Affection

In Uganda when it comes to affection – especially public displays of affection, we were prudish, reserved and embarrassed at the thought. Affection if it is to happen, should be done late at night after the kids have gone to sleep and in the confines of the master bedroom with the doors firmly bolted.

In Europe, affection is all over the place – on the trains, the buses, the underground, the sidewalks and even in the cafes and nobody looks, stares or gawps. They just let the couple get on with whatever it is that they are doing.

And I have to point out that affection is not limited to us humans for it also filters down to the animal kingdom though, they have the most morbid way of doing it. In the dog world for example, they show affection by sniffing at each other’s genitalia. The dog will sniff the bitches’ genitalia and not from a distance I might add, but right up close with its nose right on the wee wee area. And if you thought that was bad enough, the puppies too do it – and to their cousins, their parents and even their grandparents!

If that sort of behaviour happened in the human world, it would be a case of society having run mad. Seeing that The Phado is into dog breeding, he should know the answer. I called him and this is what he had to say: “They do it to determine the sex and also to see if the bitch is ready for a bout of sawa ya malavuu.” Let us leave it at that for the time being.

Getting back, in the public displays of affection, there are men who show each other affection. While they are not gay, they just feel the need to show affection. They have to hold your hand while walking and some even feel the need to put their arms round each other’s waists.

The main culprits of this kind of affection are security guards, Asian’s, petrol pump attendants and waiters. You see them walking down the road blissfully unaware that what they are doing is being frowned upon.

I am at the ATM and through the corner of my left eye I spot him coming towards me. Moses is from the depths of Bushenyi and who is unable to talk to you without holding some part of you – be it your waist, hands or even gently caressing your thigh. And for the record, Moses is married though whenever I see him, I think he might swing both ways if you get my drift.

The ATM is taking its time spewing out my dime that, I contemplate leaving the card in the machine to be gobbled up while I make a run for it and as far away from Moses as possible.

As I stand there dithering, Moses is on me. “Mr. Tim” he shouts out. “Long time brother” and with that his hand has already grabbed mine and is giving it a good squeeze. The ATM at this point has splattered out my dime and as we walk, he wants me to go into Nakumatt and talk as he shops. I try to tell him that I have a tight schedule and can’t afford the time but he up’s his offer with lunch at Javas. I accept. Am I that cheap?

Moses is the master. With one hand pushing the shopping cart, the other has a firm grip of my hand. By the time we get to the bakery, his arm is draped round my waist. And to my horror, in the bakery are a group of fine young ladies who give me suggestive looks until they spot Mosses’ arm round my waist. The suggestive looks quickly disappear and replaced by ones of disgust.

I try to reach out to them, to tell them that it is not what it looks like but they are on the move. An elderly woman with her teenage granddaughter also gives me a quizzical look as she covers Teenage Granddaughter’s eyes. It’s only when we get to the checkout counter that Moses gives me a breather and relents on my waist.
With the shopping in his car, we head to Java and rather than sitting across the table from me, Moses sits right next to me almost as if we are cajoled twins and with his hand on my thigh. Obviously, I try to move. Then I wriggle. Then I just get up and go to the washrooms. When I get back I pull out my chair to create some space between us but like the children’s game – musical chairs, Moses moves his chair along with mine and the hand is once again on my thigh.

I know what you are thinking here. Why didn’t I swing him a left or why didn’t I tell him that his hand is offending me? Yes I could have done all that but Moses is of my father’s generation and even if I had swung him a left or told him off, he wouldn’t have seen the fault with what he did because in Bushenyi where he grew up, men holding men by the waist is the norm. It is acceptable.

I did eventually tell him off because as I sliced through my medium rare steak, his hand had encroached further up my thigh and into my groin area, an area that is strictly reserved for female hands. As we left and said our goodbyes in the car park, Moses this time was rubbing my fingers as if he was a masseuse for all shoppers to see.

In the meantime, whoever you are who keeps on sending me suggestive messages with homosexual undertones, from 07**905 764, just because you may have seen Moses with his hand draped round my waist, I am NOT gay and I DO NOT find your txt messages entertaining or flattering so please stop it.