I’m in a cyber somewhere in dowtown Kampala. It’s a hot dark small room next to a cereals shop. The aircon blows in dust. If you want cereals from Kampala kindly send me an sms. Like beans. Their beans look healthy and happy, I bet they came from a farm that was full of song and sun. I nipped in here an hour and half ago to write a story, and I did but then some chap who was looking for something I was looking for called and said in a thick Ugandan accent, “you come, I found it” So I left my wordpress open and told the lady at the desk not to let anyone sit on the comp because I will be back in 10mins.
I came back 5mins later to find someone on the comp. Of course my 1,100 words were no more. After near death experiences on bodabodas I have little strength to fight the girl at the main desk. Also she truly looks like she doesn’t give a damn about anything. Not even her hairtstyle. So to calm down I’m going to go to the next shop and look at the happy beans. Maybe even make friends with the owner – who looks like he needs to learn pick a leaf from his beans.
Kampala is hot. I’m here to work. But you can’t really say you can come to Kampala to work. It’s an oxymoron. So you will play too. And ride bodabodas and stare at some happy beans. By the way, this is not going anywhere, in case you are waiting for traction. I’m going to rumble on here for a bit until some guy who is burning for me some bootleg Ugandan music calls me that the cd is ready. Then I will leave. Just like that. So, no traction gang. Let’s be easy.
I’m staying with Dennis Asimwe. Remember him, the nervy guy who came to High School and insulted our women. He lives in a sexy pad at a place called Naalya. On a hill. Hisbedroom, which he has been very gracious to let me have, has a bookshelf full of Stephen King. Only Stephens King. This is one dark brother.
Dennis is single, like he mentioned here. But he has a dog; a gorgeous pure breed five month old German Shepherd that’s chained at the backyard, near the door. Do you want to know where he leaves his house keys when he steps out? On the dog’s leash. Now, that’s a unique sense of humour. On Friday night we pitched back
home late after a long night on the tiles and when we walked in he told me, “Good night, man, I’m off to walk the dog.” I checked my watch; 2:39am. I stumbled to my room, thinking drunkenly; any chap who walks his dog after 1am doesn’t really need a girlfriend. But he is a good sport; very hospitable and engaging. Plus he has read Puzo. That helps.
The call has come and I have to be logging off now. Beyond the door, the hustle of downtown Kampala waits for me. Plus I need to eat. I feel like chapatis. They sell gigantic chapatis here. Chapatis so big you can use them as a head scarf when it’s raining. Chapatis and katogo and g-nut sauce and beans. Yes, that’s what I will have. I hope the beans are as happy as the ones next door. Seriously, you should see these beans. They can’t stop grinning.
It’s 12:45pm. Ugandan time. Enjoy yours, Gang.