Change...

"change is good" I keep telling my self that change can actually be good. after all I have managed to sit in three different organization in the same year and at my own free will. Change surely ought to be good... that's what I keep telling myself. And these same thoughts coursed my head as I headed down to find a new kafunda, having shifted from my former office neighborhood of Serena, Imperial Royale and Sheraton.

1:10 pm

I zoom past my [new] boss with a perfunctory I am out for lunch. How else was I supposed to say it given the fact that I had no clue as to where I should be eating from?

1. 11pm

I pass by the ford focus parked [obviously] where I left it gathering dust and my chest swells with pride. Damn that is a good car - dust and all. Lord forgive me for using that swear word....

1.12pm

I pass a kiosk where the boda boda fraternity have gathered for their lunch appointment with Night, the attendant. from a cursory glance i think they are here for more than Cassava Chapati and beans or mulokoni/ hoof/kigere. Night, it seems has cast a spell on the whole lot. Perhaps it's just her cup size and differential settings [aka chips / hips] !!!

1.15 pm

I loiter past offices of some close buddies who I suspect were somewhere in the neighborhood munching away at some local cuisine. I decide not to bother myself by peeping into their office.

1.20pm

My memory, sense of smell and sense of sight engage turbo boost and soon after I find myself in the would be new kafunda. i promptly end the phone conversation I was having with my wife and order some luwombo and local food

1.22pm

Who decided that Matooke, cassava and Lumonde was local food? What is so foriend about Fries and fried chicken or liver?

1.35pm

I somehow haven't gotten far with my lunch. What's with superheated sauce and matooke that must have spent no less than 6 hours on fire?? "Stamina" is playing in the background and some neighbours seem to be showing me stamina in dealing with their luwombos of chicken stew.

1.40pm

I give up. there is no way I can eat up all the groundnut sauce using a fork. so i fish out the beef and deal with it accordingly. a passing thought: Gonja should reopen! enough said on the matter.

1. 50pm

I decide to drop by my friends' offices and to my surprise they still seem to be out for lunch. I didn't know kigere require too much time. Okumanya they are so engrossed in the hoof-eating campaign, they can't attend to their phones and my calls hence go unanswered!!

1.51pm

Looks like Night is running a good outfit. the guys haven't reduced since I passed her kiosk. Actually more seem to have joined. Is it Night's cooking or Night herself? I wonder.

1.52pm

I pass the ford focus... sigh. I suppress the urge to go for a quick ride around Kololo. I walk a straight line to office not turning back lest

1. 55pm

I think change is good... Of course my lunch was not at meeting point. I didn't rub shoulders with some bigwigs [save for the occasional driver of one of those bigwigs] but it was merciful on my pocket. I look at the clock and realize I can write a note in the remaining few minutes before I get back to the my tasks for the day! change is good

Remininscing Mbale, Episode 3: Murphy's Law.

Remininscing Mbale, Episode 3: Murphy's Law.

by Job Mutyaba on Thursday, June 3, 2010 at 8:28pm ·

Anything that can go wrong will go wrong...

I was efficient in what I did. I covered more ground than I was expected to. Hence four out of five days, I worked hard and worked smart, improving rural transport. Yes, Fridays for me became travel days, I could not wait to meet my girlfriend, now wife, or to shoot pool with Peter at club 5, catch the new movie at Cineplex or the occasional beach party with friends. Weekend for me started Friday morning, right after briefing my boss on my progress on the various filed activities. I insist, I did not cheat the company out of its time rather I had perfected my time management. I remember those days, when my boss would be late for the Friday briefing at his (curiously not mine) breakfast restaurant, he would find me fuming as though I wasn't paid to work on Fridays! Most time Friday was also payday. Imagine my first job and I was paid per day and I had the option of receiving my money weekly or monthly! Eeh that was the life!

Each week I would sneak off right after the meeting – with a pocket full of money and a heart full of sunshine – hoping that Boss man would not call me from office to meet again and clarify about some random idea/ activity. On a few occasions I would actually ask him for a day off to go sort out home issues.

Sunday afternoons would find me on a bus for Mbale, but there were a few times when I felt a bit lazy and chose to leave on Monday morning. It was in those circumstances when Monday morning found me in Kisaasi rather than Indian Quarters, Mbale (mistake number 1).

I tried to catch the 6am bus for Mbale, and missed it by a full 15 minutes, blame it on the Kisaasi taxis. I had two options, A minibus (coaster) that takes about 6 hours for a journey of 4 hours, sits more passengers than a 62seater bus and stops for a customer to sneeze! Or a bus leaving at 6:30pm... Clearly I chose the bus (mistake number 2), to the minibus conductor's chagrin.

An sure enough by 6:40 we were en route and that is when I was Informed that the bus would stop in Jinja town first before continuing to Mbale! We had the customary stop at Namawojjolo for roasted chicken, liver, beef and gonja [roast plantain]. But passengers! They were eating as though they hadn't eaten in weeks!

8:30 am found me in Jinja.

About, 9:20 we were leaving Jinja. Arrrrrrgh

About 10 minutes later I got a call from none other than my boss inquiring where I might be since he was in office already. I made the third mistake: I lied. don't ask, I don't remember what I said. But I must have told him I will be there soon.

20 or so minutes later, the bus' fuel tank got loose and due to the potholes along Jinja Bugiri road, it broke off and we managed to flatten it with the rare 4 tires (it was a 10-wheeler bus).

30 minutes later the minibus caught up with us. And added about 20 more passengers into its belly! Minibuses! I remember the conductor asking me why I had refused to board his bus earlier. To his surprise I refused to enter again (mistake number 4).

The next bus arrived soon enough and we boarded. I was laughing quietly when we passed the minibus again but then things changed instantly. We were informed that the bus we were now using was passing via Tororo then Mbale (adding about 30km and another precious hour to the already long journey).

And sure enough it was after 1 pm when I arrived in Mbale!! As for my boss, the truth reached him on foot three hours thirty minutes after the lie had jetted.