approved http://cotro.com/wp-admin/includes/class-walker-nav-menu-checklist.php geneva; font-size: small; line-height: 200%;”>He thought it was a ploy to kill his interest in visiting the thick forests.
He embarked on the tour and while they were in the middle of the jungle, he asked the tour guide: “Is it true that there are cannibals in this jungle?”
“Not at all,” replied the guide, “we ate the last one yesterday.”
The tourist passed out.
Recently, a 21-year-old woman in Rakai district and her child were allegedly devoured by a family in whose house they had sought shelter for the night in Lubumba village.
The woman’s husband, who survived the gruesome act, accused the couple that offered them refuge, of cannibalism.
In Karambi sub-county, Kabarole district, one Clovis Bamuroho was evicted after his daughter-in-law ran away spreading rumours that the family she had married into were cannibals.
Residents found human bones in Bamuroho’s house.
I will never forget the day we gate-crashed a village dance party during my adolescence.
I was impressed by a village belle who was pulling moves that made her seem like she was being shocked by electricity.
I offered her ball gum, which was the in-thing any adolescent boy of repute would give a girl, and she gave me a million-dollar hug.
I realised that she was prey to many lads considering the way they kept pointing their walking sticks towards me.
The only way to stay out of trouble was to let go of her.
She seemed not to want to let go though. I had to abandon the dance and hit the village path to avoid trouble.
I could hear heavy footsteps following me.
I branched off to a different route but the footsteps kept getting closer.
I took to my heels, lo and behold, I found the village belle ahead of me. She told me that the guys wanted to beat me since she had earlier refused to dance with them.
I asked her what that had to do with me and she told me that her hug was more of an insult to them than the dance.
She took me straight to her home.
While I was still trying to figure out what was happening, we heard a knock at the door.
She told me to hide under the table as she attended to it. It was the father carrying a dead body.
I was sure it was our deceased neighbour because the bangle they had buried him with came rolling under the table where I was hiding.
My heartbeat accelerated at a rate I could not fathom.
The father leaned the body on the wall and walked to the next room.
She took advantage of the timing and told me to run and not look back.
I ran so fast that I didn’t notice that I had lost my pair of shoes.
I reached home barefoot, with only the shoelaces around my ankles.
I met the village belle in the market the following day.
She pulled me aside and warned me that if I ever told anyone what happened, I would qualify for their next meal.
I pray Facebook does not reach that part of the country; otherwise, I am cooked! Literally!