Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Degstar's Inferno

March 26, 2007
I am an insomniac.
Some days are better than others.
The last few weeks have been horrid.
This is an account of a typical night for me.

12:30am - Sis wakes me after I fall asleep on the couch awaiting The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, to stay awake I grab the last chocolate chip cookie from tea at Charlotte’s place earlier today.

1:30am - elec bursts. Shoot. I’m going to bed, besides Top Gear aint even coming on no more. Bloody hell. Send Sheeba a text, she prolly just having dinner right now. Bloody mosquito is back, wonder where’s it been last few days

2:00am - say the first of what will be many prayers, decide to wear jeans and wingtips tomorrow + Cherie’s Red Ribbon

2:15am - I think its gonna be another of those nights, get up and go fetch a banana from the dining room, eat it in bed, drop the peel on the floor, will throw it away when the sun’s up, lock the bedroom door, think abt sleeping in the buff, might help

2:30am - shit, last Saturday was baby bro’s birthday and even tho I told Sis about it I then forgot! Damn. Double damn. Dats why he wanted to take me out for drinks! And I turned him down (Lenten season and all), oh I’m a bad bad person

3:00am - get out of bed and turn on the light switch just in case, decide to leave it on anyway, think longingly about the quarter of gin in the dining room, Ms. Swan’s packet of fags in my wardrobe, maybe even a joint, anything to knock me out

3:20am - Baby bro gets up to take a pee. I know its him from the way he flicks on the light switch, waits a beat and turns it off when the lights don’t come on. But most of all I know it’s him coz he don’t flush after tinkling. I stopped fighting that, Live and let live is my motto

3:30am - decide I’ll buy baby bro a book for his birthday tomorrow. Reread my text messages for like maybe the 20th time tonight, must drop in to say hello to Geoffa my dentist he’s sent quite a few reminders that I need a check-up and cleaning – yeah I do. Sheeba’s telling me about visiting Birmingham and getting her hair done in cornrows, gud 4 her, she promises pictures. Stella’s sent me the petition to boycott Lugazi sugar for what they wanna do to Mabira forest, I’m down with that. Kalyegira’s fishing 4 info on where I used to work, I be diplomatic in my answer – never kick people wen they’re down, lest they get up n put a hurtin on u – then he wants to write a story on my uncle’s death in the Raid on Entebbe, mmph, mummy rarely speaks of it, wonder if I can get Jajja to do so

3:47am - damn mosquito is back again, maybe DDT isn’t such a bad idea afterall, my ingrown toe nail starts throbbing, must be time to trim it again, oh dear, the blood and the pain

3:50am - take out pen and paper to start writing this stuff down, my memory’s starting to get stretched, use the light from my cell phone to do the deed

3:56am - thank God I sleep alone, the tossin and turning and contorting, I belong in a circus or sumthin, duvet hit the floor long ago, only got a sheet covering my modesty, drumming in the distance, who the hell throws a party on Sunday nite/Monday morning?

3:57am - realize the neighbourhood stray cat hasn’t turned over the trash pails tonight, since I missed supper, I guess that means we had like beans or something, that cat only come when we have meat or fish, in my mind Phoebe from Friends starts singing “Smelly cat, smelly cat, what are they feeding you?...”

3:58am - I need a phone with radio, like the one girlfriend took from me, contemplate getting out of bed to go get another banana, insomnia makes you hungry like that

4:01am - tired of unlockin the phone every 5 seconds so I can write by the light, definitely going to get that banana, then I’ll have to find another warm spot in my bed that allows me to lie still for more than 5 minutes, wind picks up outside, seems like a drizzle coming on

4:06am - sheesh man, even AJ hasn’t woken up to feed tonight, that’s strange, are they giving him brandy again, I was just joking about doin that! He’s still a baby

4:17am - after holding his peace all nite the neighbour’s mangy flea bitten wound infested cur adds his yelping to the general chorus of dog mayhem out here, sounds like a version of the musical DOGS, as opposed to CATS, chest hurts from leaning over the side of the – wooden – bed to write this on paper on the floor, def. going for that banana

4:24am - banana is finished; fight with sheets to untangle them, think longingly about Valium, again, no rain yet

4:27am - maybe Charlotte was right and I can’t sleep because I’m worried about stuff, then my worries must be for CHOGM! Let’s see, there’s my impending break-up to makeup with Boo, rite now I want the break-up but she comes from a good family, she’d make a great wife, what? U thought I was marrying for love? bambi

4:29am - uganda needs an all nite toll free trash talk show like they have in Manchester on Capital FM or Radio One, the station with Chris Moyles in the morning, that station was wicked, I think the show was called Barbage with this DJ just dissing other people and their ridiculous “problems” like the 16 year old who wanted to drop out of school, have a baby with her 17 year old unemployed boyfriend and then get a council flat coz she would be a single unemployed mother, on welfare, know what he said to her? School first, sprogging later, get ur head n hormones straight – I cant repeat the other disses, they were too war

4:37am - sky’s beginning to lighten, ever so subtly, where’s the chorus of DOGS + CATS go? There’s just that far off lone dog in what sounds like Bukoto-Kisaasi

4:40am - earlier today saw an episode of Smallville in which Clark saves Lois + Lex Luthor from a bullet shot at them by this chameleon assassin – he make himself invisible n stuff – who Lois had fallen for, then because Lois and Lex were both cowering in fright and didn’t see Clark stop the bullet – supersonic speed n all – she thinks Lex saved her life then she falls for him and is now gonna date him –despite Clark’s warning not to- since she broke up with Clark?!!! Small wonder no one in the house ever caught on to Smallville, it’s like the Barbarita thingy, why cant women take constructive advice from their ex-es on the men they wanna date? Just coz we didn’t work out don’t mean I don’t know what’s good 4 u

4:42am - why’d the contestants in “The Apprentice” seem so dense? Aint they the best and brightest that Stato has to offer? Now my entire foot is throbbing like the blood just started flowing back into it, pins and needles here

4:44am - if I had to which would I rather lose? An arm or a leg? If I was being tortured? U cant waltz without a leg –unless u’re Heather Mills ex McCartney- but then u cant make love with only 1 arm, oba a nipple vs a finger? An ear or a … cojone (can u lose just the one?) does Kony give his victims a chance to choose? I’m fed up hearing the sound the phone makes when it’s locking the keypad!

4:49am - 2 days ago Cedric at the shop pointed out my impending bald head for the 2nd time in less than a month, oba I start wearing a clean shaven head? Is my hair receding that fast?

4:57am - the music in the background? Definitely lingala, at this time on Monday morning? What sort of moron is awake to be listening to it? Well, apart from me of course?

5:01am - do we have trains near Kisaasi? Cause I hear a train or the humming of heavy machinery, like a convoy of 60 foot trailer trucks, a very long convoy indeed, shoot! Tis now 5:02am! I concede the fight to fall asleep now, ah well, we’ll just await sunrise then

5:10am - sumthin bites me on the right elbow, scratching it I do a mental checklist of everything I’ve tried before to fall asleep; Sade (Love Deluxe always works), reading, tea, coffee (caffeine relaxes me, not the other way round), physical exhaustion (a couple dozen situps and push ups), yeah I need valium, the trains are back, faint rumblings of thunder in d distance, that’d be nice, rain whilst y’all go to work Monday morning so I can get some sleep, rain’s soothing like that

5:18am - rain sweeps up from the valley, thank you Lord, at least now the dust will be dealt with

7:55am - I open my eyes to electricity after a rather tortured dream in which I was an Italian carabinieri marching upto the gates of the Italian embassy and demanding to be let in … too many late nights my boy? Hmmph?

Together Tunawakilisha

The East African Federation will be achieved from the bottom up not from the Presidents down, witness the proliferation, not of Kenyan students with their own university, but of Campus 1st years saying they need pocket money ati they’re bursting to the beach? Which one? Ish, ate which one? Diani of course.

A few days ago, there was a chick in my dusty Kisaasi taxi arguing with the conductor in like a South C accent, it got me thinking, where wont you find a Kenyan these days? Then I remembered that we started it, in the 1800s, now they’re just coming back home. Ati what, u don’t click, ok, tell me this, was Mzee Jomo Kenyatta the son of Omukama Kabalega or was he not?

According to an article in The New Vision of March 26, 2007 written by one George Kasede Mukasa who lifted this information from the national archives of the Seychelles sometime in the early 90’s, it states in a document marked “Exile No. 3-1901”;

“In 1897 mutiny broke out in the recruited Sudanese troops. It soon spread all over the country. Finally the two kings Mwanga and Kabalega who had opposed British colonial policies in their country joined the mutiny. They were captured by the British and deported to the Seychelles via Nairobi. They arrived on board the SS Boodana on October 7, 1901. Eleven of them and the three principal leaders were: King Mwanga of Buganda, King Kabalega of Bunyoro and Prince Kabalega the son of king Kabalega. During their transit in Nairobi, King Kabalega is believed to have had an affair with a Kenyan Kikuyu girl. She later had a boy who was to be one of the founding fathers of Kenya. On their arrival they were sent to Mont Plaisir (Majoie) and kept under Police surveillance.”

Could it be? Is the grand doyen of Kenyan nationalism a son of the soil? A millet bread and cowpeas in groundnut stew eater? You know us in Uganda we have a long tradition of breeding future presidents of other countries, lets see there is;

1. H. E. Paul Baguma Kagame of Rwanda, grew up near my village. His crib on the road to the Naalya estate is the only crib in the entire area that has elec 24/7/356, whether there’s loadshedding of elec or fuel going on or not. And he don’t even live there.

2. H. E. John Gonzaga Garang de Mabior (RIP), from Rubaga near the Cathedral. Old soldiers never die, they just … fade way. Aluta Continua Afande.

3. H. E. Salva Kirya Kiir, also from Rubaga but the lower side near Pastor Kayanja’s Cathedral. What’s with the fedora, dude? Get yourself an African leopard skin hat or sumthin, like Mobutu’s. That’s the ish right there.

4. H. E. Benjamin Musoke Mkapa who studied in my alma mater, Makerere. He was a Goat.

5. H. E. Joseph Desire Semakula Kabila, from the slummy surburb of Makindye. He’s a great fan of Ugandan ragga ala Ragga Dee, Rasta Rob MC aka Master Robbo and Shanks Vivie D. He also dresses like a Luwum Street businessman, check out the suit on page 2 of the New Vision March 27, 2007.

