One day I was in a public office waiting to speak to one of its important people. A man waiting with me decided to strike up a conversation. I know Ugandans are friendly but there is such a thing as pushing it. And boy, did this man push it. I like to make the most of bad situations so I’ll turn our amazing conversation into a story for you.
“Kukunda? So you’re a Munyankore!”
“lkjdsf;lakjdsf;lakjsdf;lakjdf;ljakdf”, he said.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand the language”, I told him.
“Ah. So you’re one of those who speak Luganda” he exclaimed, now saying “Aldkfja;lsdkfja;lkdsfj;alsdkjf”
“No. I don’t speak that either”.
“You don’t know Luganda or Runyankore?”
“What kind of Ugandan are you?”, he asked.
“I’m the new age Kampalan kind”, I sighed.
“At least tell me you have a child”.
Because the next best thing to speaking local languages is to procreate with those who do?
“No”, I said through clenched teeth. “I don’t have a child”.
“Not even in the village?”
“What village?”, I exclaimed. “The villages where I don’t speak the languages? If I had a child, they’d be here with me!”
“Eh. Just go and marry a Muzungu”.
“I mean, look at your life”, he sneered. “You don’t speak any local language, you have no children, you’re even thin, you’re only fit for a Muzungu”.
“I assure you”, I smiled at the only opening he’d given me. “I’m glad I’m not fit for the likes of you!”.
“So you’re like a homosexual”, he continued.
Eh. This guy was special.
“I think you have a sexual dysfunction”, he started. I got up and looked for somewhere else to sit.
You can’t go around telling people you think they’re fake. One day you’ll meet someone with a bad day, a temper and a gun.
Now to look for treatment for this sexual dysfunction…