Diaspoman : When Buja waiters saved the day with Indagala

I tell you, things have changed big time. I mean, when you see someone like Jean Claude today, you can’t imagine that he was the same bloke that I met in Bujumbura 6 years ago! I had gone to visit him in Buja 6 years ago, so that he could find me some odd jobs to keep me surviving in this harsh world. Things were never made easier because Jean Claude was also as poor as a church mouse. But today, Claude is doing very well. He turned out to become a powerful business man. He changes cars at his own leisure. As I said before, it was a different story for Claude 6 years back. Instead of driving a cool Rav 4, Jean Claude moved in a Rav 2. Whereas today, Jean Claude can easily afford to throw a birthday party for his sister’s boyfriend’s maternal cousin, the case was quite different 6 years ago. During those days, Jean Claude and I would have to spend about three days cultivating seriously. We would look for funds from all possible sources. Since we were very single at that time, ladies were always on the hunt for us. They would always demand for high class treatment. This implied taking them out to the popular night spot called “Archipel” and spending a couple of good hours shaking our bones. If we were lucky, our ladies would settle for a bottle of Fanta. One would ask for a Fanta called Koka, while the other would order for Fanta called “Orange”. As to me, I always got confused as to why they referred to Koka as Fanta instead of the good old Atlanta based Coca Cola! But do I need to inform you that our lucky days in Buja comprised of a mere one percent? I mean, almost every outing with the ladies turned out to fall into the “Unlucky” category. This category is one that most bachelors dread. It is the category in which the lady beckons the waiter and places an order. Instead of ordering for a bottle of mineral water or indeed koka ikonje, the lady proceeds to spell out a name of a drink which sounds very Russian. In the middle of her sentence, you may pick out words such as; cocktails, Beringer Blass, Wolf Blass, Yellowglen, Jamiesons Run, Castello di Gabbiano and many more different tribes. By the time she is through with her mini speech, you find yourself sweating profusely. You are not sweating due to hot temperatures. You would be sweating due to a severe pang of panic as a result of your weeping pockets. This is the type of life that we were pretending to live. Sometimes, we would feel a strong temptation to run away from the place so as to avoid settling such high bills. The leeway always came in form of the waiter’s wise words; “Madam, we do not sell such drinks here”Wow, so one day as we rubbed our hands in glee, the ladies came up with more demands. This time, they turned their attention to some nosh. Instead of asking for a stick of brochette and chips, the ladies looked up at the waiter and proceeded to ask this question; “Would you please bring us a plate of rice and prickles, some dried udon noodles plus noodle broth? Also add a deep fried pan with chicken in Basil cream sauce”. Now at this point, I could gauge Claude’s expression on his face. I could immediately tell that he is on the verge of wetting his pants. Once again, our good old Bujumbura waiter eyed the ladies in a fashion to suggest that they had come from another planet! At this point, he politely told them to go try else where as they never served such dishes. “Madam, for us here, we only serve indagala and sometimes ubugali”. The ladies looked at the waiter in a disgusted manner and proceeded to the next sensible thing that anyone would do. They picked up their bags and walked out on us citing that they had never seen worse villagers than the two of us….. diaspoman@yahoo.com