Ivan Presents...

Is This Goodbye?

2007-05-03T16:58:00.000+03:00

B: Didn’t think we’d be doing this again.
Me: Yeah. Me neither. But It’s got to be done, y’know. Otherwise people will start asking questions. Start wondering what happened to us. Why we don’t hang out together much…
B: I know what you mean. We had a good run though, didn’t we?
Me: Yes, that we did. I mean we had a couple of down-times, but we sorted that out…
B: Wait. We had blissful times. I don’t recall any down times.
Me: There was a time you were picky about who would make comments.
B: Oh that, I was undergoing a make-over. You can’t fault me for sumthin like that.
Me: No, I can’t.
B: So this is it then? The end?
Me: well…
B: don’t answer that.
Me: I wasn’t going to. I just like to say “well” a lot. And okkaaaay.
B: Right, so anyway, uh, bye or something...
Me: Bye blogger.
B: Wait, before you leave. Just one question...where are you going to be?
Me: Here

The Anopheles Cometh

2007-04-22T21:11:00.001+03:00

I have malaria. I realize its starting to look like anyone that mentions the BHH comes down with it, but I assure you its purely coincidental. In fact, I am certain mine was lying dormant way before the BHH announcement came up. The parasites, it would appear, were swimming along grandly in my blood without a care in the world. Then suddenly it happened. They received some sort of higher calling and figured the only way they could make themselves useful was by inflicting pain.

I, on the other hand, was biding my time, hanging with my friends at this little place near home. The locals call it Punchline. I call it convenient. I was having myself a grand old time when I felt what can only be referred to as aches. Its really sad that that's all they can be called seeing as it seems like a gross injustice to them. I was hurting all over. Initially one would figure it was an over zealous hangover manifesting itself before its time (usually 10 or 11 am the morning after), yet this had MALARIA written all over it.

As luck would have it, part of the group I was hanging with also decided it was time to leave this place. From time immemorial, the healing qualities of water have been greatly overstated, maybe it was coz I was getting high, but I figured I'd take some. Its probably psychological, but I felt better.

Better enough to go to work for the better part of the week, until Thursday afternoon when the parasites came knocking again. Not too different from tax collectors these parasites…actually, no, they are a little different. Tax collectors can lay off after a while. These things are too bloody persistent. I'm vaguely reminded of Jehovah's witnesses. I don't know why that is. Is it possible that they have a quality I have alluded to in this paragraph? No matter…

So, Thursday afternoon I was feeling a little down and figured I'd try water again, but the thought left my mind soon as some work was brought in. Unfortunately, the silly parasites stayed on. Waiting…

I went to bed earlier than usual on Thursday and woke up well, earlier than usual, with a splitting headache. A headache so called, I suspect, owing to its tendency to make one feel like one's head is coming apart. Then my eyes started hurting. In one swift move I found myself pulling a Michael Scoffield type glare. I don't know whether its coz I didn't have a tattoo, but nobody seemed to be feeling it.

Anyhow, this is basically where I have been going with this piece. My encounter with the pharmacist. It went something like this…

Me: Hi, I have Malaria and I need something for it (slight pause)…you don't need a prescription or anything, do you?

He: No,...

Me: Cool. Okay, I want either Artemether or Artenam (my software is telling me I spelt something wrong, I don't know if I have the PHD variety of Word installed on this machine)

He: Take Artenam. (pause brought on by his sudden need to show me just how smart he is) because it is Double Therapy...

Me:Huh?

He: Double Therapy...

Me: You do realize I can't understand what you just said, right?

He: (looking at me with what must have been pity) Anyway....

So I walk over to the counter of dispensing and as he hands me the drugs, he proceeds to explain how I'm supposed to take the medicine.

He: So, this just means you take 6 then 2 then 2 then 2

Me: Dude, I know that bit. Its all that talk about Double Therapy...that didn't make sense

He: Oh, double therapy?

Me: Huh? Yeah, that! What does it mean anyway?

He: (trying to look smart) (he failed) Basically it means you will take more pills...

Me: Why didn't you just say so?

He: Now you know, but now I must ask you a question....

At this point I'm turning files over in my brain, thinking, "what the heck do I have to hide?" then Instantaneously it becomes, "Oh snap. He knows..." So it gets a little confusing coz there's a part of me that wants to swear that I didn't say there were weapons of Mass Destruction in Iraq and another part is practically perspiring and getting ready to say "I didn't not have any sexual relations with that Lewinsky woman..." I didn't by the way...

He: Where can I get a phone like yours...

7 Instances of Randomness

2007-04-19T16:22:00.000+03:00

1. Is it possible for someone to get pregnant as a result of someone standing way too close whilst lining up?
2. Do Customer service attendants in various organizations meet up and compare notes on how they messed up someone's day?
3. I'm listening to the radio and that chic that sounds like she's suffering from constipation is telling us to go for the street jam. Is it possible that the guys behind the advert figure there's a section of the public that does in fact feel for this girl and will come forth...
4. I've been rocking the Sandals look for a while and as a way of convincing myself that all is well, I have taken to looking out for people with a similar fashion sense...thus far its dudes riding boda bodas. Roadside preachers are wearing things of this world.
5. Wait a second, some guy outside my office is wearing sandals...he is moving towards a 4 Wheel Drive, He jumps in...he has no fuel, he is flagging a boda boda down...snap!
6. Looks like rain. Wearing sandals sucks
7. I think awesome is a word to describe a situation wherein we are allowed to take Monday off just because Tuesday is a public holiday...Why couldn't this be on a day that actually is awesome?

Just Around The Corner

2007-04-15T13:04:00.000+03:00

er, excuse me Your Excellency...

2007-04-14T09:13:00.000+03:00

I can call you that can’t I? The whole your Excellency thing?

I mean, I realize, as you probably have that things are spiraling out of hand. Heck, is it just me or are you in the backseat as well? Gils said there was a mafia type arrangement in the government, but I kinda put that down to being like, you know, the premise for some movie. I mean, Amin had The Last King of Scotland, why shouldn’t you get something?

Anyway, did you see what happened on Thursday? Did anyone tell you? Did you read about it? Well, in case you missed it, I’ll tell you. The shit hit the fan. It wasn’t nice. People died. Oh that’s right. You know about it and you’re blaming it (as has become your modus operandi) on the opposition parties. Dude, we are not buying that. Someone somewhere probably is, because somehow we still have CHOGM and no one is asking you to step down. I suppose all that jazz about being the only one with a vision actually struck a chord somewhere. Then again, maybe you have messed up to the point that no one wants to be in charge of cleaning up. I know how that can get real icky.

So what’s the deal man? Why do we have to choose between sugar and wood. Wood’s nice, sugar is sweet…and that statement is laced with innuendo. Which is a thing we ARTS students can pull off. We are pretty awesome like that, pretty smart even. I am not saying that the Sciences you advocate for are entirely useless. But seriously, face it. There simply isn’t any middle ground with most Science scholars. Its all cause and effect with them. No rationale, no compromise. Its tit for tat, man. Case in point, You give away our land and property, we will strike. Am I getting through to you?

And what’s this shit I’m hearing about how we owe some dude money? For real man, we don’t owe anyone shit. We pay our taxes, the airtime thing pissed us off, but hey, the country needs money doesn’t it? How are we going to get that money? We are not going to go all slutty and sell ourselves to the highest bidder are we? No. That’s because prostitution is illegal. So its taxes for us. Massive electricity bills, increased fares, weird fees at institutions lf learning…the ones you haven’t given away anyway.