6. H. E. Mwai Kasozi Kibaki who also went to Makerere, at least he was a Gentleman, and is fondly remembered in the shebeens of Katanga, was probably steadying himself up for Lucy. Good man really, what else can you say about him? Think he’s the only politician with a colourful private life? You must not be reading the papers lately… even M7 …

7. the next president of RSA, Tokyo Okema Sexwale or Cyril Adyeeri Ramaphosa, who spent the apartheid years chilling in the ANC camp in Nakasongola district. The skills they honed in bargaining for cassava and fresh beans with the locals have stood them in good stead in their climb to prosperity, the BEE policy has also helped a bit.

Over to the folks at the Historical Society of Kenya, we be waiting?

P.S. seriously Campus 1st years don’t be going to Diani beach, they can’t handle. U cant even claim to be going to outside countries when you go shopping/holidaying/lounging in Nai, its like going to Rwanda, man you just be going to like another district.

Paging All Men

I am not a crackhead, I’m just very crack-ish.

I would like every member of the Homo sapiens race who does susu – in an arched semi circle - whilst standing on two legs to lend me a hand here (Ivan, I believe my description is ambiguous enough to include you, no?).

What are the 10 things that, in a perfect world – perish the thought, but could you just imagine? – You would want to tell your wife/girlfriend/girlfriend’s mum/sister/friend/the chick from the Bukedde editorial team (Baz?)/the bu nice waitresses at Cheese bar/22 year old chicks driving $60,000 M-class Mercedes SUVs/Angella Katatumba/Juliana/Iryn/Barbara Yata/the chick who reads the 9am news on WBS (again, Baz?)/your boss’ wife/sister/secretary/the blogger chicks who are dying with anonymous stalkers/the worship leader in the church that she makes you go to/ur boss (Ivan)/the Kenyan chick u secretly have a hard on (women call it a crush) for (that would be me, for Suzanna Owiyo/Awiyo/Awilo…KC, some help plz?)/Aisha from KFM/Crystal from Sanyu FM/one of the Hot 100 FM gals…

What gems of masculine insight and galaxy realigning nuggets of wisdom would you bring worth if you could, not under the influence of one Tusker too many – is that possible? – and with nary a thought as to the immediate cataclysmic repercussions of said honesty; what would you say?

Here’s one thing I would say;
1. If you want me to hold you and cuddle you and rub your feet and shit, when its like “us time”, don’t be slapping my hand away and telling me to get God when I wanna take it to 2nd base. Get this, either we’re playing baseball or we’re not, don’t be getting all cosy with the batter’s bat if you aint gonna be handling what the pitcher’s gonna throw at you. Change your love language if you ain’t ready for all or nothing.

Nah, that wasn’t brutal enough, I would say;
1. I don’t care if you’re running for Guild President/Employee of the month/Bank teller of the quarter/Choir girl of the Easter Production/Mayor whatever, when I’m walking with you, forget the kissing babies, glad handing peeps & “hi Barbara” across the street, that chick didn’t remember u love, let it go, don’t be broadcasting “us” to every third person, cant you see they cant be bothered to be happy for you? Us? They got their own issues already.

Still not quite hitting the spot! Maybe;
1. No I don’t want to go your friends’ birthday party with you; I’d rather say home and read last Sunday’s papers. Go show them the picture of us you carry in your wallet, the one you made us take.

Nothing new there. How about;
1. I will never be “down” with your best friend’s boyfriend. Ever. We will say “hey” to each other and that will be it. I will not invite him to hang out with my boys and I. LOL!

Oh, I’m hopeless at this, maybe I should say;
1. Look, if I wanted to have the light falling just so on my bed through the window, I would move it over there and not have it over here, ok? Take a chill pill already and leave my bed alone! Besides my ex likes it this way for when she comes over…

I can’t do this, I haven’t the ruthlessness to do this but the guy who wrote the male remix to Beyonće’s Irreplaceable, now that’s a guy with brass ones, big round brass inkpots.
Men, over to you.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

sh............t!

Mr. Magoo,

negro, i dont know how i did it but this shit happened for real! i just had to tell someone.listen today i had all three of my women up in my sister's shop, man i was rolling! basically i had Aisha sitting next to me on the divan checking out pictures or some shit on my laptop, then Elizabeth Swan (from Pirates Of The Carib...role play negro, role play) was on my other side and finally CuCu was at the desk checking out the latest issue of African Woman in which my siso appears as Degstar's sis n friends - her friends gonna b pised at that description - this shit was off d hook!!! i mean the one i'ma do next all about to feel my flow - if galfrend chucks me at end of Lent, hell i might just do her anyways, i'm nasty like that LOL - Ms. Swan and i, well i like her freak and wen i went to get some ice cream with her, i asked and she said we gon do it on the beach next so i gotta find a good beach, any suggestions? then like i had both Ms. Swan and Aisha trying on the merchandise for my viewing pleasure - in case y'all forgot we sell women's clothing, Cherie we got bonus points coming ur way, Carlo, i have the sweetest fitted woolen jacket with sheringbone pink piping for u, the rest of u, where u at? - and i was like, that skirt bring out ur hips Love, that blouse was made 4 you Sugarpie, why dont u try on these linen pants? hey Love get out of the changing room i wanna see u in that little number ... man i sold so many skirts n blouses n shit today! i think i've discovered my calling - to sell women clothing. so like, damn, i had all three chicks in the shop today n i didnt plan it, they all just came by, man we even had Select fries n Chicken together, all civil like. and i, well u know how u have nightmares about all ur tricks showing up and u say sumthin to mess up dat shit? uh ha, not me negro, i handled that shit, baby girl best be getting all up in my grill 'cause man i'm getting a wee bit tired of saying no to my body, i'm like R. Kelly, my mind's telling me no but my body, my body's telling me yeeeesssssss.....i dont see nuthin wrong..with a litto bump n grind,remember how we use dto get down to that on the tape player? well, i'm goin all old skool on this shit. damn man, we coulda had some drama up in there, all past, present n future, instead we had fries, chicken, ice cream AND I SOLD A LOTTA THREADS! my sis musta just love me, i'm good for business like that.

how'd u like me now?

Julius.

Monday, March 19, 2007

honey, I'm home!!

xtra xtra
3 dollars only
6 new posts,
dont miss a single one.

i ApoloGIZE

truly twasnt my fault
even me i did not want
first my laptop would not access the internet
and somehow all the cheap cafes employ CPUs which dont recognise my flash disk
then i got all caught up in trying to make a buck
or two
then a lot of shit happened
like my cousin took a french leave from school
i hear to go get her "O" level certificate
then she came to my house
i s'pect she had a lotta proggie planned
women's day weekend n all
then her dad found out and also came to my house
so there was a big ass row
she refused to go home with him
saying she wanted to go to her mum's - mum n dad dont live together
he reminded her of d deal from the last time this shit happened
-yeah she dun run away from home before, see
-i blog my shit, she runs away from places
she finishes S.6, she a candidate, then he takes her to Mum,
she didnt buy it, wanted to go now
he lost it
came short of disowning her pesky ass
drove off in a huff
she stayed for a few days
spent her days playing dress up in my sis' closet
-which my sis claims to be "nothing to wear" afflicted
and her nights watching La Revancha
so i called Mum, we call her Cassandra, for advice
then cousin went back to school
and got expelled, for staying out too long or something
then her dad came home and told us
that her mother had in fact passed away last year
and he'd found out this year
kept it a secret from his daughter
planned on tellin her in december
so anyways - wen he fetched her expelled ass - he took her to see her mum's grave
blasted his in-laws for not telling him wen it happened
while my cousin just ... well she cried n den cried some more
so basically no one is saying it
but does that mean she gon drop out of school this year?
i mean, she dun gat expelled already

am i forgiven now?

Life Is...

Started on Thursday March 1, 2007
Finished the day I posted it

Life is;
1. Seating on the couch watching Straka on the Late Show whilst alternately chewing on a rolex, sipping on lemon quencher and typing this out. Its lent and I’m fasting Rock Nite because of all the evil influences it brings into my otherwise peaceful life, like the last time I went, after BHH 2.0, I ended up … hang on, one of my exes reads this blog for all I know the woman of my life has stumbled across it, discretion will be the wiser option here.

2. spending the last 4 hours listening to Aisha teach me about the benefits of islam, with a special emphasis (at my insistence) on the sexual habits, laws and freedoms of those who are believers. There is a difference see between believers, those who have proclaimed the one true God Allah and his prophet Muhammed PBUH, and the other run of the mill muslims who are not believers. Kinda like us christians and our confess with your lips and believe with your heart stuff about the difference btn savedees and the other lot.

3. Did you know that the Holy Qur’an has a couple verses dedicated to the proper way to make love? Basically anywhere as long as it’s not in number 2. Think I jest? Look it up in chapter 4 - the Sarqat al Baqara

4. Sitting in my brother’s office at the Conference Centre looking out over the parking lot, smelling the wet asphalt and the clean crisp air courtesy of the just ended drizzle, listening to How does it Feel? By Avril, sipping on busheera porridge and for a long fleeting moment – after a really long while – feeling that everything could be … just right.

5. loving your girlfriend even when she tells you that she’s having a really hard time thinking about … stuff … like are you the one for her, did she choose you with Godly direction or was it just her hormones speaking? Like when she asks you to pray that y’all get married and when, thrown for six, you reply with a host of positively uplifting scriptures and wise sayings e.g. Ecc. 9:10, she unleashes a century on you by asking you to remember all these “excellent sayings and scriptures” should the occasion arise … like say should the Lord divulge that you are not the Adonis of her life, the Jason of her sky, the Antonio of her Venice, the Darcy of her village, the Pip of her society or the Heathcliff of her Moor.

6. The Cricket World Cup being on. Time to dust up on the old skills, teach these bu young Turks a spin or two.

7. Benoni breaking down marriage for you and making it seem as easy as … a cold lager going down the hatch on Rock Nite with Puddle of Mudd doing Blurry in the background on EV bass bins … he always did have a knack for simplifying stuff down to the barest details and you always did have a knack for looking at Gulliver through the eyes of a Lilliputian.

