Journeying West

We had been to 2 parents homes,it was fun,fulfilling,rewarding and insightful. It also created a benchmark for the next homes we were to visit. Also, it was now time for the third visit. The usual excitement ,flair and pomp built coupled with the unique group Kajanja.
This time we were going for a 6 hour drive to the west and a sleep over as a group. Yes, we were to sleep over in Bushenyi….group of old men and ladies having a sleep over
The day
The agreed set off was 5am and as usual, intercessions were held for the routine time takers, who we have established since then that wake up to morning prayer or otherwise session either of which has the tendency to go over the scheduled time. Wake up calls begun at 4am and the the WhatsApp group became active. by 5.30am, everyone had assembled and, on the bus, and the long journey begun

The Journey
It was flight standard care aboard the coaster. The stewards pulled international level flight care with all the flasks, pies that have no local translation, cool cups like you are on a London Street and all manner of foods. As the coaster hit Masaka road, the welfare team unpacked the breakfast combo. I can say that they were an opposition team sent to silence the noise as the traffic of the food intensity fought the noise that comes with the excited bunch of men and women whose conversation habit needs no training nor prompting…its present and ever ready.

The stewards either mastered their art or they were showing off a professionally orchestrated ploy to leave us wondering why we do not this much often. Whichever the intention, it worked.
The excitement of moving together brought out the child within everyone as the journey was never went silent the entire 360KM. as we snailed through Lyatonde to Mbarara and later on to Bushenyi, the group grew more and more anxious as mansions showed up along the way. They got the host tensed up as each of these fine mansions was equated to a servants quarter at where we were to be hosted. Looking at the host, I could see fear and a question written on the fore head vain…what did I put myself into?
All that could not stop the now even more excited group to tender in their expectations and the wish that they could be allowed to spend half the night in each of the mansions they envisioned to find. For the host, each kilometer covered seemed to be a meter.

The welcome
As the cheers and wishes went around, so did the distance and we reached our first scheduled welcome point….Kabagarame…the biggest pork market in the west if not Uganda. The host and the parents had spoken to each of us at a personal level. They spoke pork and that was the welcome
Odd, for a parent welcoming a batch of his newly acquired children at a pork joint. But then again, there is nothing normal about the BOM fraternity…we laugh together ,talk sex, express love go wild ,have kajanaja and intertwin in each others lives. A pork joint welcome is low on the list of the odd things in BOM.

A tall towering man welcomed us with a half smile and half tough face. To a few, he is known as a tough no nonsense man,no time for small talk or any at all apart from giving orders and today, he is the host to a kajanja batch of married lads and gals. He approaches giantgantly says hello… throwing the ladies to their knees in the usual once in the month kneel to greet routine. It was shorlived , an answered prayer when they were invited to the tables to make their oreder. At Kabagarame, you can have pork in all forms,fried,roated,cooked,boiled,boiled then roasted and so on. The options are endless. Orders were placed and chitchat started with a man known not to do chit chat. A group attempted and enagaged him while the selfies ministry started making rounds and status update demon showed its head for the few that sat far.
In a little while later, we were joined by an uncle and his wife ,who drove from Kampala to be co hosts and shortly behind them the PORK arrived.

Cooked or fired or not sure but with dad and ebigenderako just unique. In hindsight, I now know, it is not the pork or the style but the entire experience kabagarame gives…you take pork with not judgement and in this case no worries of who picks the bill..we were dad’s guests and dad’s guest we shall be. The bill is dad’s, yet another form of freedom that gulfs one as a BOM member.
The eating continued and a prayer of let your enemies be put to shame by your performance was said. We dug in.

To be continued