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Fiction, Prose

Rolex, Cheating & Diarrhea

September 5, 2017 • By

A few days ago, my appetite for Rolex soared and I dashed Rolex hunting, I hit O Café Gulu first because some how all the Langi friends I have, prefer this Rolex to chicken and it is also true they have the best everything in Gulu. O Cafe was closed by that time. So I turned around and went to check on the guy who makes the best Street Rolex in Gulu, I still owed him money for last year’s Rolex, so I prayed he had forgotten my face.

As fate would NOT have it, I found the place abandoned. It could have been my debt that caused it to close, I thought to myself. Adamantly, I gazed left, right and centre. Emptied a few bins around the place putting away suspicious boxes in the process. The guy was nowhere. I checked all corners where horny guys in Gulu park, no sight of my man Jk. I noticed his Rolex table was stacked away just a few meters away feeling all lonely without JK’s hands rolling dough and slapping the chapatti and stirring whatever he puts in the omelette.

Anyway, I carried my disappointment and shifted to the next Rolex joint after finding out JK had called in sick, I could still see JK’s point from where I stood. The feeling of cheating dawned on me, so I decided to cheat from the next street instead. Onto the next street, I found this Rolex guy patiently doing his magic. He was careful and slow just like JK, he did not talk much, probably language was a barrier just like JK. I greedily placed my order of 2 Chapatti’s and 3 eggs, It would cost me 2500 or half a litre of fuel just like JK’s.

This new guy’s charcoal fire seem ‘weak’ unlike JK’s, the omelette took longer than usual and also smelt different than for my main man. The chapatti too looked whiter like it did not ‘burn’ well the way street Rolex should.

I had my Rolex ready after a few minutes and hit the road. Along the way, I whistled to a Rolex song I had just composed, at the same time I guarded the Rolex against dogs, cats and single men by holding it tighter to my chest.

So, I got home, set up Game of Thrones, munched my Rolex away while Jon Snow and the silver haired bitch touched lips …….. all was well till I woke up at about 6 am and my stomach was composing a song, I cannot remember the lyrics but the instrument was definitely a drum and the theme very unfriendly. If it were a dance, it would definitely be the Acoli Otoole Dance. The kind of pain evoking from my stomach could not easily be described, it felt like direct painful insults or like multiple punches against my stomach wall.

By sunrise, I had a pile of blankets aloft my stomach to prevent my neighbours from waking up to my noise and to also keep safe whatever secrets I still had left away from being exposed by this rumbling stomach. One toilet door, I agreed with neighbours would be reserved for me until I had my situation under control. I would also have the TV remote and game consoles to myself.

It was the Rolex, the darned Rolex was never ready and I made up my mind to go for a refund and a free better Rolex the following day!!

Otoole Dance; a traditional war dance performed by the Acoli characterised by aggressiveness and energy.

Photo Credit: http://proggie.ug


Fiction, Prose

Toothache, time (A Tale of two enemies)

August 24, 2017 • By

If indeed the fires of hell exist as described by men of God then a toothache is the closest to experiencing hell on earth. A toothache is one of the few things even the Acoli’s who like to brag about where they are from have no solutions for. It is like your entire body is being pierced by Chinese needles many at a time.

I remember this one time in school when I had a mild ache during the day, being a person of considerable thought and a believer in Christ, in particular, that no weapon formed against me would prosper, I denounced it as a mere beep. At around midnight, when almost everyone was snoring, grunting, cursing, screaming, writing imaginary love letters and others wet-dreaming, this mild ache returned with all the other demons of pain in its tribe. As if to punish me for belittling it. I made the mistake of sipping water to sooth it down but all hell broke lose.

I felt a pounding pain in my head, a spear straight through my gum, I saw the walking dead zombies in 2004 tearing my cavities, at that point I could clearly remember all the chemical formulas I would normally forget in exams except none could help with the pain, I could as well author a chemistry book.

My eyes swole till I could see my own veins or iris in black and white, the cheeks blossomed but the lanky frame entailed, my legs danced left and centre at will. I thought of weed, yes, I did. I knew a few friends who traded that magic pain reliever but I thought twice, what if the ache took the weed and made itself stronger, where would I end up?

I made countless trips across the dormitory, at some point I thought of requesting the ‘askari’ to take the night off and tend to his mistress while I cover for him. This must have been around 12:30 Am. I could have sworn that I saw ghosts hold their nightly meeting, among them, was the King of the night walkers in The Game of Thrones (Sorry if you thought you saw him first). After about what seem like four hours of aimless moving across the dormitory, I glanced at the watch and it was just 1:00 Am, the pain had also stopped the clock.

You see, a toothache lacks an immediate remedy yet people lick the salt, bite towels, avoid beans and stupid ones pray in the middle of the hurt. I mean, how does one resort to prayers when you can hardly tell if you want to pooh, pee or spit out your tongue. I swallowed Quinine, flagyl and took cough syrup just in case their roles had changed

By the time morning laboured to pass, I had gone to the loos 8 times and been productive once, showered 4 times (Equivalent to one week under normal service), brushed using Colgate, Delident, ABC Dent and Close Up, walked back and forth about 500 times, leaned on all the beds in the dormitory hoping one of them had special healing powers and promised to join any religion that would allow me to sleep. I also took time to apologise to the people I had wronged and those I would wrong in future.

At about 5 AM, I was headed for home, 5km away from school along a road which had all sorts of stories including a singing vampire with an extremely sexy voice, I heard nothing of the sort. I did not see the mean soldiers who guarded the school on my way out that morning and I did not care. I just wanted the damn tooth or teeth off, I did not know which one hurt, it seems my entire set of teeth were teething themselves.


Fiction, Prose

A University Graduate

August 8, 2016 • By

A young man dressed up in brand new cloths for the first time in his adult life set out to join Gulu University in the year 2012. He carried with him a calculator, half a sack of rice, confidence and blessings of the village. He sat on a boda – boda and crossed his arms like many rich people do when aboard such machines. Gulu he was told, was like London; tarmac all over right to people’s door steps, this town never slept because it did not tire, vehicles were as many as the people and beautiful buildings erected everywhere.

Several people gathered for the send-off; his parents held themselves and sobbed silently like they were witnessing his abduction. They had heard stories of iron bar men and prostitutes who could toy with their sons’ good looks. The local village councilor, a big bellied poorly built mayor partisan to any opportunity that arose stroked his mustache in awe. Many were happy for he would return with first hand stories from Gulu. The small engine roared to life, jerked forward and he waved to the confused looking crowd. It would be a new chapter in his life.

3 years later dressed in a black academic subfusc/gown with a square cap seated on his head, it was time to leave the district where alcohol is more common than water, where girls spread their legs for food and boys still think sagged pants has any meaning, where tarmac is just small stones pilled on or besides each other like lazy lovers lying by a pool not some hidden treasure, a city where no same story is actually the same, and go back to the little confinement that birthed him.

Opira had acquired a Bachelor’s Degree in Business Administration. It would be the first degree within his clan or village, the first across the many hills he has to travel through to get home. He was happy to have accomplished something the village mayor and chairman of Anaka only romanced over the radio.……………..