8. Swearing for the umpteenth time how badly I need a new laptop, one that does not believe anything more than 256 MB of RAM is an ostentatious waste of space. A laptop that, weight wise, feels like a manila paper folder and not Frank Wood’s Pure Mathematics (aaah, Frank Wood, the terror of the ’99 PEM class). A laptop, can y’all hear me that I can carry down to Café Pap without being embarrassed at the time it takes to start up; flashing lights, whirring noises and all, can I get an Amen? Most importantly though, a laptop that does not begin shaking uncontrollably and spewing thick white smoke through its vents whenever I try to install Illustrator CS2, kwegamba, a laptop that – if I wanted – could take Windows Vista, just as soon as someone has finished debugging it. I’ll settle for a G4 iBook.

9.

Commercial Break 2

As I said to Olivia a month ago, if it was good enough for the wisest man who ever lived, its good enough for me. I’m down with polygamy. The papers confirmed it recently; there are more of you than there is of us, so y’all gotta learn to share. And don’t be jumping your place in the queue.

Peace & Love,
Julius.

Death of an Eland

4:26 am
Thursday February 8

I am not a happy camper right now. I am so unhappy that sleep has jammed to take me away to the land of Baywatch Beach babes, where the chicks just run around all day in their oh so clingy bikinis. Lemme tell you why I am not happy and then you’ll want to stay up with me, I hope.

My bro and I are working on a proposal for like a really big corporation, actually the biggest in its field, seriously big, they’re in the top 5 tax payers big, which we’re handing in on Friday. His boss is on maternity leave so he’s been holding down the fort on his own, I chip in occasionally, being more than somewhat skilled in these things of Creative Stuff and PR and Advertising and leja-leja. He got the brief yesterday but one and we started work on it that night. Then yesterday I was in Entebbe doing stuff that will earn my mum, and me eventually Ushs … it’s a 7 figure amount. I get back into town at 6pm and I’ve told him we’ll work late so I head over to his office at the Serena. Yes, seriously. Ok, not the Serena, the Conference Centre right next to the Serena, same Compound.

I get there; lay out the Artboard and the themes we’re working with so we can like try to cobble a working concept together. So whiles he’s getting started I nip round the corner for some takeout and to call Pete in Nairobi who’d been AWOL for a bit. Did you know that the working girls in that area were already out at 7:30 pm? Damn, it’s hard out here for a pimp-ess! Bambi, they had nice perfume. Anyway I get supper, we make coffee and then the artwork starts flowing fast and thick. Mummy calls, yes I call her “Mummy”, what do you call yours? “Mother?” so dats like an hour of jazz and hey presto, before we know it its like 10pm; I’m like really into this other design job I’m doing for a client, and so is he, so we just plow on ahead, 11pm, midnight, 1am, more coffee, bad music on Radio One, we’re like oba we go home and sleep? Anti he has a paper at 4pm today and I’m attending my Cousin Akim’s Kwanjula today at Noon, I think I’m s’pposed to be his “brother” but as usual ain’t no one telling me shit until the last minute.

Somehow we forget to leave and before we know it it’s like quarter to 3am and I’m like, I don’t wanna lug my laptop around at 6am when a cab can drive it home for me now so we make 1 last cup of coffee and call YelloCab. Now, me I’m a creature of habit, when I find someone or something I like, I stick with them till death. I used to have 2 YelloCab captains to call; Laeticia during the day and Oscar at night, we’all was so tight that even wen I was piss drunk and flat broke, Oscar would take me home and put me in bed and I’d pay him when next I saw him. Or I’d call Laeticia and she’d come pick up his dime from the office. He’d even turn off the meter and like say, “man, just gimme 10k and we be kawa”. We’all was family; Oscar knew all my babes and their pecking order and he’d keep my ass out of the doghouse on more than one occasion like when he’d bring one over and she’d be asking him whether I got other women and he’d be like, “waah, that guy me I know him, he’s saved kabisa, he doesn’t do those things of play playing around. He’s serious alo!” then he’d tell me so I’d know to stick to his script. We was tight like that. Then both him and Laeticia moved on to, I guess, better jobs and I’ve been stuck everly since. Now I only go out when there’s a car in the picture.

So when my bro’s cab arrives and parks at the hotel despite instructions to the contrary, I’m thinking, ok, this is one to watch, this must be a bad apple. Oh, the pain of being proven right. We get in the car and I ask him first off if his meter works, a fortnight ago, 1 of them told me his meter don’t work and then charged me 5k from Arirang Restaurant to Cheese Bar. For you KC, that’s like charging you 50 bob from All Saints Cathedral, Valley Road to Nakumattt, Mama Ngina Street. Broad night time robbery! Jamma assures me his meter works and turns it on and sure enough its set to the night time rate which is like double the day rate, sawa, we burst.

Now get this, we’re going to Ntinda from the Serena, the easiest route is, upon exiting the hotel, to turn left opposite MTN/Crested Towers, go up to the junction and turn right down to Kitante Road, left again, then right at the Golf Club Roundabout to make another left onto Acacia Avenue upto Kisementi where you turn right at Capital FM past Al Zee’s through Kisementi then up, right again, past Lohana Academy, left onto whatever that road is called (Prince Phillip Drive?) that runs down past Arya Primary to join Lugogo Bypass where you turn left, drive 60 metres to the Kiira Road Police Station and then go up through The Bukoto Flats and straight to Ntinda, sindio? Even piss drunk I could drive that route with one arm. And I have done so.

Now this dwanzie exits the hotel and turns RIGHT, clearly disregarding the “No Right Turn” sign, me I think he’s gonna turn left at the Radio Uganda Roundabout to connect down to Kitante Road. Wapi. At the Roundabout he turns left and seems to be heading up Speke Road as if towards Speke Hotel sides, I’m like “Ssebo, we’re going to Ntinda, innit shorter to go that way (pointing to the direction I mention above)?” Qouth he, “ok, we’ll pass there if that’s what you want”, “yessir, that’s what I want”. He swings the car round and then the meter kicks in and starts doing Inzikuru, Kip Keino and Gebreselassie on us. I’m keeping one beady one on that motherf..ker, yes I am.

Cabbie flows with the program until the Golf Club roundabout where instead of turning right to Acacia, he does a left at which I holla, “Negro, hold up! Where y’all going son?” “I’m going to drive through Mulago to Ntinda” “but it’s shorter to take Acacia Ave through Kamwokya” “me I don’t know that shortcut” “what the hell kinda cab driver you are if you don’t know shortcuts? Scratch that, what kinda driver doesn’t know shortcuts?” “Me I don’t know Kampala shortcuts” - to myself “shit, another just off the bus Johnny come lately rip off artist from Mbarara!” - Out loud – “yeah whatever, follow my directions hereon, go through Acacia!” We were good till we got to Capital FM, then he asked for directions so I turn him Right through the Al Zee crowd – drunkass kids standing around in the road sipping from plastic tumblers - then we get to the other end of Kisementi and – y’all wont believe it, he turns left!

For the benefit of y’all who don’t live in Kampala, lemme break that shit down for you. Turning left and not right like the plan above, meant he would go down to La Fontaine where he had 2 options;
1. turn right onto Bukoto Street which is the only Kamwokya Street with potholes all the way – 300 odd metres - down to the left turn junction onto the main Kiira Road – at the Kamwokya market - where you then turn right and do like 1.2km/1200 metres (basically 3 football pitches laid out end to end) to come back to the aforementioned Kiira Road Police Station
2. go straight past La Fontaine and end up back on Acacia where he’d turn right to the Mawanda Road junction to make another right turn that would leave him approaching the kamwokya market, option 1 above, from even farther up than the distance between the market and the Police Station

I was totally out of it! I demanded an explanation. His heated answer? He wasn’t going up towards Lohana “because its not safe!” This road has for tenants, NGOs and gated compounds, with security lighting. It’s such a boring surburbian road it doesn’t even have stray dogs chilling in the area. More like Chihuahuas and Jack Russells, safely asleep in their padded baskets next to the Mistress of the House’s bed. And did I mention almost all the gated compounds have askaris? With pump action shotguns, Ugandan style?

Well, I told him I was not going to be ripped off – their meters run according to the rotations of the tires, the more spins they make, the more your ass pays – and if he was not going to take my preferred route, I would pay him off, get out, in the drizzle, and walk back to Al Zee’s where there were plenty of cabs to be had for the asking. He shut up and drove to Ntinda, through my route and when I saw he was speeding in an attempt to get more tire rotations I kept quiet about the road repairs opposite the Kwik-Save Supermarket just after Blue Mango. And indeed, he bashed his car in the neat square holes that the City Council creates out of our huge raggedy ass potholes before they fill ‘em up with murram, y’all know what I’m talking about yeah? Then he bashed his cat again in the potholes opposite the Ethiopian restaurant as you enter Ntinda proper because he was going too fast to see it coming. Made me feel all warm and tingly inside.

Needless to mention I stopped him in the trading centre, we got out, paid him off, went got ourselves some Rolexes then jumped on boda bodas all the way home. Shit, we shoulda just taken bodas from the Serena, if we could find them, it woulda been less stress. I feel better now so I’ma catch some shuteye, 5:42 am, the Muzzein dude’s calling the faithful to prayer. Gotta be up at 8:30 to get my Kwanjula groove on. Then I remember that the Girlfriend has my Kanzu.

Damn, can’t a brother get some peace? There’s war in the Middle East and war on the streets … it’s hard out here for a pimp!

Peace & Love,
Julius.

Ekigambo kya Wiiki

My brother, by dint of his job, comes into more than occasional contact with all sorts of street wise characters. As a result of his parlays with aforementioned specimens of the homo-sapiens race, he will frequently repair to our domicile with one or more gems of literary street smart wisdom. Such as this one from the other night, expressed to him by some Charlie on like Nkrumah Road;

“Ekye beyi kisigala kya beyi! Omuganda takola mu Securicor.”

I’m still peeing myself.

Memoirs of a Brick Layer

A couple weeks ago, last but one to be exact I woke up bright and early on Monday morning and purposed to change my life. I wanted to get rid of the pretentious self absorbed nihilist that I had become and become a compassionate world peace loving tree hugging do-gooder. I wanted to be one of the good guys, the ones that Pastor Joshua waves at when he’s bumping through the potholes of Kisaasi on his way to KPC North.

