There are times when we used to be hit by samples of blackouts. I am not talking about blackouts resulting from the Electrogaz main switch. In fact, during those mid 90s, Electrogaz used to supply us with too many kilowatts.
The electricity flow was too crazy and that is why our bulbs used to blow up every week. Today it’s a different story.
Anyways, the blackout that I am talking about was due to several hot spirits that came in different names. You may recall such names as Folle Blanche and Chivas Regal premium.
These were the sort of drinks that Aggrey and I used to consume especially after crushing some bottles of Amstels.
This kind of trend used to pick up at month-end when our expatriate boss paid our salaries in cash dollars. Whenever the rumour spread out that Aggrey and I were queuing up for those greenish notes, the gold diggers would be right behind us.
There is one fateful day when Aggrey and I ended up at the once famous “Black & White” discotheque. It was here that we spent all our salaries in a space of three hours. Our gold diggers gulped wines like there was no tomorrow.
They could drink like fish! But as the booze took hold of our senses, some enemies of progress came in for the loot. They took advantage of our cabbage state and pretended to be giving us first aid.
As patrons enjoyed the music at the dance floor, these enemies were busy stealing all our possessions, including our socks, shoes and belts. Later on, they hooked up with our gold diggers to share the spoils.
By the time we managed to open our eyes the following day, we were just lying on the dirty floor while the workers at B&W were busy sweeping the place. We had no shirts and socks.
The floor was ice cold. And we smelt like church mice. At this stage our only option was to run off to our Kiyovu home with our bare chests and feet. This was the best option since there were no mobile phones during the mid 90s.
Had there been mobile phones during those days, we would have crossed over to a call box to alert a taxi man.
However, the idea of running up the Muhima hill with our lousy bare chests sprouting out seemed to be quite risky.
What would passers-by think? Would we not be taken for petty thieves running away from justice? Wouldn’t we be lynched by angry and hungry mobs on the streets?
With all these questions crossing our drunken minds, we decided to stay put at B&W discotheque. We stayed here until a miracle showed up!
Within a few moments, our miracle came flying in. It was a surprise appearance of none other than Afande Niko. For those who do not know Afande Niko, I have to tell you that he was such a wonderful man.
We shared so many hobbies with him. That is to say that he really loved the bottle of Amstel and he also never said no to UG!
Some readers may recall that Afande Niko had earned his strange name due to the fact that he constantly barked orders at his escorts. He always started his sentences with the word “Niko”
Well, Afande Niko, who was stationed in Gisenyi town during those wacky days, used to visit us for some weekends. He always visited us during those last Saturdays of the month.
During those days, there were no “Mugandas” for the last weekends of the month. So Afande would drive over on Saturday morning and the drinking would start immediately.
However on this occasion, he bounced. Our Kiyovu home was empty. Our houseboy then informed him that he had last seen us speeding away in a taxi loaded with several gold diggers.
Since Afande Niko knew the ins and outs of our lifestyle, he quickly jumped into his open roof jeep and ordered his men to step on the accelerator. There was only one place for Afande Niko to search. And that is how he surfaced at B&W discotheque…