The Code

In some circles, they call it ‘The Code’. Though I have never seen The Code as in, reading it, nor do I know how many pages it has and who wrote it, I know it does exist somewhere out there. The aim of The Code is to keep men on the narrow path, to guide them and to see that they don’t get into trouble.

One of the subjects written in The Code, is that, ‘man shall not lust after his friend’s wife or girlfriend’. It further states that ‘no remarks shall be made about her – and that means everything from body size, to facial looks, size of bust’ and so on. And to the best of my knowledge, it does not mention anything about giving lifts.

If at all a comment is to be made, it should be limited to the following words: “She is nice” or “she is pleasant.”

And so one Monday I find myself at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport in Nairobi and waiting for the 7:00pm flight back to Entebbe. But for some reason or another, I missed the flight. Okay, okay, okay, truth be told, I know why I missed the flight! I was in Java’s at the far end of the terminal having a beer and did not hear the KQ flight being called.

That was no bother, for I got the next flight back. After going through the formalities at Entebbe Airport – customs and immigration, it was to the ATM for some money and then to the long-term-stay car park to pick up the mots (dad, mots means car) and drive home.

It was at the ATM that I saw her and I knew who she was. She was Friend’s Wife (and I really can’t mention his name for obvious reasons). Friend’s Wife is one of those ladies you would call ‘nice’. And while The Code stipulates that no remarks are to be made about size, I am breaking the rule here and saying that she was not my size for I think she is on the larger side. But she is a pleasant lady and one who occasionally drops in at the bar that I frequent, along with her husband for a drink. When Friend’s Wife saw me, she came up to me and the conversation that followed went along these lines.

Friends Wife: “Hi, Tim, are you picking up somebody?”

TB: “No, I just flew in.”

Friend’s Wife: “Are you driving?”

TB: “Yes, do you want a lift?”

Friend’s Wife: “Thank you, but I don’t finish work for another hour. Would you mind waiting?”

I didn’t mind waiting and when she was done, we hit the road to Kampala. While Friend’s Wife lived in the same neighbourhood as I, I was reluctant to drop her at her door step. Not because I was scared of what Friend might say, but I wanted to drop by Miki’s Pub to see the boys before I went home. To my relief, Friend’s Wife was okay with my suggestion because as she put it, “my husband should be in Miki’s and I would be able to get a ride home with him.”

When we got to Miki’s Pub, it was a full house. The boys were in attendance, the beers were cold and the music was reverberating. The boys wanted to know all about my Nairobi escapades, something that took close to an hour to narrate.

But during the narration, I noticed that something was amiss. Over at the table in the corner where Friend and Wife sat, there was a silence. In fact, it was more than a silence. It was a deftly silence and make things even worse, he was brooding. Occasionally and from their hand gestures, it was obvious they were having a row. And for some eerie reason, during the row, he would point and wag his finger in my direction. Then I didn’t think much of it. Just because he was pointing his finger in my direction did not necessarily mean I had anything to do with the row.

As my kaboozi to the boys carried on and the beers flowed, I looked up to find Friend standing by my side and saying: “Timo, we need to jazz. ”So out of Miki’s Pub it was that we walked, round the corner and there he hit me. Well not physically, but verbally and the wrath of his words went along these lines.

Friend: “TB, just who the f**K do you think you are?”

TB: “Excuse me? You have lost me.”

Friend: “Who told you to give Wife a lift back from the airport?”

TB: “Well she asked me and seeing that we live in the same hood, I was just being polite and neighbourly.”

Friend: “Well she is not your wife to be giving lifts to. I really do not appreciate it at all.”

TB: “Look Friend I am sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Friend: “She had taxi fare and she knows how to get home using a taxi. Next time you see her, please don’t give her a lift!”

Eh, have I lost the plot here? The Code does not mention anything about giving people’s wives or girlfriends a lift or, did somebody rip out the page that I missed it? Why would Friend want Wife to use a taxi all the way from Entebbe Airport and back to Munyonyo? Surely he could see the reason why I gave her a lift? We are friends and we live in the same hood?

When friend got back to his table, stern words were exchanged with Wife and minutes later and without finishing her drink, she got up hopped onto a boda and was gone.
To be on the safe side I too thought I should go. But then again what if Friend thought that I was going to give Wife a lift yet again? I had to stay put and wait till he had gone. And it was coming to 4:30am when he called it a night – or rather morning.

Since then, “thou shall not give lifts to wives or girlfriends” has been added as an appendix into The Code.