My near kamikaze escape

There is a new way to beat the ever worsening traffic jams in Bongo. Yes, a way of getting public transport right up to your doorstep.

The other day, I was feeling a bit lousy at work. It must have been the effects of the brown or rather green bottles.

I decided to dock at a new joint which seems to have the latest arrivals. Here they are in all shapes and complexion, no wonder Mama Watoto has been warning me from going to that place.

These girls must have been tutored on how to handle mischievous customers like this lot I found here especially after the fight that broke out last week.

I took my place at the counter where some other patrons were involved in some sports discussion.

It was all about some old football executive who used his position to make things happen !

Talk of a funny world!

The argument was rather an old one whether Fifa chief was right to stay ensconced in his position as allegations of a bribery scandal raged on is one that is dominating.

I still don’t know what to make of Blatter’s stepping down, whether it was a confession, a moment of clarity, or an admission of guilt.

It is just natural that these arguments sometimes drag on to the late hours of night, sometimes even beyond mid-night.

The rhetoric ranged from why Uncle Sepp wasted resources to organize an election yet then resign to whether he was really involved in those kickbacks.

There are those who argue that under Blatter, Africa made huge gains and there are some just won’t take it.

“Which gains? Are you talking about the synthetic football pitches? What I know is that those who are defending that guy were direct beneficiaries,” said one fellow.

Another reminded the table that the only reason why the guys were not talking about the ills was because they had mouthfuls.

“Wewe it is bad manners to talk while eating,” said another fellow wearing a Man United shirt.

Well, I had a funny headache that was as a result of my undertakings the night before after the man from Kisangani resurfaced to paint the town red.

I could therefore not afford to involve myself in this debate first because I didn’t see anything wrong with someone ‘eating a little’ from his work place.

After all, man eats where he works. Secondly, I am still very green about how things work in most places.

Something must have happened as the whole counter fell silent for a minute or two.

One of the new waitresses who I later learnt that her name was Bora had come to the counter to collect drinks.

Necks turned each time she went back and forth to the counter.

To mark his turf whenever the fat guy placed his orders, it included Bora’s as well.

“I think this time around they have got a gem. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!”

The guy next to where she was standing kept showering the girl with praises. He would touch her all over in very provocative ways.

Soon we had forgotten all about football and attention was now on the new recruits.

Not to miss on the new arrival, another patron who was drinking alone in a corner beckoned Bora to his table.

He went on to whisper something in her ears which I guess was nasty given the girl’s reaction.

In the argument that ensued, the man went on to accuse the girl of being a prostitute.

“Stop interfering with my life, bwana. Go tell that to your poor wife. If you really loved me you should have married me,” she barked back.

Then suddenly the man stood up and hit Bora with a bottle on the face. She squealed in pain.

I had not paid my bills, I chose to flee on a boda boda which ended up in a trench!