So I got out of bed at 7am, a recent record for me, donned my Bluenote jeans and tired trainers and went to my new found purpose in life. I had discovered my calling, I had found my nirvana n adhere I was on my way to embrace my destiny; here I was on my way to my new calling, as a muzimbi! Carlo poppet, that means the guy who works on a construction site. No, not the kind who wears a hardhut, Timberland boots and a high visibility jacket, the other kind, the one who wears next to nothing, walks around barefooted (or in car tyre sandals at best) and looks like a cross between the tribal dancers from MJ’s Black or White video and a lounger from Kireka. Kireka, hmmph, aint that where Baz lives?

We have finally scrounged, scrimped, cheated on our taxes, water and elec bills and gone without the Nokia N80, shots at O’Leary’s, new clothes, fries from I Feel Like Chicken Tonight, 6 monthly dental appointments, Mamba Point dinners (ok, scratch this) and most importantly, daily Rolexes, to save up enough money to, finally, start building. It has been a long hard road and it just got started. So to celebrate the fact as well as to ensure that there would be no fowls meeting an early demise in the environs of my would be home I took it upon myself to participate in the festivities on the opening day of building season.

It was kinda hard at first when I arrived ku site and changed into my work clothes, kinda hard when the other even more scruffily dressed bazimbi are calling you Ssebo in respectful tones and then sending you to the corner of the plot that’s overgrown with weeds, grass and such not to extricate the bricks lying underneath all of that undergrowth. My job was to provide customised solutions to the real bricklayers whilst leveraging their vertical growth objectives with the prevailing market driven horizontal conditions. In plain speak, I unearthed bricks and carried them to the vicinity of the dugout foundation whereupon the other guys used them to put the foundation together.

And so for the last few weeks I have been a builder. We are now at the roofing stage and it has been fun all the way through; for the other guys really. After the first day I decided to get out of the way and let the professionals do their job whilst I resigned myself to doing the menial jobs like fetching water for mixing the sand and cement, cigarettes, chapattis for tea, the occasional trowel and of course, ferrying dozens of bricks from the edge of the site to the builder who needed them most at that particular moment.
My CV now has, in addition in addition to my shelf stocking, bar man and bingo hall attendant roles, my newly found calling as a builder. Forget Bob the Builder, we’re rolling with Degstar the Digger. At any rate I take comfort in the fact that I was the most colourfully dressed muzimbi, in my neon blue gym shorts and lime green t-shirt with black sleeves.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Dear Pea...

Wednesday January 21, 2007
23:41 pm

My dearest Pea,

Hi,
I’ve been thinking about you lately you know, on and off kinda like, mostly since I read Your Letter to Your Future husband. Woman, that was … awesome, so deep I downloaded it and took it home with me, every so often I read it to remind myself what sort of man it is that I’m working on becoming.

Anyways, I was planning on writing like a Letter from me to my future Wife …

I had written a lotta stuff here but we just had a power cut and I lost like a paragraph so, kwani I am pissed kabisa! So lemme just go on with what I was saying.

Yes, that letter I was planning on writing; it would be my way of honouring your invaluable contribution to the estate of holy matrimony among others, a way of putting in B&W my path towards the realisation of my ambition to turn into the sort of man that my girlfriend deserves to marry in a coupla years. Then a few days ago I read your interview with CB and the comments that followed, a good number of them being less than pleasant and I thought, “man, what’s with the negativity?” or as Shaka Ssali sez on the VOA, y’all ought to “get better not bitter!”

Then today I had a really bad day.
Suffice to say that I wouldn’t wish it on the one person I believe deserves all the nasty things that can happen to one person in one lifetime; not very charitable I know but then again not being charitable reaps dividends in the here and now, not in the Great Beyond that we’re going to in the afterlife.

So on my way home I stopped to buy a rolex to cheer me up, and for good measure, asked for two; see if 1 is good for you then 2 must be better for you. Then this chic walked past me and I just thought of you cause she just really really looked like you – compared to the picture on CB’s blog, except that that picture showed your front and most of what I saw of this chic as I awaited my rolex was her back. Side. Oh I saw her face alright; I just saw more of her other … side. Yeah she was fyn!!!!!!!

Then I get into a taxi to get home with my supper of 2 rolexes and 3 avocado pears and guess who gets in and sits right next to me? Yes you! Her who looked like you. You know what I mean, and then when she called out her stop she did so in this singsong throaty voice that just had me tingling all over. Yeah I know I shoulda said sumthin but what if I had and she’d replied in a manner that … was rather bereft of … intellectual aptitude? Dude, sometimes you’re better off not knowing. And at the time my intentions towards her were not of the tea and cookies variety.

I decided to take that encounter as divine confirmation for me to pen this so now so there. I happen to think your interview with CB was brilliant and if its true as your friend pointed out that you’re a very private person, then allow me to thank you for daring to share with us, a bit of your story and its mountains, plateaus and valleys.

I believe that people are only as good as what they know, that’s what sets us apart from the next person and makes people rack up paid internet hours so we all can explore, share and learn more about the different worlds we inhabit and the different paths we have all trodden thus far and the trails we intend to carve out of the jungle of life. Am I making sense here because if I’m not, I blame it entirely upon the fact that, for once, I am not under the influence whilst I write this. Did you know Ernest Hemingway wrote some of his best stuff after more than a fair share of a good Scotch? Yeah I know he then went and blew his head off whilst his newly wed 4th wife was in the bathroom next door but, how else was he to ensure his eternal legacy? Believe you me, if Paulo Coehlo had killed himself eons ago, we’d have all heard of him a whole lot sooner and not been asking, “who’s that white bearded old man in the orange scarf being interviewed on the sidelines of the just ended World Economic Forum?”

Now the part I did not get was all the stick you were getting for just sharing the facts of your life. I mean its cool and all that your parents, all of them, are who they are and you’ve done all these amazing things with your life yeah, but at the end of the day they’re just that, your daddy and mummies, and your life is just that; the things you’ve done with your last 20 odd years on planet earth. I certainly don’t begrudge you any of that, if anything I am rather proud of you because for me you represent the best of the different worlds that we inhabit today as offspring of intertribal/inter-national/inter-continental relationships/marriages who have one foot in the mostly rural upbringing of the majority of our parents and the other foot in the utterly cosmopolitan environment that we inhabit and will raise our own children in. y’know what I mean?

I love that you are just as comfortable in the depths of Kijabe as you are on 5th Ave, I love that you would probably enjoy yourself equally whether you were bargain hunting in Owino market or in Greenwich village (there are flea markets in the Village right?), and I’m sure if you had to, you could whip up Ugali and Nyam Chom with as equal panache as you would Tuna Risotto. Even if it came out of a can. For me you are the future of the East African Community, a God fearing individual who can spend time in the smoky manyattas of the Turkana and the Karamojong convincing them of the necessity of giving up their pastoral lifestyles and of educating their girls while at the same time jetting off to the World Trade Organisation to argue the case for less subsidies for Wazungu farmers so peanut farmers from Northern Uganda can have a fighting chance internationally. Then again maybe you should just talk to the US Dept. of Agriculture about that. We should all be so lucky. + you can sing, I love a woman who can carry a tune or two.

We have a long running joke in my church, Kampala Pentecostal, that the Christian army is the only one that shoots its wounded. I’m gonna be nasty here and say that your haters musta been female because in my bar, one of them – cant remember which one - we have a joke that kinda goes like this; if a woman rolled up infront of her buddies in an SLK Convertible, they’d most likely go like “bitch please, who do you think you are showing off like that? It’s probably even your man’s car! The one you’re sh*gging this week!”
If however a man pulled the same stunt, we’d all crowd around, slap him on the back and go like, “damn Negro, dats a fine ass ride! Nigga what you do to get a ride like that? ‘cause I’ma do it twice as hard so I can get me one of those, with a Bang & Olufsen stereo and 18 inch rims baby! U heard!?”

Perhaps you shall draw solace from the life of the woman whose story gave rise to this scripture; Est 4:14b

Kind Regards,
Degstar.

Whats wrong with Season 6 of 24

What’s wrong with Season 6 of 24;
1. Jack has clean fingernails in the scene when he’s talking to President Palmer, dude you just came out of 3 years of torture in a Chinese prison, how do you explain clean fingernails? What, the Chinese were giving you manicures?

2. President Wayne Palmer is not Presidential enough. Negro please, how do you go and make Wayne Palmer President? Seriously how? One black President was novelty enough, two maybe, but to have the weasly younger brother of David Palmer as the new Prez!? Double Negro please!

3. Nadia, boss of CTU, is bullied easily. She gave up the info – to Chloe - too easily that Jack was alive. Ok fine, not too many people can stand up to Chloe but still Nadia cracked too easily, she shoulda fired Chloe or suspended her or something.

4. Jack hasn’t talked in 2 years, according to the Chinese, but his speech, when he starts talking, is neither halting nor hesitant. When I get up in the morning, it takes me a few minutes to find my speaking voice. If I’d been quiet for 3 years, it would take me a little while to find my speaking voice. But then again, what do I know, I’m not Jack Bauer.

5. Morris works for CTU. Morris the dude who used to sell shoes to rich old women in Beverly Hills now works for CTU. Ok, he’s got some mad skills as evidenced when he uses a satellite that’s not on the government grid to help Chloe track down Jack. And he has a most delightful British accent. And I love his dress sense. plus gez d one goin out with Chloe. damn.

6. Adrian is in middle management at CTU. Adrian the nerd is in middle management. Proving once again that in the West you only need to work at a joint for like 3 days (3 seasons, did he last that long?) to be promoted to management.

7. The guy who’s the President’s Chief of Staff? His shirt collar don’t fit too good. It makes him lose credibility in my eyes. To be the part, you gotta dress the part. That’s why Amama Mbabazi will be the next President and not Gilbert Bukenya; ‘cause Mbabazi dresses like a President should, even better than M7 himself.

8. Right after the COS (Chief of Staff) has assured the POTUS (c’mon really; President Of The United States!) that the only way to stop the terrorists is to sacrifice Jack, he leaves the Oval Office and there are no marine guards or Secret Service agents outside in the corridor. In which USA?

9. Jack’s nose hasn’t been broken. What self respecting torturer will not break ur nose? I would. And knock your teeth out while I was at it too. Then mess up your eyes so that one was always like just rotating around in its socket. Man, I could mess you up some. Like hang a brick from your … baby factory. Stick a red hot rod up your Number 2 … mbu I should be impressed by the scars on Jack’s back. Puleaze!

