He almost did me

It is sometime last year and I am trying to open-up a company bank account. Not only does it involve “sign-here”, “sign-there”… “Ok, that’s it…wait a sec…come back, kiss here”. When I am done with everything, signing and kissing too, I hand them a hideous pair of passport snaps (I took them when last king of Scotland auditions were going on: thought I’d get to be the fallen president, then they went out and got a mzungu!! Drat.) and make straight for the door. I pull it open and right after the first waft of fresh non-air conditioned air hits me, the bank lady shouts (in a professional way of course…the way Eva Mendes would) “Excuse me sir, one more thing…”

I roll my eyes and humph towards her desk, ready to tear her apart…verbally (eeeeh Rogue King, what were you thinking?). Btw, that ‘I roll my eyes’ was a typo…no sane (read straight) guy should be able to roll his eyes. B2b, no offence… Anyway, the lady says there’s one more document I need to present. This last request is what set off a chain of events that almost saw me being done by HIM. Scary, I know…I could do with some ‘How to build suspense when writing tips’ …Lulu anything? Moving on…

The said document needed to be stamped by a company in which a friend of mine has a stake. I let him know and the guy turns home and office upside down looking for the stamp. Nothing.

“Important documents tend to prove their importance by getting lost from time to time” Ziggy Dee (singer, songwriter, occasional clown, also composer of eno mic)

Of course Ziggy Dee didn’t say that. Richard did. Anyway, I call my friend up and he, amidst tears, says he has failed to find the stamp. I say that I’m in town and I can have one made just to stamp this document and have it out of the way. He agrees.

I head to the park and find some stamp-making chap and commission him to do this all-too-important job. 20 minutes later, I walk off with the stamp. Then the drama starts.

I am walking past BOU when a guy with a funny moustache and a weak shirt starts walking beside me. “Can I talk to you?” he says. I walk on. “Can I talk to you?” he says again, this time nudging me further onto the sidewalk. “Do I know you?” I ask menacingly, walking faster, trying to break free from the rascal. Then some other guy(obviously working with this first rascal) blocks my path and I’m sandwiched. Time check: 10:00 am. I’m thinking, “Oh shit, oh shit, this is how people are actually kidnapped in broad daylight!!! Good thing I know tai-chi…” Anyway, I raise my voice and start asking the two guys who they are and what they want. By this time my shirt has gotten un-tucked and I am bracing myself for some action. A bystander has stopped and he wants to know what is going on. The two guys then say they are police officers and that they just want to ask me some questions about the stamp I have just made. One of them shows me his ID. I refuse to budge. I say if there are any questions, let them fire away right there on the street. “Whose stamp is that? Why did you make it? Is the company yours? Can we talk to the owner? Let me see your ID”. I show them my ID and they grab it. Now I am really screwed. I have to follow them around.

They walk with me in tow down to a rickety police station in Nakasero market. Its only on getting there that I realise the two goons are actually policemen. All along, the guy has been showing me his ID while covering the photo so I still had questions. We find all the other uniformed cops eating doughnuts. As if. That’s only in the movies. Anyway, we get seats, rather we seat on some bench. “Now tell me, who is the owner of this stamp?” he asks.

“I already told you and I’m not going to repeat myself”.

“But all my colleagues here (pointing to the other guys munching doughnuts) would like to know”

“Then feel free to tell them. I won’t repeat what I said”

“So this friend who owns this company, can I talk to him?”

I reach for my phone, dial the number and hand the phone to the chap.

“Hullo. Is this…..”

“Yes it is.”

“This is …from Nakasero police station. Do you know Sleek”

“Yes I do. He is my business partner”

“Was he supposed to do anything for you today?”

“Nothing big. He was just making me a stamp”

“What’s the name of the company?”

“….”

Then my buddy turns the tables and starts asking the questions

“Who is this again? Is there a problem? Where are you calling from?”

The chap gets overwhelmed and hangs up. He hands me my phone, ID and the woe-causing stamp. He apologises and I take time to kick him while he’s down; Talk about how he shouldn’t go around ruffling the feathers of peace-loving Ugandans.

I gather my stuff and leave all the time thinking… “Shit! Shit! Any stray talk from my buddy and I’d have ended up in that ka funny smelly cell…getting ciaoed” Got me thinking, how safe are we? How many of our ‘friends’, neighbours and workmates work for the government? How many ordinary chaps walking with you on the street are actually part of the millions of government organs? Then come elections and we honestly expect there to be a change of guard? Honestly? These guys are everywhere; bars, pubs, lecture rooms, your workplace…

Learn tai chi….learn tai chi…

Some food for thought from a great movie…

“Our job is keeping 99% of the population safe from the other 1%. The problem is we have to spend half our lives with that 1% and the better we do our job, the less the other 99% think they need us. They are clueless. The only ones paying attention on the street are the cops and the criminals; everyone else is just going somewhere or shopping” Robert De Niro, Righteous Kill