I’m right now toppling over with laughter
And I think I want to share. My sense of humour is pretty cheap though so feel free not to laugh along
There is this muvabulaya friend of mine who never ceases to amuse with his outside countries’ tales. The latest is one on his sister in law who was recently deported back to Uganda after leaving away from home for over 30 years. Residing in London illegally. She was gotten off the streets in London and deported with nothing to her name except the shorter than short skirt and knee length boots she was wearing matched with a top no woman over 40 years of age ‘should be’ seen wearing on African soil (except for the Swazi women), complete with wild-colored hair extensions. And that’s how she was delivered to her gomesi and kanzu wearing parents at the airport amidst exclamations of ‘God Have mercy. Gunno Omusege si mwana wange’.
Not like she was bothered as she went around screaming ‘hey mama. Papa wats up!’. She’s been around for about two weeks now and she’s already been declared a gone case by her parents who she has on several occasions warned she would ‘sue for abusing her as a child’ in case they think she forgot every time they tell her to get a grip of herself and behave her age.
But anyway, that’s not what’s gotten me upside down in laughter, it is another on one of his escapades with the police where he was close to being shipped home too;
“One day we were in club, a Ugandan club called Kabira in West Ham. Me right behind my then girlfriend and now wife rubbing away and swaying along with fellow ugandans, about 8 of every 10 illegal immigrants. Then suddenly someone screams… “They are coming”. We didn’t have to ask who. We all knew who. The police who would be checking for illegal immigrants, and by the time they are spotted we all know that they have been around a while and have the building surrounded and all exits guarded.
Panic. As we all pull out our forged documents, make desperate calls and dodge the cue for as long as we can. Again I survived, using my brother's forged documents and so did my girlfriend After the less crafty have been rounded off and the more sly throwing a thankful prayer to the powers that be, one of the policemen goes up to the podium and gets a hold of the microphone;
“We’r really sorry for disrupting your fun but its alright now, you can all go on enjoying the night. DJ?” he says turning to where the DJ’s box is located.
But the DJ was nowhere to be seen, he seemed to have just disappeared in thin air and could have been lying in some ditch somewhere quivering from the music made by his thumping heart by then. The officer turned to us completely puzzled and for the rest of us who knew what had gone down, we just burst out laughing.”
No my friend wasn’t deported; he got tired of running and came back home on his own accord. he says he doesnt remember seeing that same DJ at that club again.