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My bus ride to Mbarara

About 8 years ago, when still a freshly minted Facebooker, I linked up with a childhood friend on Facebook.

Buses travelling from Kampala to Mbarara

I first met Neil in the 80s when we were children in London. He grew up in Bloomsbury but now lives in Kent.

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Back in school, we were like dumb and dumbest. So, we used to sit at the back of the class and stir things up a little.

That’s why I was really happy when he passed through Uganda for a couple of days while going down to South Africa on business.

Who knew he would ever amount to anything.

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I mean, this guy thought 1+1 was a dating game.

Anyway, while he was here, we boarded a bus to Mbarara (spell check Barbara) in the small hours of a Saturday morning.

It was about 5:30 am when we took out seats, talking amidst piles of luggage rising to a Rwenzori of bags and different foods.

You know how they say that you can’t sneak sunrise past a rooster? Well, at the break of dawn, the clock struck 6:00 am then suddenly we heard a very loud “cock-a-doodle-doo!!!”

Startled, Neil jumped up and almost went through the roof of the bus before we realised that there was a rooster crowing beneath his seat.

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“Whose Rooster is under my chair?” Neil asked, flush with anger.

I’m so sorry, that’s my cock,” said a random passenger.

You’re what?” Neil asked, half-praying the guy would clarify by Not saying “that’s my dick.”

As cluck would have it (you saw what I did there?) the passenger didn’t pun a penis into the conversation.

He meant rooster by another name.

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Our case of mistaken word identity reminded us of when we were in school and some kid’s scientific calculator went missing.

Apparently, there were only two eyewitnesses: the thief and some Indian kid who didn’t know much English.

When the Principal came along and questioned the Indian kid…he slowly pointed at the thief.

And then the principal asked, “When did he take the calculator?”

The Indian kid responded promptly, “tomorrow.”

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By the by, Mbarara was fun.

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