Thanks to supermarkets, I have nurtured a lifestyle of unhealthy eating. I can’t surely begin to imagine how many chicken pies I have plunged down my throat. It is not even just a lifestyle, I believe it is a ‘calling’. As in, a chef will literally call me and be like: “Sebo your things are ready”. It’s that serious. When you look at me, I am the example of what happens when you don’t look after yourself. Even with firm knowledge of the grave risks my lifestyle might impose, I will dash into a supermarket with confidence, straight to the food section. I wouldn’t get surprised if management gave me a meal card. It always feels like Home Sweet Home when I get there. I love staring at people and their weird spending choices. As in, who buys a lawn mower at a supermarket? Ugandans never cease to amuse. Then we have our special brothers who buy 10 cartons of mineral water as if they are starting a man-made lake in their backyard.
But anyway, do you ever notice how big some of these supermarkets are? You never know until you see someone that you didn’t expect to see and never wanted to see. The shock of seeing them could even prompt you into diving into a cleaner’s bucket to hide. The need to hide will make you discover so many pockets of space, or you could even find yourself in the manager’s office to avoid being seen. So, on this fateful day, one of my exes bombards the supermarket with her entire family. Jesus Lord! You should have seen the ‘battalion’. They spread out at the entrance, and for a second, I felt besieged with nowhere to run. Her family wasn’t the most friendly out there.
You see, we had long broken up for reasons beyond my control. The chick was living life on a fast lane expecting yours truly to bankroll. I couldn’t keep up! Her mother loved me like a son but when I broke her daughter’s heart, it was war. The entire family wanted me dead or alive. If you ever wondered who goes to the Home Appliances section, I was stuck there, peeping through shelves while monitoring their every move. As they advanced towards me, I had to look busy; trust me, you will load sanitary pads on a trolley without knowing. I went around and happened to chance on my ex shopping baby clothes. I looked on and imagined she was pregnant. Knowing the kind of person that she is, the father of that child is probably not even the father. I missed a bullet. I could notice her dad trying new colognes and to be honest, I had never felt happier for him. He probably needed it. I grew impatient and was very eager to leave. It doesn’t give you comfort to be stuck in the gorillos section for close to 20 minutes.
I ran to the counter to pay and leave. With needless kitchen appliances sitting atop the trolley, I was shocked and started sorting out what I was taking home. Obviously, nothing more than my beloved chicken pie. As I was almost out, my ex’s mother called out, ”Frida, isn’t that your friend Ford? “I stopped, looked back and then… oops, my column word count has reached the roof. Some other time.