I am not bitching or anything, you are, after all is said and done, our leader. There is some question as to how that happened, but the judges say you are so that’s that. You know the judges, the dudes getting hundreds of millions in salaries. Yeah, that’s them. Good Ol’ judges…can’t go wrong with the judges can you. No way…snap, I lost the plot back there… you know what that’s like right?

I do not condone violence either, I’m with you on that one sir. Its not just the wrong way of doing things, its also a painful way of doing things. But you gotta admit, this was a long time coming. You step on a couple of toes and someone is bound to hit back. Usually its Warren or Ken, but you tend to sort that out with some tear gas. Hey, Is that what you mean when you say you’re the only one with vision, coz I gotta admit, that’s smart. I can’t see squat with that gas in the air. It stings…and in case you missed it. It kills.

A pal said this stuff is going to spiral way out of control. On the one hand…no, screw that, it won’t. And I’m sure you also know that, which is probably why you can keep up the haughty I don’t give a fcuk attititude. We don’t see things through. We will bitch and moan about how you’ve done us wrong and all that, but its only temporary. We are weak. I don’t know…is that an achievement? Is this your doing? Nuh, of course not, that’s giving you way too much credit. You had us at Amin was a prick and I am not, so we figured this is as good as it gets….as it got.

Seriously dude, you just have to give in this time. We the people have decided we want our trees. We love them. And I’m sure you too don’t mind the wood deep down. Think about it, when you ask for… nay, when you are doing the obligatory rounds, the campaigns and what not for term number four or five or six (I am not giving you seven terms, a man can only live for so long..actually, I think Mugabe has pulled it off, so has Gadaffi…okay, fine) or seven or eight or nine…no one is going to buy that we love you that much. I mean, I can pretend I’m crazy about you, but I’m not that good an actor. Someone is bound to see through the façade.

I’m scared man. Every time there is a riot, you bring out the big guns, literally. That there is some messed up shit. I can’t hang out anymore…I gather people can’t even pee in the gutter anymore, lest some operative is in camouflage. But, clearly its just hanky dory, absolutely alright for you to take the piss…

I’m not saying this is a you thing. Its an African leader mentality. And its contagious. We are to blame to some extent. We led you on, gave you the impression that we were like, so in love with you. Man we lied. You can’t keep holding that shit against us. We are in a loveless relationship. We want to see other people…you know those election results? Take a hint man.

Are

Tired

Of all the drama.

This Just In

2007-04-11T17:49:00.000+03:00

Stories Untold: The One About Jimmy

2007-03-26T10:28:00.000+03:00

Jimmy was the kind of person you’d call ordinary. An ordinary guy forced by circumstances to do extraordinary things. He was not an Adonis on any levels, but he didn’t need to be. He had no feelings of self doubt. He was content. Until he saw her. She was the reason people tried a little more, exerted themselves. And he knew if he was to ever get anywhere, he would have to follow suit. He had to.

A couple of years ago…

His was not the childhood he’d be proud of. Not for him the toys that all his friends had, nor the stories they told in the playing field. He couldn’t pitch in as his friends bragged about the kind of cars their fathers had. The word friends may have been used little liberally, for Jimmy never quite connected with the peers he had.

One may say the important thing was that he did have a father as he grew up. Maybe. But what was a father worth when all he did was take his frustration out on his son? Jimmy told himself the booze made his father do those things. The beatings and all the other things. He may not have been scarred on the outside, but deep down a piece of him died. He knew earlier than he should have that he would not have any kids of his own. Not so much because he had not the capacity, but he was afraid. He was man enough to acknowledge it, he was scared he’d grow up to be the man his father was, or worse.

His mother was, for the most part, in denial. She had seemingly convinced she was getting what she deserved. After all, were not women supposed to grin and bear it through thick and thin? She loved him and it was her love that drove her to an early grave. Not once did her husband, the love of her life come to see her in the hospital in those final moments. He was with his mistress, one of many. So there was no way he could have…or would have known that she took with her, his unborn child. Depending on how one looked at it, maybe the child was spared a fate worse than the death it didn’t deserve.

That day, after the funeral, Jimmy trudged back. The walls in his life had come tumbling down with such weight it paralysed him. He found the door to the house open, daddy was home. He saw clothes on the floor of the sitting room before he saw his father, and his all too willing partner. His father spared him a glance, a couple of words even, “back so soon? Give your old man a few minutes and we’ll go drink this thing away.”

It sounded like he was glad she was gone, like this was going to be a celebratory drink…a victory chug perhaps. Jimmy’s spirit was taking a bigger beating than it deserved, than any 12 year deserved.

He knew his father didn’t deserve to be happy. Not after what he had done to them, and yet, he didn’t know what to do. Something had to give, but what. Then he saw his mother’s pair of scissors.

The following morning he got back from school and found a crowd of people outside the house. His uncle George was outside the house, face frozen in hard to decipher expression. It was angst, but to an extent yet unseen.

The story was, his father in a state of drunken remorse had evaluated his life and figured that without his wife in it, it simply wasn’t a life worth living. He’d died of an overdose.

Everybody felt sorry for Jimmy. Two losses in one sweep were not fair; somehow the twelve year old didn’t seem moved. He’d cried at his mother’s funeral and thereafter, but there was a certain calm about him at his father’s. They called it denial, but it wasn’t.
As he watched his father’s coffin get lowered into the grave a faint smile played on his lips, “this is for you mother”.

His uncle had dumped him in a seminary. Said it was for the better. It didn’t matter. And for a while it felt perfect, he felt like he belonged. Then he gave in to the pleasures of the world and was asked to leave… he didn’t fret about it. It was well worth it.

He’d discovered during the workshop sessions that he had a knack for fixing things and Sister Anne Rose had told him that he had a gift. She told him he would go far if he honed his talent. She also told him he could work magic with his fingers. This part she had added after class and with a cryptic smile on her face.

Soon after he’d left the seminary, he found work as a mechanic, and it was while there that he saw her.

Her name was Sophia and she radiated a beauty that was enough to make a man kill. And yet her eyes told a story, a story he’d seen in his mother’s eyes so many years ago.

He followed her home once, hoping he’d speak to her, even for a minute, but that never happened. As he worked up his courage he saw a car drive up. It was an expensive Golf. The kind you’d sell and buy two more expensive cars and still have enough left over for fuel…and then some.

The golf looked familiar. Jimmy had seen it parked outside some girls' hostel near his home. The owner was some guy called George. Then it hit him. And with such force he felt his guts churn. He left.

A few days later he had to deliver Sophia’s car. He figured it was a sign of some sort. God wanted him to make things right for this creature. He would tell her about her husband’s ways. It was his mission, to make it all go away. He parked the car in the drive way, and then, suddenly, got cold feet. As he handed over the keys to the goddess that haunted his dreams he realised it was not meant to be. For the second time he left.

Yet this time round he felt like something was calling out to him, calling him back. Feet of lead he dragged himself back. Then there was a loud bang…repeated a number of times. Jimmy’s closed his eyes in prayer for what may have been an eternity. Jimmy approached the driveway and the scene that greeted his eyes made his insides roll. It was ghastly. He wanted to run away…call the cops, do the right thing, but he stood rooted to the spot. Sophia was not here, and all at once the realization hit him. She knew. God had somehow opened her eyes to her husband’s infidelity. He looked at the body in front of him and had a brief flashback of that moment years ago when he emptied the pills into his father’s wine bottle.

