African Time + Kwanjula + UAF = Lots of Drama (Part One)

When the weekend sets in, all manner of plots manifest, my weekend was no exception. There was a kwanjula and the AND1 live in K’la. I had the means to access both events, however I later came to realise the Kwanjula invitation was an “attend or attend” kind of thing and that’s how I found myself preparing for an introduction ceremony that was supposed to happen somewhere beyond Mbale town at 2:00pm.

First things first, what was I going to wear when I’m such an anti-Kwanjula? I sat and pondered about my wardrobe predicament, then got up with what I thought was the solution (ransacking the whole room). For all my effort all I could see were...Jeans, jeans, jeans and more jeans oh wait.. bang! A black dress…nah too short, too open. I was officially back to square one with no bright ideas beaming at the back of my mind.

That was the beginning of my dilemma. Since I’m not the kind that gives up easily, I got the phone, punched some digits and dialed Janice (not real name). Janice is that girl with a PhD in gracing introduction ceremonies, her experience record would make job seekers jelous. To me, she was plan B; not wasting any second I launched striaght to my new crisis knowing very well she was going to sort me out. Three minutes later, I hang up but with a huge question mark still on my forehead. It was clearly time to snap out of stupidity and activate creativity. I looked at my mother who had been watching me in silent amusement. My plan C was to try on some of her Gomesis’ afterall Gomesis’ are XXL for all sizes who would notice? (That was my thinking) she didn’t object, infact she even helped me wear one, I stood infront of the dressing mirror and all I could see reflecting back at me was “are you kidding?” in bold letters, if misery was the event theme or dresscode I had nailed it 100%.

The mirrors don’t lie and I don’t kid, so Gomesi was ruled out as an option. A cleaver plan D immediately came to mind, get a wrapper plus a matching big scarf..five minutes later of fumbling here and there, the mirrors were finally in agreement. I was dope enough to attend anything traditional, blue attire, blue shoes and shades for swagg, damn I was smashing or so I thought. 6:30 am Nick (not real name) the driver shows up and I’m ready to hit the road, I step out of the house to get in the car and guess what? A tired looking delivery van UAF had parked outside the gate, its engine still running. My initial thoughts were “probably it had stopped by to drop off stuff at the neighbors” that thought quickly evaporated as the driver opened the door to get in. I looked to the sky as if to ask the almighty “seriously?” the answer was clear, take it or walk there. That’s when it dawned on me that from here onwards, it was gonna be a ride of threesomes; me, Nick and the photographer at the front, then the gifts for the mugole and what else needed to be purchased along the way at the back. I decided to keep the shades on for privacy (read hiding) purposes till we got to Iganga where I was damn sure nobody would ever recognize me.

All this while Nick kept referring to our UAF like it was the worst thing that could ever happen to a vehicle on any Ugandan road. I didn’t think much of it, granted it was as old as a pensioner but what the hell, it was still functional. My opinion fell flat with a flat tire at some forsaken trading centre, where all the revelations about our UAF materialized, first; the van had no fuel gauge indicator (one that works) which meant Nick had to be a good guesser to know when fuel is getting low, second; if the engine stopped running, a few able men needed to push it to get it going again.

Time check 12:00 noon, yet our asses had to be in Lwaboba within 2 hours. One look at the mechanic who was fixing the flat tire and it was as clear as the blue sky, that was mission impossible; he was close to 68 years, slow in nature even when talking and he was doing everything manually with rudimentary methods. My sweet self was scotching in the sun making wishes that God was too busy to attend to. 40 minutes later two drunks pushed our UAF for 500/- each and we were back on the road, Nick assured us there wouldn’t be more setbacks like this, for once I didn’t share in his optimism. However, we got to Mbale at 1:00pm with no qualms, had enough time to rest and make sure everything was in check while waiting for the rest of the entourage to show up ….that was dilemma number 2………

To be continued.