The Kawempe Old Woman accused us of Killing morals

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It is unthinkable for a man that everyone thought would become the family’s first priest ever to turn into an atheist. But that is understandable. It is unacceptable for a former pastor to begin telling the people he once tipped on abstinence, fasting from the forbidden fruit. The do as I say not as I do adage faced impeachment so long ago that even a court injunction can not give it a new lease of life.
It was like the other days of my internship and I was in the field doing my usual activity, asking the people of Kawempe to enjoy the forbidden fruit in gumboots. And since I did not know how to make the boots myself, I had to carry boxes of these latex things to save lives. Weren’t I building the nation? I think I deserve a gold medal on Independence Day.
Distributing and demonstrating these boots was the mode of assessment from my host supervisor and it seemed the more people one gave the protective gears, the more the marks. (No wonder, I scored averagely). And if I had enough log books and was allowed to write more pages for my report, I would write the challenges till the cows came home. To be honest with you, I seemed to lose ounces of integrity everyday-and I would explain how.

I’ll never forget the day, an old woman near Kawempe police station ran after Gil and I, accusing us of killing morals. “Balenzi, lwaki musasanya obukaba bwamwe (why are you boys spreading your sexual promiscuity),” she spat, as she ran after us. I’ve never seen Gil run that fast. Kiprotich must stand warned. At least, I’ve never been that immoral. I was simply trying to save lives, by giving young people and old people gumboots, just in case the heavy weight of love overpowered them.
So, what would I, a former pastor, have done, apart from undoing my condemnation of the rubber sex boots and trying to save lives? Of course, I could never think of telling my religious parents of what I interned in, for that would spoil me into catching the harlot diseases, as they call them. I kept telling them I was interning with a new radio whose name they were unlucky to cram-it was a mouthful. Being an amateur liar, who boasts of a short memory, I have also forgotten the radio’s name-did it exist anyway? And owing to that reason, I had only you, my esteemed reader to share this thread of experiences. Till next week, when I’ll bring to you yet another exciting episode of the memoirs, enjoy the new month.