I need a new set of friends.
I need new friends who know people that do things. People that move things. People that get deals that can make me a quick buck.
Most of my friends are people I have known since I was grubby, skinny child with anger issues. They either felt sorry for me because I was a misfit or fell for my damsel in distress routine. They are useful types. The kind that willingly offer a shoulder to cry on, fuel for my van and when I am really good, a meal in an expensive restaurant.
But now, I need a new kind of friend. The kind that with one phone call can raise my stock profile, send me on a luxury holiday to Vanuatu, buy me a 2007 Jeep Wrangler and turn me into a dominatrix.
I need the kind of friend who would have saved me from hours begging, groveling and pleading with the Kampala City Council authorities yesterday when they closed my office over a tax and registration dispute.
I need the kind of friend who would have told me what was going on last night when hundreds of police officers, military police and army officers flooded the streets of Kampala. Everyone I called last night had no idea what was going on and my attempts to engage two military police officers who were on foot patrol went horribly wrong.
ME: (Giving them my 100-watt prize winning smile) Good evening Afandes. How …
AFANDE 1: (Gruffly) Callyon Madam.
ME: (Turning off my car engine, leaning out of the window and tuning up the smile to 200 watts) You seem to be very busy tonight. I just wanted to say thank you for all the work you are doing to keep our city safe. It is because of people like you that …
AFANDE 1: Madam, I said CALLYON!
ME: Your uniforms are nice and new and clean. You very smart. What’s the occasion?
AFANDE 2: Madam, dat was an odah. Stati yowah cah anda callyon.
ME: (Getting out of the car hoping that my fabulous figure would move them) I am just really interested in what the big secret is about your operation tonig… Aaahhh! Mommy! (I scream as Afande 2 roughly grabs me by my arm and pushes me on to my car and Afande 1 tries to tear off my camouflage jacket)
AFANDE 2: (Shouting) Eh? You! What alla you doing in a inifomu? Where alla you flomu? You alla spy. Who alla you playingi wiz? Eh? Hehhh!
ME: Daddy! Somebody!
AFANDE 1: You are just joking with us. We are going to take you to answer to Makindye. Mschhhh! You are a muyekera! Kneel down! Lie down! Don’t look at me. Silly! Tumbafu!
Just in the nick of time my neighbor turned into our road off the main Entebbe Road, paid off the soldiers and rescued me. And now I am indebted to the one man I truly loathe.
If I only had a Really Useful Friend, those bu-afandes would be behind bars having molten plastic dropped on their genitals every half hour.
My Really Useful Friend would also help rig the Monitor/Michael Ezra promo so I can win the 140 million-shilling prize for the “Show Me the Money Challenge” or the 60 million shillings up for grabs for the Celtel/Barclays Bank/EABL Tupange competition.
Maybe (s)he could arrange for me to reap from the CHOGM cash cow by landing me the deal to decorate Kampala ahead of the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting.
I am sure I am up to the job. All I would need to do is to cut down hundreds of banana trees (thanks to banana bacterial wilt those will be in plenty) and print badly-worded posters welcoming the leaders of Brunei, Kiribati, Belize and Lesotho. It can’t be that hard, can it?
Now, to get that friend …
Some Uganda Blogger Happy Hour memories from last night.
It was my first since I ‘came out’ and I was impressed and disappointed at the same time.
Another story for another day.