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In the UK, if everything went as planned, Kagaba would be staying with Musana, Kato’s older brother, who had agreed to show him the ropes as he settled in the new country. Although he had been living in the UK for a long time, Musana was still ‘sorting out his papers’, which meant that he was unable to return to Uganda for visits.
The little that Ajuna knew about Musana, she had gathered from Ama, who seemed to dislike him. She called him a delinquent. It was rumoured that before leaving for the UK, Musana stole millions of shillings from his employer, Shell. When the money run out, his wife abandoned him and their two children to Kato and Ama, and returned to her homeland, Rwanda.
“Musana just called,” Kagaba said when Ajuna joined him at the dining table. He was eating his breakfast before setting off for the travel agent’s.
She waited.
“He’s pushing me to confirm my travel date. I think he’s getting impatient.”
“Tell him we’re still trying to find the …”
“He’s aware,” Kagaba interrupted. “He mentioned getting a day off from his job to fetch me from the airport. And about my job …”
“Yes?” Ajuna looked up. Musana had assured Kagaba that finding a job in the UK with his level of qualifications wouldn’t be hard. Musana had friends, who knew friends in the right places. The pay would be excellent.
“… we’re still on track,” Kagaba beamed, his shoulders sliding back in a relaxed posture.
“That’s great, honey.” Ajuna hugged him. He enfolded her in his large arms, planting several kisses on her forehead.
“Wait. Are you alright? Your head feels hot.”
“I’ll be fine,” Ajuna dismissed his concern. She had woken up feeling queasy, her joints aching, her ears ringing. She did not want to mention it to Kagaba, knowing he had a lot on his mind.
“It’s probably the flu,” Kagaba offered, “take some Panadol, drink plenty of water, and lie in for the day. By evening, you’ll be …” he made the victory sign.
But Ajuna did not have the luxury of shutting out the world; not with Kagaba’s impending journey. She needed to speak with Kalayi. She called her to come to the flat, since she could not go to town to meet her as she had earlier planned.
Kalayi arrived later in the evening after clocking off from work. She found Ajuna lying listlessly on the sofa, browsing through an old newspaper. She offered an alternative diagnosis. “It’s the stress over Kagaba’s trip. Is that what you wanted to speak to me about?”
“Yes.”
“What about it? Hasn’t Ama’s husband stolen enough money from his office to buy the ticket?”
“Kato? He did not steal the money, Kalayi. It’s a loan, and Kagaba will refund it as soon as he gets a job in the UK.” She did not want to get into a discussion of Kato’s deceitfulness; not now.
“Well, then, what’s the problem?” Kalayi was her usual buoyant self, matter-of-fact; loud.
“We need some more money. What Kato got is not enough. We need at least three hundred pounds more.”
“And you expect me to provide it? Have you forgotten that I don’t have a proper job? And that I earn peanuts? And that I’m still on probation, nine months after I started working? I have no appointment letter, no …?”
“Please, Kalayi, don’t shout. My head is aching. And that’s not what I meant …”
“No, let me finish,” Kalayi raised her voice, vexed.
Ajuna let her go on because she needed to humour her.
“Our stupid bookshop manager,” Kalayi continued, “has now introduced The Customer Care Creed, and they expect all the employees to recite it every bloody fucking morning! It goes like this.” Kalayi stood up and flattened her hands against her sides, as if she was about to sing the national anthem.
“I, Kalayi, swear that I will treat the customers of this bookshop with respect. That I will smile whenever I see a customer, and keep the customer happy at all times …
“And so much more bullshit,” she sat down heavily.
“Is this really true, or are you exaggerating a little?” Ajuna hoped she sounded concerned enough.
“Cross my heart. This is the latest disgraceful requirement by my silly manager. She seems to derive pleasure from humiliating us. When I tell people that these are Ugandans mistreating fellow Ugandans, they don’t believe me. They ask me, ‘are you sure your employers are not Indians?’”
Ajuna looked at her sister sympathetically, pitying her. She had been complaining about her vile employers for ages now, but she did not have many options. After completing her ‘A’ levels, Kalayi had refused to take up the teaching diploma course she was offered on government sponsorship. She reasoned that their elder brother, Jimmy, had failed to find a job five years after studying the same course and now worked as a driver. She wanted to privately pursue a business course instead, which she claimed had better job prospects.
But their father was neither willing nor able to pay for it. She accused him of destroying her dreams. Their mother, as usual, took Kalayi’s side, which angered their father. He gave her an ultimatum: either she takes up the offered course or leaves his house.
Ajuna would have chipped in to pay for the business course but she was already paying school fees for their two orphaned nephews, on top of meeting the medication costs for their diabetic father.
She invited Kalayi to move in with her, hoping to persuade her to take up the teaching diploma. But two months later, she still had failed to convince her to go for the course and, given their opposite personalities and the fact that they shared the same bed – there was no space to fit another – they were not getting on well.
“I cannot complain enough,” Kalayi was still talking. “One of these days, I will throw their stupid uniform in their faces and walk away.”
“You have to be patient,” Ajuna knew she had to tread carefully. Kalayi could be unreasonable when angry, and today, she needed her in a good mood because of what she was about to ask her.
“I’m serious,” Kalayi threatened, her eyes burning. “God knows how much more I can take,” she sounded a lot calmer, and Ajuna relaxed, knowing she had managed to persuade her to keep her job, at least for another few months.
“Can you get a soft loan from your boyfriend?” Ajuna steered Kalayi back to the reason she had wanted to meet with her earlier in the day. She expected her to explode, but her anger had waned somewhat.
“Samuel? I’ll talk to him. I’m meeting him tonight. He’s taking me out to this new restaurant in Kololo. It’s kawa! And as for Samuel, he is so … ooooo wonderful. You should …”
“Tell him we’ll repay him as soon as Kagaba gets a job in the UK,” Ajuna added quickly, now that Kalayi was melting.
“I’m sure he won’t mind. Samuel has no money issues. But you seem anxious about something else, sis? Are you worried you’ll lose your prince once he’s gone?”
“Of course not. I’m just concerned that he will … that he will … find it hard to make it in a foreign country. Isn’t that valid enough?”
“Are you not worried that a sharp-sharp kyana will snatch him? He’s so handsome and as calm as a monk. He won’t survive those women in the UK.”
“I trust him, Kalayi.”
“How long does he plan to stay in the UK?”
“We’re not sure, not yet. He will see how things work out after he’s settled in. But the plan is for him to come back after he’s made some money and set up a consultancy to do with business management.”
“Well, everything seems to be sorted out, then.”
“Yes.”
