ONE of the reasons why I decided
to study so hard in school was my overwhelming desire to achieve academic excellence
and climb up ladders in the corporate world. I dreamt of a steady paycheck,
fame, love and glory in public service. But my dreams had been brought to a
dead end when my wretched grand mum in Salye-Buikwe couldn’t afford dimes to
send me back to the village school. The day I made up my mind to trek from
Buikwe to the streets of Kampala
made me face my greatest fears in real life. I was stranded and caught between
the devil and the deep blue sea as almost all auto mobiles all over the city
roads appeared to be in a steady hunt for my blood. I decided to take a
temporally refugee in Diamond Trust building and wait for a reduction in the
traffic flow on Kampala Road
before continuing with my journey to no where.
In Diamond Trust I was completely
bamboozled by corporate ladies and gentlemen in sleek neckties holding their
heads high behind huge desktops with their spectacles fixed to the screens. I
was mystified and wondered what kind of schools such high profiled people
received their education from! Staring at my bewilderment with suspicion, some
of the ladies in executive suits confirmed my astonishment by threatening to
call security that would show me a way out of their office. I immediately fled
for my dear life and avoided an instant baptism of fire on my first day in Kampala.
On the streets again, I could not
afford crossing to the other side of the road. Reckless drivers were every
where I could turn my eyes to. I chose to stand still and fix my eyes to every
vehicle that passed by. Again I could not believe what my eyes were seeing.
Many sleek cars drove passed me with a brave new world of revolutionary ladies
steering them towards expensive boutiques, salons, and coffee shops. To my
astonishment, some of these ladies driving looked younger than me! I cursed
myself and moved on wondering why on earth God didn’t fix me to be born in
purple and too enjoy the privileges of the royal families!
After years of hard work, prayers
and luck, I found myself at University studying a course I hated most. I had
applied for my top priority courses of my interest, but the Ministry of
Education and Makerere
University also made
their own choice for me. I felt betrayed. I lost my competitive spirit for
academic excellence, and hated anything academic. I had lost my dream, but I
clung on, because I wanted to make my sponsors and mentors feel comfortable and
proud. I settled for less and chose to enjoy the atmosphere of university life
before going back to my local village in Salye Buikwe to pose as a learned
fellow.
At University I spent my time
instead practicing other technical skills far from the course I had been
offered. At the end of the three years I had registered the poorest academic
performance ever in my lifetime. But it didn’t hurt me either, because I had
taught myself better skills elsewhere at campus and was so proud of them. They
thrilled me and went off with a bang after combining them with entrepreneurial
skills far better than what my academic fellows had reaped from their lecture
rooms. They started looking up to me for jobs, and I employed a good number of
them. But still, a pain was in my heart for being able to be better than those
ladies I saw back in time driving in sleek cars.
After being given the
responsibilities of leading a church Cell in Bweyogerere, I found myself
sitting together with a group of again revolutionary ladies each owning a sleek
personal vehicle. We had converged for a review meeting of our Section’s
interventions in addressing community needs.
I had no car at the time and yet poverty had
also started to bite me in and out, despite of my entrepreneurial drive and
skills. One of the ladies I saw was a very attractive tall and slender young
lady with an executive look and conduct. She came to the meeting driving and
parked her dark green car besides another lady’s. In the meeting, she could
talk of auditing, tougher accounting standards, reporting standards, securities
exchange, investments etcetera. I was so much impressed by her appearance,
modesty and accent. But again I became more afraid of her. She’s a kind of lady
who could not steal any glance at me. She talked looking at only other
listeners I guess who were more important people than me. So I decided to start
chasing after her. Not with a purpose of wooing her for a wife, but to find about
her life and know how she climbed up the corporate ladder at such a tender age.
She had earlier sent me generalized mails saying;
“Morning guys, does any of you have bank slips that you can offer? I need them
like yesterday. Will come and pick them. Thanks.”
The message puzzled me so much that I began
imagining strange things in my mind. I thought this girl was likely to be a
woman of easy virtue. She was laying a scheme to find out whether I bank my
incomes with one of the most prestigious financial institutions in Uganda.
And therefore this would give her an entry point into my life and quench all
the small pennies I owned. And this could as well mean that the car she was
driving was “detoothed” from a certain rich sugar daddy, probably a banker.
