Chewing pork at Nicodemus

By Patrick Luganda Being Easter Monday, quorum was realised early. Members quickly disposed of the preliminary proceedings, breaking into small committees to commence the day's business. It is midday and Nakulabye, the popular city suburb, is one mammoth court. Members ease themselves into white plastic chairs. They huddle over equally white tables and engage in small chit-chat before the main debate. Each committee is allowed to tackle the topic from any angle they want in a language of choice. Nicodemus binds the members together. It is splashed in big bold red script on a miniature billboard for the world to see : 'Nicodemus Pork Butcher-When making a better choice choose Nicodemus.' Behind the butcher is a modern gigantic charcoal oven that turns the light pink meat into into a tantalising golden brown. Paul is late. He squeezes his saloon Toyota Corolla into the available space in the free parking yard. His eyes roam over the crowds. Chris sees him first and waves, beckoning him to join our session. "I was held up, I hope I am in time," Paul says apologising. Frank, the senior attendant comes over to announce that the order is ready. An hour earlier, while still at home we dialled 077-519651 and placed an order for a couple of kilogrammes of ten inch special ribs with all the escorts in attendance. Now the order is ready for us to pass judgement. Irene of Doreen's Place, comes to refill our bottles. The competition is thick between the drinking fraternity. Splattered on the tables are plastic cloths advertising the different beer labels. Bell beer bottles dominate tables, while the Nile brand jostles to be noticed nearby. Chris and the rest take swigs at their brands of choice but I remain glued to my favourite gin, Uganda Waragi. Three middle aged women announce their arrival on the scene. They have a young man in tow, probably in his twenties. Dressed in long overflowing skirts and carelessly selected blouses, they make their order for the benefit of all. "Faranka you know our order. Three kiros (sic). Make it dry as usual. Bring everything that goes with it...do not forget avocados...You girl bring us beers..." shouts the tallest and biggest of the three. They break off into their local dialect and hundreds of other conversations studying the situation. Finally it is here, in style. On a wide silver platter, lies the prize. The ceremony of the washing of hands is first. Devouring will now begin. It is simply mouth watering. At Nicodemus, the butcher cuts the required measure of meat, he chops it into smaller pieces and passes them on to a roaster. The roaster picks one of several hundreds thin metallic rods. He sticks the sharp end through the meat. In a while, the pieces are snug on the rod ready for the fire. Soon, Yosefu one of the roasters, is busy poking the red hot embers to spur the fire into life to work on the juicy pork. There are hundreds of metal rods lined up in the gigantic roasting house. "We can roast 80kgs of pork at one go. There are hundreds of customers waiting to be served as early as 10.00am in the morning. On weekends and public holidays it is even earlier. The work goes on into the night," says Fred Lyazi, 35, the proud owner of Nicodemus Pork butchery. As the night lingers on, Lyazi's, money-minting begins with the pork munchers. Ends