The heat from the afternoon sun was stifling. The usual bustle of the weekday had taken a much slower turn and Shop owners sat uncomfortably behind their stalls, surrounded by sacks of their merchandise cowering from the heat. This heat demanded slow beads of sweat from you. The kind that dried before they’d run their proper course over the alleys of your skin. It didn’t entertain the idle banter these vendors liked to enjoy this time of day, no it demanded silence and brooding as they stayed in the stalls where their sacks sheltered them in a much cooler atmosphere. Outside, none of the drivers were pleased to find themselves in this predicament ─slow-moving traffic and the unnamed ghost that made them irritable and more impatient than usual. Cyclists excitedly weaved their way through the mayhem, only too happy to be able to make use of the available space; they had the last laugh now. Those nitwits were stuck in their cars, sweat-drenched hardly making any progress in the day’s journey.
One of the bicycles ardently avoiding car bumpers and side mirrors had an unusual customer seated atop her chosen mode of transportation. A young lady clad in blue jeans, a black top, and outrageous biker boots. She had on an oversized glamorous black hat with shades that hid half her face from view and bright pink long hoop earrings to complete the set. Any other time, say if she’d been walking along the street, she might have looked stylish. But here atop the bicycle being ridden by a man whose hygiene left a lot to be desired, with his brown shirt ─clearly not its original colour and grey trousers, the two of them cast a peculiar picture. She was seated with her limbs hanging loosely like she didn’t know where to put them.
Claire was perched uncomfortably on the worn-out cushion of the bicycle but she could care less for the puzzled looks on the faces of drivers and of the Boda Boda riders who snickered in amusement and also appreciation. What she wanted was to get to Kawempe FAST. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought she was going to vomit. Her back was drenched in sweat and she was cursing herself for having chosen this stupid blacktop. What a fool she’d been. How easily Nelson had deceived her. How quickly this cobra had spat poison in her eyes. She reached into her pocket and tried to dial his number again.
***
Nelson glanced at his phone with irritation. He knew it was her again. She’d called him at least fifteen times already. How long would it take for her to realize he wouldn’t pick her calls? He had invested a lot of time into that little missy. As a man, he prided himself on his ability to prey on the perceptions of others. When he’d come across Claire online, eager to succeed, doe-eyed and sharing mediocre reviews on restaurants, he’d barely paid her any attention. Later, he discovered she was making a name for herself selling clothes online and the clothes weren’t bad either. He’d wondered where she got them. Having an eye for an opportunity when it presented itself he knew then she was an opportunity, one he hoped he could exploit. She wasn’t the little fish he remembered, she was obviously making good money and more importantly, she had something he needed badly, a foreign connect. He wanted her piece of the pie. He’d started slowly mainly dependant on the persona he’d invented online to vouch for him and seemingly using a benign approach; after months of liking and sharing her reviews, an isolated conversation here and there, he’d stepped it up to subtle suggestions on how to improve her brand. Having realized that little missy was a young but albeit ambitious fish, the first time he’d met her, he’d dressed sharply; he knew she would notice in fact he was counting on it. After that he’d met her several times, always sticking to conversations about their similar businesses and charming her until finally, she’d revealed where she got her stock.
“Oh, a friend of mine is doing a course in China; she is actually the firepower behind my business. She buys the clothes cheaply there and I sell them back here.” She revealed behind a hooded gaze. He needed to soften her up more.
“Well that’s not too bad for a beginner, how do you break even though, don’t you cheat her?” He laughed gingerly now allowing the black of his gum to reveal itself.
She looked away uncomfortably and then turned to deliver him a solid stare.
“No, I wouldn’t. We work together; if she doesn’t eat then I don’t either.”
Oh, this would be easier than he thought, he chuckled to himself. All he needed was time.
There was a time he’d been a better man but life had hardened him and now he made money where the opportunity presented itself, regardless. Slowly they formed a bond, he helped her get clients for her clothes and she, in turn, gave up a few details on her contact. He had to admit they made a good team. His collectors, however, were breathing down his neck and he needed money urgently. It didn’t take him long to get what he needed.
***
Moi was Claire’s brainchild, it had started as a blog where she reviewed restaurants she’d been to, clothes she liked and occasionally gave a few tips to her readership on where to get the best deal on clothes in the city. She enjoyed sharing her thoughts on food and culture and a year ago she’d started to turn this passion into a business. Her readership had written in asking for advice on how to style themselves and soon she was going to homes and organizing wardrobes for a few of her clientele. Of course, it was quite an improbable concept at first. People didn’t see the need to have someone tell you what to wear or even shop for you. Her mother had gawked and told her women in Kampala were perfectly capable of going downtown to buy their own clothes. A childlike instinct tagged at Claire to call her now. She felt hopeless and confused and yet mum always seemed to know what to do in the direst of situations. She had to handle this on her own though, she wasn’t a little girl who depended on the protection of her mother and five brothers anymore.
