Diaspoman: When I become an ‘official’ domestic messenger

During mid 90s, Aggrey and I lived a life full of pretence. We always wanted to show off to people around us – especially to the ladies. We always told them that we were top executives at the most powerful NGO in town. Those were the days when Aggrey and I secured part time jobs at a certain NGO in Gikondo. So, once in a while, we used to drive around in the Land cruisers that were parked at the Gikondo yard. We did not escape the temptation of offering lifts to young and good looking babes. Besides, the fuel tank was always full. But as I have been telling you over the past few weeks, the NGO headquarters have since made major reshuffles especially with top management. That is how we ended with a tough talking iron lady, now the new country boss. In no time, we become some sort of domestic helpers of this lady. The new boss would send us to the nearest café to buy her meat rolls and crisps. She would also send us to the dry cleaners to have her laundry done as well as booking for hair dos. In short, we had become more of domestic-office messengers. However, we continued to pretend that nothing was wrong with it. Aggrey claimed to be the Legal advisor while I pretended to be the Operations Manager. The truth of the matter is that we had no job description. We had to do anything in order to survive. And when Aggrey and I pulled out that nasty Michope plot on her at the Migina pub, things became even worse for us. Somehow, she got to know that we had planned with the waiters at the pub to spray red hot chili on her Michope. She also got to learn that we had arranged to have her glass mixed with some contents of Uganda Waragi plus Guiness-coka and some drops of Mitzig. So, when her stomach moved into the riot mode, it was Aggrey and I who had to face the music. We eventually had to submit to her harsh treatment in order to survive. This new lifestyle made it even difficult for us to keep our girlfriends happy. We came up with one thousand and one excuses whenever they requested us to be around. We had to create exuses of high profile meetings that we had to attend with government officials and other expatriates. Actually one afternoon my girlfriend came to the Gikondo compound to see me. However, I was heading out of office with my lady boss. I was dressed smartly as usual in a three piece suit and I had the car keys. My girlfriend saw us and rushed towards me begging for a lift to see a certain friend. As my boss waited for me in the car, I pleaded with my chick that I had a very important assignment with my boss, actually of ‘national interest’. Can we arrange for this visit tomorrow?” My chick sulked and just walked away. I entered the car and drove off. I did not even know where we were going. My boss never even talked to me whenever I was driving her. Her finger continued to point from left to right until we found ourselves sloping down towards the Nyabugogo area. She then pointed towards the market. She signaled that I should park the car. She then opened her handbag and pulled out a very long list of items to be bought from the market. The list included, charcoal, matooke, posho, tomatoes, onions, cabbage, meat and so many other items. I looked at the long list in disgust but I had no choice. She then gave me some money so that I proceed to buy the stuff. I coolly entered the busy, buzzing and dirty market. It had been raining so the ground was slippery and muddy. I proceeded to buy all the items as loaded them into the car. As I was now carrying the dirty, blackish sack of charcoal towards the vehicle, I lost my balance and slid. I fell down with the heavy sack of charcoal which left me all black like soot. Sympathizers came rushing to the scene to assist me in my woes. To make matters more miserable, my boss just jumped into the driving seat and drove away fearing for her life. She had never seen such a big crowd surround her like that. Hmm among the onlookers in the crowd was none other than my girlfriend. With all frustrations she fired me sarcastic questions; “So, is this the high profile meeting with government officials or you are just simply fulfilling your obligations as the boss’ house boy…?” E-mail: diaspoman@yahoo.com