13:00 hours, she kept time, always.. Light makeup and strong perfume, he loved perfumes; French, that he kept in tiny bottles like some sort of collector. She wasn't sure about what he did for a living and she wasn't bothered about it - the less you knew about them, the better. She hated tight dresses -Flaunting it all with hopes of looking extra sexy. What makes a lady sexy? She wasn't sure because things were changing quite drastically over the years. The micro minis were replaced by the two-piece dresses (if you want to call them dresses) bikinis and the awful leggings - she wasn't sure she owned one. She was selling but loved to keep it on the down low and preferred to flaunt everything only after the deal was struck and she was sure she wasn't dealing with a `runner'. He was wearing a casual shirt paired with khaki pants and the traditional black shoes; an ensemble that was supposed to make him look a little bit younger (wasn't sure it was working). His age wasn't an issue she cared about however much it was evident in everything they did. Like that one time he nearly had a heart attack - traumatising. What normally happens after the mid-life crisis is a deep longing for companionship in most men. They long for someone to talk to - someone who will pretend to care or better yet, be genuinely interested in them rather than their money and connections. It is sad how you spend your entire life making money and taking care of all the responsibilities on your back only to be ignored when you are close to your last days. She neither felt pity nor sympathized with their situation. The usual pleasantries were exchanged, `How are you?' followed by `How is work?' concluded by `Is mum alright?' She wasn't sure whether it was out of pretence or care that he made inquires about her mother. She was indeed the only person close to her, but most importantly the only person she had ever told him about. Again, the little he knew, the better. It was a policy that seemed to work out for the both of them.
A waiter approached them, he was a 'newbie'. Over the months she was familiar with at least most of the workers at this particular restaurant - their restaurant. Location was important; quiet, not too crowded and most importantly less conspicuous -the kind of place where it wouldn't be odd for two people of different ages to be seen together; a place where such an arrangement would be interpreted as a simple father-daughter meeting. Everything was going great except for the odd guy who couldn't stop staring at her carelessly; shameless guy was probably stripping off her black dress in his perverse mind. He seemed to be having a lunch meeting with a White guy (probably his boss) who was talking so loudly about something to do with solar and fucking. Sparkling water was his usual order because his heart couldn't handle alcohol anymore and hers was white wine which she took simply because she wanted to pass time. She would die of boredom listening to the long stories he loved to tell on and on, but the important thing was to smile and look happy at all times. She had to show interest and ask questions mostly about current affairs - he loved it. Work, she always wanted to do something other than making money off her encounters with old men, but salary wasn't as attractive as her teachers had made it seem. Salary was taxed and received after a month or two weeks of hard work - the kind of hard work she had never been interested in. All excuses aside, she simply made more money. She wasn't proud of her actions but pride doesn't put food on the table especially when one has a drunken father to deal with and a large family to support. Morality is what you make it and besides that, who gets to choose what is right from what is wrong?
He had problems with this restaurant; first it was the crowd, upbeat with a high chance of running into one of his grandchildren (the thought of Kevin running to hug him while calling him grandpa in such a location scared the shit out of him) and then it was the service, slow and nagging. The restaurant used to be private before a bunch of people jumped on board and now it was just a restaurant! He could handle everything but the nosy bastard seated with a White guy who couldn't stop staring at them, particularly her. The prospect of having a young man admiring his lady pleased him at first but with time he couldn't stand it. He wanted to punch that little bastard, to teach him some manners his mother failed to teach him but his frail hands couldn't punch anymore. The White guy next to him had a loud mouth for they were two tables away, but he could make out most of what he was saying... something about money and fucking. She was a beauty in a black silk dress but he cared less about her dress and more about her smile; radiant and provocative - begging him to love her. With her, he felt understood, not loved for he wasn't sure he knew what love meant anymore. After three wives and four grandchildren, one wasn't sure of anything anymore.
