Blame it on my Senegalese neighbour who, somehow, formed the opinion that a nice, church-going African woman would do me some good. “Are you married?” she had asked me as we rode on the bus.
“No,” I had told her, quite truthfully.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she had continued. For some inexplicable reason, I had said “yes” when “no” would have been the wiser answer.
“Too bad, I would have introduced you to a nice girl at my church,” she had responded.

“Eh… well… my girlfriend is Mongolian. I would rather have an African, but I haven’t yet met a nice one,” I made up a quick one and it worked! For some reason, African women don’t like their African brothers running around with non-African women. All the more if the said women are from such weird places as Mongolia.

“Mongolian? What are you doing with a Mongolian woman? Is that like Chinese or what?!” the Senegalese woman was shocked. “Come with me to church on Sunday and I will introduce you to a nice Somali woman.”

Now, if you have met Somali women, you would know they are some of the best on the continent. It is not for pan-African reasons that I seriously considered joining the UPDF when I heard that they were going to deploy in Somalia. If all I had to do to meet a cute Somali woman was to go to church, I was most definitely game.

And so it was that I put on my Sunday best and headed to a little church in Harlem with my Senegalese neighbour. The church is run by a Nigerian duo of husband and wife. Save for a couple of Latinos, it is full of black people.

As soon as I arrived, my eyes swept around the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Somali babe. Disappointment set in, as I didn’t see anyone worth a second look. Except for a couple of teenagers who looked like they had been hauled to the place screaming, the church was full of elderly people.

I cast an accusing look at my Senegalese neighbour. She told me that the Somali girl had not yet come, but she was sure she would show up as she never misses church. In the meantime, could I relax and enjoy the music?

Well, why not, especially after such an assurance? So I joined the rest in putting them together and shaking it for the Lord. You would be surprised, I actually enjoyed it! The music was superb, with the bulky guy at the keyboards doing his thing like he was possessed by demons.

Before I knew it, the service was over, and the Somali girl still hadn’t showed up. “I don’t know what happened to her, may be she is sick,” my Senegalese friend apologised.

Had she taken me for a ride? Come to think of it, aren’t the Somali supposed to be Muslims?
Ah, well...

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