His name is Ken.
Kenneth. But he hates being called Kenneth. It doesn’t sound sexy. Call him Ken. He is 28. There’s a big padlock biting his door. He has one key that opens it. It’s like opening a safe. One night, he forgot a spare key in the bar. So, he’s now stuck with this one key. He loses it, he’s gone. Rather, he will be homeless for days. And being homeless hasn’t crossed his mind; he hangs onto that key as though it will eventually open the door to his success, or heaven, or both. In order to avoid losing it, he leaves it in a shoe outside his door. Or a plant. Or under a rag.
During those late nights, when he’s drank his backside off, he staggers over and searches for the darned key. You should see him; his ass pointed to the dark skies, as he digs his fingers in the plant. It’s a laughable sight. A sight of a struggling bachelor. He stays in Kisaasi, a Kampala suburb.
Well, there’s nothing much in it. It’s a one bedroomed den in a gated neighborhood. The perimeter wall is too short that a Kifeesi with long legs can easily plant his legs in his bedroom without much effort. But he doesn’t give a horse’s manure about it. After all, there’s nothing in the house. It’s only him and his dreams.
He has no car. No motorbike. No pets. He is on his second stable job. He doesn’t earn much to irrigate his worldly appetite, but he is fine. At least he can afford a beer with the boys once a week. Let’s just say, his house is empty and he has learned to live with it.
Last year, he owned a TV. Those analog TVs with a sexy ass. It’s one of the ugliest things he’s ever owned and when his younger brother, who’s joining University, asked him for it, he didn’t hesitate to donate it. He has no chairs in his house. Not even plastic chairs. Or a stool. When he buys a rolex, he just walks around the house, chewing it, and that’s it. He doesn’t need to sit. He doesn’t want to settle. Settling is for the weak. Settling is for the lazy. He hasn’t found a pressing reason for him to buy chairs, because he’s hardly at home. Plus, he barely gets visitors.
He has two forks. Two cups. And one spoon. He has a kettle from his University days. He has three plates. One plate is broken. There’s a trashcan in the corner of his house. There’s no carpet in the house. Dust piles on the bare tiles for weeks until a lady visitor complains. In the bedroom, he has a simple bed. Not too big to remind him of being single, but not too small either; a medium bed that does its duty of providing him with sleep and whatnot.
He has lived like this for a year now. He’s gotten used to living in this hole. In fact, all was fine until he started having visitors. His boys want to come over and drink beer. He’s gotten a girlfriend in the process and she’s a hot head who doesn’t stand this nonsense. He needs to fix himself. It’s time. He knows it. He feels it coming, charging at him. He needs to add essential items in his little house. And, thank God, Q Ball, an auction platform, has come for his rescue.
Q Ball has this auctioning platform where bachelors like Ken can bid for stuff and eventually get them at a very affordable price. People will bid for variety of products via USSD or the Q Ball website. Products include; phones, household items, all expenses paid trips and so much more. For Ken, this is a chance of a lifetime. Note, this isn’t betting (after all, it was banned), this is different. This is bidding. This is an auction.
Bids will be running for a week from Friday at 6pm to Thursday at midnight. At 8:00 am to 5:00 pm on Friday, winners shall be announced. This is how you can bid. Items start at 90% of their usual cost. Each bid costs only 1,000/- either via Mobile Money or VISA payment. You can track the progress of your bid through *252#. For example: you can buy a TV of UGX2,000,000 at only UGX300,000. You simply keep bidding for an item of your choice and the customer with the highest bids takes the item. Simple, innit?
This is a goldmine for folks like Ken. Give it a shot.
Check Q Ball’s website: https://www.q-ball.ug/
Follow them on social media, too.