As the eldest daughter, and child amongst my other siblings in my single mothers poorly furnished single bedroom dilapidated house, I always enjoyed the luxury of helping in deciding what we would eat, especially for supper since I was always at school at lunch time.
Of course, every time I was asked between posho-beans and Rice-meat I would choose the latter without much hesitation. Simply put, I was raised as “the girl to make choices.”
After I had finished Primary seven, I would again be met with a confusion of choice, this time from a completely different field of dating.
In senior one, I was, of course very young to know much about relationships. Budala Ssenseko had been my closest pal from Primary and mother used to make fun of us each time he came to see me at home that I was his wife, and he, my husband. I didn’t care. Sometimes he would intentionally go with my book from school so he could find an excuse to come home under the pretext of returning it. Then he would take me through complex mathematical equations until it was nearly time time sleep. He was, more than once flogged by his mother for coming home late. At school, he was my guardian angel. He protected me with all his might despite his pencil-thin size. I vividly remember when Drawari – the mess prefect roughed him up for getting double at lunch. The poor Ssense, as we prominently referred to him, was not double dealing. He was fighting for the woman of his life. Me!
Yet, despite all the courage he displayed in fighting for me, never did he, at any one time mention that he was in love with me. Neither did I suspect.
But most importantly, he was very intelligent both in class and outside. Like myself, his parents were not of very good means. Often times, he would be sent home for school fees and would spend long to return. Some times, his father would ride him on his old bicycle to plead with the school bursar for more time to find the money. The boy was insanely smart. Anytime he returned to class, regardless of how long he had stayed away, he would still be number one!
Then there was Mark Ssenyonga-the big boy. He practically had everything anybody would desire in life for a boy of his age, but a brain of monkey. Never did Mark score anywhere near 10% in an exam. His father was employed with tax collectors- Uganda Rebenue Authority (URA) but had died in a tragic motor accident leaving behind one child-Mark.
As a senior Executive, Mr. Ssenyonga senior lived on a fat budget and left behind billions in cash and properties. His widowed wife ran a string of wholesale and retail businesses in town alongside scores of rental properties constructed by her late husband.
With the kind of money he dished out at school, everybody desired to chill with Mark “the big boy,” and so did I.
Mark, one Friday afternoon sent me a messenger to inform me he was deeply in love with me. The verbal message was accompanied with a 10000 shilling note as airtime to call him for the details. This was obviously a heaven sent opportunity let alone the money that was the biggest I had held all my life. He was also the first man to profess love to me. I accepted, and didn’t waste time to let all that cared, that I was officially, chilling with the “big Mark” and that I was now the “big Nifah.”
Out of ignorance, I had expected Ssenseko- my childhood darling to be the happiest. I had shared the 10000 shillings with him to enhance his kerosene business he had since started on the streets of our trading center.
Learning of our affair hugely devastated him. He started avoiding me suddenly and his grades tremendously declined, much to the surprise of every one. He later dropped out of school shortly after senior four. He had confessed how much had loved me and felt me his dream woman and that he wasn’t willing to face the humiliation of watching his woman in another man’s hands. I asked him to let me be, even though I sympathised with him.
He would later relocate to the city where, I heard , he started dealing in second hand shoes in Owino Market. In sincerity, poor Ssenseko remained a part of my life yet Mark wasn’t someone you could just discard for anything. He would spoil me with dime at every opportunity.
One year later, Mark left our school to join University and we never heard from one another thereafter.
I chanced to bump into both my men last Christmas holiday as grown ups and what I saw and learnt is hard to believe. Mark has since buried himself in the bottle. He never got to finish school after getting consumed by drugs amidst plenty. He disagreed with his mother bitterly after he resorted to selling anything he could land his hands on to feed his giant addiction to alcohol and weed. He has been in prison often, and a couple of times in rehabilitation centers. His mother has since passed after a psychological breakdown arising from the stress from her only son that had turned into a rascal. On my way to visit my former “big Mark”, now a small Mark, without precisely recognising who I was, sauntered towards me seeking for quid to buy waragi or cigarette. He was all disfigured. A true shadow of his old self. I regretted ever accepting his proposal when he came calling years ago.
As I was buried in thoughts about my old sweetheart- Mark, memories ran to what could be happening with my poor Ssenseko. Not that I need him for my man, but at least I cared about him. He formed a considerable part of my sweet childhood past. I wished him well. Just as I was in that walking slumber, a deafening hooting of a car woke me up. I had carelessly crossed the road , narrowly getting knocked had it not been a careful driver. It was Ssenseko. I froze as he sweetly called me by my first name. He looked elegant and gentlemanly. His memories seemed to have trekked back ten years when we lived together in peace. Or, perhaps when someone else took me away from him. He was amazing.
Later that evening, I would learn that he was the proud owner of most of the posh buildings in the surrounding areas. He had bought a lot of land, including the one my uncle had sold some few years ago to help me finish school. Just the way he looked and the posh Land Landcruiser he rode in, plus what I had heard so far were enough for one to conclude that he was a man ‘in things. My two men had swapped places. Ssenseko now occupied Big Mark’s old place yet the latter took one worse off than that previously held by the former.
One month later, I visited Ssenseko on his invitation. I first hesitated until he made it clear it was for the sake of our old friendship. That he was married, just like I had told him I was engaged to someone. His old love for me seemed to have mystified into something else. But j still felt guilty.
Ssenseko is the proud owner of a successful Real Estate agency I had always heard of, and viewed in television adverts. He has a chain of properties in and around the city plus a fleet of vehicles. He told me he plans to invest in a cyber city for high enders. A city that will be used to define life in its fullest. He labored to explain the details as though I was grasping anything, save for imaging how fate can be that generous.
The rich boyfriend poor boyfriend story. If I were to choose between the two now, I would choose the poor Ssenseko over and over. This should be a lesson for the young people. Always look into one’s intrinsic value than just the looks. Not all that glitters is gold.
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