I replied very soon to her
message saying; “Thanks Grace, but I didn’t understand your message. Did you
mean any bank-slips? Otherwise how are you? I hope you’re doing well. Can you
imagine I again failed to get the Wednesday Cell Agenda? I hope I’ll pass by
for you to bail me out again. Thanks. Michael”
Within the twinkling of an eye, I
had already received a feedback from this cute girl, who had become a real big
challenge to my being. She said; “Hi Michael, the message came to you in error.
Sorry, I meant to send it to another Mugoya. You will pass by for one (Cell
Agenda) though I will not be able to attend today. Grace.”
Her message confirmed my fears
beyond dispute. The only another Mugoya I knew by then was an East African
construction tycoon who was undergoing pressure and endless wrangles with the
government. So when Grace mentioned another Mugoya instead of me, I concluded
that this girl might be dating the city tycoon. And probably, the influence of
Mugoya Construction Company Ltd was the one boosting Grace’s financial muscle
to challenge ordinary men like myself, who could not meet her highest
standards. However, I waited for a golden opportunity to meet her once again
face to face until I come to know her backwards.
One day, our Section’s meeting
was scheduled to be held at her residence. Since I was just recovering from
injuries I had sustained in a car crash, she offered to pick me at the
roadside. I waited for her until she picked me and drove to her place. She
lived in an elegant apartment and had almost all what it takes to be in a home.
This was another landmine challenge to me since I had no even an idea of
starting a reputable home of my own. This is also when I as well discovered
that the beautiful girl was still single, but didn’t know whether she was
having intentions of dating. She served us very delicious snacks and drinks and
we had a happy evening. I went back refreshed and well aware that this young
lady was far much more responsible than I had anticipated. I continued to want
to know more about this seemingly un-trodden land-Grace. So one evening I sat
at my office and sent her a mail saying:
“Dear Grace, I hope work is going
on smoothly. How are you? Sometimes I just feel a little afraid to write to you
any mail. I always assume that you’re extremely busy beyond my wildest dreams!
But that’s me; you might be having a break now, that’s why probably you’ve got
a little time to scan through my mail.
“Last time you sent me a message
requesting for bank slips. I was so shocked because me with banking are almost
at odds. But later you clarified that the message was meant for another Mugoya.
I guess that Mugoya is a Musoga. Is he your brother, work-mate or…you never
know, he might be related to me!
“At first you had also suspected
me to be Kyabazinga’s first born. Unfortunately for some, I am a pure Mugisu
from the slopes of Mountain Elgon inside the remote forests of Wanaale. But it
intrigues me a lot that several guys call me a Musoga. I one time enjoyed the
privileges of studying for free in one secondary school, just because its
Musoga headmaster mistook me for a tribe-mate. After cunningly enjoying the
scholarships, he later discovered that I am even a circumcised Mugisu. It
puzzled him so much that in the following term he withdrew my scholarship and
blew all my privileges.
“Any way I hope you’re ok. By the
way, where do you work? I think I am a bit uncertain. Sometimes I imagine firms
like Standard Chartered Bank, Dott Services, FINCA, mushrooming micro-finance
firms etc, etc. Oh, my God, it seems I do not care so much for the people
around me! Remembering the love-meter we discussed in Cell last Wednesday, I
was mesmerized to find that I was lagging behind all the Cell members. From
there I took an oath of allegiance to myself to put up a spirited fight of love
for my friends, family, Cell members, community, work-mates etc until I see my
love-meter reading at least 36.9 C. It is a big challenge though; otherwise if
my lower love-meter reading goes into negatives, I will be doomed! I suppose
yours is doing well, and if so please avail me with opportunities to love. Do
you have e-mail addresses and names of Christians either in your Cell or beyond?
Please help forward them to me as
soon as you can.
“Otherwise, Grace, I wish you
well and please continue praying for me about my Testimony writing initiative
to blossom. I need supporters with testimonies to share. If possible please you
can also help me create awareness via e-mailing. Thanks so much, and I am
waiting for your reply. Let me rush out of this guy’s internet café. You know
he is so strict on time, yet very reluctant on speed. And his charges are total
day time robbery. Nice time dear. Michael.”
