FORGIVE ME PAST: Nambi Rachael

The only drug that treated all that fuss in my mind was Nambi Rachael. I don’t know why I get so peaceful and clear-minded whenever I think of that name, and the angel that holds it… On the other hand, I get panic attacks whenever I look into her eyes. Rachael is the only girl I have ever fallen in love with.

She was twenty-two when we first met, three years back. Indeed we meet masterpieces in places we never expect. I don’t know what I was doing in a Pentecostal overnight at that time. I remember I had a lot on my mind and so I found myself there beside spirit-filled people. I admit I couldn’t, and still can’t, cope up with their earth-shaking prayers that take hours but their songs always renew my spirit.

Amidst the melodies of the voices of most of those around me, was a silent angel shifting her gaze from A to M to Z. I caught her looking at me. She looked away. My eyes remained glued to her fascinating person. She was dark yet giving light to the night. On a starry sky, she is fit to be a full moon. She was about five and something feet tall, but with the best modelled body I have ever seen. There was no smile on her face. She didn’t put one, lest the fairness talked about the Virgin Mary would mean nothing.

As we departed in the morning, we had shared a ‘holy’ moment and some pieces of the stories of our lives. I also got her phone number, thanks to the pastor who told us to leave with a new friend. We started making out since then, shared a lot of moments together until we developed a very intimate relationship between us. We would meet almost every weekend at her hostel at Makerere, on an outing, cinema, overnight, or any lodge I’d rent.

Being a student at the university, words alone couldn’t satisfy Rachael. And don’t get me wrong, she wasn’t money-minded but money played a very big part in developing our fondness. I’d lied to her that I was working upcountry, to justify why I had no residence in town, but whenever I got money, I rented a high-class lodge for a few days to be with her, or took her for an outing. Even when I had no money, I used to go to the university and have a look at her for a few minutes, incognito.

That was then in the beginning but now, it had been long since I last saw her. I know you, being a female chauvinist, would think I’d lost interest after having my share of her, and you so much want to use the phrase “all men are the same”. On the contrary, I have never slept with her; not then, not now. It’s just that I failed to find a way of telling her about the real me, so I resulted to just doing nothing at all.

I needed to see her at such a time, for her company is mind-freeing, but I was not in position to. She wasn’t just any girl I could spend 3,000 to be with. She was far more than that. I needed to make an impression just to see her. If possible, to bring the heavens down!

Well, my situation was alarming, so seeing her was impossible at that moment. The hustle I was doing at the taxi stage wasn’t yielding that much. We were many unemployed youths at one micro mine expecting tones of gold. We were ‘helping’ taxi conductors fill up their seats quickly by ‘hunting’ for passengers using skills like shouting, gluing on them, running after them, etc. The unfortunate thing about the job was that it yielded very little, of course.

Those who saw us would think we’re doing nothing but believe me, the amount of sweat from it is equivalent to that of ploughing an acre of rocky earth. It was the true definition of a hustle. As for me, Ronnie was one of my hindrances to make more because he, too, worked there and I never tried to contest in any battle for passengers with him. No one advised me not to—his momentary stares dared me!

One Saturday morning came with the need to think of new ideas. The urge to see Rachael grew stronger and wilder. I had to find ways of getting money, yet not through theft or anything of the sort because security was still tight, and I did not want to break Gerald’s rule too.

The sun was burning as I sat on one of the benches for bodaboda men under a shade. I could see the surface of the busy road releasing some heated air. The deafening noises from the cars, people, frying oil, etc, tried to make me lose my concentration on what I was thinking, so I stood and entered the slum which was less noisier. Actually it became quiet the more I went further through the bowing huts. It was like walking through catacombs. All the people were already out there to hunt for money in every way.

As for me and the idea I was nurturing, we hosted a body that wasn’t swift in decision making. Anyway, how could a betting desion be easy for it to make when I wasn’t a gambling man, or even a mere football fan? Actually, the daily sports arguments among the other three gang members always made me sick.

Indeed desperate times call for desperate measures: even though this wasn’t really a desperate time, I finalised that betting was the only open door at the moment. Struck by the idea, I almost dashed to the nearby betting center; Dimes Sports Betting. It was the most popular betting company at that time, at least in Bwaise.

It was just at the outskirts of the southern part of Bwaise town. The southern part was like the trading centre. It was always rich with people and goods. A number of shops were chained together to yield an attractive sight, but only the attendants knew the spell of competition that befell them despite the various commodities that were designed in their stalls. A small tarmac road branched off from the shopping ground to the market which was a minute-walk to the right. On the left was the main road.

A lonely two-floor flat stood behind the shops, as though a king behind soldiers ready for battle. The owner of Dimes Sports Betting was so thoughtful of that. He knew that those who practiced such things as betting didn’t want to be put in the light, so putting the building behind the shops was the best idea for more customers.

I nimbled past the sluggish buyers and stock-admirers to the flat. That side was the opposite of the face of the shops. It was quiet and cold. Its air also held a urine stench, which I ignored because such things are not news to me. I made my way towards the rusty metallic stairs and climbed up.

A red cloth blocked any view from the outside. I flipped it and entered the dimly lit room. Even with air-conditioners situated in all four corners of the square room, a heavy unhealthy heat filled its atmosphere. I did not wonder about that. Such an environment was expected from a group of mostly uneducated and lowly male youths. Ages from sixteen to about twenty-five seemed to make the largest number, and most male in that age bracket are allergic to water.

What fascinated me is that everyone was minding their business to an extent that no one cared to notice my arrival. Some of them had their eyes fixed on the football fixtures on the wall to make their desired selections, others were either at the counter placing their bets or cashing-out their winnings, or watching the virtual games on the big screen just above the counter.

Another entrance, which led to the casino, was in the corner near the counter but only saddened faces came out—I didn’t bother going there. I studied almost every face to find out if there was any I knew. After making sure none of my crew members was present at that time, I moved-about fixing my glance onto the floor designed with betting slips. All those were losses, not mentioning the other slips that suffered a different fate, say being thrown to the toilet, rubbish pit, roadside, etc.

I wondered why these grown-ups kept on gambling even after suffering only losses. This surely was an easy way to an addiction! I didn’t mind about that. I even forgot all the stories of those who lost fortunes and committed suicide because of betting. For me, I had nothing to lose. I was more than determined to try my luck if that was the only chance I had to get some money to see Rachael.