There was a ghost of a glutton who stood over me all night watching me as I slept. He perched himself aloft the bedside lamp and wistfully remembered the days he had a body. Hmmmmm! He thought. He closed his eyes in delight when he remembered how he used to hammer gallons of yogurt and litres of soup. Sluuurp! He recalled how he demolished nyama choma with kachumbari and ugali and how he chased that down with tea and soda. He caressed the space where his distended belly used to be.
Hmmmmm...the more he remembered, the more he desired to relive those days of eating succulent dishes and how it felt to have a full belly. When it approached dawn, he made a decision.
He decided he would eat once again before he went back to hell. Just one more day of gastronomical carousal. He thought. How bad can it be, huh? But how would his disembodied spirit munch the spanish omellete and eat croissants with butter and strawberry jam? Easy! He would use my body! His eyes lit up with delight.
And that is exactly what he did.
So when I sauntered into the restaurant after my shower, little did I know that I was possessed by this gluttonous demon.
What I recall is that I started with the fruit salad and the yogurt. Smooth as a magician, I served myself a fairly handsome quantity. I ignored the questioning looks of the idiot next to me. Then I embarked on the sausages, beans, liver, fried potatoes, grilled bananas, french toast, cake, croissant and I chased these down with a kettle of African tea. Then I cooled my throat with a couple of glasses of pinacolada juice.
A similar humongous amount of food was demolished by the demon that was using my body at lunchtime. Except now he replaced the bread with crushed groundnuts, chicken, beef, fish, vegetables, salad, bananas, assorted fruit salad, tomatoes, Stoney Tangawizi and matoke.
And at 4pm, this demon went on abusing food and used my body to gorge several cups of tea, some pizza, sausages and several queencakes.
And I decided enough is enough. Mind over ghosts motherfucker.
So I went running. My tummy was heavy as if a rock was placed in it. My form was crap because I was trying to avoid my tummy exploding and messing the street with my semi-digested cocktail of um, manure. I struggled on. At 5Km, I needed to go so badly. I looked around desperately. no public toilet. WTF?
Are these Ugandans completely crazy? What do I do now?
I saw a bush. My feet rushed towards it. No longer a possessed man, I was now a hurtling madman. I crushed into the web of twigs and roots and undergrowth. Thank god for trees. I thought as the foliage swallowed me. But There was another clearing ahead!
And there were some buggers practicing TaeKwon Do or Karate on it!
I looked around and decided to let the chips fall where they will. After all, when nature calls, natural creatures rush to obey so I fucking obeyed like a good creature.
I ripped it out.
Some gas came out. Ooookay. But lets hope its not the big one, I prayed.
No urine. Was that a dead squirrel at my feet? And that over there? A snakeskin? Crap.
I waited a little. No urine but I felt better.
I rushed away from the dark forest of dead animals and trees back to the street and traffic.
I struggled and gritted my teeth to keep my bowels and plumbing together.
I finally reached the hotel and rushed to my room. Straight into the toilet.
And all hell broke loose. There was noise, grunts, splashing water and general chaos as I sat immobile. The look on my face, I believe, would have won a cameraman a Pulitzer prize or whatever prize would be apropos for cameramen.
Whoever put toilets in hotel rooms is a fuckin genius I tell you.
I got sorted.
Never eat a heavy lunch if you are planning to go running in the evening people. Unless you are just a slut for nightmares.