I waited for so long without
receiving Grace’s reply. I began thinking lots of funny things and assumptions
again for her silence. “This girl must be a workaholic”, I thought, “Since she
drives in a sleek car, she thinks she is above the clouds. I wonder how she’ll
conduct herself when she buys her own personal jet! In case she has ever flown
to Dubai or to Sun City,
it should be the reason why she’s too proud to reply my mails. But I am a nice
guy.
I also searched my heart and
found that she was second to none of the girls who had impressed me. May be she
thinks that I am trying to forge her into an intimate relationship! If I dare
fall in love with her, then it will qualify to be a calculated risk. Though she
is rich according to my own standards, I do not admire some of the things she
does. Imagine a Christian like her who is even a full Cell Leader to be a great
fun of secular music! I remember when I sat in her vehicle one evening on our
way from the Bible study at Sports View Hotel, she was booming Radio One in her
vehicle. And when she picked me up another day to her home for the leaders’
meeting, she was again enjoying the boogie songs of Sanyu FM. This girl must be a wolf in the sheep’s
clothing!
One Saturday night I got an
inspiring message from Pastor Kiganda on Lighthouse Television saying that God
uses the little things we have in order for Him to make great things out of
them. Imagine when He commanded Moses to use the little stuff in his hand to
perform the great miracles in the Exodus! On a Sunday morning, our Pastor also
did well when he told us that we should sow regularly in order to receive a
bountiful harvest. The more we plant, the more we reap, and that we should be
patient as we give because we do not always reap right away. I interpreted the
Pastor’s words in a way that I should keep up the spirit of communicating to
Grace, despite her silence. So I sat down again and communicated to her saying:
Grace how’re you? I hope you’re
okay. You know sometimes when we take long without communicating to our loved
ones; we tend to think that may be they are going through hectic times without
our knowledge. These days I have some chances to access internet, that’s why I
always want to stay in touch. I find internet lesser expensive to use than my
Celtel mobile.
“I am okay on my side, though I
was planning to quit my work because I’ve now worked for free for a full year.
But my mentor told me that working to learn is far more important than working
to earn. He also said that the process I am undergoing is more important than
the goals I am pursuing. He gave an example of some people who were so lucky
that they won lottery games. “Most of them are now out grassing” he said, “But
for a billionaire like Bill Gates even though he runs out of all his trillion
dollars today and hits the deck, he can easily rebuild his Microsoft Empire.
This is just because he learnt and understood the process to greatness.”
“So I am still contemplating my
fate. What I feared most is that my mentor, who is also the owner of the
consultancy I am working for, is guaranteed of his steady paycheck at the end
of each month. Yet for me, I am so busy working very hard that I have no time
to make money! But I count it all joy because what I am learning from his consultancy
is two times better than the education I received from the traditional academic
world. My dilemma now lies between serving God for life and doing what people
expect of me.
“Nice time Grace, and God bless
you for reading through my message. Will you have a Super Cell Sunday on 30thDecember?
For us we’ll have one, hosting our patient. Kind regards and I wish you merry
Christmas.”
Two days passed when I was still
contemplating to send the message or not. All over a sudden I received a short
text message from our Julian, who was also our Section Leader inviting us for
the last leaders’ meeting of the ending year the following day. This meant that
if I sent my second mail to Grace, we would meet again when she has not
responded to two of my messages. So I chose to keep the second message in my
pockets.
I was the first Cell Leader to
arrive at David’s place, the selected venue for the leaders’ meeting that day.
This David was a jolly handsome contented bachelor who seemed to be comfortably
enjoying much of his rich single life alone. When more three leaders showed up,
I heard David complaining that he has got so many messages from Grace but he’s
too busy at work to reply her. I immediately began wondering why of all people
Grace chose to send David endless messages without replying to mine! And to
make matters worse for me, when Grace finally turned up, David started
questioning her where she had been last night at midnight when he visited her
residence. “Your sitting room lights were on and your bedroom lights off! At
what time did you go to bed?”
Before Grace could answer any of
David’s questions, we were all wondering what the man of God had been looking
for at a spinsters home at such late hours! But he clarified that a workmate
had invited him to help repair a laptop that had crashed down before her
presentation in a workshop the following day. So we continued with our meeting
agenda.
