exposed in uganda

After two years without communication, I received an unexpected message over the holidays, from a Ugandan girl who claimed to be missing a particular piece of my body (which she had nicknamed and rehearsed, letting me know it was really her). Hearing from her after so long brought back some electrifying memories from my last East African trip:

We met in the bakery where she worked in Bugolobi (on the outskirts of Kampala). Our first conversation became a constant joke, when she mistook my request for ‘something hot from the oven’ as ‘something hard’. I was there every morning, and after a couple weeks of short conversations, she asked me to meet her after work.

We went for a walk, and almost as soon as we got around the corner from her workplace, her luscious African lips consumed my mouth and tongue. I couldn’t believe how soft and sexy they felt, and that first kiss set the tone for the excitement to come.

We crossed the road, and sat down on the grass next to a tree. We were maybe five metres from the flood of people rushing home in the dark, their silhouettes and elongated shadows visible every few seconds when a car’s headlights would zoom by. Then as quickly as my eyes were blinded by one of the vehicles, I found my pants opened, and the Ugandan going to work on me with both hands. I was shocked, with so many people around, yet thrilled by her impatience and lack of concern.

We had to calm down and move on when kids walking around became curious about the foreigner in plain sight. We found what appeared to be an open field, but just as we lay down, an army official came over in full uniform, ordering us up and marching us over to his office. He wanted to throw us in jail for trespassing, not to mention indecent exposure, but this girl argued for us, continuing even after he agreed to have us escorted off the property. I had to shut her up before he changed his mind.

She told me she was off the next day, and we planned to meet in the afternoon. This time she took me to the back of a dark bar in the centre of Kampala, but with my white skin, there was no way to be subtle in a place full of locals. Unable to take it any longer, she threw me on the back of a motorbike with her, and we headed up into some hills, through a maze of dirt roads, finally stopping at some type of transient hotel.

I had never been to a place like this before, and was a bit embarrassed to go in. She went to check if there were any rooms, while I waited outside the ‘gate’ (A collection of rusty metal sheets and cardboard). A few minutes later she came to grab me, everyone staring as we walked towards the door. She quickly asked if I wanted to sleep there with her, or just stay for a few hours, as the price was different. We agreed to take the hourly rate, and then started our way down the dirty hall in what must have been the most cliché experience I could have imagined: red light bulbs in the hallways; a humid, suffocating smell; and 90s R&B music blaring out of the sound system, to try and drown out the moans coming from each room.

We opened our door to find a small washing basin on the floor to the right, a big bed, and not much more. I can’t even remember any foreplay or undressing; the two things that stand out in my mind are her long, soft, chocolate brown body, and the two of us talking dirty, laughing hysterically at the bed creaking and slamming up against the wall like you’d see in a movie, as we did everything imaginable to satisfy each other sexually.

After a few hours, she got up and started to wash herself in the basin; I just stared at her beautiful outline bent over in the dark. I tried to take photos of her, but there wasn’t enough light in the room, and my camera had no flash.

We left the place with big smiles on our faces, and headed back to Bugolobi to take some photos in a studio and have some food. She told me she was moving into her own apartment in the coming weeks, and was hoping I’d stick around to enjoy some more time with her. There were two complicating factors though, despite my comfort in the city and with the situation: I needed to get to Zambia for some contract consulting I was doing for an NGO, and later on that night, I heard her on the phone telling a couple guys that she was now ‘pumping’ me, so they shouldn’t waste their time calling or trying to pursue her; the first one was her boss, whom had been trying to get in her pants for ages (she had already told me about him, and pointed us out to each other in the bakery). The second one, which came as a big surprise, was her fiancé! I was on a bus the next morning for Bukoba, Tanzania, not taking any chances of a run-in with him!!