10. After Bill Buchanan cuffs Jack to the grate as per the terrorist’s instructions then Jack gives his little speech about dying for a worthwhile cause, Bill walks off in a highly emotional state. Curtis Manning on the other hand, who spent more time in the field with Jack, just turns around and walks off, no goodbye, no love, nothing! Which black man ain’t got a word or two, or a prayer, for a condemned man? Man, that’s gangster.

11. Man, there’s a ki hot chick singing on Tv, I’ve even paused the 6th season of 24, episode 1! Kyokka I have to get her name; this video is just too hot, dere she’s called Queen Fatia and the song’s called Baibe. I likey likey.

And that’s just the first 10 minutes of the first hour.

To H.E. The Ghetto Prezident

H.E The Prezident,
Kamwokya Ghetto,
Somewhere in Kifumbira.

Mani, Bobi Wine,

Dere is no reason for you to be listening to me going on in my distinctly non ghetto patois but I just thought you’d wanna hear about my day last Wednesday. I’d had a long day, what wit shady suppliers, and even more shady craftsmen, you know the kind, tell you they’ll make a table for you in 3 days and disappear for like a week and then don’t answer the phone when you call their sorry asses or in your case, you give a mechanic your Mustang to go change the oil or something and the bomboclat takes off on a joyride along Musa Kasule road in Wandegs and those ends of Kisekka market where all the tree shade garages are so all his peeps can check him out maxing in your droptop whip. Bloody infuriating, innit? But no, you are a bad man rasta, aint no one gonna mess with your shit.

Me, I was there in a ka taxi from Ntinda to Wandegs so I could offer some much needed TLC to Poppet, that’s my Barbie and I’m like her Wine, see shez doing her exams and shit is like tight so I gotta step up and like tell her Wendi! Ontegera mani!
Kati the taxi goes down Old Kiira road and we go pick picking up passengers den like we stop in front of this big tree, I think the ghetto calls it the Mvule stage and like I turn to my right to like check out the scenery and I notice this ka slender chick in the hardware shop container to our right as if papa-ring to rush outta the shop and cross the road to come into our taxi and ohmygawd, is that who I think it is? And I follow her all the way round the taxi until she gets in and sits her admittedly very slender 3 quarter length jean clad legs in the seat right infront of me. I’m still gobsmacked when the taxi drives off and I’m thinking, “WTF is Barbie doing in a taxi with me?”

See I aint no ghetto Prezident, and PAMA Artiste of the year 2006, but if I was, and if I was you, my lady wouldn’t be riding in a taxi with the likes of me who can only carry one tune, and that in the shower at that. I’m sori what? You no understand what I be talking about? Negro, your woman was riding in a taxi with me. No, that’s cool, I just don’t think – like LL Cool J sed – its safe for my woman to travel that way. Unless of course I am with her. Negro, even Butchaman got a ride to be driven around in, “because I’m a star and stars don’t drive themselves. They just relax and be driven anywhere”, and his claim to fame? One song, complaining nti women don’t feel him coz he’s crippled, far as I know his Johnny work fine, what’s he griping about? By the way, your woman, when I see church rings I’ll call her your wife, is as if not simple, as you will shortly see.

Mwana guy, nga tutuuka awo ku stage ya Mawanda Road. Sorry KC, I meant we reached the Mawanda Road stage, Ugandanspeak. By the way, random fact, Uganda Waragi mixed with Smirnoff n Coke is lethal! I am looking at Straka and seeing her in a different light, literally!
Sorry man, I was saying we roll up at the stage and some weird shit is going on, the driver stops den he moves up again den he stops den there’s loudish hooting from the left side of the taxi, kati we all turn and there’s this very agitated boda boda rider with an Indian passenger on that side and the rider aint too happy about sumthin. Ob awat? Ok, far as I can make out, the boda wanted to bypass us so the driver stopped, the first time, den the boda also stopped den when the driver again steps on the gas, the boda steps on the throttle, yeah I know, stupid.

Now it’s getting interesting, the boda guy has literally dropped his bike and is yelling at the conductor asking why he knocked him? The conductor is yelling back, asking if he’s the one driving … Umph, boda dude, u were behind us so technically you hit us. And the conductor was not the one driv… oh shit the boda guy’s going for the conductor , shit shit he just hit him, y’all see that he smacked his ass! Conductor’s fallen down and I swear I hear coins tinkling, there goes the conductor’s change, now they’re rolling on the ground and hey guys stop them, on second thoughts let them pummel each other, I wanna see how this goes, my money’s on the conductor, he may be smaller but he got lotsa spunk in him, dude’s giving as good as he gets. Hey guys, stop! Stop! That’s the conductor’s change y’all are picking up, what? You gonna give it back to him, yeah I thought so, bastards the lot of you, wait, Barbie’s saying sumthin, wanji Mummy?

“Banage abasajja mugende mubatase! Musajja watu bamukubba bukubi!” Umph sister, you may be my hero’s woman but no way am I getting in a fight because you say so, ok? U seriously want me to get up in dere, man that’s what the driver is doing, saving his conductor! Man I aint gonna be brawling with these guys, I, I, I, I just took a shower, plus I smell good. No way I’m getting all sweaty no sir, no how. Damn Bobi, your woman don’t give up, she’s actually questioning our collective cojones because we wont get out and fight for our conductor, Nnyabo I will have you know that I got big ones, both made of brass, damn, she don’t give up does he? She a real Ryde or Die chick this one, eeh? Yeah but she’s spoiling this fight for us, man, cant she allow us our bu little pleasures?

Now she wants us to get out and take this fight apart, wait, didn’t u just want us to support our guy? Now its like, “omusajja bamukubye nnyo, mumujeyo tugende!”, “mwe ababye ebinusu bya conductor mubidize!” ok, you wish! “Conductor, jjangu tugende, omusajja muveko!” ok Barbie, enough, let the man take his ass whooping like a man, ok, like Bobi, yeah.
Oh damn he’s listening to her, fight’s over, ok lets move along now, shiiiiit Barbie just spoilt a spot of good clean wholesome fun for the rest of us. Ok fine let’s go, whatever.

Silence all the way to Wandegeya. At the Mulago stage, the local chick next to Barbie gets out and as she does so, she sez to the conducter, “mwana Charlie, oli boy nnyo naye omalaako!” nuff said, the conductor is so stroked by that that when we get to Wandegs and they turn left at the Ministry of Public Service he offers us a Ushs. 200 refund for the remaining distance of like 50 metres. Cool, Ushs. 300 to Wandegs from Ntinda, a free fight for entertainment and Barbie sitting infront of me; how good does it get?

Then there was the drama in the taxi home from Ntinda at midnight but that’s a story for another time.

‘nuff Love and Respect Your Excellency.
Ghetto Peoples Forever!
A lifelong Fan

Phat Galz

A few nights ago I saw the movie “Phat Girlz”, the one with Mo’nique and … a whole bunch of unknown people trying too hard to be funny. When I go to the library, any library, my criteria for borrowing a movie is quite simple and runs along the following lines;

1. Does it have black people in it? Good, I’ll take it
2. Are the said black people the Wayans Brothers? Keep your flick
3. ok I’ll take anything that has Laurence Fishburne, Samuel L. Jackson, Will Smith, Richard Roundtree, Djimon Hounsou, and absolutely Terence Howard
4. it must have lots of car chases, gunfights, explosions, computer wizardry and shit
5. Absolutely no Billy Blanks! I’m kidding, who even stocks Billy Blanks movies?

So you must understand then that “Phat Girlz” was a bit out of my league but I just wanted to placate Esther who runs the Movieland library (product placement for you). Man, this movie was; “£$^&*())*&^^%%$%$££””””. I watched it with the subtitles on, I do that to American movies because they all got such messed up accents, Why cant they all speak like Hugh Grant?

First of all, all the songs they had in the soundtrack that came from Mother Africa were simply subtitled “African music”. So they played some Femi Kuti and labelled it “man playing African Music”, played some Etta James and labelled it appropriately (by the way her version of “At Last” is what Poppet and I will dance to at the wedding reception, like our first dance together and shit), then guess what, they play 2Face Idibia’s African Queen and guess what they label it? Yep, “African Music!” bloody idiots the lot of them, no wonder their ancestors got carried off into slavery while the rest of our Jajjas were running off into the hinterland. Stupid begets stupid.

If I’m coming to your church to visit because you’ve asked me to, or just because its convenient on that day, I’ll bother to learn your bu-customs and shit so I know when to stand up, sit down, kneel, genuflect, raise holy hands, bow towards Israel/Mecca/the Sun. its called respect for your hosts and shows that your Mummy taught you empiisa. Then you go and get some of the better known African musicians, put them in your movie and just call it “African Music!” How dumb is that? That’s like a Bushism right there. Even a petrohead movie like “Torque” got the song lyrics and singers right and it must be said, apart from a lotta good looking bikes and stunts, there really aint much else to Torque; but here’s a sobering thought, I saw Torque 2.5 times and Phat Girlz once. And that was more than enough.

And not to mention that when the Nigerians spoke in their native Yoruba or Ibo or Fulani or Hausa or whatever, it was labelled “African Language!” katonda wange, are y’all so doggone ignorant y’all don’t know Nigeria alone got like, I dunno, at least 100 tribes and equal number of dialects? I mean African Language!? WTF is that? If they’d been speaking Swahili, maybe, but they were not. African language my ass, get on back with your country ass to Montgomery, AL and pick some more cotton if you too goddamn lazy to find out from, oh I dunno, the Library of Congress what language your characters were gonna speak. Oh just ask your Nigerian expert on the movie, you did have one; that I know coz there had to be someone to teach y’all how to eat fufu and dance the Money Dance and speak with weird mbu Nigerian accents. Negro please.

2ndly, why is it that whenever Mo’nique’s character was getting all dressed up for dinner or the club, she always did this hair-pulled-up-into-a-bob on the top of her head hairstyle? Like seriously girlfriend, you look better with your hair let down. Assuming of course that all those curls and ringlets were your own and not from some chick in South Korea.

