SURVIVORS
1106 Words
Wandegeya didn’t care whether they lived or not.
By 7am the taxis were already hooting. “Kikuubo! Owino!”
The rolex guy on the corner was flipping eggs. Boda guys were arguing over stage fees.
Day 8.
The deadline was dead.
Jimmy and Jessica sat on the steps of their room in *Bukoto*.
1 room. Paint peeling. Shared toilet down the hall. 200k a month.
The same room where they counted money in the dark 2 nights ago.
Jessica had the black polythene bag in her lap.
480,000 left. After rent, after food.
“We made it,” she said. It didn’t sound real.
“We made it,” Jimmy repeated. He was rubbing his knuckles. Still sore from the container.
The paper from *Wandegeya Police* was folded in his wallet.
_“The loan boss is to keep 100 meters distance.”_
100 meters. That was the distance from their room to the taxi stage.
So they stayed in.
---
*Back To Work*
Jessica was first to leave.
She had to be at the salon in *Wandegeya Market* by 9am.
Boss, Aunty Prossy, took one look at her and sighed.
“You look like you’ve been through war.”
“I have,” Jessica said.
“Then work harder,” Aunty Prossy said, but she gave Jessica the good clients.
By 4pm Jessica had done 3 weaves, 2 pedicures, 1 makeup for a graduation.
73k in tips and commission. She put 50k in the bag. 23k for food and transport.
Jimmy was at *Kagugube Stage* near Owino.
Wandegeya stage had banned him. “Too much trouble,” the chairman said.
So he swallowed his pride and moved.
Kagugube was rougher. More police. More fights.
But he made 8 trips. 38k. Minus 10k fuel, 5k stage fee.
23k profit.
He came home at 8pm, exhausted, smelling like petrol.
Jessica had cooked beans and posho.
They ate on the floor. No table.
“67k today,” Jessica said.
“46k,” Jimmy said.
“113k,” they said together.
They put 80k with the 480k. New total: 560k.
33k for tomorrow.
“We’re crawling,” Jimmy said.
“We’re crawling together,” Jessica said, and bumped his shoulder.
---
*The Scare in Kikoni*
Day 10.
Jessica closed the salon late. 9:30pm.
Aunty Prossy said, “Take a boda. Don’t walk through Kikoni.”
Jessica nodded. Then took the shortcut anyway to save 3k.
Bad idea.
Halfway through *Makerere Kikoni*, two guys stepped out from between hostels.
Same hoodies. Same walk.
“Hey,” one said. “You’re the salon girl, right? The loan boss is asking for you.”
Jessica’s blood turned to ice.
100 meters. The paper said 100 meters.
She dropped her bag and ran.
Sandals slapping. Heart in her throat.
Past the kiosks. Past drunk students.
She didn’t stop until she was banging on their door in Bukoto.
“Jimmy! Jimmy!”
He opened it in 2 seconds. Shirtless. Holding a hammer.
He’d heard her from the street.
“They found me,” she gasped, collapsing into him.
Jimmy locked the door. Pushed the bed against it.
For an hour they didn’t speak. Just breathed.
At midnight, Jimmy said, “No more walking alone. Ever.”
Jessica nodded into his chest.
---
*Mama Sarah*
They couldn’t live like that. Looking over their shoulders.
So on Day 11 they went to the one person in Kampala who hated *the loan boss* more than they did.
*Mama Sarah.*
She had a second-hand clothes stall in *Nakasero Market*.
The loan boss used to borrow from her before he got big. Then he refused to pay her back.
Mama Sarah was sorting jeans when they came.
She looked them up and down. Broke. Tired. But standing.
“Debt cleared?” she asked.
“Cleared,” Jimmy said. “But we’re still scared.”
Mama Sarah spat on the ground. “That man.”
Then she looked at them again. Really looked.
“I can’t give you money,” she said. “But I can give you work.”
“My cousin is catering a wedding in *Kololo*. 3 days. 600k.
They need 2 people who won’t steal the plates. Interested?”
600k.
It would pay off what they still feared. And leave 80k.
Jessica and Jimmy looked at each other.
“We’ll do it,” they said.
---
*Kololo Wedding*
3 days of hell and hope.
4am wakeups. Boda to Kololo.
Chopping onions until their eyes burned.
Carrying trays of food to rich people who didn’t say thank you.
Washing 200 plates at 1am with cold water.
On Day 2, Jessica fainted.
Just for 10 seconds. Dehydration.
The chef yelled. Then gave her soda and bread.
On Day 3, the bride came to the kitchen.
She was 22. Same age as Jessica.
“You two work hard,” she said, and slipped them 50k. “For transport.”
At the end, Mama Sarah’s cousin handed them an envelope.
600k. Cash. New notes.
They walked out of Kololo at dawn.
Achings in every muscle. 650k in the bag.
They didn’t go home.
They went straight to the container in *Wandegeya Market*.
*The loan boss* was there. Counting money.
He looked up.
Jimmy put the envelope on the desk.
520k. To cover what they still owed in his head.
“Debt is clear,” Jimmy said.
“Extra for the trouble,” Jessica added.
*The loan boss* didn’t touch it.
He stared at them. Then at the money.
Then he laughed. One short, ugly laugh.
“Take it,” he said. “And don’t come back.”
They left. Didn’t run. Walked.
---
*That Night*
They came home with 130k left.
First thing they did: buy chicken. Real chicken. And soda. And cake.
They ate on the mattress, laughing.
Jessica had sauce on her cheek.
Jimmy wiped it off with his thumb.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
“You’re stupid,” she said.
Then he kissed her.
Slow.
No fear behind it. No deadline.
Outside, Wandegeya was loud. Music from a bar. A boda revving.
Inside, it was quiet.
Later, lying down, Jimmy stared at the ceiling.
“We’re still broke,” he said.
“I know,” Jessica said.
“But we’re free.”
“Yeah,” he said. “We’re free.”
He reached for her hand under the blanket.
She squeezed back.
The loan boss was still in Wandegeya.
The debt was gone.
The fear was smaller.
Starting over didn’t mean starting rich.
It meant starting without running.
And in Bukoto, on a mattress that smelled like soap,
two people who had nothing
had everything.
- Writer
