Humbled by a groundnuts seller

Ali sells the best roasted groundnuts and simsim packages I have ever tasted. I have tasted a lot of those, as I became intimate with the potholes on Kampala’s roads and pavements. Ali’s are in such another class that I will wait until the end of the day to get my taste.

Ali sells from the stage I board my evening taxi home. I found him there when I begun using the stage four years ago. I bought from him the first time because he was the only basket-carrying groundnuts seller who greeted each of his buyers. Made small talk with the ones inclined.

I do not eat in taxis. A good habit because when I got home and tasted the packages I had bought, I nearly swore in delighted surprise. Cursing myself for not having bought more. My gluttony in the taxi might have traumatised a few babies if they had seen it. I was hooked. A buyer. Like many people who board on Ali’s stage.
But we did not talk until after about six months. An evening when I got to the stage early and was in no hurry to get home. Until that talk, Ali a rear view mirror presence in my life I did not pay too much attention to. I did not expect him to try to overtake too soon. I had no idea he was so ahead.

I was an employee; Ali had 6 people working all over Kampala’s streets working for him. Relying on his kitchen alchemy. I was looking for a new bed and breakfast to rent; Ali was looking for more real estate to buy up outside Kampala.

I thought our conversation would stop at an appreciation of his art, Ali watching to see when I reached for my wallet, to buy more. He surprised me. With a proposition. To do business together. He suggested I take some for my office, share with the guys I work with, give feedback.

He did not think the security guards would let him into Kampala road’s tall towers. But I worked there. I was already past security. A year and half has passed since Ali and I had that conversation. He is the silent partner in my cafeteria in the building I work in.

Twitter: @DavidTumusiime