Last weekend was a rather busy one for most of my colleagues at Mavumbi Boys. Marashi, my controversial colleague, had to travel to the village to pay homage to her ailing mother.
For me I had to spend my early hours of Saturday supervising the repair of the roof of the Chemistry laboratory, which was blown off by the recent storms.
While most of us had been longing for the rains after a long dry spell, we did not foresee some of the challenges that came with the heavy downpour.
And talking of dry spells, they say better late than never. I am delighted to inform you that we attended the much awaited wedding of my colleague Napoleon to end his own dry spell.
You see, despite being slightly past his prime, Napoleon has never had a woman friend to write home about.
Every time we tried to impress on him the need to have a better half, he would shrug us off saying ‘God’s time is the best time.’
I wonder what he meant by that. Which God’s time works so slowly until one begins greying?
Be that as it may, God’s time had finally come for Napoleon.
The ceremony was to be held at the neighbouring Pastor Matuta’s church.
I do not know what magic Napoleon used to convince Matuta to preside over the wedding; the two had exchanged bitter words after the church’s goats strayed into our school farm and fed on our lush green sukuma wiki.
The pastor, who is no stranger to controversy, had told Napoleon that he had no direct involvement in the animals’ movements and if things were that serious, the church was willing to compensate. But Napoleon would have none of it.
So the big day would be celebrated at Matuta’s Spring of Redemption Church after the altercation.
Immediately after paying the casual workers, I went back to my house and got ready for the ceremony.
I am not the type for suits and ties so I donned my jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket.
It was the usual drab formalities observed in many weddings, but Napoleon’s ill-fitting suit captured my imagination.
It was the kind of design that makes one doubt if the tailor was ever meant to be one in the first place.
The bride, despite looking a bit older, looked more composed and elegant.
Anyway, don’t accuse me of gossiping. In any case, most people attend weddings to gossip and eat free food.
When the time came and Pastor Matuta asked anyone who wanted to object to the union to come forward, something began ringing in my ear.
I remember telling you about a woman who came to school and threatened to dump a baby she claimed Napoleon was the father.
It had taken the intervention of our principal Obote and me to bring matters to order.
However, that did not absolve Napoleon from the tag of a dead beat dad. At least he has earned that reputation and now he was getting formally married.
When all is said and done, we had a very exciting time as food and drinks were plenty. And Marashi was not there to throw a spanner or two into the works.
By Pascal Mwandambo
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