Thursday, February 01, 2007

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

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