Friday, December 7, 2012

When Opportunity Knocks

When opportunity knocks, grab it by the balls and don’t let them go. This is my Sunday tale.
Affande is one of those affande’s who is likeable. Yes, he is in the army and was recently promoted and he is the commandant of a military facility in Kampala but one thing he never does, is to flaunt the pips on his shoulders. He is down to earth, reserved and speaks well.  
A couple of weeks ago, along with a friend of Indian origin, we were off a pork joint at the MTN switch in Bugolobi. But rather than eating the pork in Bugolobi, we had it packed so we could eat it with LP, who was waiting for us at Kilama’s, which is just past Zone 7 in Mbuya.
Now this is where things get tricky. At Kilama’s the TV was on and spewing out the excited commentary of a sports anchor and something to do with Tusker CECAFA football. Not being a sports person, there was a need to find out what CECAFA was all about.
Ten seconds into the explanation and I was bored in feeling your Sunday needs, I will not bore you with what I was told, but if you persist in wanting to know what CECAFA is all about, I suggest you read the back pages of this newspaper for in this column, you have a more interesting read like the pork we got from Bugolobi. Exactly!
With the pork packed, we were in Affande’s Pajero or ‘mamba’ as he calls it and ten minutes later we took up our seats at Kilama’s in the middle of a semi rowdy crowd of CECAFA football fanatics.
Akodi, the young lady who helps out at the shop did the needful and served us the pork on a metallic plate, the size of a tyre rim on your average Squeeze ride – some Toyota brand called a Spacio. Or is it a Raum?
As Akodi put the plate down, the crowd that had been into screaming football was no longer into screaming football. The waft, the smell, the delights of a plate of pork mixed with cabbage and whatever else the Pork Roaster and put in derailed the crowd. CECAFA ceased to exist. It was pork that now existed.
And I saw him. He had sat at the back near the road in a yellow Obote II era shirt. But just like that, he was no longer sitting at the back but on the fringes of our plate of pork and yes, he went for it – the piece, the succulent one that Affande, Clement, LP and I had all been eye balling. I don’t think he even chewed it for no sooner had he put it into his mouth he was reaching for another piece.
Obviously, I was vexed but it was not for making noise because I thought he was Affande’s friend. Affande in turn thought he was Clement’s friend and Clement thought he was LP’s friend while LP thought he was my friend.
So we ate our pork with our new friend who ate the bulk of it. And when we were done, he asked for water so we could wash our hands, tooth picks so we could pick our teeth and serviettes so we could dry our hands.
And he was gone. He had gone back to CECAFA. And while he was at CECAFA we all asked ourselves who he was and that is when reality set in. We didn’t know him.
He on the other hand had seen opportunity and took it. He had free pork and beer on us. But that does not really irk me.
What does is that he went for THAT piece of pork! THE succulent one that was wrapped up in cabbage and with MY name stapled on it. IT WAS MY PIECE! So you man in the Obote II era shirt, when I next see you, just flee UG the way Obote did when Okello and Okello were breathing down his neck in 1985.