Kwanjula

I was late for the party, nothing new there. I have developed a habit of arriving just in time for lunch at kwanjulas. Not nice. Party hearty always tardy. But those kanzu things are a hustle, you can only lift your leg so high. What if the need to throw a light-hearted kick at someone arises? What do you do? What do you do? Any suggestions on this one are welcome…Mckeith, I’m sure you have some tips here.

I sat in a corner and did what anyone at a party, actually anyone at any event does before they meet someone they know; pull out the phone and type away furiously at the already-faded buttons. That bouncy feel of the buttons, so comforting…finally they came for us to go serve. You know those guys that serve a plate that is so heavy, they carry it with both hands? You can see them flinching under the weight of what they plan to eat. No, I am not one of them. Seriously. And you know those people who have their meal with a beer? Jny23, what it is? No, I am not one of them either. Breezed through lunch, the dude and his entourage left and then the music was set loose on us…and then all hell run free.

Scene one: (BM, before the music was set free) Peaceful people, chatting heartily, making intelligent conversation, laughing at the funny quips from the ‘aboogezi’, looking each other in the eye, holding onto their kanzus and gomesis

Scene two: (AM, after the music) NO sign of a gomesi or kanzu in a 50km radius(I measured, Mzee Kalindu was the only one left in one). Old, young, very young and middle-aged (what’s ‘middle age’? Middle of what? Does it vary with life expectancy? Say, Ug middle age should be 24.5 years coz of expectancy of 49 while middle-age in Japan should be what? 40? So I may be ‘middle-age’ in Ug but a ‘kiddo’ in Japan? So for status issues, I shouldn’t travel?). Now, mystery of life outta the way, we were here: Old, young, very young and middle-aged take to the compound and hand the power over to the music; FRENZY. In all honesty, I’d never seen ‘old’ who could ‘own’ the dance floor. You know those times you are in a circle and then old man gets in the middle and gives you something to look forward to in old age. And the DJ helped matters by playing EVERYTHING. Baz, even zouk. Nice, mellow zouk.

I’d never seen my parents get down like they did. My Dad, teetotaler that he is, had me double-checking what they’d put in his coca cola. And my mum was cutting a rug like a pro. It’s a great light to see parents in: normal, not super, all-knowing, have-very-high-expectations-of-you, always-right, immortal.

And then I met my teacher from P.1. Yes, I have grown. Yes, I so resemble my Dad. Am I still naughty? Aha, chance to go philosophical. Well teacher Enid, that is entirely subjective, you see if…(tirade of moob stuff which she finally breaks off, writes down my number and scampers to safety). Bless her soul, she laid the foundation.

Then while doing my version of dancing (it requires everyone else to be at least 3metres away from me, or else…evil twinkle in the eye); while dancing, someone breaks through my force field and taps me. I turn and she smiles and says hi. She knows my name and we’ve met before. Shucks!! I draw BLANKS. Mob of them. I think. I think. While making small talk. I think. Then ahhh(light bulb), she is Richard’s buddy, the one we met at his office. “So you know Richard is in Tororo now?” I ask confidently.

“Who is Richard? You met me through Isaac.”

And there it is people, I suck with faces. Badly. Very badly. I have been in this spot a gazillion times. He/she knows you yet you cannot place the face. Dear sanyu breakfast and blogren, what’s the best way outta these sticky spots? Face recognition software for my ‘kabiriti’? DK, hook me up…Left the party at 2:00am..and the people were still dancing.