Now, what I really wanted to say is this; I feel for plus sized people living in the US of A, getting treated like you some kinda freak, seriously y’all should come on down here every winter so I could give y’all love like your beautiful regal selves should be loved. Down here in sunny ol’Africa we love us some women with meat on their bones so whether you’re a thick madame, phat girl, chunky, porky, bacon buster, plus sized, whatever, girl, you are exquisitely and flawlessly formed. And if you are more Halle Berry than Mo’nique, don’t worry, a little time and money will sort you out; behold the phenomenon known as Straka nee Pamela Otali!

But seriously, if you’re the way you are and it’s not due to inappropriate nutritional habits – and u got issues with it, wssup with that? If you don’t love yourself, Child, no one else gon do that, apart from your Mum – scant comfort when you cant remember the last time you got you some. I used to want to be bigger and beefier – I may be of Rwandese extraction but I’d rather not look like I am - but all I kept getting was a potbelly. I’ve made my peace with it and so should you. Once again, me, I like a woman built for comfort not for speed.


Listening to & Watching; Ainunu by Gen. Elly Tumwine.

Pause, breath to 10 boy… Wusaah!!!

ROTFLOL!

Afande, stick to soldiering and making Afrocentric clothing!

Monday, January 22, 2007

Commercial Break

By the way, the shop is now open for business and since y’all bought copies of Baz’s book I shall expect similar levels of support for my sister and me as we build the business. Museveni is visiting the shop as we speak, Cherie was there last week (CB u’re onto a good thing, don’t let this one go, Josh, u’re my dawg n all but I’m jumping out of you on this one, the babe is KFC finger lickin fine!), LA – I know your wife would love one of our bu suits for working women as indeed Baz, so would …ahem… gundi; and the rest of y’all; if M7 with whom I have a hate-hate relationship has visited our shop, who are you not to come?

Kamikazi, C34, 2nd floor, Ntinda Shopping Centre. I wait with tape measure and bated breath.

Secret Lovers; Ode to Luther

1st go read the previous post then come back, this will make sense then.

It has always been my incredible good luck to do as the Great man Luther Vandross said, “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with”, over the years. Hang on while I turn up the volume on this here Damian Marley song and pour me-self a finger or two of gin. Sip, smack my lips, aaaaahhhhhh!! Rite, lets get on with it shall we.

Yesterday I ran into Nancy as she was sneaking out of her office to run an errand in town, she gave me a hug, I gave her rather svelte body the once over then she popped her engagement ring in my face. She’s getting married this August, a week after Lolo finally makes an honest woman outta Rita. Damn. ‘Course I did the polite thing and said how lucky Andrew is and all that and promptly forgot what I was doing to walk her down to Uganda House. When we ran into Fatboy outside the head office of Cherie’s bank and she introduced my ass as her oldest boyfriend, you know I was like that’s the shit right there!

By the way if anyone got the 1st 4 episodes of 24 season 6, would you like hook a brotha up? Man, Fatboy got them but no way he gon let me take them outta his house and you know its just not kosher sitting all up in another dude’s crib to catch you some Jack Bauer; so if you got the hookup, puff, puff, pass … Baz taught me that by the way, yeah he been a real good influence on my life.

Nancy was my first one and only true love. Before Fazy, Peaches, CuCu & u, Kikaazi. She was in P5D and I was in P6D. She sat at the same desk with Pamela, who was also my one true and only love but that’s a story for another day. Little, now big, Mark Ssesanga sat between them. They all sat like next to the window in the corridor to the loos. Man, I would go to the loos like every 10 minutes just so I could make eye contact with, inevitably, all three of them; what would happen was that I would very slowly drift into view and catch Nancy’s eye – she has the most arresting eyes I ever saw, then Pamela on the other side would – thru some female intuition thing - cotton on to what was happening so she too would turn and I’d catch her eye then Mark would turn to see what was going on, prolly hoping to see some fly P6 girl but waapi, I always loved the look of disappointment mixed with awe on his face everytime he realised it was only I. He could have reported me to Ms. Tekiba, senior woman teacher, or some such thing but he couldn’t; afterall I was Deputy Head Boy, on my way to full Head Boy. I was an enemy he did not want.

Then end of year came, Pamela’s parents took her to Namagunga Primary and Nancy’s took her to Kabinja leaving me … and Mark. LOL. I moved on to other pursuits like maybe passing PLE and did I mention I used to sit with Rita above; Lolo’s soon to be fiancée? Damn small world. Never got over those two chicks and didn’t see them that much through the years until I was in “A” level and we went over to Gungas for a drama show. I was walking outta the main hall up the little staircase that sorta leads up towards the tennis courts – mugging equipment & costumes - when at the top of the staircase who do I encounter but Nancy. It was such a charged re-union I don’t remember little else apart from the way she stood and just looked at me; she has such amazing posture – she’s a national swimmer by the way - and those eyes! I was drowning in those eyes and just reaching for the light, I just wanted to be in the light my brother! Tell your neighbour “In the light my brother/sister!”

Then picture this; those days school buses were few, so most of us made do with trucks yeah, old school Tata trucks, so there we are chilling in the company of all these fine chicks, me and Jeremy – who’d been my health prefect in primo – and was now my HP just outside of the Gungas main hall, all resplendent in our Blazers when guess what Mr. Basoga the truck driver does? He guns the bloody truck which is parked in front of the gate and we think, “thanks mate, that means we got another 30 minutes”… Wapi, as we start to crawl towards the truck, Jeremy and I, the guy stepped on the gas and hightailed it out of the gate. Instantly we shot each other horrified looks along the lines of;

Me: dude, where Basoga going?
J: he’s driving off stupid!
Me: well, stop him, u the HP; don’t he know u aint on board yet?
J: does it look like he care?
Me: well then Negro, we best gets to running!!!
J: oh hell no!! I’m the HP! I got a rep man!
Me: u wanna walk to Mwiri?

It took all of 10 seconds of stupefied silence and then the entire lot of geezers around me erupted into a flurry of flying Blazers, askew ties, waving hands, pounding shoes and cursing that would make a fish market wife proud. We did not look back, we just ran! And then the bloody driver stopped the truck at the main road! Nah, he was prolly just waiting for traffic to chill so he could join the highway, and that was the last time in secondary school that I saw either of them.

The next time I saw Nancy was at an All Saints Cathedral camp at Taibah College School at the close of 2000. I was newly redeemed from the sinful ways of the world and eager to cement my new found faith; that and the fact that Loice was in town from Nairobi to attend the camp; she’s my Kenyan best friend. Nancy and I saw in the New Year together, seated alone at the bonfire in the centre of the Taibah Junior football field, just the two of us, huddled together against the cold. Praise the Lord. That’s when I first discovered that true love, like ours, is eternal.

Then she showed up at Charity’s wedding meeting 3 months ago with her boyfriend and I introduced her to my Poppet. She told me yesterday she was eager to see the woman who’d replaced her so her first question to Poppet on seeing us was, “Hi, I’m Nancy and u are?” I had to discreetly take her aside and point out that Peaches, to whom she was referring, was like 4 girlfriends ago. 6 if you count the Kissing Buddies. Aah, Peaches, that was the truest love of them all, all 4 odd years of it; it was also the chastest relationship of them all.

2 weeks ago I had a repeat of a moment much like the one in the previous post. Unless I’m very very stoned – that’s more than a hint by the way - I will retain the details but this I will divulge, it was an eye opener. In a screaming way. Think Michael Jackson doing “Scream” on speed.

So here’s my conundrum. I meet a lovely young lady, we become friendly, date for 3 months then Julius steps in and she steps out. I see her again in like half a year and the fire’s still there. But by then I’m with the 2nd person after her and serious about that. Not so serious though that I will turn my back on a little Slap & Tickle, y’know, a little sum-sum for old times sake. So like even though I’m really a romantic at heart who believes in one woman created for me and all that, Julius has convinced me beyond reasonable doubt that any one of a 100 women could be that One, y’know what I mean? I’m figuring this year, in return, I’ll just let Julius sow his wild oats and get his nasty mojo out of my system so I can go back to being a nice safe goody two shoes who gets referred to as a “really sweet guy” by chicks I’d rather be shagging.

Who am I kidding? Dude, I like this shit!

Valley Road

We stood on a cold stone ledge under the cold stars
Shivering and rubbing our hands briskly together
Our breath pluming in the night like smoke
Yet as we did, we toasted inside
For we spoke of matters of the heart
We banished the blinders that sought
To tell us what and what not to see
We spoke first in rhetoric that encircled itself
& finally in straight open terms that sought answers
Twas truly amazing
That coals we thought had long since burned out
Were well and truly afire, glowing like a million candles
When it was the right tyme, we were not prepared
Now that we were prepared, our moment had passed
We clung onto memories of what was &
Fantasies of just what could have been
That first kiss that never was
The dreams that were never shared
So we looked at each other long and hard & as we did
We sighed one long final sigh
As a shooting star plumed and dipped overhead
Even though we both did not say it out loud
We were probably thinking the same thing
How we were fated never to be more than friends
We moved closer together as if to reassure ourselves
Of the bond that existed betwixt the both of us
For from this moment on, we could never live in the past
Full speed ahead twas & and I was sad but happy
For as friends we’d go so much further
Then we looked up & the spell was forever broken
On a cold stone ledge under the cold stars



I first wrote this in July of 2000 shortly after the aforementioned event outside the main hall at the Valley Road Campus of Daystar University. Love and the Nairobi chill were in the air! U haven’t loved till you’ve loved and lost, in Nairobi.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

I have ha ha'ed!

Imitation really is the sincerest form of flattery.

I have ha ha’ed!

There I am interrupting my movie so I can catch the news on TV at 9pm like my grandpa taught to do, always watch the news he taught me, always, when I decide that today gundi of WBS is not looking as hot as usual so I flip to NTV to catch Cousin Maurice but no, theirs hasn’t started yet so ok, I’ll go the only analogue station in the country, yep, you guessed it, I turned to UBC-TV and guess what hits me immediately Bbaale Francis comes on screen;
1. he is not wearing a tie and jacket but rather a beige cashmere looking sweater like thing
2. He is reading the news whilst STANDING UP!
3. Bbaale Francis sold out, he gave up the desk to go read the news while standing up, like those teenies on NTV
4. furthermore he sis making jokes and quips while reading this story on Old Kampala and their introduction of garbage collection strategies, something about the “old learning from the new” or vice versa

My God! After all those years of setting the news reading agenda – from the days of the 7:30am news on Radio Uganda on my trusty Sound Solo radio set uptil last year, all 20 + odd years of my news listening life, Bbaale Francis has sold out and followed the lead of NTV! Peeps who opened shop like last week! Damn, times are a changing indeed!