He realized he couldn’t judge Sophia. Oddly he wanted her more. He felt almost as he had not too long ago when he’d first laid his eyes on Sister Anne Rose’s frame out of her nun’s garb. Sister Hazel had also awakened in him similar feelings.

Jimmy looked at George’s body or what was recognizable and knew what he had to do. Sophia had been wronged and the worthless heap before him deserved what he got. It wouldn’t be fair to put Sophia through a trial for exacting justice.

With a sigh, he looked up and muttered under his breath," this too is for you mother". And with that, started the chain of events that would make it seem that what happened here this day had been an unfortunate accident.

Like some sort of ability

2007-03-22T23:24:00.000+03:00

I’ve been chatting with a pal…its this thing you do where you sit back and watch as a window seemingly materializes on your screen and words appear. Your hands receive a message from the brain. They respond and they proceed to hack away at the keyboard until the letters come together in a union that makes sense. This union is called a “word”. It’s a beautiful thing this, “word”. So beautiful in fact, some times, these words beget words and before you know it, a cluster of words is in front of you. That’s not to say that words form only on PC…far from it, but the words before you got here that way.

They made their clusters and by gosh, they made sentences. But as is wont to happen, these things grow out of hand and sentences beget sentences and a paragraph is born. The cycle continues… I don’t know how poems work… it’s a whole new ball game there… but one thing is for sure, writing begins with just the one word…the little word that could.

Now ages ago, no one knows how far back and honestly, no one really cares, people discovered words. It was a gigantic leap from playing drums and thumping chests which, as you can imagine had all sorts of complications springing forth, like asthma and Hip Hop. So words were discovered and they were strung together to form sentences and stories and subpoenas. They were also put together to form what people call scripts, but hardly ever use because words don’t look pretty without repeat appearances by the letter “R”…come to think of it, words don’t sound pretty with repeated rrrrs.

As words came together some people looked on and tried to understand what the deal was. Because this was tideous,they settled for the spot on the couch or bench or whatever and read the words put together by others. We shall call these readers. Its only fair, they also call us names.

Those with abilities to marry words to beget families were few and far between. They were, as the French would say, scarce. The French say a lot of things and that is a fact that can not be disputed. SO anyway, these writers did their thing and the readers looked on from the side lines, some content, some with disdain and some with a strong conviction that they too could write.

Then suddenly something went awry, writing ceased to be a thing that only the brainy sorts would do…sure they still did it and we suffer through their bloody textbooks and pamphlets, but nonetheless the realization dawned. Writing was something that could be done. All one had to do was try. And try many did…and fail, but try nonetheless and they certainly deserve some sort of credit for trying, though it would have been way better if he’d in fact gotten posted to Sudan.

Curiously, some that could, didn’t bother trying. It would seem like “coming out”. And no one wants that…no. But those that did seldom had regrets, the few that did, well they got over them.

Life goes on and with each passing day someone else discovers that (s)he can actually put words together…whether these are words shared is an entirely different issue. And also with each passing day, others discover that they too can fashion statements…statements damning those that put their thoughts down, put their opinions out there.
We are writers and, like it or not, we do the write thing.

A state of contemplative repose : The Text

2007-03-21T16:18:00.000+03:00

Dennis is jealous. I am not. . .and yet, its a better place to be. For right now, I am confused. A little. Some things you just can't explain. Like taxi park incidents.

Take for instance, those times you are in your taxi, minding your business and this dude tries to break the window so he can sell you a watch. Seriously now, if you're going to inflict some sort of damage, offer me something I could use. Like an English-Luganda dictionary. That way I can hurl obscenities at the taxi conductor,erm, person when he inflates my fare like he thinks I'm a CHOGM delegate.

Or the times there's a dude going around selling stuff like combs, earrings and all that when suddenly, he looks at you and all of a sudden he is selling toothpaste and drugs to enhance your manhood... WHAT IS UP with that? I know I am not alone. This **** happens to everyone. Its like the gods look down and think, heh, look at that dude, let's have some fun with him.

I might have lied at some point. . . I could be jealous..I may not care to actually acknowledge it coz that's what I do. I chill and refuse to acknowledge stuff and watch as stuff goes by...

... I'll be mildly preoccupied, thinking of nothing else when I'm hangin out...I'll look for some sort of distraction, but that won't work. And even if I did feel something, and i just might...I'll never tell....I am The 0ne

In a state of Contemplative Repose

2007-03-19T19:47:00.000+03:00

I didn't break my promise, yours is coming up soon...

Its just wAtEr!

2007-03-16T18:22:00.000+03:00

First off I’d like to point one simple fact. I HATE DRINKING WATER!
I honestly think that stuff has a taste. And that taste is NOT.NICE! I don’t look down on people that drink it. And I certainly have no problem with fish doing their thing in it. I just can’t stand it. And yet, this post is not influenced AT ALL by the Hydro-Hater in me.

What’s the deal with trying to make water appealing? Its just water! Nobody has discovered some new variety of water. Yeah, there was the whole mineral water fad and what not, but come on people, we are not in Hollweird. We know better than that.

Pure Spring water? Are you kidding me? How the heck is it pure? Oh, I know….Its coz its got no visible impurities right? Springs are the new clean. Man, I was way off. Let’s do adverts…

“ What you are about to see is different. No one, since the dawn of time has witnessed this. This is the beginning…the commencement. The start. The real real thing. So real I have repeated myself. But hush, here it is now. Look at that, It’s the birth of a new Spring. And we, the wonderful folks at Hydro Industries are going to trap the little tyke, subject it to tests in our noisy industry and trap it in a bottle…just for you.”

While we are at it, we might as well plug this one,

“Howdy y’all. Err’one’s talkin’ about Grillz and s**t but that’s not what you want. No way homie. What you need all that metal and shit in your mouth for? Get this, we’re gonna get these precious stones things and wash em with water and then we will pack em in a bottle for you. We’re gonna call that Mineral water, cuz itf off ‘a minerals, you dig? Mineral water! Are y’all pickin up what I’m putting down?’ It’s the h to tha 2 awww DAWG!

to be continued...

The 70's Called, They Want All Their Hair Back

2007-03-11T17:48:00.000+03:00

Hi, I’m (name). It’s a little useless keeping my name out of it, but anyway…

I’ve taken to growing hair, mine. No fields being watered or any of that. The hair sits up their without a care in the world. Everything is fine until someone approaches me and asks me to justify the whole hair thing.

I met a friend the other day who told me I was “lost”. I told him I’d been busy and sick. So he looks at me with an expression that suggested that he knew where I was coming from. When he spoke, it was soon apparent that looks lie… “ah, you were sick? I can see, that’s why your hair has grown…” I politely pointed out that I’d let my hair do its own thing in an attempt to piss off people…Then he nodded. Yep, he understood how that worked. What I don’t get is the whole “sickness=hair growth” formula that he advanced.

I used to cut my hair like every week, not because I got a kick out of feeling the machine pressed against my head, a scenario I’m almost sure has been considered as the sole premise of several porn flicks. I actually used to get the weekly haircut because, after a week, the follicles on my head woke up from some sort of comatose and made every effort to stand out. I also used to get the said cut because my elder brothers used to do the same thing and it actually seemed cool.

