Diaspoman : When we witnessed a pleasant miracle

Several years ago, we witnessed a miracle when a friend of ours who happened to be a born again, invited us for his wedding. That was during the mid 90s. The wedding was to take place in the town of Gisenyi. Our friend was none other than Jean Claude who we had met in Kigali as we tried to make ends meet. Now, Jean Claude had a best friend who loved the bottle of frothy drinks. In other words, his friend by the names of Bahati always pretended to be a born again – but the truth of the matter was that he secretly shared with us hot spirits at Béa’s pub in Kiyovu of the poor. Since Jean Claude thought that Bahati was a saved guy, he selected him to become his best man in Gisenyi. Come D-day. We drove all the way to Gisenyi where we wasted little time. We immediately checked in at Tam Tam where we banged serious music and serious booze. All this time of course, we were with best man Bahati. The bridegroom himself had checked in at the nearest Pentecostal church to pray for his upcoming wedding. Those days, mobile phones were not in existence here in Rwanda. That is why we failed to link up with Jean Claude so that we prepare for his wedding. Instead, we pumped more and more spirits as Kofi Olomide’s songs boomed out of the loud speakers. At 3am, Aggrey and I rushed to Gisenyi town in search of a lodge. We had failed to convince Bahati to follow us as he was really enjoying the booze and music. Anyways, for us we were able to find one lodge available. The problem was that this lodge happened to host hundreds of bedbugs in all corners of the room. We just couldn’t sleep! That night was one of our longest nights ever. Despite the fact that we had entered our bug-infested beds at 3am, it seemed like ages when we finally saw the Saturday sunrise. Our first interest was to find out about our dear Bahati. Aggrey and I dashed to Tam Tam, where the drinking had taken place. The whole ground was littered with empty bottles. A couple of broken shoes could be spotted in the vicinity. We searched around the place in anticipation of finding a drunken man sleeping in a trench. After about one hour, we called off our search and headed back to our lodge. We convinced ourselves that Bahati was paying for his sins. As we approached the lodge, we saw a shinny black jeep parked by the side. We took a closer look. Wow, was this really true? What a pleasant surprise to see the main man behind the steering wheel. It was none other than Bahati himself. He jumped out of the jeep and gave us high fives! He looked fit as a fiddle. Since we were not entirely ready for the wedding ceremony, we asked Bahati to send us a car in time for the actual reception. We were going to skip the church service. Bahati agreed and immediately sped off to join the rest for the church service. As we took our breakfast, the local boy took our best attire for dry cleaning. All he had to do was to get a flat iron, fill it with red-hot charcoal and proceed to press our cloths. Not bad for a Gisenyi lodge? By 4pm, we were more than ready for the wedding. Bahati’s driver was at our doorstep in time. We climbed into the comfortable jeep and sat majestically, like we were the guests of honor. Were we not? The reception place was not as colourful as our modern wedding ceremonies. In those days, people were used to holding low-key receptions. This implied that some weddings were Cake-less. There was nothing like alcohol served on such days. It was considered bad manners to serve beers at such wedding gatherings! Besides, the wedding couple plus the “best man” were savedees! Both bride and bridegroom had already taken their seats at the high table. The number of soda bottles spread all over the high table could have invited a swarm of bees in search of nectar. Bahati was also well positioned in his role of best man. Occasionally, he plucked out a handkerchief to wipe the bridegroom’s sweaty face. They seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their sodas, as they gulped bottle after bottle. As the speeches progressed, it was clear the best man was getting heated up. At one point, Bahati sprung out of his seat and gave out a long handclap to applaud one of the speakers. He had not realized that he was the only one performing a standing ovation. Guests looked on in bewilderment as the Best Man struggled to find his seat. With his hand shaking, he picked his glass of coca cola and took another major swill! It was when Bahati burst out into an uncontrollable prolonged laughter, that a few guys swiftly smuggled him away from the high table. After a careful inspection of the soda bottles, the real truth was revealed. The sodas had turned themselves into wine! What a miracle! Thanks to a couple of empty Uganda Waragi bottles discovered in the Best Man’s pockets! Apparently, our one and only Bahati had been secretly mixing his sodas with the ever toxic Uganda Waragi liquor! diaspoman@yahoo.com