“My mom was wild back in the day, she claims to have fucked Idi Amin.”
“What? Seriously? Idi Fucking Amin, like the crazy dictator?”
“So she claims, obviously I can’t verify it. I mean I don’t think I can ask Idi Amin, pretty sure he’s dead. I guess I’ve always just taken it at face value. She’s full of crazy stories, half of which I’m sure are bullshit. Fuck, she’s pushing sixty and she still has her little herem of hangers on, all dudes in their twenties that hang around her hoping to get thrown a bone of affection.”
“Sure, yeah, she’s a trippy lady. Honestly she doesn’t look sixty if that’s any defense for those guys. She gives off that vibe of someone who was really hot back in the day, and despite aging gracefully, is bitter her beauty faded.”
“Absolutely, nailed it.”
“But I gotta know the Idi Amin story. I mean people have stories, but not stories like that. How the fuck would you even think to make that up if its all bullshit?”
“I know, that’s sort of why I think it might be true. I guess the story isn’t that complicated. She was pretty hippy back in the day, a real granola girl. She decided to backpack from the Cape to Cairo like some patchouli scented Cecil Rhodes. In the end she ended up hanging a left at the sudanese border and going over to Morocco via the coast of West Africa, and up past Senegal. I know she chilled in Dakar for a while, and she hung out in one other place too, Lagos I think. She claims to have seen Fela Kuti in concert there, which again might be bullshit. At least concerts involve more people than fucking, well usually. With my mom you never know.”
“Knowing Fela Kuti, from what I know, he did play concerts, but he also loved his ladies, so maybe she got down over there too. Perhaps the two activities were combined”
“Amin, Kuti, por que no los dos, right?”
“You never know, but back to Uganda.”
“Yeah, so she was in Kampala I guess and she went to a party at some snazzy ass hotel there. Something with a roof top or a pool, or a rooftop pool, she was wearing her bikini I’m sure. Well the old president dropped by to sip on a cocktail, and I’m sure peruse the available tail, and well my mom stood out to the guy.”
“Wow.”
“Well he was fairly handsome from the pictures I’ve seen, and if you find power sexy, a dictator is going to really get you going. That and let’s be serious, if he wanted you, I’m not sure you really had the chance to say no. Not if you knew what was good for you. Maybe she was down, maybe she wasn’t and decided to remember it as something other than what it really was. Either way she said he seduced her, whatever that means, and she went back to the presidential palace with him in the presidential limo and well, did the deed.”
“Wow, just wow.”
“I know. Let’s be honest he was a super fucked up dude, but I guess there is always something to be said about touching history, even if the history is bad and the touching part is really touching.”
“I guess. What a story to tell your daughter too.”
“Shit, that’s not even the worst she’s told me, let’s just say that she has strong preferences and opinions on anal lube, and don’t ask me how I know that.”
“Oh, ok. Maybe the Idi Amin story isn’t so bad afterall.”
“Comparatively, I guess.”