Fast forward to a few years later, about three weeks ago actually, I skipped the haircut and then got this incredible idea. I’d do away with the haircut until such a time that things started to work out for me. It didn’t really seem like a bad idea coz I was realistic with my expectations. It’s not like I said my barber’s electric shaver would be denied rights unknown until the country got a new president. The way it should work out, my hair will be cut in about two months…or three. Who knows?

However there’s a snag, during the initial growth of hair period I’d look at it in the mirror and think, “What am I doing? That is way too much hair to be carrying around in public!” Then again I’d seen more on other people’s heads and it kind of put me in some odd comfort zone…a little place I like to call denial.

I met a friend who asked me what the deal was, and pointed out (sincerely?) that not everyone can grow an afro and look good. His exact words may have been, “Whoa! Afros were not meant for everyone!” It’s actually the same mindset that put me off the whole gym experience. I recall writhing on the ground trying to realign the muscles in my body with the sheer power of thought when I had a light bulb moment. A voice in my head cried out, “The Gym is not meant for everyone!”

This time round I decided that the defeatist attitude would have to take a back seat. Then one morning after taking a bath, I ran my hand through my hair. It felt…wrong. I actually felt good playing with my hair so it only made sense that I offered anyone that felt like it the chance to play with it, provided they brought it back home before dark.

Comin' Up...

2007-03-08T19:29:00.000+03:00

Boda-Line Crazy

2007-03-01T16:45:00.000+03:00

cRick HERE!

First, head here to better acquaint yourself with the term BODA. No, wait; your connection might be as pathetic as mine, so I’ll tell ya.

Boda-Boda; A motorbike…or the crazy dude that rides the said bike. Yes, they have come to accept that ours will never be a long-term-relationship so names will play no part in the present or not so distant future. In the unlikely event that they do in fact turn up in your life for a second or subsequent time, they will refer to you as; Chief, Boss, Sister, Master, Customer or Ernest.

The boda dude is a shy creature when he decides to be. He will not demand that you pay him his dues, but rather will let you disembark and then turn away in that incredibly infuriating manner that will make you want to yank HIS HELMET OFF HIS HEAD AND HIT HIM WITH IT AS YOU SCREAM, “TAKE YOUR MONEY AND RUN HOMIE! I WILL NOT BE SEEN CONSORTING WITH YOU! BE GONE, HOMIE!”

From time to time boda guys may be in the profession because they failed to make it in others…nay, scratch that, its because their desired professions are not available. Jobs like Stunt Rider or Crazy Dude On Bike are in short supply and as such the individual has to make do with what’s available and then proceed through Traffic trying to be like Trinity from The Matrix Reloaded. Given that this dude is nothing AT ALL like Trinity, this scenario can only end in one of two ways;

a) You fall, roll a couple of times and as you bleed profusely and realize that the reason you can not feel your fingers is because they are broken, the boda boda guy comes over, unscathed (this guy has a knack for survival, how he does it is beyond me) and says, “Sorry chief, but you should have held onto me…”
Words unsaid;

By the boda boda dude;
i) ….as a new ability manifested itself in me and enabled me to fly to safety
ii) … as I pressed this button that makes the seat spring upwards in a very non-threatening fashion and ensures I land safely

By you;
i) F**K YOU!!!
ii) Don’t worry about it my good man. I do enjoy a good tumble now and again

b) You in fact get to your destination safely with a couple of hairs standing at end contemplating leaving you for good. Then the boda boda guy looks at you, smiles and says, “You know what I like about you…you do not fear SPEED!
…yeah, sure, I love speed, that dark patch on my pants, yeah it’s the way they get. Its part of the new Marks & Spencer line; its called Pissed Off. Catchy ain’t it?

The boda boda guy gets lonely once in a while and will employ a remarkable technic to get himself some. He will start off by politely asking you to hold him around the waist and sing SWEETHEART like you’re Mariah Carey. You will reciprocate by politely asking him to sod off. He will shrug this off and gun (heh) his engine and employ the hic-cup manouver of CLUTCH ME TIGHT-ness wherein he keeps jerking (it sounds bad already doesn’t it) and riding in a move that will have you, well, Clutch him tightly for safety. I could be wrong, maybe its what rocks your boat….some people love chains, trains, oxygen deprivation, heck, even snakes on planes. But not you. You absolutely love boda boda jerks!

Boda-boda guys have no life expectancy, in fact, they expect nothing from life and will end it first chance that they get.

Two cents, anyone?

2007-02-21T23:24:00.000+03:00

Dunno about you guys, but I have had it up to here with Kampala night spots. I'm "proper" tired of all these teenagers dressed like they came from some new G-Unit video...with no fashion consultant...I mean, seriously people, I should not be able to see my reflection in / on the surface of those jeans. Its ridiculous.

Plus, I don't like the fact that I can't do squat about some kid pouring my drink coz its (the kid in question) is high on some cheap brew...and his inability to give me a good reason to let him off the hook. The following words do not, I repeat, NOT console me at all, " Be easy!"
WTF? Be easy? Dude, do you know what I had to do to get this drink? For all you care I gathered my life savings, or the money I had borrowed to place bets on racing sea horse and used it on that drink..and now you want me to BE EASY? Anywho, lesson learnt, next time I save up, I'm buying a pistol, yeah, tell me to er, BE EASY then.

Then it feels like a bizarre flash back when I head on out. I'm not saying I don't appreciate seeing old faces...well, young exuberant,naive faces are in, but hey...details,right? As I was saying, i don't mind seeing peeps from my past...I just don't like that they seem to remember me as the guy that bought them beers. Go on, give me a break. Seriously, i didn't buy you vanilla flavoured water back then, no way am I going to buy you yeast and barley now. and don't say I OWE you. If you didn't take the fall, or give me your notes back in school...LET ME BE...

And I don't see any reason why I should answer the "you're lost" remark. Atti I'm lost? Have you been looking for me? Why?

You know what, to avoid all this stuff, I feel strongly ...no...scratch that, I'm for a weekend in Jinja..

Some Sort Of Beginning

2007-02-15T16:05:00.000+03:00

They called it a miracle. That no one could have survived an accident of that magnitude. The religious said God was watching out for him, that He loved him. He didn’t buy any of it.

For one thing, he knew it wasn’t an accident. He could still see her soulless eyes looking back from the side mirror. She knew what she was doing. What she had done.

The memory of that afternoon was etched firmly in his memory. The pain; in his being. That he was alive seemed like proof that someone somewhere was having a laugh at his expense. It was unbearable and if he could, he would end it. The truth kept coming back like a counterfeit note. He was paralyzed and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

They told him to pray until something happened. To PUSH. And yet, how could he? He had lost all control of his faculties. It was infuriating that all he had was his mind. And yet what good was that?

He watched as the caretaker drew the curtains in his room. She asked him if she could get him something. He tried to speak, all that came out was a slight grunt. For all intents and purposes, that wasn’t too bad. Some couldn’t manage that much. Hell, some were dead. And yet, here he lay. A vegetable.

Memories came flooding back in torrents he had no control over. It was a bad place to be. Reminiscent to being rooted to the spot, the spot in this case being the line of fire. He let them come and go as they pleased. He had to. It was all he had left,

His mistress had left him. He couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t. Why would anyone stick around with someone in this state.

They said love conquers all, that it lasts forever. They lied. It was love that put him here.

