DRUM AND DRUMMER Africans gather at Rogers Park restaurant African Harambee to bang out a few beats and watch a soccer game on TV.

PHOTO: MIREYA ACIERTO

It’s 7pm on Super Tuesday, and it’s hard to tell which news has Chicagoans buzzing more: the election results, or the rumors that the city is about to be pummeled with 14 inches of snow. But at African Harambee (7537 N Clark St, 773-764-2200), the main story of the evening is clear: Barack Obama.

“That man right there,” Symon Ogeto says, smiling and waving a finger at the screen. “People can pronounce my name correctly now because of him.”

It could have been an Obama ad, people coming together in his name. But the truth is, Chicago’s African community may relish the Obamarama because it gives them a rare chance to congregate. Most Africans arrive in this city as students or through their company back home, so they are instantly part of a network that may or (more likely) may not include other Africans. “It’s harder for anybody coming in as an expatriate to meet anybody,” Ogeto says. “Because you come to your job, you go home, come to your job, go home.” And since there are no African bars in Chicago, the restaurants serve as the community’s meeting grounds.

Sisay Abebe, the owner of African Harambee—which, when it opened eight months ago, became the city’s only truly pan-African restaurant—pours South African vino for his friends. They’re sipping it out of politeness, but they’d rather be drinking beer.

“Nobody cares about wine,” Ogeto says. “Wine is an alien, Western [thing]…. People will think you’re weird when you go to a restaurant [in Africa] and say, ‘Give me some wine.’” He proceeds to wax lovingly about Tusker, his favorite beer, and pretends not to notice his friends rolling their eyes. Kenyan Ogeto is partial to his homeland’s sweet lager. But the rest of the crew namechecks another African favorite.

“The most popular beer in Africa, from what I have seen, comes from abroad: Heineken,” Olivier Kamanzi says. “Everywhere you go, every country in Africa…they all drink Heineken.”

As the group polishes off the wine, Abebe reminds them the African Cup is that weekend—yet another event where they could rally together. And they do: The following Sunday about 40 Africans watch Egypt beat Cameroon. Not that there are any Egyptians in attendance.

“The Egyptians have their own restaurant,” Abebe says.