"That bus is known all along this route as the "Kikuyus' Bus". Its crew are both Kikuyu, and it is faster than any other on the 670km daily trip between Kampala and Nairobi," the conductor told Jim.
Jim watched the bus' rear lights get dimmer and dimmer as it sped away, leaving them behind. "How can they go so fast without having accidents," asked Jim of his informer.
"That is the last we will see of them, until we meet in Kampala tomorrow afternoon before we all start the journey back to Nairobi." Jim's curiosity was piqued.
By the time they got to the border seven hours later, it was almost dawn. The Kikuyu bus had long been cleared by Immigration and Customs officials and crossed into Uganda. It was nowhere in sight. Jim swore that next month on his trip home he would ride on the famous fast bus; he just had to experience it for himself.
At that point in his life he was working to launch a new branch of his Indian employer's company in Kampala. Every end of the month he went home to see his family. He was on his way back to work after one such visit.
He had found a house in the outskirts of Kampala, a distance much like that of his own home from the city of Nairobi. He lived with a Ugandan woman who had two daughters. But I am getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you how he had gotten together with Annette while he was still in Nairobi, and about to take up the job in Kampala.
He had found Annette on a dating site. They had chatted for a few weeks there before he had moved to writing to her email address. She told him she was a nursery school teacher at the Aga Khan Academy which had a nursery school, a primary as well as a high school. He in turn, told her he was a divorcee, with three teenage children. This caused her to freeze communication for a few days. He wondered if she had thought he was still single, though he had shared his age quite early on in their communication. Only when he mentioned as an aside that the kids lived with their mother, did she seem willing to talk to him again.
"I love your tall, slender figure," he wrote.
"Go away! You just love flattering me," she protested. "Is there anything attractive about me?"
"I cannot wait to see you and hold you in my arms."
"I look forward to seeing this smooth-talking man. I think I am falling in love," she wrote back.
"Suppose I were able to come all the way to Kampala early next month, say on the weekend of 2nd March?"
She said she would let him know if that was a good time. He now wondered if she had another man in her life, while busily chatting with a foreigner. It was quite usual to spot young women in Nairobi's cybercafes chatting with European or American men, hoping that they would be invited to travel there. Maybe it would all end in marriage to these foreigners, and staying there as citizens. Was Annette thinking along those lines?
His love of travelling, however, goaded him. Even if she turned out to be an ugly, wrinkled crone, he would at least have had the joy of seeing new places both on the way and in the country of Uganda where he had never yet been.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he was quite sure that if it did not concern her Ugandan man, she had no problem accepting his self-invitation. She did in fact confirm that he could come over on the weekend following, that is, the 9th of March.
So that is how he was to be found at the bus station on the evening of 8th with the ticket he had purchased some days earlier, tucked safely away in his pocket. Though the bus was advertised to start at 8:30pm they did not leave before 9:10. He had been told that arrival time was 9:30am, but now he was forced to text Annette that they would not arrive before 10, if not much later.
He was familiar with the road up to Nakuru but from there on he felt cheated that they were travelling at night, and he would not be able to see the country they were travelling through. They arrived at the border in the faint light of dawn. It took a full hour for them to be released to enter Uganda.
"How long from here to Kampala?" he asked the conductor as they were getting back onto the bus.
"Three hours, if we do not encounter traffic jams near the city." Jim thought that must be the most horrible thing, to be stuck in a jam after travelling the whole night, without enough sleep and old sweat in their clothes.
They went through three towns, all of which had roundabouts. Then Jinja and the famous Owen Falls Dam came and went. By this time the sun was up and getting hot. He had been told that Kampala was a hot, humid place much like Kisumu, both being on the shores of Lake Victoria. There was a slight jam, but eventually they arrived a few ticks after 9:30. He was amazed that they were on time, despite the late start and the jam in the last few kilometres.
