Diaspoman: When I visited Nyabugogo to strike a car deal

The other day, I went to Nyabugogo to seal a deal. I was here to negotiate for an old ram shackled car for a giveaway price. I had convinced myself that if I bought myself a car, my status would rise up a notch. It would enable me finally get a future bride. I was here strolling around this noisy garage which resembled a kraal full of emaciated cows and bulls. Whereas some vehicles were a couple of months young and fresh from the factories in Japan, other cars at this garage were in a really pitiful state. Our old folks in the village would refer to these old junks as cows that have undergone the severe effects of a drought. When a serious drought hits the grasslands in and around the villages, the cows shrink into miserable sizes. The ribcage protrudes outwards and the horns tend to become longer than ever before. This was a similar case for some of the cars that were parked inside the Nyabugogo garage. One citizen who would certainly qualify for one of those junk cars is none other than my previous neighbour in Kiyovu of the poor. That was more than a decade ago when Aggrey and I were new in this beautiful land of ours. When we settled in this house that had been abandoned during the terrible days, we realized that our immediate neighbour was to be a source of relief. He was an elderly man that was simply known as Waraje. He had earned this name as a result of his profound love for a product that hailed from the land of many bananas. These bananas were in abundance that the excess of them was used to produce certain liquor called Waragi. Whenever our neighbor guzzled a few bottles of Uganda Waragi, he would begin to imagine that his home was heaven. He would start singing praises to our good lord who art in heaven. During this singing and worship phase, he would drop down on his knees and stretch his arms towards the sky. Then he would bubble out some tough jargon before ending his praise and worship with the following words; Uganda Waraje , Uganda Waraje! This, of course he would be singing in real praise of that potent liquor called Uganda Waragi. It was for this greatest love for Waragi that our elderly neighbor became unofficially baptized as Waraje. As for Aggrey and I, we realized that Waraje was a source of relief not only for the free religious music that emanated from his house but also because of a very crucial factor. He was our main transport provider. Waraje owned a Peugeot estate 504 whose colour changed like that one of a chameleon. It usually changed colours depending on the climate. When it rained, the 504 became greyish. At midday when the scotching sun rays pointed towards our neighbour’s compound, the 504 would change its colour from greyish to purplish. It was this multi coloured vehicle that used to enable Aggrey and I save a few coins that would have rather been spent on the Twegeranye system. Since we had chewed some jobs at the NGO Gikondo compound, we convinced ourselves that Mr. Waraje could be our ally in terms of transportation. So every morning, we would find ourselves loitering around his gate hoping to lure him into giving us a lift to work. Mr. Waraje was a man for the people and that is why he always agreed to offer us a lift. The only negative side of things was that his 504 vehicle was in a very sorry state. Its condition was not anywhere close to those hundreds of junks that are parked at this Nyabugogo garage. It spat, coughed, croaked and persistently refused to kick start. We always had to push it in and out of the gate for a good 30 minutes before it could respond positively! Now, here I am many years down the road on the verge of striking a crucial car deal for a product quite similar to that infamous 504… diaspoman@yahoo.com