The other day, I bumped into an old friend who used to share booze with me in the Diaspora.
The other day, I bumped into an old friend who used to share booze with me in the Diaspora.
He was so excited when he saw me! In his mind, he was sure that I was one of the richest fellows in the land. You see, during those mid 90s, I happened to make several rich friends during my stay in the Diaspora.
I had decided to leave Aggrey behind to toil alone in Kigali as I searched for greener pastures. Of course, Aggrey continued to battle it out as he pursued studies at KIST from where he finally emerged with a good degree.
He has since chewed big posts and indeed his lifestyle is one of the best. All this time, I tried to make ends meet in the Diaspora. One of the ways of making ends meet was by befriending rich innocent unsuspecting young people.
In order to convince these rich people living abroad, I told them that I was a son of a Deputé way back in Rwanda. I told them that I was not just languishing in the Diaspora for the sake of survival.
Instead, I was in the Diaspora as a Government sponsored student who would soon rush back home to head serious Parastatals.
What my new friends never knew was that I was just a lad who had come over in search of paradise on earth. They never knew that I always ended up sleeping on a very hungry stomach and on a very thirsty throat.
Since I was an owner of a constantly thirsty throat, I had to devise strategies on how to oil this desert. That is why I always spied on the nearby pubs to see if I could hook up with some of those rich friends. Some of these rich friends were actually sons and daughters of powerful politicians from African countries.
It was with such friends that I would hook up at the bar. As we talked about politics in Africa, my throat would be busy guzzling one bottle after another. As we wound up on our drinking spree, I would put my hands in the air and make an announcement.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I beg that you allow me to settle this bill.”
At this point, the other guys would shout out in protest "No No, it’s me to pay! I have to pay. Stop cheating me it’s my turn to settle this bill, in fact I insist that you have another round on me!” Ya ya ya! We would all roar out in support of yet another round.
Deep inside me, I would feel comfortable because of two things; first is that my throat was about to take yet another cold frothy drink. Second is that my pockets were as dry as ever.
So, whenever I proudly announced that I would settle the bills, my relief would arrive just in time when my colleagues would insist on paying the bills themselves.
Life continued like this until most of my friends completed their studies and headed back to their respective countries. Eventually I realized that I was left alone in this terrible Diaspoland.
Things were bound to become elephant for me. That is why I also decided to pack up my small belongings and jet back home.
Aggrey was there to receive me with both arms wide open. He gave me accommodation, food, booze and above all, he sponsored me for a degree course at SFB.
But ever since I re-settled here, I have always been in touch with my Diaspo friends. We have been communication using e-mails, SMSs and Facebook. All this time, they believe that I am a son of a powerful M.P.
Through the e-mail communication, I have since learnt that my former Dispomates are now chewing money; thanks to their good degrees obtained from abroad. As for me, I have been telling them that I am a senior consultant at SFB.
I told them that there was no Organisation here that could match my ambitions. That is why I had decided to become a consultant at this SFB hill. Little did these guys know that I was just a lousy student playing catch up….
Now here was my long lost friend thrilled to see me. He knew that I was a son of a Deputé and that translated into free drinks, eats and merrymaking! Only God knows where I shall obtain cash from so that my secret is not finally discovered!