As each Cell Leader struggled
with self and Cell evaluation for the ending year, Grace’s turn came last. In
the meantime I had been keeping my eyes attentive to each speaker as I noted
down some notes. At times I could steal a glance at Grace and realized a change
in the way she looked at me. This is a girl who could not even steal a glance
at me in the previous encounters. But this time she was staring at my collar
with an eye of a storm which made me wonder what was up in her mind. May be she
was trying to evaluate my unwelcoming features as she waited for a
psychological moment! So I also chose to keep myself busy with listening to the
speakers and scribbling some points on paper.
When she finally began to speak,
I could not believe what my ears heard as she said that of recent she does not
know much about her Cell members. And that she finds it so hard to ask for
people’s whereabouts and what they do for life. “I one day followed up a
certain gentleman on telephone,” she said, “But I was so disappointed when he
told me that he stays in Gulu! Imagine after wasting all that time following
him up to join our Cell! But now I am attempting to resume keeping in touch
with my Cell members on some days. Despite that I stay long in office on
especially on Thursdays and when I have reports to submit. And I am a bit
afraid that our Cell Host is shifting to Mukono. So now I am planning that we
start hosting Cell meetings in turns on a rotational basis. I am in a better
position to host the Cell, but some members complain that my place is too far
for them to reach at night.”
She poured a glassful of water
and took it while staring at me again. I smiled a bit as she continued with her
talk saying, “David you said that you found my lights on at midnight. You know
I am now staying with a little cousin of mine who watches TV as if there will
be no tomorrow. But now my prayer is that I stop overspending. I wonder why
these days I spend too much money!”
“It’s because you’ve got a car,”
said David, “Now you spend more on fuel and maintenance than what you used to
spend in public taxis!”
“Unfortunately I am now stationed
in office,” said Grace, “So I get no any bonuses as I used to when in the
field. Yet I haven’t completely finished buying my car.”
This time I took advantage of the
situation and stared at her the most. I was still being challenged by this girl
supposedly younger than me, but more successful with life. When she stole
another glance at me she turned to the rest of the members and said, “Eh, my
God! Michael thanks so much for your message! At first I thought it was
general, but when I scrolled to the address bar and found that it had been
addressed to me alone, I was mesmerized!”
“Let me hope it wasn’t a personal
message!” said Julian grinningly.
“Oh! Munnange
Michael sent me a long letter! But do not worry; I am still looking for time to
reply to it.”
“No Grace, please don’t mind,” I
said, “You’ll reply to it at your own convenience.”
“I am surprised,” said David,
“Grace chips in some simple vernacular in her English, but you’ll never hear
Julian speak her Runyoro!”
“But David,” Julian intervened,
“How did you know that I am a Munyoro?”
“I know Banyoro women are the
opposites of the Batooro women,” said David laughing.
“Yes!” Andrew who had been a bit
silent supplemented, “Banyoro women are more aggressive than the Batooro!”
I had earlier heard rumors from
my classmates and course mates that Batooro ladies never play hard to get games
with any interested man. But Banyoro women are sometimes like the Bakiga. An
interested man must demonstrate impressive high levels of courage, persistence
and masculinity if he is to win their hand in marriage.
“But those are simply
unjustifiable assumptions, “said Grace, “Look for example at some presenters on
our local FM radio stations who like making fun of the English language accents
of the Batooro and the Bagisu! They just want to sound comical”
When I heard her mentioning the
Bagisu, I turned my eyes to look at her smiling. She immediately moaned
apologetically saying, “Please Michael forgive me! This is not intended to hurt
you!”
There and then I knew that she
had read and internalized the mail I last sent to her.
I wanted to look at David and see
his facial expressions but he was more cunning than me when he immediately
intervened and said, “You know, I am too very weak at replying to e-mails.
Sometimes I find my mailbox full of messages especially from my bosses. So I
have to mark out those which are more urgent to attend to. But I don’t know, I
think I should start marking my unanswered mails. By the way, Michael, I
received your message too, but I am working my fingers to the bone that I have
no time to reply.”
I enjoyed this meeting much more
than before. This time, it is Grace who drove us back to our respective
residencies. She also requested me to sit next to her in the front seat of her
flashy vehicle, which I did with all my heart as the rest of the leaders
occupied the back seats. She drove her dark green car as she kept us attentive
to her talk on how she feared the deadly Ebola disease that was spreading like
bushfire in Uganda.
