She steps on the dance floor in that dangerous red dress. The slit is as long as the Nile, the heel as high as Crested Towers. He drools a little bit before a bright light pierces his eye and he sees her making her way towards him.
Wow, you look dapper. Never seen you in a bowtie before. All suited up. Well done.
Why, thanks. So…
Did you get it?
Yes I did. Carried it even.
His eyes lit up a bit.
Brilliant but lazy. And usually shabby, except today.
She scans the piece of paper up and down and repeats herself, Brilliant but lazy.
He looks on half surprised half defiant.
What do you mean?
This is cheap poetry. I am not a senior three girl. And it is not 1993 anymore. You cannot woo me with Agriculture.
He fidgeted with a response but all that came out was a whimpery, What?
Look. I don’t want to waste your time. You do not want to waste mine. You barely startle butterflies and this cheap attempt is making it worse.
By now he began regretting why he had sent her a bunch of matooke with a note in it. Perhaps he had needed to go to his friend Mbabazi to get some tips on this wooing business. Except, Mbabazi also wanted her.
However, I respect you, that’s why I came.
Respect is a good thing.
It is, but nothing more.
But you know I meant those things. It’s an expression of interest and busobozi – ability like Radio says.
Please. I’ve heard it all before. I’m not the kind of woman you dangle a carrot in front of and expect to follow. Wanna be the man? Gotta have a plan.
I have a plan.
The lights are dancing on skins. Red. Green. Blue. Yellow. Lean on me by Rema comes on.
Won’t you ask me to dance? And agriculture is not a plan.
You’ll be hungry soon.
He took her by the waist, awkwardly at first and then made his grip firmer.
That’s what I mean. You are brilliant. But you are lazy. I mean, you can’t even go for what you want without being unsure.
I wrote that letter.
Ink on a piece of paper.
And matooke. And I asked you out. And you came..
Well…Anyway. Maybe you’re not what I planned for.
What did you plan for?
Not you, Biraaro.
Not me. Not the cow-herder putting on a bond suit.
No. There are better men.
Better men, like Mbabazi?
And Kifeefe and Abed and Yoweri.
I am twice the man they all are.
Stop kidding. How?
Deep down you know the answer to that.
Biraaro. I know you’re sincere but…
No, Uganda, lean on me.
““When pure sincerity forms within, it is outwardly realized in other people’s hearts.”
― Lao Tzu