By Pascal Mwandambo
The last time I mentioned in passing the big news surrounding the promotion of my colleague Napoleon to deputy principal which automatically makes him number two in the Mavumbi Boys administration pecking order.
I remember telling you that Marashi my English colleague who has been salivating for that position has been chewing her finger nails in rancour.
I have always advised the young lady to tone down her ambitions but it seems she has this weakness that does not seem to go away.
Being a head of the languages department has not satisfied her craving for power.
However as I have learnt even from our political leadership, those who are too thirsty for power hardly get it.
So bitter is Marashi such that she has refused to refer to Napoleon as deputy principal.
Instead she calls him “our deputy headmaster” in a very sarcastic tone.
Be that as it may, Napoleon decided to hold a party to thank all the gods of his community, real and imaginary, for this great achievement of “being promoted to glory” as his illiterate fiancé put it the other day.
Despite Marashi being very good at cooking and eating, this one she decided to give a wide berth, instead coming up with an excuse of visiting her mother in hospital suffering from varicose veins.
We went on with our party plans, regardless.
Makuti pub in the heart of Mavumbi town was chosen as the venue.
Parting without Sh20, 000 to purchase fake red mercury was the height of folly. My mood for the party was ruined.
It was a warm Saturday and for the first time my colleague Napoleon was clad in a fitting grey suit, complete with a red handkerchief folded neatly and tucked in his right court pocket.
This was a welcome departure from his creased mtumba suits, sagging on one side as if he carried lead in his pockets.
As the goat for the party was being dispatched to its maker, we enjoyed cold beer, which was a welcome reprieve from the unforgiving heat.
As we sipped the drinks, Napoleon waxed lyrical about changing the school management so that our institution could become the center of excellence.
I was glad that he made that remark when Obote was not within earshot as it could have earned him severe reprimand.
Our principal had promised to join us latter in the day, but from the look of things, it was a polite way of giving the event a wide berth too.
As we were chatting a smartly dressed young man joined us on the table and ordered a beer.
The chap was very talkative and seemingly ambitious on business matters.
Shortly we learnt that he was a dealer in gemstones and also a mining consultant.
He told us that he had acquired a major feat by obtaining a rare find of red mercury.
I could have told Napoleon that red mercury is a myth but at that point he was so taken away to listen to any advice suggesting otherwise.
The young man pulled out two business cards and handed one to each of us.
From the cards I learnt that his name was Makofia.
Actually he was a man of many hearts so to speak.
Against my better judgment, Napoleon excused himself to accompany Makofia to a nearby car wash where his car was being cleaned and where samples of red mercury were.
After about half an hour later Napoleon came back beaming with excitement.
He had purchased a bottle of red mercury from Makofia.
I was taken aback. I asked him who had tested the stuff to confirm it was red mercury.
He said he would test it when he gets a buyer.
I began sobering up when I realised how foolish Napoleon had been.
Parting without Sh20, 000 to purchase fake red mercury was the height of folly. My mood for the party was ruined.
I told Napoleon that red mercury does not exist and what the young man had sold him was a mixture of aluminum paint mixed with tomato sauce.
And just like that, his money was gone.
I swallowed hard with nothing to say.
Anyway, I will be waiting to see who will be so foolish to buy the bottle of fake mercury so that Napoleon can recover his money.
