Why Kapere’s wife stopped asking him to buy meat
Posted Sunday, September 22 2013 at 01:00
Are you surprised that the population census that was postponed several times was finally abandoned? So quit fretting about IDs. When the neighbour starts buying the meat, our dad will wake up.
These guys remind me of a man called Kapere in my village,” I heard the minister’s maid saying. “I wonder if the poor fellow is still alive!”
“What did Mr Kapere do?” came my maid’s voice from the living room where they were watching TV. “Did he also try to issue Identity Cards?” “No, he tried to buy meat but never succeeded,” replied the minister’s maid. Apparently they were listening to the government’s statement to Parliament that the issuance of national IDs had been called off once again due to lack of reliable data.
“Kapere never bought meat for his family because he was mean,” the minister’s maid went on. “So he was always creating excuses for not buying meat unlike the other men on the village. Whenever a cow was slaughtered and others bought a few kilos, he would say that the cow was very lean. At other times he would say it was too fatty. He always had a reason to justify denying his family meat.”
“Kyokka Mister Kapere!” my maid giggled. “How did he manage to keep lying to his family for ever?”
“It seems they got used to his excuses and stopped bothering him,” explained the minister’s maid. “Things had become comical when he stopped blaming the fats or lack of fats and started saying he needed to buy a sophisticated barbecue machine and a fridge first before stocking on meat. When the barbecue machine and fridge stories became tired, he started blaming the wife for not preparing all manner of seasonings before he could buy the meat. He would claim that he could not eat meat which was not seasoned with garlic and different types of herbs, and then blame the poor wife for not planting them. So with time, the wife and the children stopped bothering him about buying meat.”
“At least they finally left him his peace,” observed my maid.
“In a way,” mused the minister’s maid. “They found alternative sources of meat and when he discovered he got so stressed. You see he had this rich neighbour Mr Tumbo who realised that Mrs Kapere wanted to eat meat so he started buying her real meat which was better than her husband’s stories of barbecue machines and garlic. She would cook the meat during the day and eat it with her children when Mr Kapere had gone to gossip around the village. By the time poor Kapere came back in the evening, they had cleaned up all traces of the meat. It went on for long until it dawned on him that his dog was always having bones to chew on. One day he came home abruptly during lunch and found the family feasting away on chunks of meat. He almost died.”
“Banangeee!” exclaimed my maid. “Did he beat her up?”
“Ate did he have the energy?” shot back the minister’s maid with a question. “She just told him to wash his hands and join the party. He could not ask where the meat was coming from because he feared to learn the truth as he already suspected Mr Tumbo of helping him with his other duties. So he shut up and ate the meat in humiliation.”
“He must have remembered all his bombastic talk of barbecue machines and felt really small,” observed my maid.
“He eventually had to become like other fathers in the village and started buying meat for his family,” narrated the minister’s maid. “So I think people should stop getting worked up over Uganda’s ID. When we start acquiring Rwandan IDs to enable us travel freely around the East African Community, our government might eventually get its act together and start issuing credible IDs. And I overheard my boss say Rwanda can give you an ID if you profess to love Rwanda enough!”
“But what is so difficult with issuing a proper ID in Uganda?” queried my maid.
“If we cannot have a reliable record of government employees who are less than half a million, how do you expect us to have accurate information on 37 million people scattered all over the villages?” retorted the minister’s maid. “If we cannot count a 100,000 teachers and pay salaries to fictitious ones, if we cannot count schools and health centres and send supplies to non existent ones, can we know for certain whether a woman reported to be a widow in Nakapiripirit really exists? Are you surprised that the population census that was postponed several times was finally abandoned? So quit fretting about IDs. When the neighbour starts buying the meat, our dad will wake up.”