And so it goes. Me, I like theatrics! Like, in the lingo of the youth, this ‘guy’ who chose to slide down out of his job, rather than just walk out..…. But first things first. This word ‘guy’, what kind of creature does it refer to, these days? I remember the first time I heard it uttered was in 1959, in Bufumbira, Southern Uganda.
And so it goes. Me, I like theatrics! Like, in the lingo of the youth, this ‘guy’ who chose to slide down out of his job, rather than just walk out..….
But first things first. This word ‘guy’, what kind of creature does it refer to, these days? I remember the first time I heard it uttered was in 1959, in Bufumbira, Southern Uganda. We’d just scampered out of our country of birth, ‘Parmehutu’ militia hounds hot on our heels, in the first Rwandan pogroms.
In Bufumbira, those days the word ‘guy’ meant a strong, robust young man. Woe unto you if you had to pick a fight with such a guy, popularly known as "Guy Gasyamberenge”. This was in reference to "imberenge”, which is Kinyarwanda (or Gifumbira) for dry maize. So, it meant that a ‘guy’ was so strong that he could grind maize into flour, with bare hands.
The whole of Bufumbira boasted only one Guy among our age-mates. Guy reigned over Bufumbira like a Colossus and whenever he was rumoured to be in an area, all boys went into hiding until it was announced that the coast was clear.
As can be surmised, looking at my morose mug on top of this story, those days I was tiny, with short stumps for limbs. Fortunately, I was endowed with a huge head that looked like a malformed pumpkin. But for my head, you’d have taken me for an oversized flea.
Imagine me then, rounding a corner only to come face to face with the monster boy. It planted its two legs in my way and glared down at me: "My name is Guy,” it announced, "you insect, who are you?” I felt something warm flowing down my legs as I stood gazing up at him, frozen.
Guy wrapped his hands around my neck and, lifting me up to his face, hissed into my face: "Answer my question, walking pumpkin. You are one of these Tutsi insects from Rwanda, aren’t you?”
"Yes, sir, please, I’m innocent, let me go. Please, sir, I’m choking,” I croaked.
He must have felt something like pity, for he let me drop down. After coughing and gasping for air, I tried to lift myself up but he gave me a kick that threw me back about two metres. Still, I didn’t fall down again. When he made to come for me again, something in me snapped and I said: "Don’t!”
I’m sure he was taken aback because he actually stopped abruptly, but momentarily. He stared at me and then came towards me again. I pleaded: "Please, I don’t know what I’ve done to you but if you touch me again, I swear I’ll kill you!”
Even I didn’t believe that! But I had my stick and he didn’t. For info, I was coming from Lake Cahafi (for those who know Bufumbira) where I tended our little herd of cattle. I was a herds-boy and, as you know, a stick is a herds-boy’s do-all.
Still, he came and planted himself in front of me and spat out into my face: "You, tiny Tutsi cockroach, what can you do? You are going to die a pagan, because you’re wasting time making threats instead of praying.” Then he lifted his right foot to kick me.
I skipped to the left and tapped him on the left ankle with a blow of the stick. He let out a yelp but now lunged full force at me. I skipped to the right and he thudded to the ground, face first. Then he got up again and came at me.
I gave him a quick blow on his left ankle. He screamed and lifted the ankle to nurse it, hobbling on one leg. Then I hit the right ankle and he fell to the ground, hollering for help. When people came, they could not believe it: Guy was rolling on the ground in tears, at the hands of ‘tiny’ yours truly!......
But that’s another story. The ‘guy’ who chose to slide down from the plane and his job didn’t go the vengeful way. Last Monday 9th August 2010, Steven Slater – for that is the jolly chap’s name –decided to play the big drama as he defended his honour.
When Slater was hit with the bag of a passenger he was trying to help and received insults instead of an apology, he snapped. So, he decided to get on the plane’s public address system and insult her back.
"To the passenger who called me a mother-******,” said he, "**** you!” And then he grabbed two beers and activated the emergency-evacuation chute and slid down, even as passengers prepared to disembark.
Let’s hope it was not an exit from his career as a flight attendant, too. I gather he has become something of an instant celebrity, just as I made crooning history as "The slayer of Guy” those, oh, so many years ago now.
Pushing anybody to the wall can lead to anything.
If in doubt, ask a fellow one time known as Ikinani Cyananiye Abanzi n’Abagugunnyi (ex-president Habyarimana Juvénal) who tried it. Did he get gnawed, or did he!