Morgan Mushega was in the prefects’ common room when Aida Namatovu walked in. They exchanged greetings as Aida poured herself a cup of tea. She sat wearily in a chair. “You look like you’ve had a long day,” Morgan observed. Aida settled further in her seat and sighed after a sip of her tea, “That’s an understatement! Maureen Mukasa alone is enough to give anybody a nervous breakdown.” Morgan threw his head back, let out a roar of laughter and agreed, “Yes, I know what you mean. Between her, Anthony Baiga and the Senior 4s, it’s amazing the school’s still standing!”
Aida arranged her skirt primly around her legs with one hand as she took a sip from her cup. Looking at Morgan, she said, “To tell you the truth, I’m not looking forward to tonight. Saturdays are usually the craziest days and policing those kids is a nightmare.”
“Too true, but what I do is pretend that I’m not bothered by what they’re doing and pounce when they least expect it.”
“Ha! Whenever I try that, it never works…it’s like there’s a spy network that makes international security organisations look like non-starters!” Morgan let out another of his hearty chuckles, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
As Morgan continued to chuckle Aida watched him, “I get the impression that you take things a little too lightly.” This made Morgan bristle, “Why?” Aida just shrugged her shoulders as she said, “It’s just a feeling.”
“Because I refuse to get uptight about everything around me...No I just like to look on the brighter things of life.” Morgan put his empty bottle of soda in an empty crate and walked stiffly out of the common room. Aida rolled her eyes as she continued sipping her tea and thought, now who’s being uptight?
♣ ♣ ♣
In Casablanca, a senior dormitory, Laura Kempuga admired her half-naked body in the mirror and screwed up her face in disgust. “Hmm,” she said, “I’ve put on some weight.” Her roommate Connie Mafabi turned to their friend Imelda Ariko and shook her head in amusement before turning back to face Laura, saying, “What weight? You’re still as slim as when you joined the school at the beginning of the term. Stop complaining, you’re just fishing for a compliment.” Laura grinned at them, “And you told me exactly what I wanted to hear. I have to look good for tonight.”
“Why do you have to look good tonight? You hardly ever bother to dress up for any of the dances,” said Juliana Kagimba as she entered the room.
“Yes, but tonight is different. I’m planning on giving César the best night he’s ever had, so I have to really put him in the mood.”
“Oh. I don’t understand this fixation you have with sex.”
“Juliana, dear, that’s the only way to keep a man.”
“No, it isn’t, Laura. Besides, have you thought about the STDs, HIV/AIDS and unwanted pregnancies that come along with sex?”
“You need to relax. You have a way of working yourself up. I know how to take care of business so stop worrying about me.”
“Trust me, Laura, most of the time it’s not by choice, you have a way of putting yourself in compromising situations.”
“Hey, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“Oh don’t pay attention to Juliana,” Imelda interjected, she was excited, “Uh-huh, what’s the plan? Come on, Laura, give us details.”
“There’s no need to panic, all will be revealed in due course.”
Laura continued to admire her body in the mirror as Connie unveiled from beneath her pillow a soda bottle that was filled with bungu, a local drink distilled from cassava. Imelda grabbed at it eagerly and took a large swig. Juliana sighed, that was another thing she couldn’t understand, this tradition of consuming alcohol before a dance. She was glad she didn’t need any to enjoy herself; she believed it was all in the mind. Besides, alcohol had a tendency of making you do things that you normally wouldn’t do. “Exactly! That’s why we take it, it gives us courage,” said Connie. Juliana shook herself out of her reverie; she must have said the last bit out loud. She stood up and rummaged in Laura’s suitcase. “What’re you looking for?” Laura wanted to know.
“You’re hip huggers.”
“They’re hanging on the hook behind the door.” Juliana thanked her and left the room.
Connie made a face at the closing door. “How can you stand her?” she asked.
“Who?” Laura wanted to know.
“Juliana. She’s always putting on this ‘holier than thou’ act but I can tell that there’s passion boiling underneath that cool surface.”
“Juliana, passionate? Ha! That will be the day. Anyway, she’s a good person and I for one have no problem with her,” Imelda chipped in.
“I agree with Imelda, besides, she’s my best friend,” Laura added. Connie just shrugged her shoulders and said, “Okay.”
♣ ♣ ♣
At boy’s end, in Nairobi, Senior 2 student, James Adonnes was reading a book as he sat in the one of the courtyards. His classmate, Anthony Baiga entered the courtyard and stood over him. “Jamo, what is wrong with you?” he asked. James looked at him with a blank expression. “How can you be studying when everybody is getting ready for what promises to be the best dance of the term!” Anthony was incredulous. James just shrugged his shoulders and went back to his book.
In disgust, Anthony snatched the book from James who growled in exasperation. Anthony pointed an admonishing finger at him, “Now, now, temper, temper.” James glared at him as he said, “I think I have the right. Why don’t you just leave me alone? I would like to get some studying done before the dance. After all, a dance is just a dance.” Anthony made a dismissive gesture, “Yeah, whatever. Come, let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Let’s go.” James sighed, it was pointless arguing with Anthony; the boy was so persistent that he sometimes sounded like a broken record. He stood up and followed his decker-mate.