------------------------------------------------------

It had been 8 months since the accident, four since he woke from the comma, on this day he had an epiphany. He knew what he had to do. But it would take a lot of work. And will power. If life was a game of cards, he had been dealt a bad hand, but he was going to play on till the end. He would have his revenge. He reached deep within and gave it his all.
At 3:45pm, George moved a finger.

Public Service Announcement

2007-01-29T00:50:00.000+03:00

There's an article below

Last Night The DJ Took My Life

2007-01-26T16:48:00.000+03:00

It was a football match. I don't do Football, but my cousin does...my sister too. As it turns out, everyone else does football. Everyone, that is, except me and the Local TV stations. So to play catch up, my relatives opted to listen to the radio. I don't know how it works, but if I were to
hazard a guess, the Presenter sits there, beer in one hand, groundnuts in the other and relays what's happening on the screen in front of him.

From time to time he will also relay what he wishes was happening. It goes a little something like this..

Welcome to this match, we are very happy you are here. You are the reason we live. You and the wonderful sponsor that has brought you this Barclays Premier League Match: Sula's Rolex Emporium! With Sula's Rolex Emporium you can't go wrong. We have Rolex's in all sizes; Big, Small and Medium. We have the Titanic and The Millenium Remix Supercharge Dual band Crossfade Xbox Rolex. Come Over and see ...oh shoot, we missed the part where the players came onto the pitch! ^#*% !! Anyway, it doesn't matter, because you are an avid fan so you know who is playing. Henry is there, look at him looking smug. He makes so much money in a week.

It is so much he should visit Sula's Rolex Emporium; Home to The Third Term Rolex; Even if you don't want it, it will still be there!

Okay, the referee is there now. he is wearing clothes for referees. In fact you can get such clothes from Mama Milly's Hollywood Boutique and Restaurant. Heh. It is located near Sula's..eh, they have started playing, ______ has the ball, he moves with it, I have never seen a ball move so fast. My God, its like I am watching this match on fast forward, I swear! Have you ever seen, oh no, I forgot, you are listening in, but take my word for it. This guy has mad skills, eh eh, wait, sorry, I WAS watching it on Fast Forward.

The all New PVR Decoder from Multichoice allows you to pause, rewind and fast forward the stuff on TV! Yes, my dear listener, You can Pause a match halfway and head over to Sula's Rolex Emporium; Producers of the famous Member of Parliament Rolex: It just sits there and does nothing!

Okay I have unpaused, it looks like it will be a tight match *sip* *crunch crunch*. They are closing in on him. He is running like madman. S***! He is a mad man, he actually ran away from them and left the ball behind. Stupid David Beckham! You are not even worth Half a rolex.that has mayonnaise and fries in it! (at this point I feel compelled to state that the Rolex in question is not a watch, and the only hands it has are yours,wrapped around its dough frame. Its a chapati dwelling omlette with back up! This thing takes prisoners!).

There, he got the ball back, it was his tragedy-er,oops, his strategy.Yeah, strategy, same thing. Now he is running to the goal, he dribbles, look at him dribble, he wipes his mouth, he is about to kick the ball, he is kicking the ball, the ball Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooes! It bounces off the post and hits a fan.

That was a furious kick! It was also fast!

The fan flips a bird, he mouths something unpleasant! he turns to his friends and they pat him on the back for dissing David Beckham, star of such catastrophies as; The World Cup Penalty Shot of that year.

The ref runs over to the ball and gives it a Yellow Card. The stadium boos him and he gives them a Red Card; it says Donate Blood and fight Racism in Soccer. They fall silent.

The match has resumed. Some other player gets the ball. Don't ask me who it is, I don't know. You should have seen it on TV if you wanted details!

The ball moves, it runs, it jumps! Its being kicked around like, like some sort of object. SOMEONE SAVE THAT POOR THING!

You are still tuned in to the Premier League on radio! SWEET! But not as Sweet as the Rolex at Sula's Rolex Emporium in Wandegeya. Home to the Infamous Straka Rolex; This thing is Bigger than you and me!

The Ball has been taken away and, what's this, Medi has just told me 24 Season 6 is on another channel, hang on.... *sound of static*...aha, Medi you idiot ! You tricked me!

Anyway, don't worry my listeners, I had paused my PVR Decoder from Multichoice...Giving you many choices!

The ball has been taken away by a player that doesn't look a day over 12, bah! What do I know, I live in a country where 24 year olds register to play in the Kampala Kids' League..oh oh, gOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOALLLLL! This kid is good, he may not even be a kid, but a guy suffering from some age disorder that makes Old People look younger than they are...like Tom Welling. But if you really want to look young the easy way, visit Sula's Rolex Emporium; Makers of the incredible NTV Rolex: Starts off quite well then just makes you lose gas...sorry. I mean hope...it makes you lose hope.

Its half time, but this match hasn't been exciting, so I doubt I will comment on the next half. When we return, I will tell you what I think of animals that speak...

We are Bloggers, We Do The Write Thing...

2007-01-23T20:11:00.001+03:00

I got to the happy hour with an odd feeling of foreboding. I was freaked out by the possibility that we would be drawn into some sort of debate, worse yet some discourse wherein we shared our views on the state of the country, attempted to find a way of getting the President to listen to us and even worse; Buy Our Own Drinks...

I walked past the Blogger table, when first I got there. Its not that I enjoy walking past Blogger tables or anything. On the contrary, I love Blogger Tables. Especially the little wooden ones with free drinks on them...oh sweet sweet Blogger Tables! I walked past because, unlike your garden variety of table, Blogger Tables stay in one place and mimic the behaviour of those around them.
Come to think of it, they are not too different from some of our politicians.

Upon realising that I was in fact out of place, I figured I'd go into Mateos' and glance around. I adopted a strategy I felt would conceal the fact that I was looking for people; I fiddled around with my phone.

We were having a grand ol' time my phone and I when a shout cut through the air like only a voice cutting through the air can. "Ivan" The air cutting shout said, muttered, whatever...At this point I'm thinking, "Shoot! There goes my anonymity!" Granted I could have just as easily looked around like I was thinking, "Ivan? Who the **** is Ivan?"... it seemed everyone around knew who the person in question was. Heck, at that point a "boda boda dude" could have easily crossed the road, walked up to me and said, "someone's calling you mate."

So I walked down the stairs, my watch ticked away, because that's what watches do, and all around me people got to know who I was. I picked up a chair and glanced at Dee with an expression to imply that I was hurt that she'd gone and exposed me. When that failed to work, I walked the road oft travelled and said it...Oh and I was sitting next to ********** (see, now you are anonymous again like all communists should be.)

So there we were, bloggers all..and then some, talking like old friends sans the disses, that is, until Denis...Dennis...heck, till THIS GUY showed up.

At some point we remembered our absent bloggers, well, we didn't come out and say it, but deep down I'm sure we thought about it.
It was a grand ol' time, and y'all shoulda been there..Up next: The Blogger Awards...

I'm trying this out...

2007-01-23T17:09:00.001+03:00

I will post something in a bit...be warned, it will pro'lly be about The BHH...

Hi, I'm Confused, and you are? | Hi, I'm in Denial, and you are?

