The controversial Ugandan university lecturer is at it again. Stella Nyanzi has dropped a bombshell of a confession. “I swear to...
The controversial Ugandan university lecturer is at it again. Stella Nyanzi has dropped a bombshell of a confession.
“I swear to God, Ikoku has a firm and fast mingling stick between his legs. The boy mingled me as if I was the meal of atapa millet-meal he taught me how to cook this Idd public holiday. I feel as tasty as a tray full of steaming-hot atapa.
So, he called me in the wee hours of the morning to wish me Happy Idd. I was writing, as is my early morning routine. I did not want to pick the phone-call since I thought that my pleasurable fornication with the 22-year-old ended when I refunded the money he gave me during our sizzling sex. Yearning for his voice one last time, forced me to respond.
“Happy Idd,” he drawled, making my treacherous nipples salute instantly.
“Oh Ikoku, how thoughtful of you,” I said.
“So, do you like atapa?” He asked.
“I don’t eat it often. But I have tasted it. Do you like it?” I asked.
“It’s the food of my ancestors. I like it with catapulted birds or pasted sauce,” he said.
“Ikoku, do you really eat birds?” I asked.
“Ssssyyuuu very tasty!” He chuckled, causing my clitty to stand up and sing halleluya in harmony with my erect titties. “Can you mingle atapa?” He added softly.
“I have never. It is not eaten by my people. But I can mingle posho corn-meal,” I said.
“Good, I am coming over to teach you how to mingle atapa,” he announced.
He ended the call abruptly. I sprung up on my bed and danced kizumba. Midway the dance, I kicked myself for not being loyal to my commitment to stop seeing Ikoku. What was I doing at 42 years of age, desiring after a man of only 22 years?
Three hours later, Ikoku was at the door with two kilos of millet flour, a kilo of ground-nut paste, sweet ndizi bananas and his sexy youthful body. He gave the bananas to my children who were watching cartoons. He asked Rhoda, my faithful house-help of many years to boil four Tumpeco mugs of water. And then he came into my bedroom, where I was silently dying with uncontrollable lust.
“Didn’t we agree not to meet again, Ikoku?” I asked.
“Otukui, okwe toto ka!” He replied in a beautiful language I do not speak.
He grabbed my hand with youthful energy and pulled me out of bed where I was still writing my literature review.
“Come, I teach you how to mingle atapa,” he said as he pulled me out of my bedroom and into the kitchenette.
He asked Rhoda for the hot water, a pan and mingling stick. With a twinkle in his eyes, he set about pouring the water from the kettle into the pan, putting it on the gas-stove, and then measuring two mugs of millet flour into the boiling water. He got the flat wooden stick and started mingling the mixture into a paste.
“In my language, we say eiguru to mean mingling,” he said without looking at me.
In and out, in and out, in and out… the mingling stick continuously beat the millet into a fine meal of atapa. It was erotic, the thrusting and stirring. My dirty mind could not stop looking at that mingling stick in action. I got wet: very wet.
“Say eiguru after me,” Ikoku said huskily as he continued mingling the millet.
“Eiguru,” I said back like a zombie.
“Eiguru atapa,” he said again.
“Eiguru atapa,” I breathed back.
He looked at me. I froze with longing dripping from my core. Watching Ikoku mingling atapa in my kitchen was my undoing. It was a dance. It was a fuck. It was love-making. I was entrapped by this man-child and his mingling. I was bewitched.
“Please help me,” I whispered.
He understood. He turned off the gas-cooker and led me back to my bedroom. On my bed, this man-child from the land of catapults mingled my millet flour into a fine lump of atapa. I came crying joyful tears from my eyes and my womanhood. I am now a sworn eater of atapa.
We later ate Idd lunch with my household.”
That was the suspended controversial Makerere University lecture Stella Nyanzi. She is actually 42-years-old!
