A little story to pass the minutes. From real life. Of a friend. He is Ugandan and works in Juba, I meet up often with him. I have never seen anyone as highly sexed as he is. I thought I used to know the most highly sexed man in Kampala; evidently my circle of acquaintance did not include the true Lotharios. This friend of mine confesses, “I cannot sleep alone. I need a woman every night.” So he’s got lots of stories.
Like this one time when he was still new in Juba, with a comfy job with a Sudanese NGO that entitled him to a Landcruiser, allowances that are people’s salaries in Kampala—infact was his salary in Kampala---accommodation in a hotel by the river Nile that would be like one of those lodges people come from Mabira raving about how the sun setting bends through their window to kiss them goodnight—that kind of hotel in Juba. He was having the time of his life! A car ride from where she sleeps to her place of work every morning through the shimmering Juba heat and lunch in an air conditioned hotel with change rooms that actually had working soap dispensers, the women available to him were so many that he was offered a job by one of the main condom distributors because he had become such a regular customer at one of the main clinics---true story this!
But there was a time when all this nearly ended, when he was given serious pause, dating a Kampala beauty who had come to Juba and within two months was more fluent in Arabic than some Sudanese who had been born speaking a smattering of what is called Juba Arabic. She was stunning, she was funny, and she was honest from the first when he met her outside a forex bureau and introduced himself. She was already taken but she was not entirely satisfied with the man, “You know Sudanese…”
He does not often remember how dates went or what he said because, “My tongue has a brain of its own separate from me,” but he remembers the one day when he decided he could not afford to be even just good friends with this lady who, “could have asked me not to wear a rubber and I swear I would have agreed. She was beautiful!”
“I had just picked her up from where she had asked me to pick her up. We had arranged an afternoon tryst at a lodge where the manager is a buddy of mine. No sooner had to I driven not more than two hundred meters when her phone rung. It was a man, her Sudanese boyfriend who I had never met but heard of. He was demanding, “Where are you?” I admired the way she said, ‘I’m very far. Going for a meeting.’ I could hear him replying harshly, “You have just been picked up in a white Landcruiser by a man. I’m looking at you right now.”
“We were in shock but not as much as when she said, ‘Oh my God, he is standing across the street!’ I followed the gaze of her eyes and yes, right there across the street, standing in front of a bank we were driving past stood this huge six foot something Sudanese guy dressed in military fatigues, scarified on his forehead like the Dinka do, wagging a long warning finger at us, two bodyguards behind him. An SPLA big shot! Let me tell you the truth, my balls shrunk and disappeared.”