2007-01-16T17:24:00.000+03:00

Is the mic on? No? I need the mic on. The world has to listen to what I’ve got to say? We have no mic? What’s that? The next mic is likely to come in after CHOGM? Very well then…

I’ve been doing some, nay, a lot…a lot of thinking. Its not so much that I actually sit down and resign myself to a state of contemplative repose with the customary pyramid of contemplation. I just happen to have friends that have taken to being deep. Their depth in turn tends to seemingly through actions capillary or otherwise be seeped into my being and concordantly, I too find myself thinking. For weeks prior it was all innocent banter seeing as most of their thoughts stemmed from a state of inebriation the likes of which would melt a breathalyzer. Then we had a chat spurred on by soft drinks of colors orange and tastes ginger…

From that conversation it occurred to me that I may actually be in denial. I may actually be the guy that doesn’t want to believe that age is nature’s way of getting you to…I lost my train of thought, but anywho. I’ve seen a guy who could easily be in his early 80’s (when you think of it, once you are well past 40 there’s nothing early about later decades), but carries on like he is one of us. And by us I mean jean clad sunglass wearing grills laced people. I shudder when I see him. It may be brought on by the sudden realization that this dude is what girls on campus like. An older guy that can not, not by a long shot anyway, be mistaken for their Father… After the conversation we had, it occurred to me that I could be looking at a reflection of who I am to become… Not the campus girl chasing pensioner, but rather the dude that at 80 will try to be like one of the cool kids…

The conversation also made me realize that people do actually contemplate weddings and getting married and what not. Back then people would flip through some magazine and look at the pictures and the chics in the bridal garb and drool..and that was just the dudes. Yeah. They looked on appreciatively. But now, it’s a whole new ball game. I’m freaked out. Its alarming to know that if I actually attempt to hit on a chic around my age (okay, or older) she’ll be looking at me and thinking, “is this really the guy I want to marry? Sure he looks nothing like the dude on page 3 of Him and Her magazine, but…”
What the heck? I am used to different standards entirely. Reject me coz I don’t drive…or don’t find Amarula family funny (scratch that, I think I would reject you for thinking those are the funniest Ugandans alive)..hell, I can deal with rejection because I can’t be detoothed, but don’t judge me on the basis of my matrimonial compatibility…

Be right back…got to get this mic fixed…

The Story Of We

2007-01-13T10:38:00.000+03:00

Independence is this cool thing where everything is all about you. The world seemingly revolves around you, the ground is pleased that it supports your weight and you don't need to answer to anyone. Independence is also a myth. Two letters exist to squash the illusion of independence, two letters;One word is all it takes to screw everything up. WE!

From day one, the "we-factor" is present. You never quite do stuff by yourself. Yeah, you soiled your pants and all that, but the only reason you got away with it is because you are in fact expected to do that sort of thing. Yeah. Coz at that age all the cool kids (non-retards if you will) are doing it. Its not about you. If it was then they'd slap the baby right out of you. The fact is, our folks know that at that point WE have no control over this shit (pun not intended)(seriously!). Its a thing WE do. Its how WE roll.

When you move on to school there's that ting your teachers love to do. They try to instill in you this false sense of hope that you have achieved the Independence you so desire by telling you "you came here alone, you will leave here alone". Realistically speaking, yeah, you did come alone, but chances are if you climbed over the wall and went clubbing with your mates, y'all would leave together...and if it looked like that wouldn't happen,you have the ability to make it happen. Go on, be a snitch!

Your peers know better so they try to break the news to you as best they can. They introduce you to a concept they call "solidarity". Its in the spirit of "solidarity" that the WE tag makes its return. The teacher looks at you and asks you why you were sleeping during the lesson and then you "get your we on". "we were bored". If you so badly wanted that independence, you'd take it like a man,woman or thing and state, as bluntly as humanly possible," I was bored...I don't take shit!"

Heck, even if you did pull it off the class would laugh along with you and WE'd be in trouble.

You move on to the university and its pretty much the same thing. You get stuck trying to figure out what the lecturer is asking you for so you consult. You ask around. If you were independent, you'd arrive at the decision by yourself, ages ago, "I am not going to let this lecturer take advantage of me, ought to be paid double for such requests"

There's the relationship angle wherein you still can't do your own thing. You'll carry on like you are in fact calling the shots, but let's be honest, at some point you'll catch yourself saying stuff like, "we really ought to rethink this" or, if you are so keen on getting the independence you think you deserve, "we should see other people". Why can't you say "I need to start seeing other people"?

Then there's the office angle, where we are expected to meet deadlines, we are a team and we aim to make the company look as good....Yeah,I got a job...

Comin’ Up in 2k7…and then some…

2006-12-29T15:48:00.000+03:00

The power situation is going to get worse. Despite the fact that the rains have fallen relentlessly, experts suggest that the situation is getting a little direr… (MSWord claims there is no such thing as “more dire”, this coming from a dude that dropped out of Uni. And learnt all he needed from a garage) Turns out that the levels are not going up at the dam, the walls are sinking thereby causing an illusion that we are doing well.

Transport costs will go down…no, up. According to legendary transport expert Pkay, borrowing (heavily?) from Adam Smith (not to be confused with Adam ne Kawa), the rains will be replaced by blizzards and oil thereby wiping away most of the CHOGM influenced Road Works.

In effect, canoes will have to be brought in from Kenya seeing as the few boda boda guys that could handle such conditions have since drowned in the floods.

Straka’s weight is not going anywhere. This year might be the one when the earth, wait, this just in, ITS GOING UP. According to noted “weight gain related to rain” expert, more rains mean more food, more food leading to more weight. Quoting him, “more rain is directly proportional to weight gain especially if the constant of proportionality K (heh) is Straka…codename: Straka Baby!” We also have reason to believe that more rain means a slight hike in bedroom activity…

Sadly, this will not be the year Amarula family finds their “funny”… As long as we have the same president, their “jokes” will continue to torment us…translation, your kids will suffer the same fate as you…They might survive Saggy…Those of you without children can remedy this by ceasing to perform Amarula Family “things” in an attempt at courtship…Chics dig funny guys. When a chic says she feels Amarula, she means THE DRINK! (eh, Ernest?!)

This just in WBS has upgraded their service. Now when you tune in, you get a friendly message in TV-Safe colors asking you to “adjust your aerial for a clearer image” <-actual size. Nation TV on the other hand asks you to adjust your set if you are in a blind spot, such as Kandahar, Kazakhstan, Rouge Discotheque and the Kalerwe taxi when it is still at Clock Tower. Also worth noting, the only way you can get Nation TVs advice is if you are told by a friend that is currently viewing it… (if anyone from Nation TV comes by this, stop with the Ads. If you’re going to introduce us to your staff, give us their vital statistics, ie, age, location and telephone number…short of that DON’T…and no, I am not talking about the guys…) Telecom companies will keep offering us services have us ask for more..ie more efficiency! I need to be able to send a message instantly without losing my fingerprints in an attempt to resend the damn thing. I also need to be assured that the message (asking someone to “call me back NOW, coz I’m in Jail” will be delivered NOW…not after the SMS machine comes back from its little encounter/tryst with the coffee machine. I also need to be assured that Yello Sunshine is not something we are expected to enjoy while awaiting calls to get thru to us…Yes MTN, this beef is all about you! I will desist from dissin.other networks, coz I’m a little warid...worried. We will have strikes at the University, whether they’ll be instigated by lecturers or students remains to be seen seeing as we honestly can’t make any distinction at the moment. The areas that are not affected by the great Floods will soon be affected and as such you are advised to coat your stuff in plastic stuff. Especially your power supply. Yeah, coz we need that electricity don’t we…. Happy New Year y’all!

