“Mulindwa! Why do you look so sad?” Katuntunu sat down on the bench next to him. “I came all the way from the village to see you.”
“My friend, life is just too hard!” Mulindwa shook his head.
“In the village, you are known for all that money you send to your folks. Surely things cannot be that bad?” Katuntunu leaned back against the wall of the small shop owned by Mulindwa’s landlord in Makerere Kikoni.
“Everything was going so well for me,” Mulindwa stared at the ground between his bare feet. “I had worked so hard, for so long and I was almost there…”
“Eh! This sounds serious,” Katuntunu sat up straight and put a hand on Mulindwa’s shoulders. “What happened?”
Mulindwa turned and looked at his friend. His eyes clouded with tears. He blinked quickly turning to look at the ground again.
“It started like any other day,” he said quietly, almost as if he was speaking to himself. “If only I had known, I would have stayed at home.”
“What happened?” Katuntunu gently squeezed Mulindwa’s shoulder.
“I reached my work place before seven in the morning and began setting up for the day,” Mulindwa sat up and looked at his friend.
“You have an office?” Katuntunu’s eyes opened wide.
“My small telephone kiosk,” Mulindwa said impatiently, frowning. “I take everything home at the end of each day and set up again in the morning.”
“Of course,” Katuntunu nodded.
“I lost everything!”
“Eh!” Katuntunu frowned.
“I was displaying my phones and airtime cards, when I heard a commotion coming from the main road,” Mulindwa sat up straight. “It was University students demonstrating about something.”
“I thought your kiosk was on the lower road,” Katuntunu interjected.
“It is,” Mulindwa stood up then sat down again. “I watched from my kiosk and even sold an airtime card to one student.”
“Get to the part where you loose everything!”
“It was not long before the demonstration became rowdy! I tried to pack up and lock my kiosk, but the students were too fast for me. They took everything, even the little money I had made that morning!”
“Eh!” Katuntunu stood up. “Are you sure it was students? Maybe thieves were taking advantage of the demonstration.”
“My friend, I knew them,” Mulindwa jumped up, spreading his hands in despair. “They were students, moreover my best customers! They even looted the doughnut lady down the road. They took all her doughnuts, flour and even the charcoal!”
“Eh!” Katuntunu seemed at loss for words. “At least you escaped with your life!”
“They were in a hurry to loot someone else,” Mulindwa shook his head. “Luckily I have some savings in my room which I can use to start again. But I am very discouraged. What if they demonstrate again?”
“You keep your savings in your room?” Katuntunu stepped back. “I thought all you city folks use the bank.”
“I was going to open an account, but my neighbour advised me to wait. He promised to take me to the bank at the end of the month.”
“Is that the one who went to the village? Why did you show him your savings?”
“He is my friend.”
“Show me where you keep your savings,” Katuntunu said drawing Mulindwa to the rented rooms at the back of the shop.
Mulindwa reached under his bed, pulling out an old rusty tin.
“I have 300,000 shillings in here,” he said proudly.
They sat on the bed and Mulindwa popped open the tin. His eyes bulged and his jaw dropped. The tin was empty! THE END
