Sunday, March 31, 2013
Just Buy Her Fene!
Easter is over. I thought in the scriptures, they might call it: ‘The Sunday after Easter Sunday’ but according to Google, it is just a plain ordinary Sunday.
And seeing that it was Easter, I restrained myself. I bit my tongue and did not unleash my favoured swear word – tumbavu that is.
In my younger days, when it came to vibing chics (sorry, I meant to say ladies), it had to be verbal. You actually had to talk to the damsel. You had to make sense and you had to be well versed in a number of subjects that chicks would find appealing.
Today’s youngsters have it easy. They don’t have to vibe her any more but merely confuse her with airtime (which she won’t use to call or txt you), take her to Nandos, Cineplex or Friday basketball at YMCA. If you really must talk to her, it is to ask her if she wants another Smirnoff Black Ice or if her baleebesi friends want more chicken gizzards.
Near the MTN Switch in Bugolobi, there is a car wash and a pork joint. Surrounding the car wash, are a number of container shops that sell women’s clothing. One shop in particular, gets more customers than others because of the Rwandese shop attendant. To be honest, she is not all that and she will probably balloon into the size of a whale, have legs like tree trunks that will be riddled with varicose veins once she has popped kids.
A good number of men go into her container under the guise of wanting to buy something but in reality, they are looking for her charms. But none of them stood the test of time.
Until he walked in. He didn’t look like the sort of chap who had a fly name like Matthew, or Jonathan or Marvin. Rather, he looked like a Swaibu, or somebody you would call – gwe gundi.
Obviously we expected Shop Attendant to toss him out but no. Swaibu or Gwe Gundi, did not come bearing airtime and other fancy gifts to get her charms. He came with a container with some edibles in it. And in the container? Jack fruit! To ram home the point, I will put it in Luganda. He had fene. Shop Attendant went from being hostile, to being all coy and shy to warming up to him over a mere container of fene!
And once he knew he had her firmly in his grasp, he came out of the container, stretched himself up like a peacock does once it’s spotted a potential mate – a clear signal to other men in waiting that: This babe is off limits.
But let’s go back a bit. What are the mechanics of wooing a babe over a container of fene? Did he hop down to the market and spend hours looking at the texture of the fene? Did he peel it himself? Did he specially arrange it in the container? And what line did he use on her once he popped the container out of the plastic bag?
With that, there is no need to impress babes with Cineplex, airtime, a Nokia Aisha phone or taking her to Friday night basketball at YMCA.
Take a walk down to the market, have a word with Mama Boy and ask for the best fene that she has. The downside to it is that when you are with her in the taxi, everybody will know that she had been eating fene because the fene smell lingers.
Caricature: Danny Barongo
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