Humour: Seeking fame at wedding ceremonies

Recently I was at a mega posh wedding in the heart of Kigali. I thought it would be a great chance for me to gain some fame by dining and wining with the top class of Kigali. It was a high profile couple, who happened to be Aggrey’s pals. My friend Aggrey had traveled abroad, and he requested me to attend the ceremony on his behalf. Boy! I was more than willing to represent him at this bash, where top dignitaries had also been invited. I realised that if I could be seen around big bosses, then my days of unemployment would be numbered! I figured that the most strategic place would be at the church pulpit. What I mean is that when the time for offering cash to the waiting bride and bridegroom is announced, you strike. It is at this point that one would stride towards the pulpit to place some cash in the basket so that anyone and everyone can acknowledge you. I realized that this would be the best opportunity, since all the photographers are hovering around to take the snap shots. I knew for sure that if I were to get my oval face in those pictures, I could easily appear in the several albums that end up in big bosses’ sitting rooms. I could also possibly end up smiling on the front page of all regional newspapers. Once my face hits those much coveted front pages, then my days of unemployment would probably expire sooner than later. Anyways, since I had now developed this strategy, I informed Aggrey that it would be unfair for him not to offer the newly wed some cash donation. I explained to him that I would put his cash in an envelope and hand it over at the church service with a signed chit from him. He accepted. I was not ready to part with so much of Aggrey’s cash for the sake of pleasing the pastoral flock. That is why I decided to find change and instead offer cash to the tune of Rwf100. The day came. I pulled up at the church grounds dressed to ‘kill’. Like the Pope himself, I gently and slowly waltzed my way to the front seats so that I could get ready to pounce with my stifled Rwf100 note. Time for cash donations was announced and I jumped out of the seat and first extended a hearty handshake to the couple. All cameras were torching my way. I returned another warm smile before dipping my hand in my pocket for the Rwf100. I discovered something rather shocking. There were no baskets! Instead, the couple was holding small boxes which were fastened by small padlocks. There was a very tiny slit in which we were expected to slot the cash. You should have seen me struggle trying to squeeze the lousy note through the small space. I was obliged to unfold the note so that it could go through. Now, everyone could see what a fake I really was! Instead of unfolding a five thousand note, I was forcing a 100 note with so much agony! Contact: diaspoman@yahoo.com