Once upon a time

Our eyes met and like unlike Puzo’s mention there was a distant rumble

An indication of things to come?

I had just spotted my fahrenheight (see scent)in amounts I can afford;
Brought to me by a friend who doesn’t need to hoard; the attendant made a show of informing me it was a male scent- I think to my self, how silly, blissful in your ignorance- in this case indifference- as la femme would be seated on her nose, if she could step off the display that is- I don’t rise to the occasion and think ahead to our preferred destination.

Sandals aren’t a bright idea in the aftermath of heavy downpour- we click clack and giggle as we try to make our way through the muddy streets (see Kampala drainage) not unlike school girls- the atmosphere around us is festive, I would swear on possession by a carnival spirit- whistles, speed, boda bodas and by God a moped too(very white?)! An enthusiastic show of patriotism; flags made in China for Uganda- t-shirts with the clumsy crane aflight- three one we won, Niger didn’t- we are on top of our footie even if for a moment.

Then the distant rumbling- as we amble down Kampala road, those eyes in grandfather glasses dart furtively, the body language wary, the hunted,- strayed into the wrong territory, ears all a twitch; he don’t belong here- “what is going on?”
“We won the match” we chimed, noting the foreign accent and placing it

We set ourselves up; we shouldn’t have asked. He clung onto us like his life depended on it- as we watched the unfolding with a lot of bemusement; the traffic policeman’s whistle being drowned by tens of scores of others as they negotiated without fear of being apprehended- we all were celebrating.

The policeman was probably relieved that he didn’t have to identify the enemy; though it had been a long while since he fit into his funky riot uniform, and wielded his gear- it gave him his proper place even if for a few hours; police and robbers all over again… sigh. He smiles and waves everybody through.

Mr. Furtive eyes will not stop talking- I look at Eve- she has ‘lengared’! he doesn’t exist- now I am stuck with bugger! I avoid eye contact- was kinda easy- he was brief, and alas suffered from the inevitable SMS (short man syndrome!)- It was a bit hard ignoring the fidgeting and rise in vocal volume levels, so decided to do a quick dart and look away (politeness sake)- BIG mistake- that seemed to convey acceptance and camaraderie.

We finally get to Dominoes and send out all the right departure signals- grinding to a stop, sighing and “so… it was nice..”
He blinks in apparent incomprehension and as eyes look away, they widen as he supposedly spots dominoes- “let us have a drink or pizza” like it was the most original, authentic, never been thought of idea.
Let’s just say he imposed himself on ‘our’ time, bored us to death with his stereotypes (he had only been to Tanzania once, and this was second visit to Uganda) on all east African countries, horrid chewing (Eve is staring with amused fascination- it’s now top on her mimick list- she’s pretty good with things like that) and he tries to pull the going to the loo when the bill arrived! He had another thing coming… not in K’la, brah! - this was one bill I would require him to pay for my listening-to-a-lot-of- garbage-from-a-annoying-clingy-short-man consultation fee.
As we part our ways,Eve talking to her ‘constituents’ (I swear she knows the whole town!) he turns to me and “why don’t you take your friend home and come back and have a drink in my room with me?”

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!