So ends another one...

2006-12-28T21:17:00.000+03:00

We’ve come quite far you and I.
I don’t know you well enough to speak from your point of view
so I’ll stick to mine.

As I look back I can’t help but think, what do I have to show for the year gone by…the radio promotion wherein listener’s were invited to find a road with no potholes? Straka’s ability to maintain her weight…and still be shown full frame on telly? Nope.

This one time my cousin had gone to buy a DVD writer/burner. I’d told him he could get one for 90k, and he took this knowledge with him to the shop. The sales guy there on the other hand had other plans and insisted that there was no way in heck that a product of such capabilities could go for such a price. So he quoted 160k. My cousin called me up and we went to another shop (next door actually) and we got a flippin’ writer for 90k. When we went back and berated the dude at the other shop, he took it, looked it over and as he handed it back he goes like, “good price”. I’m lookin at this dude and thinkin’ “What the heck man?” Good price? That’s your line of defense. Put up a fight…accuse us of spinning a yarn. Don’t GOOD PRICE us. Surely you’ve got a little more creativity up there…no? Shit, fine, I’ll let that go…

Some other time I was listening to the radio, coz it’s like, the sort of thing you do while at work. Anywho, these guys are discussing parental love and the bonds they share with their offspring. (in some far off country the presenters are going into serious issues that require listeners to call in and make like goat noises… more on that in a bit) Anywho, so this dude calls in and remarks, “Mother’s make good lovers…” albeit unannounced I’m sure there were several accidents that occurred right about then…so a presenter inquires (his major contribution to radio thus far) “eh, you man, what are talking about?”…and the dude replies, “Mother’s can love their kids a lot…”No shit?!

Radio is a tricky biz, I suppose. It can’t be easy to come up with a promo that will get people talking…or making animal sounds. So there was this promo running where a person had to call in and make that sound goats make…when they are like totally conversating and all. That there was kinda lame, even if it meant you got to take the damn thing home for the night Christmas. How do you explain that stuff back home?
- Honey! Kids! I got us a goat.
- That’s wonderful dad, how did you pull it off?
- I reached into my soul, found my inner herbivore and got my goat on…

Taxi fares shot up…actually lots of stuff shot up and for the most part it was explained by falling water levels. It was a bad period for brothels…
-It is usually _______ but because I can’t afford to bathe after that, I have added ______ for bottles of mineral water.

Come to think of it, the crisis made it that much harder to hit on chics in bars and stuff seeing as you couldn’t afford to wine them, dine them and take them home.
It was the year of blogger sightings. And because it was getting out of hand I will not dwell on it…

Ernest released his book, thereby ensuring that we have some Saggy relief…just one thing though, MORE PAGES man! Or keep Saggy away from society…

I’m hungry, I’ll get back to y’all later.

Proggie

2006-12-25T00:27:00.000+03:00

Holla at me for details

She Said Yes

2006-12-04T15:29:00.000+03:00

B: ‘sup?

Me: erm, nothing..why, what’s going on? What have you heard?

B: Oh, nuthin’..Just that you’ve been avoiding me…

Me: Whoa! Hang on..

B: Yeah, I know, I’ve already been on her case but we already sorted ourselves out…

Me: No shit?!

B: Shit…see for yourself.

Me: I did actually, just figured she was putting words in your mouth…

B: I have it on good authority from Joshi that that’s not all that was being put in my mouth, hehe..geddit?

Me: Actually, no. Its much too lewd for me to comprehend. So, what do you want?

B: Well, you’ve been feeling way too deep for your own good, I mean,WTF! Man! Who the heck do you think you are?

Me: I can explain that, actually, no. Just go on with the monologue…

B: I feel cheated dawg! I mean, we was rollin’ together in this hizzy fuh shizzy. Peeps done seen us rollin and started hatin...what is up with that? You got me quoting song lyrics dude!

Me: Now that, I can explain.

B: If it’s the song lyrics thing, I know where that’s from. Is it the other thing?

Me: It was the song lyrics actually…go on with your rant.

B: Thanks, so anyway, its like I’m alone these days. Its like I was telling Cherie earlier. Y’all seem to have just come over had your way with me and left. What do I look like, some sort of slut?

Me: Actually…

B: Don’t answer that. It was a rhetorical thing…Rhetorical in its very nature. I’m deep like that. And I know I am sort of loose. I mean, have you seen the number of people that use me. Heck, I have tried to be a little selective, what with all that beta nonsense, but you lot keep on coming…you’re as persistent as a third world politician.

Me: That’s not very specific.

B: I know. Which is really sad. But you know what’s sadder? You! Going around biting people’s writing styles and all, couldn’t you have come up with your own idea?

Me: Its way too much work, the beauty of this is the title. I mean, if you’ve come from her blog, it makes you think…

B: That it does, but don’t you think you’ve stretched this whole thing a bit too much, seriously four hundred something words?

Me: Yeah, I guess it should end here...

Meanwhile

2006-12-01T11:00:00.000+03:00

The story continues in a bit. . .

And so it starts...

2006-11-27T11:31:00.000+03:00

He stares at the sky. Tries to make some sense of it, but he can’t. This is different. He looks at the sheet of paper before him and utters a sigh. No one had foreseen this. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The newspapers were filled with stories of strange happenings. “Miracles”, was oft the term they used. And now as he stared at the sky, the large star shining so bright on this, this silent night, he reaches out for his cellphone.

Elsewhere, in a field not too far away:

Life’s been tough, making ends meet hasn’t been easy, but what does one expect? Indeed, what does life expect of a person that lives to look after a herd, or a group of people. So as they sit, tending their flock by night, they are not prepared for what’s about to take place. Stories are exchanged, tales narrated. Someone points out the star glowing overhead. Someone opines that it must be a sign of some sort. Laughter rains down on this theory. As they stare up ahead a second light appears. It glows bright and it moves towards them. The sheep go on as though nothing is happening, the shepherds know better. For what was once a glowing light moving towards them has taken on the form and features of what is, without a doubt, a man.
____________________________________________________________

A couple of months past:

She is a young lady in love. She is in the prime of her life and she is happy. She is also, not quite prepared for the light that comes seemingly out of nowhere and the man that steps out of it. She is also not ready for the news he gives her.

“Pregnant?”. It’s as much a question as a statement. He can’t believe it. He knows she has been true to him. Bless her. He is but a mere carpenter, but she loves him so. But she is pregnant and hardly making any sense. She says a man appeared to her in a burst of light and told her she was carrying “The Messiah”. He doesn’t know what to do. On the one hand, he loves her, is crazy about her, on the other; she’s pregnant and as far as he can tell, it’s not his child. Then he too sees the light…
_____________________________________

He looks at the screen on his cellphone after he hangs up. He tries to comprehend what he has just been told. A star shining so bright surely signifies something. And not just anything. This could very well be the savior of whom the people have spoken. He stares at his monitor and then makes his mind up. He sends mail to the third in their little group. “The Wisemen” is how they are oft referred to. Tonight this term takes on a whole new relevance.

It starts tonight and life as they know it, as we all will is about to get some meaning…

The story so far...

