Dear Men, DO NOT SHARE A ONE ROOM HOUSE.
We are men, we intend to continue importing “goods” because we have been made to believe that closing our doors (zips) is suicidal. If you have been watching the president’s addresses on Corona updates, you will agree.
I happened to share a small one-room house with a friend called Mike in one of the capital’s renown slams Makindye. Some nights, I used to visit White Nile for Congolese live band in Katwe (Only my agemates who are in 70s can understand this) to listen to Zaire’s export tunes. Those damn afro boys of Mobuto Seseko pinched solo guitars like they would be liberated from postcolonial errors. The melodies led everyone into the temptation of coupling up and “retain” especially when they played Sola by Bella Bella (you social media kids cannot get this)
One night, I went out and returned home unexpectedly at 9pm because of the security situation that night. Mike had locked the door and I thought he was deep asleep.
I sat at the door as everyone passed by me wishing me a goodnight. At midnight, I realised I am all alone and not sure where this Jaluo guy had gone. The clouds had started showing signs of rain and it was growing colder faster.
The time is 1am and some weird smell was blown my way. Whatever was smelling seemed like silverfish or some kind of copper or silver smell. I walked around the house to check on what was burning but clearly nothing. I braved the whole night at the stairs.
6am, I heard the door open behind me and shamelessly, Mike walked out some chubby lady half-dressed with a basin and poured whatever it was right there in the compound. They kissed and said goodbye.
The copper, silverfish smell finally made sense. It was the smell of coitus, though I wonder how they executed their ‘kubombola’ in such a silent manner that only the smell could associate with the activity, like NO SOUND!!
Anyway, I have also learnt that in case the army or police is recruiting, I can pass the winter test.
To avoid inconveniences, please rent your own house.