I remember when I offered free advice to a small kid at a house in which I was residing. The advice hinged on the topic of poverty.This small kid was a son of a rich couple who happened to be Aggrey’s friends. You see, Aggrey was the person who accommodated me ever since I came back from the Diaspora. But one day, he told me that he was travelling away for 2 weeks and therefore he decided to leave me in the capable hands of his friends somewhere in Kimihurura.
I remember when I offered free advice to a small kid at a house in which I was residing. The advice hinged on the topic of poverty.
This small kid was a son of a rich couple who happened to be Aggrey’s friends. You see, Aggrey was the person who accommodated me ever since I came back from the Diaspora. But one day, he told me that he was travelling away for 2 weeks and therefore he decided to leave me in the capable hands of his friends somewhere in Kimihurura.
At Kimihurura, I was warmly welcomed by Aggrey’s friends. It was a young married couple who were proud owners of a double storied house. Their compound was so huge and their young kids were enjoying themselves in the swimming pool. This couple was magnanimous.
It appears that they had prepared for me so well, judging by the heavily decorated dining table. It was loaded with fried chicken and sausages. I guess Aggrey had whispered to them about my unquenchable love for that bottle of Amstel. Indeed, the bungalow was full of fridges bulging with all tribes of beers.
Unlike Aggrey, this family had strong Christian values. That is why they urged me to escort them to church on Sunday morning. It had been quite sometime since I had last visited a church building. The last time I was in church was during the wedding of a certain cousin.
Anyways, on Sunday morning I woke up early to prepare myself for church. I descended downstairs for a quick breakfast as I waited for the rest of the family to join me. Their kids were upstairs arguing with the house girl. They were arguing about the choice of attire.
For the 5 year old boy, the fight was all about the underwear. Whereas the house girl was forcing the small boy to put on a Spiderman panty, the lad was more interested in the Batman panty.
Being the neutral guy in the house, I decided to intervene by calling the small boy down. I sat him on the dining table and bribed him with a sausage. I told him that boys should not be crying over trivial issues such as Spiderman and Batman panties. I then told him about a certain villager who had never had that golden chance of putting on a panty until he was in Senior 2. That villager was none other than Mr. Mfashumwana himself.
Apparently, Mfashumwana came face to face with a panty when he was in High School. Even then, it was just a Christmas gift from the School chaplain who hailed from Holland.
Sources close to this famous villager say that Mfashumwana was so excited when the Chaplain handed him the red panty. His eyes almost popped out as he rushed around the school compound showing everybody his new red catch. Sources say that Mr. Mfasha washed his new panty every night. But since he feared losing his panty to thieves, Mfasha feared hanging his wet underwear outside. Instead, he got this wet panty and slid it under his mattress. In the morning, the red panty would be dry and Mfasha would then dress up to kill.
It was always a must that Mfasha pulled down his shorts a little bit so that his bright red panty could be seen by all. He then walked around school with his zip pulled down.
Fellow students looked at him with a touch of envy. They too wished they would dress up in a red panty all the way from Holland. So, as I explained to this small boy sitting in front of me, he slowly began to realize that there was no difference between a Spiderman panty and a Batman panty. They were all cool panties.