Saturday August 9 2014

When the cats fight

By Eugene Mugisha

It’s not that often that I get to see girls fighting.

Yes, I admit I find it interesting sport, and I guess to some people, like Elle, that makes me a barbarian, but don’t we all have our unexplainable little thrills? Unfortunately, it is not something I have any control over, I can’t decide when they fight, and even when I once tried, some time back to make two girls so mad at each other so they could fight, they didn’t.

That’s part of the problem; they are unpredictable. When you think they are going to take it easy and walk away, they suddenly start tearing at each other. And those times when you are definitely certain of a cat fight, they play it cool, take the moral high ground, and walk away.

But not last week. There I was, quietly writing in my notebook, and drinking my fruit juice when I heard a slap ring out.

It was loud, and it must have been accurate. You know that sound accurate slaps make, right? I was truly surprised, because nothing had prepared me to expect conflict of any sort; the place was cozy, the music cozier, and the people few, making it a serene environment to think. And then, there was that slap!
I looked up, and there was this girl preparing to land another slap, just two tables away.

Apparently, the first one hadn’t been enough. The Slapee was holding her cheek meanwhile, looking at the Slapper in shock, disbelief and visibly getting angry. Slapper tried to land another one, but this time Slapee was ready for her; she grabbed Slapper’s hand as it came towards her, redirected it, and reached for her hair.

She pulled at Slapper’s very expensive looking hair, and slammed her face on the table, very professionally. All this within three or four seconds.
By this time, everyone was looking at them, but no one had made a move to stop them, probably because we all weren’t sure if it would escalate into a full blown fight, or they would drop it.

They chose option one; Slapper recovered from the head slam, by grabbing onto Slapee and dragging her across the table. Then, it became truly a cat fight, with shrieking and screaming and yelling and very little fighting. At some point, I realised no one was trying to stop them, and when I looked around, there were mostly guys and staff.

I bet the guys were having their fun too, since, well, the fighters seemed to be doing no damage to each othe. At some point, some one stopped them. Then, I realised Slapee was someone I had seen with Elle some time back.

But, the fight was done.
Later that evening, I told Elle about it and she chewed my ear off for letting the two “poor” girls embarrass themselves.

I asked her why if it had been embarrassing, they had fought in the first place, and she gave me this look, that “you are a brainless toad” look, and as if explaining to a six-year-old, told me that when girls fight, it is like when they make love; every part of them, every fiber of their existence is involved, it’s not something they easily walk away from.

I honestly don’t have any idea what that means, up to today, but I am not going to ask.