I’m friendly with one of the security guards at my office, Munyo, who I always share cigarettes with when I go down to smoke. He asked me if I could set up an email account for him so he could send a letter to a Ugandan friend of his serving in the army in
Munyo1234@yahoo.com, an account created with my birthday. I typed out and sent a few emails for him that he handwrote in shaky capital letters on pages torn from a ledger book. My friend’s short perky letter spoke of
He wrote out other emails for me to send as well – one to an NGO asking for aid, another to a mzungu he met while working at a hotel party who gave him her email address but she never replied.
With his friend from
My friend’s interest in the exchange waned, but Munyo asked every day, every time I went down to smoke a cigarette.
“Is there any good news?” he would say.
I called my friend one night to the states to ask her if she would write him an email, but she was having a stressful day and didn’t sound quite right so we just chatted for a bit and got caught off before I could ask.
Finally, I sent Munyo an from my account and signed my friends name.
“Well, that’s where you went wrong,” said my roommate when I told him about this. But Munyo just looking at me expectantly every day was bad, and letting him down was worse.
The email was brief – it said hello, asked about the weather. The anticipation, and the final result, spurred Munyo’s next letter. It started nicely, like all the others, but then angrily asked why she hadn’t written in so long and why she hadn’t sent any money or presents and if she didn’t then fine, he would never write again.
Munyo’s second draft, at my prompting, was toned down. It still says, if you don’t want to write me, I will never write again, sans requests for money and presents.
Friend, I honestly don’t know whether it’s better to write back or not.
Comments and opinions welcome.