U guy, I have ha ha’ed!

And for an encore, there’s a news item about the President urging local leaders in some upcountry hamlet not to accept monetary inducements to influence their political decision making. Hmph… this from the man who introduced the politics of the brown envelope handout (& the State H’se Scholarships, & the 5M handout to MPs, & the plum consolation job for vanquished political cronies and opponents, 2 mention but a few) … Bbaale Francis reading the news whilst standing up, M7 urging villagers not to take money to influence their decisions… what’s the world coming to? Next, we’ll hear mbu Nsaba Buturo is tipped to become the next IGG when Justice Faith Mwondha’s contract is up.

This quip made my week;
I went to see Olivia, y’all remember her dontcha? And when I expressed my displeasure at her loss of weight, specifically in the bum area, she concurred with these memorable words, and I quote, “yeah, y’know these days when I turn around to look at my bum, instead I can see the ground!”

Happy eating Ollie!

& this one also,
“I’ve never been a fan of horror movies and I think I’ve turned out ok; I talk dirty for chrissakes!”
Divulged by my ex-ex kissing buddy, after I tried to get her interested in a Lions Gate horror movie.

Laters,
Julius.

Monday, January 08, 2007

The Gud, The Bad & The Downright Nasty

10 things you ought to know about me starting now;

1. I get what I want. If I didn’t get it, it was because I did not want it enough, not because you were so adroit at refusing. Someone share this fact with the casting director for "Tintin goes Bananas".

2. My cooking is so good that it has women – thankfully – falling over themselves in paroxysms of dizzying ecstasy. Last Christmas for example, I did char-grilled pork chops, marinated overnight in whisky, garlic, cardamom, milk & pepper. Our guests, all female friends of my sister, were so thrilled they lined up to express it one after the other; on both cheeks … and the lips.

3. I watch Straka Mwezi’s show. As much for the fine selection of Ugandan music as to see what she’s wearing today. Irene on EATV, eat your heart out. Good Lord Straka, woman, what’re you wearing!? Yes, she is live on TV.and if u cant beat them, have d decency to watch them n laugh scornfully whilst doing so.

4. I like to rip linear holes in my clothing and then sew the holes up with thread of contrasting colour. I will occasionally wear a pair of jeans for months on end until it achieves that just-right aged look, down to the frayed hem. Vestiges of my bohemian youth. All my formal clothing however, is custom made.

5. Create Compelling Spectacles, Law 37, Page 309, The 48 Laws of Power. In my youth I owned a mid calf length grey woollen skirt with black piping at the hem. I wore it occasionally; it made climbing the guava tree in our backyard easier. Do what you will with this information.

6. The coolest “local” video for me right now is “Ekyeddalu by Gerald Kiweewa”. Fucking brilliant it is. It’s like an anti-HIV/AIDS song but who cares, it rocks my world. Soon as I get my hands on the softcopy I’m gonna remix it with the beats of Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down. But for the first few seconds I’ll use the opening sequence from the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. I also like “Atetutua” by DJ Laguna even though I understand nary a word.

7. I’ve stopped reading inspirational; self help and get rich quick books. They’re all based on the Bible. And I already read that like a few half dozen times, starting in p3. Cover to cover. My fave part, The Prayer of Jabez, 1 Chronicles 4:10. Allow me however to recommend in the most glowing terms, “How to Win Friends & Influence People” by Dale Carnegie. The Dale Carnegie. Still blank? Crawl back under your rock.

8. I don’t believe the Devil has tapering horns, the head of a goat, the body of a lion, cloven hooves and a pointy tail. I believe he’s better looking than Laurence Fishburne, the one man I admit is fine. If he, the devil, were to seduce you with his looks and charm and wit and shit and ask you “who’s your daddy?” you would – whilst in the throes of … - declare “you Lucifer, you’re my daddy!” Remember he was the best looking angel till he tried to jump the queue. Idiot that he is, he resorts to mere sin to trap you. That’s why you needed Jesus to get up on the cross and shed his blood to save your sorry ass. Something about his blood paying the blood price for you.

9. I talked to myself as a child. I was comfortable with the notion that I had a split personality. Later I learnt to suppress Julius and lead a quasi-normal life. Lately I’ve gotten tired of his clamouring and been letting him out to get some air. For short periods of time. Like when I accosted Amon Lukwago, Tim Bukumunhe and Patrick Oyulu at the Launch of Brand Uganda in the Victoria Ballroom @ Munyonyo 14 months ago to inform Tim that, on his behalf I had let Eng. Lawrence Zikusooka know that by marrying him, and not Tim, Dr. Gladys Kalema had made a huge mistake. That was Julius. On like 4 straight double shots of Black Label. Subsequently he passed out in one of the cottages. He has now completed his banishment and will soon be eligible for playtime. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

10. …




Expected a No. 10? What is this? Downing Street? Didn’t you just read No. 9? The glib reference to Julius having completed his punishment? He doesn’t always keep his word, right Degstar?

Honey, How Was Ur Day?

Today is Wednesday the 4th day of 2007.

I just came from my Aunt Kate’s house and I’m not sure I wanted to hear what she had to say about the subject of today’s Tyra Banks show. My aunt is a teacher and very strait-laced in my opinion. I was there as part of my new drive to be a pro-active member of my extended family; stuff like dropping in on the old folks so they gradually grow fond of me, that way when girlfriend has her way with me in the next 2-ish years, my aunties and uncles will come to the do because they actually want to be there.

So there we are watching Tyra talk to a bunch of white teenage girls about … gasp… their liking for fellow girls! No, not the liking of Stella is my best friend and I share everything with her, the liking that every able bodied man has for Trisha Campbell, who by the way is the hottest woman alive – y’all remember Kid n Play? Yes she’s not quite 18 anymore but she is hot! I digress, these bu-young girls were there on national cable TV telling everyone how they are bisexual and proud of it … down to the college stunts where like they get drunk and pass out at a party they sneaked out to attend and wake up in the morning naked to discover nudie pix of themselves on the internet … stuff like that.

So I opine to my aunt how TV has degenerated and stuff like that should not be on TV where impressionable kids are gonna see it and all, y’know, (do u want to discover on Open Up with Irene Kulabako that your 16 year old sister likes girls and boys?) cause most of these, they were like 8 girls, were coming out to the world and their families there and then. And Auntie turns to me and sez, “no, it’s good! We should have more of this cause its therapeutic and all”, man, I was thrown! I mean, abuse victims sharing their trauma with us is one thing but teenagers telling us about the nasty shit they be getting upto under the influence of alcohol, drugs and testosterone/oestrogen is not for me. Especially when the teenagers in question are daft redneck atheist American kids. No thanks. I don’t like Americans. Godless nation of baby killers the lot of them. Killing Afghan, Iraqi and Palestinian babies. But Auntie Kate says it’s ok for them to do so, so I guess it must be.

Y’know how people give you a business card with a street address on it so u assume that’s their office in case you need to drop by for some official work or something? Today I found out that it don’t exactly work like that out here in Kampala. Late last year I met this guy who does technical stuff; he did the interior for my sister’s shop. She’s followed my lead and quit her desk job to pursue her dream; starting a design house. Come down to the Ntinda shopping Centre, in my new role as shareholder, I get the opportunity to help you pick out blouses and skirts and pants, we’ll have so much fun I promise! So, Hussein walked in and sold himself and we hired him. He still hasn’t quite finished painting the coat hangers, if you look closely you can still see splotches of silver against the black paint but then again, true to form, that’s a Ugandan for you.

Well anyway I get commissioned to do a signpost and being the optimist that I like to think I am, I call him and brief him. Today I took him the softcopy so he’d get started on the print work and since I’d told him I was bringing it to him at his office I figured I’d just go to his office in the City Centre Complex on Luwum Street. Imagine my consternation on walking into Shop B28 to discover not the technical stuff shop I expected but a shop retailing … men’s attire! Jeans and boxers and shirts and Chinese shoes! I ask the lady behind the counter (why are they always fat, brown, speak Luganda and take 0.75 minutes to answer when you ask a direct question?) if Hussein is in. What else could I do, that was the address 0n the card. First … 0.75 minute pause … she said she had no idea who Hussein was, then I showed her the card which she studied contemplatively for all of … 0.75 minutes … then said she hadn’t seen him all day. Ok. Cool, whatever. I’ll … umph … call him then shall I, ok?

Which I did. I didn’t think it would be wise to mention that I’d just been in his “office” so I didn’t. We met out front, did our business and I left. Believe you me, I had 2nd and 3rd thoughts about giving him the job, but I have a deadline to meet and … I have a deadline. Speaking of which, I’ve been pigging out on Boston Legal lately, James Spader’s character Allan Chase, totally rocks! William Shatner’s Denny Crane is a close second. So in this one episode Denny is losing the plot, forgetting stuff and being kinda loopy so he takes this black-market drug called dextroamphetamine to combat the onset of, he believes, Alzheimer’s, yeah, and it works! He gets his memory back and he feels on point and he’s just going at 110%.

Outta curiosity and a lot more, I went to this pharmacy in Ntinda on my way home and ask them if they stock the drug. The elderly pharmacist looks at me kinda strange and asks me to repeat the name so I do. Spell it even. Then he shakes his head kinda sadly and asks me why I want it. So I tell him I hear it helps with like stress and memory loss and tiredness and stuff; I saw it on TV, it helps college kids read longer and harder and pass their exams. Says he, it’s a very controlled substance not available or licenced in Uganda. The only way I’d get it is if it was smuggled into the country, purposely. And while he stops short of declaring it illegal he points out that using it would make me 2, 3, 4 times better at what I do than the next guy. Run faster, read harder, fight better, climb higher, make love for longer … why would I want to do that to a young beautiful person like myself. Yes indeed, why would I?

To his credit he offered me a Korean ginseng extract called Ginsomin. And here I was thinking all this time mbu ginseng was only an aphrodisiac. I guess like Freud said, life really comes down to sex at the end of it all.

Auld Sang Lyne

1. What is it about the date January 1st that has us believe we have a chance to make a new start? It’s just a re-alignment of the moons people, u wanna make a new start? Give your life to the Lord Jesus Christ who died that you and I may have life eternal. Floating on clouds, picking out the strains of Amazing Grace on our harps, sipping on honey and nectar.