“I even looked the other side of the road and left my friend, who is a doctor
at a bus stop,’ she said, “Oh, doctors I know can contract Ebola from their
patients and spread it to the rest of us!”
But I never uttered any single
word to her, since she was again booming her secular love songs on her car radio.
I just wished her a good week when I reached my stoppage and continued with my
way home.
The next time we met was at a
wedding party of Isaac and Kevin. Isaac was one of our section’s leaders who was
a gentle handsome man least expected to marry before the rest of the section’s
bachelors. But he gave us the shock of our lives when he hitched a beautiful
young lady all the way from Kasese in Western Uganda.
Since Grace was one of the ladies
in the section with sleek cars, she had also offered her vehicle to drive the
brides to the reception at Norfolk
Gardens at Kyambogo. I
had reached at the reception before the brides. And I was able to see Grace
only when the bride and the bridegroom had arrived. She was dressed in a medium
attractive skirt which had pulled as she crossed her legs, sitting at the back
end of the gardens alone. She had also seen me but I suppose she pretended by
keeping all her attention to the reception. So I also did the same until she
disappeared in a twinkling of an eye. I became anxious, thinking that may be
this cute girl was too exhausted to wait for the rest of the proceedings of the
wedding. But I kept my cool and kept conversing with my blind buddy named Peter
as we enjoyed the romantic antics of Isaac and his Kevin.
To my surprise, Grace reappeared
dressed in a nice brown trouser and a blouse that matched with the decorations
of the reception. This was also my learning point about ladies. I suppose Grace
had studied the colors of the wedding scenery and realized that her former sexy
skirt and a stripped white blouse weren’t matching with the wedding
decorations. So she went to the backrooms and came back changed and shining
like an angel. But wasn’t impressed either, because I had a negative attitude
towards ladies who wore trousers. And for Grace, it became worse, because she
removed the best clothes for me and put on the ones I despised.
So towards the dawn of the
wedding, I told Peter that we had to leave early for home. But I first rebuked
him for spending over three hours without saying a word to the young lady who
was sitting besides him on his right. Yet the Master of Ceremony had already
advised ladies at the party to keep smiling so that they catch the eyes of some
senior bachelors who had come. So the lady next to Peter had kept her face up
smiling at whatever was taking place. But Peter had decided to keep his mouth
shut.
When I tipped on Peter to say at
least a ‘hello’ to the young lady, he asked whether I had not seen any cute
girl around for myself. I told him that the entire place was flooded by very
attractive young ladies to the point that it was difficult to choose who to
approach. But I had seen Grace seated lonely at the backseats sipping a bottle
of Fanta. So I told Peter that we should pass by her seat on our way out of the
party. When I crossed Grace’s eyes, she gave me a juicy smile that left me with
no more words. I just smiled back and attempted to give her a handshake. But
she repulsed me saying that she was afraid of contracting Ebola disease. So I
asked her that between me and her who was a disease carrier. She ironically
answered that she was the one with Ebola. “But why did you decide to come as
late as this time?” she asked.
“No, in fact we were among the
very first people to arrive at the reception,” I replied keeping my eyes
straight into hers. “But we waited until 5 o’clock that’s when you people came.
Why didn’t you keep time as it was indicated on the invitation cards?”
“Don’t you know African standard
time?” Grace asked, “There is no hurry in Africa.”
We exchanged greetings and
wishes, as I continued on our way back home with Peter.
Ever since Grace promised to
reply my message, she had never fulfilled her promise. This made me more
nervous than before. I suppose she was still trying to read me like a book and
then use my weakest points to unleash a surprise attack of terror on my fragile
heart. It seems I was dealing with a time bomb. Probably she had thought that I
am a male whore who was running after every girl who crossed my eyes.
At first Grace had realized that
I knew almost all girls in her Cell. I didn’t know them only by name, but by
friendship as well. This kind of behavior might have developed question marks
in her mind. True, I was basing my Ministry on relationship building before
Christians could be in position to volunteer to me their testimonies with ease.
