The Envelope

It was a friday, my small primary school in Mbarara was to be visited by the President. All teachers were smart that morning and for those of us who didn’t like studying, this called for celebration since we would spend the whole afternoon roaming around town and climbing mango trees.

So when the “bell” was sounded, we started sprinting to our homes for lunch. I noticed Evelyne was running towards my direction so i slowed down to speak to one of the cutest girls in our P.2 class.

There is a way males are always wired to think differently when a female is present. I had made plans to go with my gang and climb mango trees in the neighbourhood and play with bee hives but Evelyn convinced me to come back and see the President of our Country.

So after lunch, i took my usual escape route, reached school, passed under the fence and joined the crowd that was with His Excellency.
I managed to stumble into Evelyne who took me where my classmates were though i didn’t have a uniform.

I had a clear look at the famous Museveni, seated in a chair comfortably,……wooooowww. I had bragging rights over my gang since i had seen the President face to face.

The ceremony come to an end since it was getting dark, Evelyne asked where i was going.
“Home”
“Me and mommy are going to a birthday party of Jonah, our classmate you can come and join.”
She pulled my hand, we walked towards their car and she opened the door. As i was about to put my leg in, my uncle grabbed my shirt.
“Where are you going?”
I had no answer, he then dragged me home and my mum was waiting with a stick.

The die had been cast, time for lashes.
I endured the 15 strokes as i looked at that poster in our living room with Museveni on it.
“Atleast i have seen Museveni” i whispered to myself.

So our dear President, the only man with a vision, the father of the nation i also fought a war just to see you, an envelope would come in handy since the yaka meter is beeping and the water bill has been on my table for 3 weeks.

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About silwaxxy2013

Civil Engineer in the making, moved like a kite in the wind
This entry was posted in Life and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to The Envelope

  1. Pingback: #UgBlogWeek : Curated Stories from Day Three | Joel B Ntwatwa

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