Ladies and gentlemen, I am naturally an introvert but my shooting index and instincts are so lethal that people turn victim without my knowledge or indeed their knowledge.
Like every normal man, beautiful belles get my pants to vibrate, my heart to miss a beat and sometimes knees get weak and the move is instantly made.
What the shooter hates is a woman who thinks everybody knows her and it’s everyone’s duty to walk up to her and say hello. In this not so short and not long career with “hotties”, the smallest advice I can give my young inspired males who want to take over the reigns of shooting when I hung-up my rubber is…….shoot birds that exude humility, confidence and of course beauty.
I have dated very many former and current Misses but I single out one former Miss Haiti that I will never forget. I want to share this experience with you and it has a lot to do with this former Miss Uganda.
I have lived in that country for many years just like everywhere around the world but I will never forget this girl from the western part of that country.
It was in 1985 shortly before I married (regrettably) when I had just retired from active journalism and was doing consultancy work with an American NGO when I met Atuhaire Jennifer.
The NGO was throwing the end of year party for its workers and I was there though I hate parties given my age. I would prefer to sit somewhere in a bar playing those oldies of the 60s and 70s that I enjoyed while sipping cold beer.
Nonetheless, I attended and sat in a quiet corner with another old veteran who competed well in beer consumption. At 8:00 pm the tall, elegant beauty walked in with her famous catwalk and everybody noticed her presence.
I had been on a panel of judges that had selected her a year before and she still remembered me well. “Hello, judge, good to see you again,” she approached me.
With my experience and eagle’s eye, I read her mind and body language. I found her to be this local girl with no confidence who wanted to be seen as the centre of attraction.
The wannabe colleagues who were young in the field wanted to impress the beauty and were pulling off their best jokes and dancing strokes.
I swear I didn’t find her charming, rather arrogant and lacking qualities of a possible target. Actually, I was told she was not invited but came along with a friend (gate crashing). Was I going to be moved? No way.
“Hello judge, can we dance?” She approached me when the dance floor was open. Am not into dancing I prefer romancing my cold swallow so I politely declined.
“Daughter, my bones ache and can’t sustain a dance for two minutes,” we laughed and she left missing the most charming old man at the party.
On the dance floor, she danced like there was a prize to win or like way back in high school when we danced to impress the teenage girls.
After she had danced two litres of water out of her body, I decided to talk to her investigating her intelligence and love life. “Hey, Jenny what have you been doing since handing over the grown?”
“I worked with modelling firms and I have gone back to school,” she told me with her weak eyes looking into mine. She told me she wanted to further her modelling career and she requested if I could pass some skills.
We talked a lot from nonsense to pointless and at the end she confessed how she had fallen in love with me during the selection of the misses since I was the less fierce on the panel.
“Don’t worry I have a son of your age,” I quipped. She realized she was fighting a losing battle. We said good bye and later she dropped a letter into my box blaming me for disappointing her and playing a hard to get old punk. Mmmm…tough loser,eh!