So I was becoming an extrovert friend to every Christian; male and female
alike. I had also anticipated that this approach might land me into danger,
especially from the side of Christian girls. I was likely to be deeply intimate
with one or two of the sisters, and eventually find myself either making
wedding arrangements or caught red-handed making love with one of them. And
this would be a scandal and a death blow to my Ministry. How would I run with
the hare and hunt with the hounds at the same time? It was still a question.
After pondering with my fingers
crossed through my pen, I decided to write back to Grace a message that would
make her open up. I repeated the same message I had concealed earlier, making
some few adjustments:
“Dear Grace, I am ‘beeping again’. Grace how’re you? I hope you’re
okay. These days I have some chances to access internet, that’s why I always
want to stay in touch. I find internet lesser expensive to use than my Celtel
mobile. I saw two “Graces” at Isaac’s wedding on Saturday. The first Grace was
dressed in a skirt. She disappeared and the second Grace came out dressed in a
trouser and blou…which were consistent with the party decorations. Very Smart!
“I am okay on my side, though I
was planning to quit my work this year. I’ve now worked for free for a full
year. But my mentor told me that working to learn is far more important than
working to earn. He also said that the process I am undergoing is more
important than the goals I am pursuing in life. He gave an example of some
people who were so lucky that they won lottery games. “Most of them are now out
grassing” he said, “But for a billionaire like Bill Gates even though he runs
out of all his trillion dollars today and hits the deck, he can easily rebuild
his Microsoft Empire. This is just because he learnt and understood the process
to greatness.”
“So I am still contemplating my
fate. What I feared most is that my mentor, who is also the owner of the
consultancy I am working for, is guaranteed of his steady paycheck at the end
of each month. Yet for me, I am so busy working very hard that I have no time
to make money! But I count it all joy because what I am learning from his
consultancy is two times better than the education I received from the
traditional academic world. My dilemma now lies between serving God for life
and doing what people expect of me.
“Nice time Grace, and God bless
you for reading through my message. Where will you have a Super Cell Sunday on
30th December since you’re operating on a rotational basis? For us
we’ll have one, hosting our patient. Kind regards and I wish you merry
Christmas.”
I had just moved out of the
internet café in Kireka to send Grace that message, when I met her driving off
her sleek green car. Since I was footing with Ibra a great friend of mine, I
didn’t bother to stop Grace’s car to ask how she had been. But what surprised
me is that she recognized us as she kept one hand on the steering wheel and
another on her ear talking to someone on phone. She also managed to wave to us
as she drove past our dusty feet besides the road. I did not like her action. I
had expected her to at least stop her car, hang up and greet us as loved ones.
But I started thinking that probably she was talking to her sweetheart.
This time I was becoming sure
that Grace’s financial muscle is not from the city tycoons I had suspected
before. She’d told us in one meeting that she had bought her car on loan which
she was still paying off. Probably there was another handsome perfect gentleman
who was chasing after her. I do not expect a woman of such a high class and
beauty to be without a man hunting her down. And I suppose that might have been
another reason why she was not replying my mails.
When I told Ibra that I knew the
girl driving the flashy car that had just passed by us, he looked at me with
rebuking eyes. “Is that the Grace you’ve just sent your mail to?” asked Ibra
looking down in my head.
“Yes she is the one,” I replied
still reckoning.
“How come that she drives yet she
looks young! Is she married?” asked Ibra.
“No.” I replied as I reflected on
the possible reasons why Grace had just waved to me.
“I thought she’s driving her
husband’s vehicle,” said Ibra taking faster steps past me. “And now I am
getting more concerned for you Michael,” he added, “Do you know that among all
the Cell Leaders in this Section, you’re the only one without a car?”
“I know that very well Ibra,” I
replied laughing, “And in fact I almost complained to God about it one day. You
know, in one of the Leaders’ meetings held at Grace’s home I was so challenged.
All the Leaders had come driving their posh cars. It is me alone who didn’t
even have a mountain bike. I looked all over the room full of corporate men and
ladies. I was the only one who was still gambling with life and trying to make
ends meet in vain. I really looked small.”
“It is like you’re not serious
with life,” said Ibra. “The way I look at you Michael, I really see someone who
has given up on life. Don’t you feel the pressure around you? Seeing all these
people whom you would have been at the same level with, but have left you miles
behind? Even that girl Grace would have been your wife, so that you marry into
money!”
