Diaspoman : How crazy World Cup results almost cost Diaspoman dearly!

Recently, there was a naked man spotted running through the banana plantations in and around Gikondo. That naked man was none other than yours truly, Mr. Diaspoman! I ended up running around frantically dressed up in my Spiderman underwear in the middle of the night after some Gikondo based thugs taught me a lesson. It was a lesson about getting me fit. You see, Aggrey and I had realized that our tummies were getting out of shape. We had arrived at this realization after watching the opening rounds of the FIFA World Cup held in South Africa. The footballers looked fit and masculine indeed. That is why our so called lady companions ended up cheering the boys on TV instead of paying some attention to us. Here they were busy guzzling down some wines and rum that my rich friend Aggrey was going to pay for. But instead of expressing gratitude towards Aggrey, they simply expressed their admiration towards the TV boys chasing a ball somewhere in Bloemfontein. So, having realized that our pot bellies were betraying us, Aggrey suggested that we start physical exercises. But being the rich guy that he is, he never bothered jogging up and down the streets of Kigali. Instead he pulled out his cheque book and paid for an annual tennis club membership. It is here that Aggrey spends his mornings and evenings trying to burn down some calories. The trouble of course is that whenever he sweats profusely, he compensates by downing several litres of Skol beer plus some chicken wings. But for me, I was not ready to bother Aggrey into paying for my subscription at the tennis club. Besides, he has already done enough by hosting me when I came back from the Diaspora. He had also paid for my SFB 4 year mature degree course. So, I was not going to bother him for tennis club subscription. “Hey Aggrey, do not bother paying for me. In fact I enjoy jogging up the hills of our nice country. I will be jogging up the Gikondo hill from SFB.” Aggrey concurred with me. What he did not know was that the Gikondo hill harboured some abagizi ba naabi. Indeed, as I was enjoying the marathon, some thugs closed in and pretended to be my colleagues. That explains why they lifted me in the air and started tickling my ribs, neck and armpits. As I was busy laughing away, the thugs successfully undressed me and also took away with my Karasharamye cell phone. That meant that I could not call Aggrey for SOS. I had to resort to running like a mad man so as to save face. As fate had it, I reached the Gikondo crossroads where huge crowds had gathered to watch the Nigeria Vs Greece match. Nigeria was leading by one goal and the crowd was getting excited. So in my pants and bare chest, I decided to act in a crazy manner. That is why I picked up some dry banana leaves and started to perform a traditional dance that resembled that one from West Africa. I proceeded to rap in some gibberish language before informing the crowd that I was a wise juju fellow from Nigeria. Then I told them these wise words; “Verily verily, I hereby declare to you that Nigeria will score three more goals in the next six minutes. But before scoring, I need a pair of trousers plus a shirt so that my magic can work…” Within a flash the Gikondo faithful gave me a shirt and pair of jeans. I quickly dressed up as we waited for the Nigeria goals. But as fate continued to follow me, Greece started banging in the goals. The first equalizer was greeted with desperate pleas from the fans. But when the 2nd goal from Greece was confirmed, the irate crowd turned towards my direction! You should have seen me sprinting away as if I was Mr. Usain Bolt himself. I sped away as stones were being hurled towards my direction. As I reached my SFB place of residence, I was relieved that at least I was dressed up in a shirt and trousers obtained from the Gikondo soccer lovers… diaspoman@yahoo.com