The sound of the gate opening was an earthquake sensation. Irene the house-help stormed into the house, walking recklessly like a mad woman. She laid down, rolling side by side, with her face all wrinkled like an old pair of slippers, tears rolling out of her eyes. Everyone in the house all looking mystified, in pursuit of understanding whatever tragedy had happened to her, instantly stood up. Me with the remote control, switched off the TV. She’d killed my moment of Legends of Kora season3, but well, this is someone’s life at stake, I said to myself.
As mum approached her, gently soothing her shoulder to calm her down so as to get some answers, Irene burst out in tears. , this was serious! See, why would a 21 year old girl enter home at 10:00pm in the night crying? This was after she was sent for a couple of drinks for supper, and she had delayed by thirty minutes. Yo, thirty minutes. You can imagine what all of us were thinking?
Up out in, everyone at home was startled and unsettled about what they had no idea about but thought they knew. The horse’s mouth had padlocked, the search for the key was the highlight. Whispers all over the atmosphere, everyone speculating what had happened, my work was to just eavesdrop. (It was like an active WhatsApp group, and me in the kamooli) Amidst the moment, Irene gathered herself up and as she headed towards the tap area, she quickly went out of the gate. It took us long to realize that she was out of the home premises.
“Go out and look for her”, Mum decreed to me. What if what had happened to her, happens to me? What could it be? How horrible could it make me feel? Questions jogged into my head, fear had enslaved me. But what better moment could there be for me to be Superman? Outside I went to find Irene.
Luck was on my side, Irene was just on her way back home, and I found her on the outskirts of the main road. She was going across the pavement, uttering to self with sobs. On reaching where she was, I candidly asked her why she was crying. Pliably in a deep breath, she said, “It’s my phone, it has been stolen”. This was a deep breath for me as well, all my suspicions were discredited, which was for the better because, if you only knew them, you would be just as horrified as I was that moment.
I walked Irene back home trying to reassure and give her hope that she would get a new phone. You may ask, what phone are we talking about here? A techno old model 551. *inserts laughing emoji*. I have an old model which may play as a substitute, that didn’t worry me. She told the complete story on how she earned some slaps and boxing after trying to re-claim the phone from the “current-owners” after the incident. The sad part was when she broke the news of her UgShs.150000 on her mobile number. She had delayed to notify us and by the time we tried to call the mobile operators to lock the sim-card, it was too late. The motive for locking the sim-card had varnished. The money was scooped off the number. Did we know how? Did the thieves have the pin number? These loopholes leave question marks always.
Had Irene not heard of the famous saying “Kampala Ssibizimbe”? Was it her fault that she left home during late in the night?
As it comes every year, the festive season is full of excitement, jovial moments, events and arrangements in and around town. Everyone is in quest of fun, ending the year joyfully. Neither does everyone have right nor wrong intensions, you do not know. It’s a secular world out there. For Irene it was an old-model phone, for you it could be an iPhone (7 moreover). Still for Irene they were slaps and blows, what do you think would be the case if you fail to restrain from dangerous places during these times?
No one can guarantee your safety, it’s all in your hands. Be cautious, have the fun keeping in mind that “You would better wait for an hour along the roadside, than being admitted to the hospital for months”.
This is Emmanuel Kasomi, my guest blogger. Hope you enjoyed his story telling writting Style.