By David Tumusiime, Uganda:
I would not have believed it if I had not seen it with my own eyes: the robbery, that is. It happened so fast had I not been watching the car; I would have missed it entirely. I love BMW's and the car was a silver BMW X3, new like it was fresh from a showroom.
I was marveling at its sleek newness, trying to peer and see the owner of this luxury couch on four wheels, whenever our taxi inched closer. I wanted to see if I was right that if the driver was a woman, she would be in her early 20s. If it was a guy, it would be a man in his 30s, with a paunch and wolfish look about him.
I was sure no matter the driver, the car was the beauty. That is why I totally understood the driver's furious reaction when this crazy stranger, on tip toes on the kerb, pulled out his manhood in the middle of our traffic jam and started to splatter the BMW's windscreen: Urinate on the windscreen in some insane version of wiping.
The driver was a man with a paunch. He sprung out of the car to thrash this mad man and all our eyes were on how hard he would whip him. We all expected punches to fly, kicks and voluble cursing. We expected drama to erupt, lasting either a few seconds or several minutes depending on whether the man urinating on the windscreen fought back or cringed or ran.
But just at the edge of my vision, even I followed this relief from the tedium of the jam; I saw hands open the back doors of the BMW. Hands that took opportunity of the driver's distraction to slip into the BMW. In a flash, I understood what was happening. The driver of the BMW would understand too in a few moments.
The man who had urinated on the windscreen had been to distract the driver. His attention taken, he would not notice the other two robbers who sneaked in to pick two phones and a laptop bag from the back of the car.
They were gone before the driver turned around, back into his car to switch on his wipers. To clean the urine from his windscreen. As he did that, he realised that his two smartphones and laptop bag were no longer where he had left them. In the taxi, we were unsure whether to yell in anguish on his behalf or marvel the ingenuity. So I retell the tale.
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