is a series of events, and every single one of those events is a reason to open a cold beer or share a bottle of spirits. It doesn’t matter whether the occasion is happy or sad; as long as people are gathered, the wise waters must flow.

Right now, the eyes of the world are on Highfield. The ICC Under-19 Men’s Cricket World Cup is being hosted at the famous Takashinga Sports Club. One would expect the crowds to be filled with cricket enthusiasts debating batting averages and bowling speeds. But this is Fio. If you walk toward the stadium, you will notice a sizeable group of people who couldn’t care less about what is happening on the pitch.

For these residents, the cricket match is merely a scenic backdrop for a session. They are not there to watch wickets fall; they are there because the atmosphere is right for a drink. Friends gather behind the terraces or sit on benches, sharing a bottle while players toil under the sun. Ask them who is winning and they will laugh, pointing instead to their cooler boxes. To them, the real “World Cup” is about who lasts the longest and laughs the loudest.

This culture of drinking at every gathering goes far beyond sport. In Fio, even a funeral is reason enough to come together and share a bottle. Elsewhere, funerals are sombre and quiet affairs. In Highfield, the boys arrive in full force. The belief is simple: a friend should be sent off with the same energy they carried in life.

It is common to see cars parked near a house of mourning with their boots wide open. Instead of only crying, mourners share Nyathi or Super (opaque beer), or pass around a bottle of whisky. Stories are told, memories revived, and laughter breaks through the grief as drinks are shared. It is an expression of love — a belief that no one should make their final journey without a proper cheers from the neighbourhood.

No discussion of Highfield’s drinking culture is complete without mentioning Madirirano. The word itself means “pouring together,” and it has become the ultimate symbol of the Fio lifestyle. Madirirano began as a simple idea: why drink alone when we can mix what we have and drink together?

At a Madirirano gathering, social status dissolves. A man who drives a Mercedes-Benz pours his expensive whisky into the same jug as a hustler who brought a cheap bottle of gin. Everything is mixed, and the same cup is passed around. In that moment, the entire suburb feels like one extended family. Whether hosted at Takashinga or a local spot like Kwa Major, Madirirano proves that in Fio, the bottle is the great unifier. If you have one drink in your hand, you are a friend; if you have two, you are a brother.

Some may wonder why people in Fio drink so freely at every occasion. The answer is simple: it is how they stay connected. Life in the township can be harsh. Money is often scarce, and the sun is often unforgiving. Sharing a drink becomes a way to forget the weight of the week and celebrate the fact that they are still standing.

Whether it is a political rally, a local football match at Gwanzura Stadium, or simply a hot Tuesday afternoon, there is always a group working on a bottle. No special invitation or public holiday is required. The mere fact that the sun came up is usually reason enough to start a round.

As the Under-19 cricketers finish their matches and leave the stadium, the people of Fio remain. The stadium lights may go off, but the party in the streets continues. From Takashinga, the energy spills toward the bottle stores of Machipisa, carried on laughter and clinking bottles.

In Highfield, the bottle is more than a drink. It is a bridge between neighbours. It turns strangers into friends and funerals into celebrations of life. As long as there is a reason to meet, there will always be a reason to pour.