This
should have not been the topic for weekend, but it came at short-notice and
since this site demands according to time and propinquity, it has appeared
first and the big Naleyo story had to
sleep under carpet –but it isn’t dead, it will not die because it has my full
protection.
My
friends- people who walked with me the childhood road and those that I shared
school, drinks and deals, understand classically what I am; reserved, polite,
simple, down-to-earth, frank ,moderately critical, very sensitive, slightly
‘jokative’, smart and self driven African child. Some take this traits for
granted and look at me from the sky, others become snobbish towards my manners, but a greater majority of men and women
in the environment I live surely do not understand and only keep changing views
about what I could be. Meantime, my work is to take advantage of all different
judgements/ thoughts of men to unveil details of the things they are made up of
and the things they can make at all moments; moments of smiles and moments of
tears. Fortunately, I always only prick on the former- moments of smiles!
My
weak body was obliged to attend the party at work place Friday evening. Strange
things are meant to happen in life. True, the party opened for me in a very
poignant mood. Apart from the loss of appetite, almost loss of sight, - sight
of well-skimpily dressed daughters of Eve present, loss of strength to sustain
the upward supporting push of the wooden chair, I also lost thoughts. The DJ
boy was responsible at last for my positive emotional teardrops when he played
one of my most striking classical songs from the western world. Then my
attention stabilised and concentrated on the attitude and the joy of the party
members.
Here
was a party that ensured all members showed love for any workmate through the ‘secret
friend gift’ game. Each of us bought presents, - precious commodities for the
randomly selected partners and it played magic! Strange, thrilling, stupid, yet
completely unbelievable situations. After realising that my secret friend was
already so obvious, so ordinary and too close for the world to believe the
secret affordable for me and him, I just sat back like a disappointed hunter
waiting for any godsend consolation. It
didn’t come.
What
came instead was another most obvious individual calling me secret friend. He
is more of a brother, same place of birth- he was the least individual I
expected to pick my name. It happened and the man shakily, ordinarily and dryly
runs to me with his black disposable paper bag! His gift was the most poorly
wrapped, but one of the best stuff given out that night. Some friend received
mere pictures drawn by a poor marker pen artist, others received ordinary handkerchief,
some settled with BIC pens made in Kenya. My other good friend celebrated the
day with a bottle of whisky wrapped like a tin of Gold...but every soul was
happy, I think God presided over this party and he made the choice for the men
and women.
Dance;
there was a dancing competition. There were no specific judges to genuinely
specify that Sarah the tiny, flexible, animated woman beat Sofia the
Scandinavian visitor. How Sofia displayed her talents was -well magical, she
danced like a spoon but Sara was a fork...she had space and - that air of
rhythm that obviously challenged the anti-rhythmical display of shapely
beautiful Sofia from metropolis. The MC hurried to allow a class of conventional
generation voters who blindly denied portable Sarah the obvious win!
There
were also the cut walkers; I never knew that men also have their own way of
showing muscular power throw stylish walking. Some were instead wild walking; –may
be walks of wild cats, but several of them were more on to the monkey style. The
man that showed his strength of a man was to me Simon -the boy from Kangole. Women
am told admire us who have strong muscles,- the imagination is strange and far
and hidden, hidden in the trouser. Sarah the queen dancer was wrongly voted best
female cut walker. People did not see the misused beauty fact in Rwina. Rwina
almost created fire in my base; I could not afford to let her go free without
giving her that simple, fire-cooling hug immediately after her show...but am
engaged, engaged to a young, smooth, confident African girl...and she will
never cry me!
I
shouldn’t be mistaken for a bad fellow because of not participating in any of
the priceless fan-generating competitions during the party. I love to keep a
very low, stupid profile so that I may make my friends happier through winning
easily as I cheer them up. In this way am not a competitive challenging bloke
on world target. “It is prudent to be silent but it does not mean that someone
is mad”. On the party; many crazy, sweet, sexy, grandiloquent things happened,
but as usual, I kept my promise to get back early and wish my queen a good
night before I pray and snore.
