Today, we are dealing with more perceptional relationships that real ones we had in the 50s, 60s and maybe 70s if war series hadn’t interfered with how we communicated.
During our years, we kept time and fulfilled every appointment we made because we had no luxury of these WhatsApp and Facebook apps where we made appointments instantly. If bae didn’t turn up, then you would know there was a problem.
On 14th February 1969, my friend Joshua was marrying his borehole (this is where they always met) girlfriend Mercy, and I was among the 6 groom’s men. Mercy was one of the hot babes we had in the whole village of 2000 square miles.
Among Mercy’s entourage, there was this Rwandan lady Umutoni who everyone one noticed. I made sure I line up next to her to compliment my handsomeness to church and reception. I did not waste any second during the celebrations and made my move which she fell for.
I and my new love found Umutoni, excused ourselves from the dance floor and went to the banana plantations to introduce ourselves to “marriage acts” (as if it was our wedding). Unfortunately, we were standing on top of pit-hole full of “shit” and the timber that was used to cover it gave way. Reader, we fell and sank right in poop.
Somehow, I managed to climb on her head and i found my way up on the ground. I disappeared through the bush, terribly smelling and forgot about Umutoni. I honestly do not know what happened to her after, not even a rumour that someone had died at a wedding reception.
I recently bumped into her at Shoprite Lugogo and guys, the lady still has beef of 40 plus years ago.
Who knows whether she would have been my wife now? I miss her wide smile and that’s what this pic reminds of. Photo credit to whoever took this pic (I wish I knew him/her)