Listen, my friend... Kampala during the World Cup is not a city. It's a temporary mental condition. I parked my boda outside a noisy pork joint thinking I'd make quick transport money. Ehh! By kickoff, even people who normally ask whether a football is pumped with diesel were shouting tactical advice. One man had wrapped himself in three different flags like he was representing the United Nations of confusion.
The first goal entered, and glasses nearly resigned from their jobs. A short man in an Arsenal jersey hugged everybody within reach, including a woman who turned around slowly and asked, "Excuse me... do I know you?" The poor fellow sobered up faster than a traffic officer spotting an expired permit. Deep inside, I knew trouble had bought a front-row ticket.
Now Kampala has a disease during the World Cup. Everybody becomes rich for ninety minutes. Mobile money is flying, people are shouting, "Put another fifty thousand on the next goal!" as if FIFA has personally promised them school fees. The betting shop opposite the bar looked like a bank on payday. I even caught myself thinking, "Maybe today's my day." My wallet immediately laughed at me.
Then came the final whistle. One man who had won his bet started buying drinks for complete strangers. Another who had lost everything was explaining to anyone who would listen that the referee had destroyed his destiny. That's when the married gentleman proudly held a lady's hand and declared, "Honey, let's go home!" Silence. The lady blinked twice and replied, "Uncle... my husband is standing behind you."
Aiiii! Even the television commentary couldn't save him. The real wife emerged from the crowd carrying the expression of someone who had already forgiven him yesterday and regretted it today. Chairs moved. Pork stopped roasting. Even mosquitoes suspended operations to witness history.
That's when I quietly started my boda, adjusted my helmet, and disappeared before someone needed a getaway rider. Kampala teaches you one thing: football ends after ninety minutes, but embarrassment can qualify for extra time.
Helmet down. Eyes open. Kampala moves fast. Shame moves faster.