After creating everything, God figured out that Adam would need a helper. So, He made him sleep, and fashioned a woman out of one of his ribs. Ouch!
That was the start of a painful relationship to date. But what would we do without the missing rib? They are the reason we love, fight, look for money and spend it. You can downplay them all you want, but they run the show. I could use a helper right now. Recently, life forced me to move in an effort to improve my surroundings.
Truth be told, I was kind of comfortable in my ghetto setup. But all the ladies in my life, from my mum to my sisters and the rest, wanted me to ‘upgrade.’ After giving it a lot of thought and clearing my bank account, I obliged. Now I miss waking up to the screaming of my neighbour’s child. But I am glad I left, for the guilt I felt was killing me.
That kid was born the week I moved in and by the time I left, she had started school and there I was, with no child to my name. I will definitely not miss the nights when the couple next door decide to get really loud. No amount of pumping up of my home theatre’s sound could help. Instead the noise on the other side just got louder.
I had got a solution for that problem, though, by plugging in the headphones and turning up the volume. Now I know why people in mizigo buy big speakers. If you remember Captain Dolla’s song, Emmese (rat). That Musoga rat was really loud. Anyway, I am in a new hood now and trying to settle in. The neighbours are getting used to the new biker boy. The chicks, well, I have not yet really checked them out. I will keep you posted.
Since I moved in, with the help of some muscle and my boda guy, my belongings have been lying around disorganised. I have tried my best, but this house needs a female touch. Desperate times call for desperate measures so, I have decided to make a connection with my pretty neighbour.
She is a practising Muslim so, she covers her head and wears long dressesskirts up to her heels. But I like what I see beneath the hijab. I wonder how well she is doing in the legs department, but we will cross that bridge when we get there. Right now, I need her to play the role of helper and put this house in order. I cannot find anything.
Another problem is that this area has more clinics than restaurants. Are people that sick? Perhaps the other name of this hood could be Mu Kirwadde. When I had just moved in, I went on a night search for food. I followed the lights only to get there and find a clinic. Now it is just chapatti for me. I eat them with beans (kikomando), or eggs (rolex) or with just avocado and tomatoes.
Where is that helper with cooking skills when a brother needs one? Where are the ladies who used to complain about my limited cooking space at the old house? God, I need a helper.
Source : The Observer