He was wealthy but it wasn't always like that for him. He worked his way out of the jungles of Congo and into the finer cities of the world as a UN delegate. He had married the first wife before the money came in, they were sweet hearts. Three children later, she couldn't stand him anymore and neither could he. Trust issues were her biggest problem. He wasn't cheating on her for he loved the life out of her and worked only to create a better life for her and the kids, but she couldn't understand it. She hated it when he spent months away on some mission out of the country though she loved the pay checks that came with it. Soon they couldn't stand each other and divorce was inevitable. She took everything and he didn't complain. A divorce was messy enough to include a fight for properties; they were a few things at that time and he believed more would come over the years. More came. Three years later he took on a second wife, married her for all the wrong reasons, funny how he couldn't remember why he took on Sandra - even her name was a joke. Sandra; like those maids by the slums cooking snake meat for lunch. One child was all they had before he called it quits. He cannot recall the crazy name she gave to the poor child for he rarely visited. This time round, she took a quarter of everything which meant nothing to him. Time was going by fast and he wasn't getting any younger, he needed warmth; something to run home to and maybe if it wasn't too much to ask for, a reason to make more money. Catherine was the last; she was a secretary in one of the many offices he visited in Canada - his vacation destination. She was different from the three but still a woman like the rest. She was bound to want more and more even when you gave her everything. That's the one characteristic he had come to find in most women that he couldn't stand. She was his current wife and the mother of his two kids whose expenditure was twice as much as his ex wives spent in a month. She was sucking the life out of him and he couldn't divorce her because she would take most, if not everything he owned. As luck would have it, he was permanently transferred to Uganda; a small country with beautiful women and money whose value was close to nothing. It was the perfect place to spend the last few years of one's employment. He bought a beautiful house and four large plots of land on which he was constructing apartments to rent out to fellow UN personnel. He was a great businessman and he loved that about himself. His life was narrowed down to a simple evening walk around the beautiful neighbourhood and it was on one of those walks that he met her. Her butt was the first thing he noticed before she turned around and walked towards what he'd later learn was her home. He wasn't going to approach her for she was young - younger than his daughter and his granddaughter probably. He was going to walk away and forget his urge to talk to her. He couldn't. Six months later, they were facing each other in a restaurant somewhere in Kololo with different intentions; money for her and a fourth wife for him. ****
A waiter approached them, he was a 'newbie'. Over the months she was familiar with at least most of the workers at this particular restaurant - their restaurant. Location was important; quiet, not too crowded and most importantly less conspicuous -the kind of place where it wouldn't be odd for two people of different ages to be seen together; a place where such an arrangement would be interpreted as a simple father-daughter meeting. Everything was going great except for the odd guy who couldn't stop staring at her carelessly; shameless guy was probably stripping off her black dress in his perverse mind. He seemed to be having a lunch meeting with a White guy (probably his boss) who was talking so loudly about something to do with solar and fucking. Sparkling water was his usual order because his heart couldn't handle alcohol anymore and hers was white wine which she took simply because she wanted to pass time. She would die of boredom listening to the long stories he loved to tell on and on, but the important thing was to smile and look happy at all times. She had to show interest and ask questions mostly about current affairs - he loved it. Work, she always wanted to do something other than making money off her encounters with old men, but salary wasn't as attractive as her teachers had made it seem. Salary was taxed and received after a month or two weeks of hard work - the kind of hard work she had never been interested in. All excuses aside, she simply made more money. She wasn't proud of her actions but pride doesn't put food on the table especially when one has a drunken father to deal with and a large family to support. Morality is what you make it and besides that, who gets to choose what is right from what is wrong?
He had problems with this restaurant; first it was the crowd, upbeat with a high chance of running into one of his grandchildren (the thought of Kevin running to hug him while calling him grandpa in such a location scared the shit out of him) and then it was the service, slow and nagging. The restaurant used to be private before a bunch of people jumped on board and now it was just a restaurant! He could handle everything but the nosy bastard seated with a White guy who couldn't stop staring at them, particularly her. The prospect of having a young man admiring his lady pleased him at first but with time he couldn't stand it. He wanted to punch that little bastard, to teach him some manners his mother failed to teach him but his frail hands couldn't punch anymore. The White guy next to him had a loud mouth for they were two tables away, but he could make out most of what he was saying... something about money and fucking. She was a beauty in a black silk dress but he cared less about her dress and more about her smile; radiant and provocative - begging him to love her. With her, he felt understood, not loved for he wasn't sure he knew what love meant anymore. After three wives and four grandchildren, one wasn't sure of anything anymore.
He was wealthy but it wasn't always like that for him. He worked his way out of the jungles of Congo and into the finer cities of the world as a UN delegate. He had married the first wife before the money came in, they were sweet hearts. Three children later, she couldn't stand him anymore and neither could he. Trust issues were her biggest problem. He wasn't cheating on her for he loved the life out of her and worked only to create a better life for her and the kids, but she couldn't understand it. She hated it when he spent months away on some mission out of the country though she loved the pay checks that came with it. Soon they couldn't stand each other and divorce was inevitable. She took everything and he didn't complain. A divorce was messy enough to include a fight for properties; they were a few things at that time and he believed more would come over the years. More came. Three years later he took on a second wife, married her for all the wrong reasons, funny how he couldn't remember why he took on Sandra - even her name was a joke. Sandra; like those maids by the slums cooking snake meat for lunch. One child was all they had before he called it quits. He cannot recall the crazy name she gave to the poor child for he rarely visited. This time round, she took a quarter of everything which meant nothing to him. Time was going by fast and he wasn't getting any younger, he needed warmth; something to run home to and maybe if it wasn't too much to ask for, a reason to make more money. Catherine was the last; she was a secretary in one of the many offices he visited in Canada - his vacation destination. She was different from the three but still a woman like the rest. She was bound to want more and more even when you gave her everything. That's the one characteristic he had come to find in most women that he couldn't stand. She was his current wife and the mother of his two kids whose expenditure was twice as much as his ex wives spent in a month. She was sucking the life out of him and he couldn't divorce her because she would take most, if not everything he owned. As luck would have it, he was permanently transferred to Uganda; a small country with beautiful women and money whose value was close to nothing. It was the perfect place to spend the last few years of one's employment. He bought a beautiful house and four large plots of land on which he was constructing apartments to rent out to fellow UN personnel. He was a great businessman and he loved that about himself. His life was narrowed down to a simple evening walk around the beautiful neighbourhood and it was on one of those walks that he met her. Her butt was the first thing he noticed before she turned around and walked towards what he'd later learn was her home. He wasn't going to approach her for she was young - younger than his daughter and his granddaughter probably. He was going to walk away and forget his urge to talk to her. He couldn't. Six months later, they were facing each other in a restaurant somewhere in Kololo with different intentions; money for her and a fourth wife for him. ****
Nice piece
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