Mistaken identity

I am not particularly good at remembering faces or events. I am that terrible that, if I saw a crime being committed and was asked by the police sketch artist (by the way does anybody know if Uganda has a police sketch artist? I only see them on TV shows like CSI New York and Law and Order?) to describe the perpetrator, I highly doubt I would be of any help.

Anyway getting into the first slice of today’s column, it was a nondescript Thursday evening and I was gathered round the bar with utl Paulo, Muloodi Oscar amongst other people. I don’t really remember why we chose to sit at the bar but we did. Brenda was still the head bar person and when it came to dealing with drunken and unruly patrons, she would leap from behind the bar and with all her petite 5:4 height and would take on chaps who were 6 foot plus and twice her size.

But when it came to dealing with white expatriates, Brenda was not so secure of herself. She would wrap herself up into a vulnerable petite woman who would cry if you dared take her on.

And on this nondescript Thursday evening, in walked heavily inebriated Muzungu Expat. After downing a number of Ug Wa’s at the bar, he asked for his bill and when it was presented, he went livid! The price of a pack of Sportsman cigarettes was sh500 dearer than it is at Sliders where, he normally drank from. And with that, he went into a rage that unfortunately had more than a good number of racist undertones.
With those undertones, there was a need to step in. After calming him down and paying the sh500, we threw him out and assured him that if he ever came back, a good hiding awaited him.

To my surprise and horror, that Sunday afternoon when utl Paulo and I walked in, leaning over the pool table and about to pot the black was Muzungu Expat, a man who had been barred only days earlier! The confrontation went along these lines.

TB: “You are a funny chap! You know you have been barred?”

Muzungu Expat (Ever so politely): “I am not sure what you are on about.”

TB: “Listen here, let’s make it neat and tidy. Finish your drink and take a hike.”

Muzungu Expat: (Now even more polite): “Am sorry, but I don’t know what you are on about.”

At this stage utl Paulo was busy tugging on my shirt and whispering: “Timo, Timo, he is not the one!” When the part of my brain that does the ‘recognition thing’ kicked in, I found myself agonizingly looking at a Muzungu Expat I had never seen before. This chap was tall and huge unlike the other chap from nondescript Thursday. Worse, he was wearing a white Saracens shirt, so he had to be ex-South African army and with all that he had learned while fighting the ANC during the apartheid era, he could probably plummet me into a mashed up human form.

All of a sudden, I had an urgent need to be in the washrooms! My bladder was on the verge of letting loose, I was soaked in sweat and my utl ‘backup’ was nowhere to be seen. I instead threw myself out and fled.

Recently, I thought I had lost my backup utl phone and it was such a relief when I called it using my MTN and it was still on. From 11:00pm up until 3:00am the following morning, I called the phone and it rang but nobody was picking, so I resorted to sending a txts. The first read: “If you have my phone, kindly call me on the following number.” No reply but phone still rings when I call. Second txt: “It is your best interests to call me on this number so we can work out a way for you to hand back my phone.” No reply but phone still rings when I call it. Third txt: “I will find you and pluck out your eyes! Right now, there are people tracking you down. Very soon we shall know where you are and have you arrested.”

Funny thing though, every time I rang or sent a txt, I would hear ‘beep’. A beep similar to that given by a phone when, the battery is about to expire. But, for some reason, I ignored the ‘beeps’ thinking they were emanating from the movie I was watching.

Then my MTN rang. The number was familiar – in fact it was my utl number! Finally the culprit had taken my threats seriously! However, when I answered there were no formalities of ‘hello’. Rather, it was an irate male voice that ranted on and accusing me of harassment and sending threatening txts. Not having any of it, I retorted and assured him that if he wanted to live another day, he better give me my phone back before I find him and pluck out his eyes. My threat had an effect on him for he hung up and promptly switched the phone off.

Resigned to having lost my phone, I got round to picking up my clothes from the previous evening for washing and going through the pockets, I found it – my utl phone. With relief strewn all over my face, I settled back to my movie.

Then my MTN phone rang again. This is strange I thought. Why would I be calling myself using my utl line which was on the bed next to me? Looking harder, I saw the discrepancy – the prefixes were different. I am on a 0712 prefix and the number calling had a 0714 prefix though, the rest of the numbers were the same. And when I answered, that irate male voice was on the other end shouting out how he is going to have me arrested for harassment and sending threatening txs.

Eeek!! All along, instead of sending the txts to my utl line with a prefix of 0712, I had all along been using 0714! The need to be in the washrooms was once again upon me for my bladder was on the verge or letting loose. In the meantime, my utl line is switched off seeing that the tables have turned and it is now I, who is getting the threatening txts!