The two friends left Nairobi and sauntered into Dar-es-Salaam, also a junior dorm, and headed for the corner room on the right in the first courtyard. A boy who went by the name of Wendo let them in. Wendo was doing a booming business; his room was packed with eager students who wanted alcohol but were not brave enough to go to the village to get it for themselves. James wrinkled his nose in distaste and worried about being caught by the prefects. He turned to leave but Anthony held onto his arm. “Relax,” he said. James snatched his arm from Anthony’s grip and said, “Anto, this place is a trap and if you want to stay and get caught, that’s up to you but I’m not ready to get into trouble.”
“Kawa, that’s okay, let me get the swallow and we bust.” James shifted his weight impatiently from foot to foot as Anthony made his purchase, seeming to take forever. Finally, Anthony was ready to go and the two left Wendo’s room.
As they reached the courtyard door, a group of prefects swept passed them. The two friends stopped to see what they were up to. The prefects marched into Wendo’s room and immediately apprehended all in the room, some too intoxicated to comprehend fully what was taking place. One by one each prefect left the room pushing, supporting or leading the occupants of the room. Wendo was putting up quite a spirited fight but the prefect that had a hold of him away was a husky, no-nonsense young man who handled him quite well.
James turned to Anthony with a righteous look. Anthony made another of his dismissive gestures and marched out of Dar-es-Salaam. James shook his head in amusement as he followed his friend, Anthony did not like to admit that he was wrong.
Back in their cubicle, Anthony Baiga took a swig from the bottle that he had just bought from Wendo and handed it to James. When he didn’t reach for it Anthony asked, “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, I just don’t feel like drinking.”
“Ach, stop being a sissy! Here, drink some, it won’t kill you.” James reluctantly took the bottle and sipped tentatively. When he noticed Anthony’s scrutiny, he took a large sip and screwed up his face, the stuff was disgusting. Anthony grinned and patted him on the back, “That’s more like it.” James watched him take another swig and wondered why anyone could derive any pleasure from such a foul tasting drink. Anthony offered James some more alcohol and then polished off the rest. The two friends grabbed their towels and basins as they headed for one of the courtyards to bathe. As they finished dressing, prefects came into the dormitory and herded all the boys out like cattle.
As they made their way down to the main hall, James felt light headed and stumbled. Anthony held his arm to steady him and hissed, “Will you chill! The prefects will see you and you’ll get us both into trouble.”
“You shouldn’t have forced me to drink.”
“Did I put a gun to your head?”
“You might as well should have.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” James muttered as he snatched his arm from Anthony’s grip and promptly stumbled again.
“What is your problem?”
“Nothing, just leave me alone!”
“Kawa, do what you want!” Anthony walked ahead in a huff. James stopped and took a moment to get his bearings back then followed Anthony into the main hall, joining him in their class line for roll call.
As Aida Namatovu prowled the main hall, she caught sight of James Adonnes joining his class line for roll call…she could have sworn that she saw him stagger. Shaking her head in disbelief, she prowled on; there was no way that James could be drunk.
♣ ♣ ♣
Back in Ouagadougou, the courtyard was packed with bathing students so The Posse dumped their basins by the water taps and headed for one of the senior six rooms.
After knocking on the door in the far corner a voice came from within, “Do birds fly?” César replied, “As high as a kite” The door was unbolted and opened. Danston Mugoya stood at the door bare-chested and grinning as he scratched his wild and unruly afro. He stepped aside and let the boys in. The room reeked of ganja as always.
Danston was the son of a very wealthy businessman who contributed heavily to the school. Everyone knew that he drank and smoked but because he pretty much kept to himself and because of his family connections, they left him alone. Besides, he was the favourite nephew of the Headmaster who was prone to disbelieving anything negative said about him.
Danston was also fiercely loyal to his friends, especially The Dudes of which he was part. He found that they were usually true to themselves and didn’t take any nonsense from anyone, definitely his kind of people. Oh, and another thing, they always secured him with some fine girls who they sometimes helped sneak into his single room. Danston was the only non-official with a single room.
Theo and César sat cross-legged on the floor as Kaye positioned himself by the desk behind the door and Alex joined Danston on his unmade bed. The host pulled from under his bed a one-litre bottle filled with bungu.
The bottle was passed around as they sipped from it. Danston lit a reefer and passed it around too. It was excellent weed. César watched his friends in wonderment while the mood became mellow as it kicked in. Smoking marijuana wasn’t one of his favourite activities and declined to partake in it.
They continued to guzzle the booze and it changed their disposition to a more active one. They decided that it was time to get ready for the dance. They gurgled mouthwash and hit the taps. Dressed to kill and smelling of expensive colognes the boys headed for the dance at the main hall.
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