2. Why do we wait until the fireworks and hugging and drunken kissing and general tomfoolery is over to resolve to be different; emotionally, physically, financially and spiritually? You wanna be different? Buy, read and apply “The 48 Laws of Seduction”, if you’re already married, dating or otherwise shackled, get “The 48 Laws of Power”.

3. Why do we wait an entire year to suddenly discover good Samaritan-ness at Christmas time, taking it upon ourselves to visit and pray – TV cameras in close pursuit - with hospital patients, orphaned children and elderly people? Where were you the rest of the year? Be more like me, don’t bother pretending at all. Give a few coins to that dude in Wandegeya who begs in impeccable English and calls you “brother/sister”. You’ll feel really sanctimonious. Or if u want, and I quote, “in as much as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me”.

4. Didn’t anyone else see the footage of Kampala City Council officials tearing Karamojong children from their street dwelling parents to deliver them to the Kampiringisa Remand Home for children? What sort of place is the Remand Home, what sort of facilities does it have? More importantly, how well funded is the joint? Do they have EATV? We must give the, literally n figuratively, poor children, something to aspire to. Look at Bobi Wine, he too came from the ghetto, now he drives a Ford Mustang and smokes weed all day. What else do you want? A stable home? The chance to be a child? Grow up.

5. Why do y’all wanna come to church on Christmas day and take up my seat after staying away all year? Y’all think I find that amusing? Heck no! Go to a church that needs you, like the Mormons maybe, Or the Witnesses, or the one opposite TLC.

6. What brand of Christianity – and I use the term loosely – does that church opposite TLC subscribe to? St. Andrews in Bukoto has been constructing their Community Centre since before I was a tot, playing Cowboys and Indians in the then bush between Total Bukoto and the Brown Flats. That church on the other hand was built in like 3 months on prime real estate! I hate rich churches with shady doctrines. St. Andrews don’t even have tarmac!

7. I am not attending any weddings this year. Nabikooye. Well maybe Cousin Akim’s, my presence at that one is bound to benefit me, immensely, in the months and years to come. Like say when it’s my turn to say “I do”. So for my personal selfish benefit I think I’ll go.

8. I haven’t been on a plane in a while. Which long lost aunt shall l lean on this time to be my benefactor? Heck I could just make up one, it worked the last time.

9. What do I have to do to stop receiving those SMS invites to La Club Rouge – can’t they see that I can’t even be bothered to know their proper name? When I wanna go out, I go to a place where I can see other people’s girlfriends and sisters pretending to be Rihanna. Places like Steak Out and Cheese Bums. Formerly known as Cheese Bar.

10. Why does Showtime Magazine only use skinny girls these days? Hey I like Barbara, we were tight in my previous life but damn, gal needs to get some meat on her. Karitas is jobless last I heard; can’t she be talked into her old job?

Have a rip roaring year y’all, thank you all and one for the felicitations.

26 & Hating It.

The day Saddam was hung by the neck till he died.

I’m 26 and hating it right now.

Oh don’t get wrong, I appreciate the fact that I’m alive in a country where the life expectancy of a black male is anywhere between 45 and 48 years of age. That’s cool , me I just want more out of my life. Like I just finished the latest edition of African Woman, in which my sister has an article or two – name dropping for you – and I’m gobsmacked by the fact that Stella Atal and Hood Jjuuko, artists of not inconsequential acclaim, are both my freaking age! That’s what is getting my goat. That and the fact that Saddam has been executed. The Beeb won’t let up on it so I might as well wade in with my 2 cents worth.

I am a firm proponent of the death penalty. I was. I am. Ok, I was until this morning when my brother woke me – he never does – with the news that Saddam had been excecuted. My first jumbled thoughts were of Cousin William, who went to Namilyango in the mid-nineties and was a member of the RCC, the Revolutionary Command Council, itself modeled on the same organ run by Saddam in Iraq. Something smells to high heaven about this execution. First of all, since when did it take only 4 weeks from sentencing thru appeals to execution of sentence? And why was Saddam bumped off for a crime that insignificant? Seriously, the man was accused/guilty of far worse crimes, depending on which side of the bridge you’re on with this one.

And that was the shammest trial if ever there was a sham trial. I could draw parallels to a certain trial here not so long ago in which a prominent musawo was arraigned swiftly, on wild allegations at worst and circumstantial evidence at best, and almost sent to the gallows yet a gun wielding member of the national army is out on bail after smoking three people in broad daylight in front of hundreds of witnesses during a peaceful gathering of political party activists for a quasi-cultural ceremony. You do the math and dare to call me a conspiracy theorist. Saddam was prolly guilty of a lot of nasty shit, e.g;
1. invading Kuwait
2. Poison gassing the Kurds
3. Fighting Iran and being co-responsible for the death of 1 million people
4. killing his sons-in-law for daring to tell on him after defecting to Jordan
5. Trying to kill George Bush Snr. According to the Idiot Jr.

But he deserved his day in court like any other accused criminal, which is why Nurri al-Malaki the Iraqi Premier is to be commended for keeping his promise to hang Saddam by year end. And on Idd Adhua too? That’s some cold shit. Speaking of year end, does anyone know if Nsaba Buturo has refunded the monies he took from Mega FM as he’d promised to do? And has he explained why he took money for a ministerial trip to Malaysia and then neither took the trip nor refunded the money?

So, adieu Monsieur Hussein, you will find yourself in suitable company when you get to Purgatory, you and General Pinochet, Comrade Pol Pot, Marshall Mobutu, Comrade Mugabe (when the strains of satisfying Grace Mugabe finally get him), Jonas Savimbi, Emperor Bokassa, Kaiser Hitler, General Abiola and Joe Kony … oh shit he isn’t dead yet, what are those Black Mamba boys doing? Shouldn’t they be out scoring the jungles of Southern Sudan/North-eastern Congo for Kony’s murdering ass instead of scaring poor old geriatric judges in the city? Mbu an anti-terrorist crack unit! Ha! Don’t they watch 24? That’s how you do this shit.

So what I was saying earlier about being 26 and hating it? Well, after quitting my job and rejoining the world of the people who have lives and live worthwhile lives, I have been finding out just how much I have missed out on, like being creative and artistic and non-conventional and traveling the world and establishing a reputation for doing something really well and…… following your dreams y’know? So I’m bitching about the fact that these kids who are my age are living the lives I wanted to live! That’s my life dude, give it back! I didn’t even finish reading the magazine, I was just too too stressed out.

By the way, that Princess Komuntale is quite the dish isn’t she? A bit skinny but that can be remedied with a sustained diet of pork ribs and Tusker. So, who of us wants to be the first one to have a go at getting the royal garter?

Ho Ho Ho!

What I would have asked Santa for, if I believed;

1. My girlfriend’s parents to accept me and love me and bless our relationship without making too much of an issue over the fact that I’m originally from Congo by way of Rwanda and not somewhere in Kiboga.

2. Our Dear Leader, He of the Solitary Vision and Sole Redeemer of Our Beloved Nation from Bad Leaders, finally keeping his promise to tarmac the road from Kabale to Kisoro. I too would like to go home without having to take out travel insurance first.

3. Our honourable Parliament passing a resolution to reduce both their numbers and the number of constituencies as well as place a ceiling on the emoluments of a member of said Parliament for at least the next 10 years. In addition, stripping members of the cabinet, with the exception of the Prez, deputy Prez, and Premier, of the dubious “right” to enjoy a siren blaring police truck clearing traffic on their behalf.

4. Osama Bin Laden – now that I’ve written his name I’ve given the National Security Agency licence to hack into my emails and track my correspondence – to die from like prostate cancer so the US of A will run out of excuses to invade “Axis of Evil” countries and kill their leaders for the heck of it. Checks and balances are good. In the Blue corner, USA, Britain, Trinidad & Tobago and The Bahamas; in the Red corner, China, North Korea, France, Germany, Syria, Iran, India and the rest of the world; that’s us.

5. The results of my daily push-ups and sit-ups regime to finally start showing, I can feel that six pack on the inside, underneath the blubber, now I’d like to see it on the outside. Also while I have no problems with my hair growing as fast as it does, necessitating fortnightly visits to Farouk’s barbershop, maybe I should go for gold and have it growing on the top of my head as well. Having lost my widow’s peak years ago, I would like to still have a full head of hair for like another 2 decades.

6. Oil to start flowing out of Bunyoro, yesterday, so the price of everything from a taxi ride to a rolex will drop several units. Come to think of it, if we’re producing our own oil we wouldn’t have to pay through the nose tariffs for thermal electricity – in the absence of hydro electric power - because our own oil would be a lot cheaper than the imported diesel Aggrekko uses, right? We used to have elec all the time, many many years ago.

7. m7 to announce in his welcome speech at CHOGM that he’s resigning from office effective December 31 2008, in the meantime repealing the legislation that allowed 3rd term, ensuring the prosecution of you know who(s) for corruption, embezzlement, valley dams, Global Fund, junk choppers, Tri-Star Apparels, NSSF, Kony, potholes, dust, Ruhaama, letting Prof. Bukenya take over for the remainder of his term and in an exclusive interview with The New Vision’s Els de Temmerman, indicating his private belief that yes indeed, Dr. Ham Mulira, current ICT Minister, will make an excellent President in 2011.

8. The suits in the respective Treasuries of Ug, Kenya and Tz making a Customs Union happen ASAP, so that the political federation, to include Rwanda & Burundi of course, will in turn come to pass by 2011 when Dr. Ham Mulira will become Federation Governor (President) for Uganda, Nicholas Biwott for Kenya (u guys aren’t giving us too many options y’know), Bernard Makuza for Rwanda, Pierre Nkurunziza for Burundi, Anna Tibaijuka for Tanzania and Jakaya Kikwete President of the East African Union. We should be so lucky.

9. Finally saving, stealing, commandeering and blackmailing enough money to buy a navy blue VW Golf GTi with headrests on all 4 seats, 18’s, Ipod compatible Bose 5 CD changer stereo with surround speakers, AC, power steering, xenon headlamps, sunroof and 2 exhaust pipes, at separate ends of the backend. Nothing fancy really.

10. Health, wealth and happiness for every last one of you, your families and loved ones.