She would find Nelson and beat her money out of him if she had to. The thought of his smug self absorbed face made bile rise up to her throat. She’d been fooled by his seemingly expensive taste in clothes, not many Ugandan men were that openly metrosexual and willing to take ‘fashion advice.’ She hadn’t wanted to meet him the first time he suggested it already weary of pseudo customers who never showed up to meetings she’d organised. Her initial impression of him was of one who was trying too hard with his maroon blazer and too many rings for a single man; he appeared to make a point to flashing his car keys and expensive phone in her direction. Something about his entire demeanor reminded her of a sinister character from a children’s book but she explained it away as nervousness on her part. He was too comfortable with her for a first meeting but she thought little of it at the time. This client had actually shown up! He had a duffel bag with him which she later found out had a few of the clothes he wanted to sell. As it turned out, he was a great businessman. He had a natural charm that seemed to attract people and he seemed to have contacts all over the entire city. There was never a number he didn’t have or someone he didn’t know….
The bicycle screeched to a halt suddenly.
“Madam tutuuse.”
Claire looked up to see that they had stopped in front of a hardware store with the sign ‘TADEWO AND SONS, GENERAL HARDWARE’. She alighted awkwardly and handed her chauffeur a five hundred shilling coin from deep within her trouser pockets.
“Webale nyabo.”
“Kale,” she replied barely looking at him as she clenched her fists and marched up to the shop. A fresh bout of feverish anger swelling up with each step. Would she find Nelson here? A part of her was scared he wouldn’t be there. Her coming here had been a last-minute gamble. From their previous conversations, he had mentioned he owned a hardware store in Kawempe and as they shared mindless banter he’d said it was in his name ─Tadewo. It stunned her now how little she actually knew about him.
Up until now, she had merely thought of his chattiness and offhanded questions as a curiosity. Even his interest in her contact hadn’t caused any alarm bells to go off. Eventually, she introduced them via social and soon they became a perfect threesome.
“But Claire do you know people are making billions while we are still here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I just found out some boys of mine are shipping their cars direct from China! That is an opportunity, my dear!”
“We convince Judith to find out the feasibility of the three of us doing something like that? And then we make some maneeee.”
She’d laughed then, he was ambitious ─sometimes too ambitious but that was not his only appeal. He had clients and friends in the tax authority while Claire had her contact in China. He said it would be easy. It surprisingly was. Even Claire’s friend seemed to be on board, she handled the arrangements in China, and Nelson took over everything from thereon. He knew people at the ports who made the whole process easier. Everything began to change after that. He seemed more interested in getting his cars into the country than anything else. Her friend lost track of Claire’s clothes shipping process and seemed more inclined to deal with Nelson. Granted, what they made from brokering the sale of just one car was what she made in three months, still, she wanted to grow her business. Then had come last week’s phone call; a gentleman screaming at her over the phone, threatening to set the police on her. Claire reeled in confusion. What had just happened?
“Iwe you think you can cheat me?”
“Where is my car? Don’t think you can just disappear with my millions like that. I can make life very difficult for you in this city!” The stranger at her doorstep was seething, little foams of saliva escaping the corners of his mouth.
She recognized his as the voice that had called earlier and left her reeling in confusion
“Sir, as I told you earlier before, there must be a mistake. How did you find my home?”
“ARE YOU NOT CLAIRE MUTONI?”
“Yes”
“Do you not own MWA, dealers in clothes and car shipment?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now I want my car which I was promised 6months ago or you will spend the night in a cell.”
She had tried to explain that Nelson dealt with that part of the business, not her. However, her name was written on all the transaction documents. It was her account the stranger had sent the money to. She was listed as the contact and when she called Nelson to clarify, he wouldn’t pick her calls. The cunning bastard had left no trace of himself and now he couldn’t even afford her the decency of explaining the situation. Worse still money was missing from her account. It’d been two days since and this time the stranger decided to show up with the police.
She was in over her head. Nelson needed to explain exactly what was going on and where all her savings were including the gentleman’s money. In a final act of desperation, she remembered the hardware shop he had mentioned. Having convinced the stranger she could lead him to Nelson so they could both get an explanation, he’d obliged. A taxi and a bicycle ride later, she was standing here in this dusty shop that smelt of sandpaper and cement. A far cry from the glitzy image Nelson painted of himself. He clearly did not own this shop. The response from the vendor behind the counter only affirmed what she already knew.
She walked out into the searing heat and let her body sink in defeat onto one of the sand-covered steps. She sneered at her foolishness in rushing here. What had she hoped to achieve? Did she actually think she would find him here and then have a grand showdown that ended with her atop his battered bones? She laughed at her impulsiveness much to the chagrin of passersby who saw the woman with an odd hat, suitable for the sun use but odd all the same. She bowed her head and let out a small cry of frustration. She needed that money, the business had been slow lately and those were the last of her savings. In the distance she saw the approaching car of the stranger, how could Nelson do this to her, send her into bankruptcy and prison? She was going to kill the bastard.
Responses
This is so well set🥺 The opening is not too long, the middle goes well and the end is a beautiful showdown.
And l love the length the Story, l can’t even tell if it’s short or long because it sounds and reads well until the and, and what a colorful to tell a malicious Kawempe Kampala Story.
I would define say this was so worth my time. I feel refreshed after reading.