ONE.
**** She deliberately tried to take my
integrity for granted. God was watching. ****
Paska Lamone sprung home, to our house in her usual lubricated
temperament. She had not seen us for a couple of months. We missed her too. We missed
her camaraderie. For long we yearned for her jokes. Those who know Lamone are
conscious of those scrumptious-ribs breaking lies she cooks. In my heart, she
remains special among liars my eyes saw since childhood. This attribute aside, our friend Lamone is also
that resolute black woman whose spirit to touch the sky one day will never get
threatened by her present gale. On this particular day it emerged that Lamone had
conceded a goal. As a young goalkeeper, she was clearly disturbed about the
arrangement. However, her presentation to Tata’s other parent demonstrated that
she was excited and happy to be with it and become a tick to the gunman
responsible.
For over 20 months ever since she got into college, Lamone
never came home to beat her drums and set us laughing as was before Tata was born.
Fortunate Tata didn’t like Lamone when
she came to carry her. She feared and would yell when Lamone tries any touch on
Tata’s handsome body. Tata’s ever-sweet smiles never benefited our friend
although Lamone felt the itch of carrying and playing with our jolly,
incandescent, beloved daughter.
The goal scorer is suspect number one in making Lamone turn
her back to great friends of her childhood days, her time in elementary school
and her moments during the journey to college. Our friend came streaming and
springing like an American soldier. Without worry, I flashed her with a
straight warm hug and notified her about her beauty anyway –whatever it is in
other people’s perspective. We had a good time during this half day visit
although Tata was unwell with flue and fever distracting her playful
personality.
Being a casual moment at home with a family friend; we had
everything to share; the tea and the tales. We watched a powerful old school
movie together. My wife Naume Katau and I and Lamone enjoyed everything for the
cool, dusty evening. My only destruction was little Tata’s condition, and
because of her bad health she was out of the evening joy. In order to try and
make her curve a smile, Katau shortly put a children’s movie which didn’t prick
my daughter’s ribs this evening for even a second, - another reason my
happiness wasn’t to the top. Like Katau has always said; when Tata smiles, my
own smile doubles. For this evening my smiles were visible but not
heart-pricking because my only image on earth was unwell.
Reader, Katau’s attributes are exactly as those in my 1999
dream about my wife. At that time, I met a friendly young woman in the street
of London where a plane had dropped us suddenly when we escaped the most fatal
rebel attack in my home district. The Ugandan president had sent planes to come
and do citizen-rescue in our constituency.
The girl I met had numerous true friends. Friends who would
stand by her at all moments; bad and good. Friends who would came home when
they hear a fight or the usual family brawl had hit us. Friends who would
respect people’s values, believes and opinion and would dare listen to all
disagreeing sides in order not to pass judgment but achieve reconciliation and
convergence in their comrade’s homes.
Yes, my Katau is a woman from that stumpy background. Her
modesty, composure, affability, and religion hit me more than her physical
beauty when I met her five years ago. She immediately brought my 1999 vision
home with her hearty companions; Paska Lamone, Agness Apule, Patience Fatika
and a host of other great girl friends she kept since childhood through primary
school and college. I feel more protected every time Katau’s friends are home
or out with her and or with me.
Lamone’s visit this particular evening would later
unexpectedly bring unpleasant muddle to our house. When she was going back
home, Lamone wished me and Tata, a good night and Katau walked her outside the
fence as is common a practice with African women. Tata’s condition intensified
with the absence of her mom and the two women consumed two hours and the
darkness made things more difficult for the constantly coughing, sneezing
daughter of the writer.
It was impossible to trace why mom stayed long because her
mobile telephone was left right back home with us. The only person to consult
was Lamone who didn’t answer her calls millions of times before picking and
saying “I don’t know where your wife is”. What a shocking answer from a good
friend who has just left home and taken Tata’s Mom right with her.
Last week, an innocent engineer was murdered in the middle of
this town and he had left home in the company of his friends. Continuous calls
to Lamone’s mobile were either rejected or unanswered. Tata’s impatience was to
the climax and she cried like both her parents had abandoned her, or as if she
was an orphan. I called and called and called until she answered again and I
barked at her unconsciously questioning why she says she is not aware of
Katau’s location when they walked together. Lamone answered me by switching her
phone off.
It was time to act like a mad man now and act fast. Tata had
to join me in the ride on a hired motor-bike.” Let’s go Tata. Let’s go look for
mom. Let’s try and find her now however dark and dusty it is. We shall treat
the flue later. Let’s go my daughter. Let’s go.”
We got our friend along the road simply roaming home. Our mom
was not seen. Our friend decided to run away from us instead of guiding us on mom's whereabouts. By running way, I got even more scared and more mad. Finally, I managed to
catch up with her and, simply asked a kind man’s question in the presence of witnesses from all-over the world. I was kind, and controlled in my approach even though my emotions had skyrocketed.
One thing that couldn't evaporate off my head was the need to always respect women and children in Africa. Nothing bad really happened. Mom after all was even safe and had simply taken a long route back home. I thought Lamone then merely wanted to take my integrity to the dogs if I could act like a dog at this point in time. Later, the authorities took it up for this night
until the next day.
The next day, our good friend demonstrated mellowness,
amity and religion by deservingly declaring to the state authorities that the
writer did no really scuffle her. State people equally saw the thread of
friendship, trust, religion, lenience and compassion that me and Lamone poured
when they recalled the problem and thought of taking it forward. I think we
were simply tried by the forces of this world this particular week in this semi-arid
central town. I think God intervened immediately and all that this shit was
headed for were meant to rust off immediately. At least
Lamone and I had all the believe that it was done, and would not come
out any more anywhere.
However, some good friend of Tata’s mom has nonsensically
picked up this common worldly trial. She has carried it on and registered it as
a project. The last time I realized that Tata’s only mom is being held
accountable by her best friend in heart and on earth; I have planted prayer
foundation stones to repulse it. So help me God! I know God will provide an answer
that will be documented in the second edition of this book. I know. I know. I know. I know!
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