Rolex
My story ‘The 10th Snatch‘ was given a part 2 here by Cynthia as part of the #UgBlogWeek Chain Stories edition. The blog week is done, but I had a great idea for a continuation from where Cynthia stopped so here goes…
Evening traffic jam in Kampala is the worst. Banange. My plan had been to be in a taxi by 6 pm, before the gridlock became serious, but the gossip in the salon today had been too juicy. Next thing I knew it was 7 pm when I reached the park and all the bu taxis were full and standing still in the middle of the road, with their engines switched off even. Eish. The ka stage where our taxis parked was full of people standing and waiting for the next empty taxi to come. From experience, they would be here for another hour, and then it would be for playing rugby at the entrance. Seeing as today I’d carried my baby, there was no way I was going to fight my way into a taxi.
Kyoka me and my lugambo. I would have been home by now.
Plan B was to go and seat in that ka new 2k restaurant and sip on a soda till they had released the taxis and fresh ones had come to take the waiting people. As I enter 2k, I look around and realize everyone else had a plan like mine. The least full table has it’s only occupant as a grumpy gentleman who is looking intensely at a child in his laps. I make a beeline to the table and ask him if he’s ok with me sharing the table with him. He looks up and mumbles something while pointing to the seat so I take that as a yes and take the chair opposite him.
After I’m done removing my sleeping baby from my back and placing him on my laps, I raise my head only to find the gentleman staring at me with unnerving interest. Naye these ga Kampala men also. Now what does this one want? Mschew. Before I can lower my head to resume making sure my infant is comfortable, the man says to me in the sweetest voice ever, ‘Nyabo, forgive me for bothering you, naye I need your help. Olaba I’m just a man trying to manage my beautiful baby as I wait for traffic to reduce…’
Kyoka the man has honey in his voice. In another world, hmmm…. ‘Nkulaba,’ I tell him coyly. ‘The world needs more responsible men like you.’
He laughs shyly. ‘Anyway,’ he continues, ‘I need to use the restrooms quickly. Can you help me watch my baby for a short while? You look very trustworthy and I promise my baby won’t disturb, ayagala abantu!’
The mother to this baby is really a very lucky woman to have such a nice man. I reach out and he hands me the child while thanking me profusely. True to his word, the baby looks me in the eye and starts giggling. What a sweet chibubu. I watch him walk up to a waiter and turn back to the baby as he gets directions to the restrooms.
I’m so preoccupied with fooling around with the child that I only realise the man has been gone for long after about 10 minutes have passed.
Eh eh.
I call the waiter he was getting directions from and ask him if the gentleman has returned from the toilets. The waiter gives me a puzzled look and tells me the gentleman had said he was going out to sort some business and that me, his wife, would clear his bill.
Nti what? Whose wife? Bill? Cho!
‘Yamawe!’ I shriek as I get out of my seat and try to hand the baby to the waiter. The waiter refuses to get the baby and draws back as he gives me that this-one-has-ran-mad look.
‘That is not my husband!’ I assure him. ‘This is his baby! And I’m not paying anyones bills!!!’ I’m now practically shouting and the entire restaurant is looking at me. My own baby is also awake now and crying. The abandoned child is still holding onto me and giggling. It’s like this one was bewitched to be happy all the time.
I become the center of attention as I try to explain to whoever can listen how the child isn’t mine. Two parties form, those who believe me and those that don’t. Eventually, the manager appears and after listening to me, he advises that I either take the baby to police and report a case or take it to a baby’s home, but he can’t have this commotion in his restaurant so he asks me to leave.
As I head out of the restaurant with 2 babies after coming in with one, I still can’t believe this is happening to me. Kyoka banange. I think about going to police and even get more stressed at the thought of it. Kyoka banage. As I pass by Shoprite, I hear a taxi conductor calling for one more passenger for a taxi going to Zana. I decide to sit in that one and think about what to do with the baby as I head home. I offer the mu baby, who is still as happy as a side chick that’s just received the keys to a harrier, to a dreaded lady that’s already in the taxi and free my own baby from my back so I can enter the taxi door properly. As I get comfortable, I notice the other mu baby already getting cozy with the rasta. Hmmm…an idea comes to my mind.
Wabula I’m not going to die in this movie….
…story leads into this one here by Olive….
