|A Marabou Stork Messed Up Ride|
Saturday, July 29, 2017
Kaboozi From The Kafunda
There is, something intrinsic about kafunda culture. Way before I take my seat, I know what to expect because people who embrace kafunda culture are real, down to earth and a far cry from those who go to fancy Bugolobi bars where out of 10k, you hardly get change to buy a second beer as I discovered to my horror one afternoon. Yet in my kafunda, 10k gets me three beers and change for tomorrows milk for breakfast.
Okay so kafunda beers may not be as chilled as those in Silk Liquid and the bottles not washed to rid them of the dust and grime. The plastic chairs are tattered and about to fall apart, and one leg of the table needs propping up with a pebble to steady it. There is also a chance that Waitress is going to fleece me and that my trousers will need to be put in for washing because I sat on a seat that was covered with a fine foil of dust raked up by KCCA Road Sweeper as well as passing traffic. And of course the toilets are most likely going to be dubious.
But all that pessimism shouldn’t bother you, because if you want to have a good chortle and hear real kaboozi, it’s found in the kafunda with real people who have no airs and graces unlike the condescending snobs you find in Silk Liquid or say The Bistro in Kisimenti.
A couple of furlongs ago, on the adjoining table of a Muyenga quarry kafunda, three women were discussing horror Housie tales. The convo (conversation) as Nephew says it from Small Brown Thing to Equally Better Small Brown Thing and Tall Skinny went along these lines.
“New Housie had been delivered early on Sunday morning from kyalo so I spent the best part of the day showing her how things work in the kitchen and she seemed to grasp what I was telling her. That evening, I settled for a tuna sandwich for supper and opened the tin in front of her so she learns. Thirty minutes later and engrossed in TV, the sandwich had yet to make an appearance. Going to the kitchen to check on her, I found she had emptied the tuna into a saucepan, added water and it was on the stove boiling away!”
Swiftly moving on, at Nampeera’s in Soya, this is what Chap told Fat Friend. “The Marabou stork had pooped on the ride and upon getting home, I asked Male Housie to wash it off.
Obviously there was a need to splash some water over the poop to soften it up. Instead, Housie just started washing with a rag and when he realised the poop wasn’t coming off as easily as he thought it would, he had an ‘eureka (!)’ moment. He got a brillo pad – you know the stiff green washing pad that Female Housie uses to wash sauce pans and proceed to give the car a good scour including messing up the paint work.”
The last horror tale is from a Salaama Road kafunda between Middle Aged Woman and Dark Skinned Male. “Girlfie brought me New Housie who just looked featureless. When she went to the washroom, moments later there was a loud thud along with the sound of stuff crashing to the floor. It was obvious she had fainted and I rushed to help except, Girlfie showed no signs of concern. Rather than sit on the toilet, Housie had opted to squat, lost her footing, toppled to the floor and took the cistern cover along with her.” To wrap it up she said and wait for it, wait for it – “anti mu kyalo when they squat, they have enough floor space to steady their feet unlike a toilet rim which is barely an inch wide.”
You see what I mean? In the kafunda, you get real tales and tales that we can all relate to and not that garbled hogwash that is spewed out in upmarket places.
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