“Ibra,” I called his name tapping
on his shoulder, “I was still complaining to God over my smallness amidst
respectable people, when He asked me to remember how far He has brought me
from. I remembered how I miserably grassed in abject poverty deep down in the remotest
ends of Salye village, hopeless and illiterate. And how all over a sudden I
found myself with men of valor and women of modesty. So who am I that all these
people now know me and respect me as one of them? So I count this all joy. I
may not become like them, but I want to leave a lifetime impact in each of
their lives.”
When I went back to check my
mails to see whether Grace had repulsed me again, I was surprised that she had
responded to my message with a touch of concern. I had not expected her to write
more than one sentence, but she went beyond the extra mile. So I read her reply
with my feet up, trying my best to detect for some elements of affection in
vain. I think she had composed her mail during the late hours at her office.
She said;
“Hi Michael, thanks for checking on me. I hope everything is working
out well save for the guys employing you. That’s what I call playing on one's
psychology. Why should I work for the goodness of the Lord while someone there
is getting their cheque? Can’t he share with you if he believes in what he
says? Anyway, I am not complaining but thank God you are happy at heart. You
must be a good writer. I for one, I am so brief when writing but had to go this
far to try and match you. I will not be in Kampala from 24th December to 6th January so
I am out for Super Cell. All the best and merry Xmas if we meet not again.
Regards, Grace.”
Since in her mail she had
complained about my Boss for using me, I had realized that she’s a kind of
woman who never entertained working for free. Playing on one’s psychology to
her could as well mean that working to earn is far better than working to
learn. So probably her financial intelligence was a step ahead of mine, a guy
who was far more interested in constructing and owning my own corporate ladder
rather than climbing up other people’s ladders and struggling to fit in their
established culture. This could as well be a challenge to my prospective of
forging her into a proposed team of my then running writing and publishing
charity ministry. She would make a good Accounts Personnel to fill up the cash
flow level of my triangular structure of the ministry. This was because this
position required someone with a financial foundation and good accounting
skills, so I thought.
When I was still contemplating on
what kind of reply I had to write back to Grace, I chanced and found her again
at Church at Namboole Stadium. This was a great surprise because I did not
expect her to have attended the 10 o’clock service. She used to attend the last
service.
However, this Sunday I was stuck
undecided at the stadium driveways with my visually impaired friend Peter. He
had had a disagreement with his girlfriend over the phone, who had failed to
fulfill her promise at the last hour of their appointment. So he was
contemplating going to my Uncle’s home at Bweyogerere for a temporary refuge as
he figures out the way forward. But he did not even have enough transport fare
to take him there, yet I had also lost interest in acting as his guide at the
moment. So I insisted that he gets a taxi to Bweyogerere as I proceed with my
other private businesses. However, when I saw Grace’s sleek green car speeding
off passed the pavement we were standing, I called out her name loud until she
stopped.
When she had safely parked aside,
we moved towards her vehicle and begged for a lift to Bweyogerere. She looked a
little puzzled but she accepted anyway. She first had to unpack her shopping to
create space for Peter in the backseat and me at the front. I kept my eyes fixed
to her beautiful legs until she sensed it and placed a handbag on her lap as
she asked me how I had been. I told her that my week was good as I again
introduced Peter to her, emphasizing that he was blind. She drove on with her
continued complaints about the ever increasing traffic jam on all the city
roads. For me I was waiting for an opportunity to ask about her family and home
village.
“So are you also going upcountry
to celebrate this festive season?” I asked.
“I am not as those unlucky guys,
so I have to go.” She replied as she tried to overtake a track ahead of us.
“What do you mean by the unlucky
guys?” I asked with my eyes again staring at her legs on which she had placed a
handbag.
“I mean those guys who are born
in the city, grow up and study in it and when they die, they are definitely
buried here,” She replied laughing as she tried to hoot in warning to a young
boy who was reluctantly crossing the road.
“So you’re going there till 6th
January,” I added, “By the way thanks for your mail, I remember you mentioning
something like 4th or 6th January!”
“Oh, thanks, I feared I had sent
the mail to another Mugoya!” She said as we attempted to stop in a slow flowing
traffic.
“So, Grace but you have never
told me who that guy Mugoya is!” I asked this time with my eyes fixed to her
handbag.
