Of recent, we have been enjoying airtime bonus offered by the telephone companies. This bonus enabled us talk longer and brag around especially in the presence of our peers! And that is how I ended up losing yet another phone of mine! Ever since my Karasharamye handset was snatched from me in a taxi last year, I have always tried to be extra careful.
Indeed, when Aggrey gave me a brand new Nokia N70 phone, I made sure that it was always hidden away safely in my pockets.
With the new Nokia in my pocket, I was sure that it would last another 3 years with no need to replace it. However, last Sunday, I fell victim again.
It all started when some friends of mine invited me for several rounds of booze. They were at the ever vibrant Kabeza area doing justice to chicken wings and Amstels. The previous night had seen us guzzle more litres of booze than we could handle.
That meant that my head was feeling as heavy as a rock. The hangover stuck to me until around 4pm when I struggled to get out of bed. As I was preparing myself for a sound rest at home, my phone rang.
It was my buddies who had convened at this busy joint in Kabeza. They told me that they had found a cure for the hangover “Hey Diaspo, come for the cure man! Don’t you know that a hangover can only be cured by an ice cold Amstel?”
He he he, how right they were! So I jumped on a boda-boda (or is it moto?) and headed to Kabeza. I hurried off to join them. They were in a great mood as they crushed chicken after chicken.
I do not know where they had obtained all this cash from but I did not care. I just joined in and clobbered as many as possible.
As we continued to enjoy the drinks, our group started to increase in numbers. No! Not fellow guys! Instead it was the strikingly beautiful ladies that joined us at our table.
Apparently as the booze climbed into our heads, our eyes started to convince us that any passer-by who was dressed in a skirt had to join us. So we pulled more chairs and ordered for more drinks for our new acquaintances. In the process we began to get quite close and personal. We started to ask each other questions such as;
“Will you marry me?” Anyways, we drank on for many more hours. The pub was abuzz at midnight. The lady who was seated next to me continued to cajole me throughout the evening.
She then asked me for a “Unité” (read inite). For those who do not know what a unité means let me clarify a bit.
A unité refers to telephone airtime. Whenever someone asks you for a unité, it means he or she is borrowing a phone from you in order to place a telephone call to someone else. So when this chick requested me for 1 unité, I found myself pulling my new Nokia phone from my pocket.
I gave it to her and told her “Please feel free. Call anywhere you want. Even in Canada!” You see, with this bonus airtime, I was quite comfortable and ready to part with some of my hard earned airtime.
I then gave her the phone and since the environment at the pub was noisy with music blasting out of the loudspeakers, she had to get out in order to make her calls.
The moment she walked out of the bar was the moment I said goodbye and farewell to my new handset. I waited and waited but my chick never returned. By the time I realized that I had been duped, it was too late. We tried to quiz the other remaining ladies but it was of no use. The girls were total strangers amongst themselves.
In fact each one thought we had come with the others “We do not know that person at all!” I was cooked! I felt like a real jerk. This 1 unité had cost me much more than I had anticipated…