He spotted Annette at once. She did not look any different from the photos she had sent him. A tall, dark-complexioned woman, she was of spare frame. She was dressed in a red polo-necked pullover with a dark blue jeans skirt. The relief he felt at not meeting a nasty surprise revealed itself in the tightness of the hug in which he folded her. She took him to her humble dwelling, two adjoining rooms in a plot with several other tenants. To his horror they shared an outside bathroom and toilet.
Though she did not tell him why she had pushed the date, she nevertheless seemed an uncomplicated woman, who was not likely to be two-timing him. In fact on the way from the bus station to her home she was not self-conscious in the way that someone who feared being seen with someone would have been. At her house she seemed quite free to act as she liked with him. The bed was not of high standard but not overly uncomfortable. It was plain that the nursery job did not pay her very much. But they enjoyed their weekend together, though they had to postpone any intimacy until the night because of the two little girls.
On her bed she gave herself to him so fully that any doubts he might have entertained were quickly being demolished. He enjoyed her small tits, squeezing them gently, sucking them almost wholly into his mouth. He found that her cunt's outer lips were quite large, almost like flaps. When he aimed his sword into her scabbard it slid in smoothly until the flaps arrested that progress. He slid back a little, made a few shallow strokes whose purpose was to spread her inner wetness to the lips and then slid smoothly home. Her whispered moans were enough to drive him crazy and bring his cock to fire several rounds into her. But he slowed down slightly, brought to mind a wrinkled old woman from his neighbourhood, which cooled his ardour enough to give her a few more strokes. Fortunately, she was also near her climax and he heard her sharp indrawn breath as she prevented herself screaming her ecstasy as she came. He got ready confirmation from stiff contractions inside her satisfied cunt. The spring holding his fire uncoiled at this moment and she felt searing hot semen spraying the walls of her narrow channel.
They lay in each other's arms for a while savouring their closeness, they who had been near strangers at dawn. She grabbed his cock. "You are a champion. I don't believe I have ever been fucked like that," came her grateful whisper.
"I can still feel your muscles gripping me tightly. You are a wonderful lover. I wish I could stay longer!" Those words were to be repeated at least twice during the two days and nights they spent together.
But finally it was time for him to leave. She extracted a promise from him that he would come back. He was unable to be more definite than, "Soon, maybe next month..."
It turned out to be sooner than that, and for a much longer time than any of them could have dreamed possible. Jim's former Indian boss called him to his office one morning the following week. "We want to expand to Uganda. Nashir, myself and the other directors could not think of a better man to go there and get the ball rolling. I am hoping you can accept."
He pretended to be horrified by the idea of being flung nearly 700km from home. "We will pay you, over and above the basic salary and commissions on sales, an allowance to allow you to live in a new town." They haggled over those three payments, but Riyaz was not through with sweetening the deal. "We will pay your busfare to travel home every end of the month." Jim eventually accepted with a show of reluctance, but in reality was rejoicing in his heart. He was going to do what he loved, would travel to a distant land, and he would see his beloved very soon. His cock saluted in his trousers, as if to thank Riyaz for that opportunity.
I have no need to tell you that it was with joy that Jim packed his bags for his 'migration' as his second-born son put it. He had made a point of going to see them a few days before to apprise them of his impending move. He arrived in Kampala early on the morning of 30th March, a Saturday, to give himself time to settle down during the weekend and start work on Monday. As might be expected, Annette was waiting eagerly for his arrival. She took him to see a house not far from where she lived.
One look at the large house led him to suggest that she moved in with him; he would pay the rent and buy most of the food; she would cook and wash for all of them. It was a fair bargain as far as both of them saw it. So it was done, from 9pm until nearly midnight. She explained that in that city people did not, as a matter of custom, move house during the day. He surmised that it was to prevent strangers seeing what furniture, electronics and means of cooking one had; it might attract thieves to try and break in to steal them.
In the office, he found that the carpenters were still working on the partitions and painting. In the same week the computers arrived, which he unpacked, set up and connected. It was his responsibility to train the personnel that the Kampala boss (a brother-in-law of Riyaz') had recruited. Little by little the sales, customer support, publishing bureau and accounting departments took shape.