“He is just my client.” She
replied as she accelerated the vehicle passed a Pajero that seemed to be stuck.
The black handbag slipped a bit and fell off her lap.
Client? I asked myself silently
with a bit of amazement. I wanted to ask whether her work involves sales, but
chose to stay silent about it.
“Oh, I thought he is the Mugoya
of Mugoya Construction Company!” I said chuckling.
“Ha, that would have been a very
good deal for me,” she said laughing, “But that Mugoya is now broke since all
his assets were frozen. Yet I like guys who are loaded with cash.”
Her statement confirmed my fears.
I had anticipated that this young girl was probably chasing after rich old men
in the corporate world. So I immediately changed the topic and asked in which
part of the country she was going to spend her holidays.
“I am going to be with my parents
in Masaka” she replied.
“Eh, you’re from Masaka? I asked,
as I continued to say, “Masaka ladies are very easy to identify.”
I wanted her to know that I was
meaning that these women are generally beautiful. But she seemed less
interested in the statement.
“So which exact part of Masaka?
Is it Kalungu or Masaka town?” I continued to ask with now my eyes directly
fixed on her legs again.
“It’s along Kyotera road where my
parents live!” She replied as we came near Bweyogerere Trading
Center.
“Why don’t you bring your parents
to Kampala?” I
asked vaguely since I was running out of what to say at the moment.
“Why should I bring them to town when
they have their own established home?” She asked in an assertive tone.
“You may bring them to just live
near you” I replied scratching my beard, “By the way, why didn’t you come with
your cousin to church today?”
“Which cousin are you talking
about?” she asked trying to cross her legs. But since she was driving, it
proved to be impossible.
“The one you said she watches TV
like there will be no tomorrow!” I replied with one eye fixed straight to the
road and the other down on her legs.
“Oh, that one was just a young
child who went back to the village.” She replied feeling a little uneasy.
“What about the girl I always saw
you driving with in this car?” I asked this time without looking at her legs in
admiration.
“That one is my sister,” she
replied with less interest in the topic.
“Can you please drop us at home?”
I begged, “You know my friend behind is visually impaired. I wonder whether you
have the medication or anointing that can help him recover his sight.” I said
chuckling again.
“That’s really bad!” she said,
“Are you partially blind?” she directed the question to Peter.
“No, I am totally blind!” Replied
Peter as we approached our destination.
We got out of Grace’s car and
wished her farewell and a happy festive season of Christmas and a New Year. She
also drove off to the petrol station to refill and wash her car which she had
kept complaining about that it was dirty. I went, composed myself and wrote a
reply to her mail saying:
“Thanks Grace for replying to my
mail. It was really sweet for me to receive that reply from you. You know I
fear that you’re always a very busy lady who has no time to waste on informal
communication. But God wants us to spare and share time with one another as an
expression of love to those we cherish and even the unlovable. I thank God you
did it.
The guy who is “employing” me is
not only playing on my psychology, but always says that one reason we are
trained in school is to look for jobs. If there are no jobs, people are out of
work, even if there is a lot of work to do. For example when a firm closes or
moves overseas, it usually leaves behind a lot of unemployed employees. So
employees see no jobs so they do nothing. On the other hand, a person like me
who is receiving his training sees a lot of opportunity. And that I should know
that the jobs will come if the work is done. So I am now cunningly “stealing”
his wisdom and knowledge to take me to the next level.
I am personally not a good
writer, but I have a higher calling to write. That’s why I have an initiative
that develops Christians’ lifetime testimonies into literary texts. So I just
find myself being too detailed even when not necessary. But I thank God that
you wrote a quite long letter. I used to put you in the category of
“one-sentence-reply” writers, but you’ve proved me wrong.
I suppose you’re still at Kyotera Road for
the festive season till 6th Jan. I have packed some bogoyas for Super Cell but ha…let me
hope no one will laugh at me! I wish you journey mercies back to Kampala and a beautiful
2008. I beg you to always stay in touch. Nice time. Michael
I should say that I made a huge
mistake to try to dig out stories and develop weird imaginations about Grace. However,
I later discovered that Grace lives in a world of her own. A world many would
desire to have a glimpse at. What I learned about her however is ‘never judge a
book by its cover’.
No comments:
Post a Comment