In those days, when we were virtually ourselves, living in touch with nature, life was as good and as simple as can be!  When we were at school, we shared virtually everything, clothes, grab, cigarettes, booze, just name it.  

Not that life did not have its own challenges but when they came, we were ready and there for each other!  To many of us who originated from humble or near to humble origins, we had to tailor our cloth according to availability.

As you know, I wasn’t a son of a poor man, my uncle Bulazio was a very wealthy man until Field Marshall Dr. Idi Amin Dada VC DSO MC CBE …(RIP), was sent packing by a combined force of Ugandan exiles as well as TPDF and JW (Jeshi la Wukombozi),
that things began taking a lopsided angle!  

As the saying goes, you cannot turn back the hand of history; whatever happened those many years ago is just in the past and I am living in the present.
In the years that followed, I was left partially "orphaned”, having
"lost” my uncle (Bulazio) as a result of the fall of the Amin and the
subsequent looting of Uncle Bulazio’s wealth, leading to his fleeing into the then Zaire, my means of living an exclusive life had been curtailed.  

As they say, "when the drums change tunes, you have to change the dance style”, I had to adjust to the new found life, not that I liked it but I had no choice!  If you cannot get what you want, then you must want what you get! I settled for the latter.  Of course, my "Poor Dad” could not afford me the goodies the "Rich Dad” had gotten me
accustomed to and if I did not adjust, that would have spelt doom on my part.

Just like any other ordinary boy, I went back to school with a pair or two of trousers; this was fine, there were those that did not have any! As was the custom, we had a general "Dance” for all students excluding the senior one student; "Dogs” were not supposed to dance!  How could they dance yet they hadn’t been taught how to?

Therefore, in order to avoid any embarrassment such as stepping on the Girls’ toes, they had
been banned from dancing and that was that!  

Now, as the dance was approaching, we had sent out Invitations to Kyebambe Girl’s School and Kinyamasika TTC, of course, most of us loathed dancing with the TTC girls as they were referred to as "old women”.  For such an event, one had to have the best clothes one could lay hands on.
In those days, we had the "BELL BOTTOM” trousers that had very wide brims such that, they would cover the whole shoe; in brief, they were like "sweepers”!  

Come the dance day, we woke up very early in order to prepare for the long awaited function.  The dance always began at around 02:00pm and ended close to 06:00pm.  In other words, they were day dances.  

We ironed the trousers such that, if a fly dared pass close,
the stiff edge would slice it into two!  As I picked the hot charcoal
box to iron my pair of trousers, disaster struck, the box got open and the hot coals poured out unto the pair of trousers!  This was the biggest nightmare in the whole of my secondary school life.  

How was I going to dance?  My pair of trousers had been ruined; I could not borrow any from someone else as most of them were being used. Moreover, Rosette, my girlfriend from Kyebambe had confirmed that she was going to attend!  I had to feign a sudden illness such that I would find a plausible excuse for missing such an event.  

Nickson, one of my close confidants rushed to the Chaplain’s house for transport and I was rushed to Virika Hospital for treatment, word quickly spread that, Mfashumwana had had a
sudden attack of Malaria and was rushed to hospital.  

To my detractors they began spreading rumours that, I had chickened out of the dance!

Mfashumwana@fastmail.fm