he is off-key, but who cares. bugalo is in a jolly mood. he is raucously mouthing ray charles’ “hit the road jack.” bugalo does a little shuffle and puts the key in the lock and turns it. as he opens the door, sees his wife, dressed in yellow, sitting at the dining table and gorging herself with food like a starved leviathan, he suddenly realizes he is supposed to be in francistown. the phone in his pocket vibrates. he almost jumps through the roof …

            ‘what’s the matter, bugalo?’ his wife asks, rather from the shock of seeing him at home at seven o’clock when he had called at six o’clock to say he was already in francistown, and that the meeting he went for had gone quite well, than his near coronary thrombosis at the vibration of the cellphone.

the phone vibrates again, this time, bugalo is ready for the shock, of realizing he just made the unforgiveable error of walking into his house, at seven o’clock in the evening, instead of being with a now angry woman, who is now calling him from a hotel room, somewhere in gaborone.

a flash of lightning … and the rain came pouring down.

Copyright © Fani-Kayode Omoregie 2014