2006-11-20T18:53:00.000+03:00

The story so far…

The power company did me in. I realize it sounds like some song now, and yeah, I’m with you…I am SO SICK of it, but that’s what happens. Called them up and they told me the situation was under control. I think that’s code for, “You are sooo f**ked!” coz that’s exactly what I was for a week. The story kept alternating for the first few days and then they just stopped trying. Their creativity waned shortly after telling me I resided in a high priority area and as such should be have my electricity back within a week. Truth be told that there is the breaking point. I mean, the wonderful Americans freaked out after they had no electricity for a couple of hours not too long ago. Conspiracy theorists figured it was some terrorist ploy…oh sure, if we make it such that the infidel can’t play his video games, surf the net and slice his bread he will fall to his knees and know that we are the shit!

Actually, while we are still talking about terror, one of the customer service attendants went in for the Shock and Awe approach that ensured that I was both;

Shocked
Awed

She told me she understood what I was going through and that it is very bad not to have electricity (no shit!). It is very bad not to have electricity? That’s it? An eternity spent on customer service training sessions and that’s how you quell a pissed off client? What next? Gee mister Lion, I realize the conditions are very harsh here in the jungle, in fact its very bad to be a starving king of the beasts…gee Osama, it is very bad that those infidel continue to trample all over you…Gee Oprah, its very bad Mr. Cruise jumped on your sofa…Gee customer service lady, it is VERY BAD that that’s all you can come up with…

I told her she didn’t have a clue what I was going through. That my entire livelihood depended on electricity. Her response; “but even us we are not making money coz we are not billing you…” I don’t remember her name, so in as much as I’d like to spit venom and bile I don’t have a name to go with it.

When the electricity did come back my PC was dead… in a way that only PC’s can pull off. I switch the thing on and the monitor stares at me as if to say, “Go on, do something, I haven’t got all day.” The PC on its part is humming contentedly, in a way I can only describe as being smug. I found out from a specialist that that is not a good thing. The best kind of PC is the discontented sort that, immediately after starting up, makes all these noises that kind of sound like an electrical appliance is jeering at you. They also sound like beeps…not the attractive kind that I think of whenever I look at a Pussycat Doll…these things are downright freaky, like some catastrophe is around the corner.

Met a pal the other day and he asked me whether I was done with the university. My reply; “isn’t everyone?”. For those of you that don’t quite get it (seeing as it is immensely cryptic) The university was closed thereby forcing us to go on an unplanned holiday. It’s a bitch really coz I’d not counted on this kind of freedom- it’s a little different when your class-cutting days are thrust upon you and are not of your own making.

The Lecturers are pissed off because they are not being paid their dues; the students on the other hand are upset because they, hehe…they..heh…I’m sorry, but it’s a little too much, you will probably agree when I do type it out…the students are miffed coz THEY ARE NOT BEING TAUGHT! (What did I tell you, priceless isn’t it?)

Honestly speaking, I feel for people that think they are getting a raw deal as far as payment is concerned provided they are not Members of Parliament or The Power Company or Telecom companies or…well you get what I mean.

Thing is, I don’t think anyone has seen how far this thing will play out, besides, there’s some lecturers that stress students loads and don’t deserve a pay rise reserved for those hard working upstanding individuals. One of my lecturers for instance.

In other news, I think I need an office type job, you know, the kind where I can quit after a while or crave a new job or sumthin’…So there you have it, that’s what’s been happenin’…

What’s up with you?

Pickin' Up The Pieces

2006-11-05T23:26:00.000+03:00

Like most tales, this one is about me. And yet, when you think about it, as oft you must have, the lead character in this tale could just as easily be you. For you see, sooner or later, we all get high. For some it’s a mild thing that has them fall to the floor and try to wrestle the damn thing and grinning stupidly with satisfaction that it (the floor) has conceded defeat and is making no attempt to get up. Others tend to react a little differently. They find their voices and at that point in time realize that they have some untapped potential as musicians.

The night, as most nights go, was young. Still progressing at a crawl and ever so often stopping and wondering where it was going. As is wont to happen, I too wondered where it was heading. The plan had been to hook up with my buddies and do a gentle drink. The word “gentle” is used here in the most liberal of ways, for the agenda did have the idea of inebriation. Suffice to say, the agenda was drawn up when we were still sober and the word “inebriation” could still make sense.

Every so often, I wondered when last, I’d had a meal. The answer, more often than not, was dinner the night past. Something kept trying to convince me that it was perfectly natural to feel the way I did before binge drinking. In fact, there was a word for it. It left it hanging and if I’d taken the time to process the message, I’d have known that the word… the feeling that wouldn’t go away was DREAD.

I met up with my cousin shortly after he was done eating. My brain took my reluctance to get food as an indication that I was fine and my stomach was content with its enzymes and all. (Unbeknownst to me, my stomach was pissed and was planning to do me in…in a collaborative move with the liver)

We joined a pal of ours who in turn introduced us to her pals. The conversation we had with her pals will go down as…well; I reckon I’d have had more fun watching a blade of grass progress through various stages of infancy…its first fold, its realization that photosynthesis was actually a good thing and the fact that it happened to possess both male and female organs was not weird, it was just expected. As the night went on, I looked around for any solitary blade of grass that wanted some attention.

Our pal on the other hand showed a great deal of concern at our pseudo discomfort (quite like discomfort, but attempts to disguise itself as a smiley face). But we downplayed it for the “normal” occurrence it was. So we got to drinking. Triple Distilled Smirnoff was our poison. I suppose the fact that it’s distilled three times implies, to those in the know, that it will floor you thrice.

A few moments later, another friend turned up. He is not much of a drinker and…actually he is not any bit a drinker, I’m being kind. He suggested we go to Al Zee (there’s product placement for you!) and take in the Rock that was…

We picked up more alcohol; because that’s the sort of thing people do…THEY MAKE MISTAKES DAMMIT! So there it was, my mistake, staring me in the face like a reflection off a rapper’s gold tooth.

I went on to drink…and drink some more. Somewhere along the line, the words Bottoms and Up were uttered in a mostly not-so-perverted way. And I think that single-handedly led to the abrupt end of my night out. …As far as I can tell.

See, I’ve been told that we left Al Zawadi and went on to Mateos and The Cheese Bar, but I haven’t the faintest recollection. I have also been told I spoke to a couple of friends at Al Zawadi, but even that does not register. I do remember handing someone a business card, but for the life of me I can’t remember why I did it. I have an idea of why I gave it away some time back (at a time when I didn’t have the prowess to fashion a note that would have had hearts melt and…stuff)..

So here I am, Picking Up The Pieces….

A dash of Hydrogen, 2 Pieces of Oxygen

2006-10-22T17:04:00.000+03:00

We have a water shortage! And by “we” I mean the country and by “shortage” I mean that… well, there’s a shortage of sorts. This has basically resulted in a great deal of power cuts and numerous articles or stories or whatever dwelling on the same theme.
None of these have been solution oriented, everybody has been coming out and making noise about this and that and asking for more money for an extra car, but nobody is willing to put a foot down and say, “Here’s what we should do…”

Here’s what I think we should do…

Stay out of the rain.
Realistically speaking, every time you get soaked in the downpour you are in fact taking what little water could be used to generate a unit of electricity. Imagine if you would, what would happen if you stepped aside as the rain fell. Can’t imagine? Me neither, but I reckon the water should be able to embark on some long odyssey that will see it either in some far off land or better yet, the dam…

My recommendations; Stay the heck out of the rain! If the guy on radio says it looks like rain, give him the benefit of the doubt and stay indoors. If you happen to be in a taxi at the moment, then stay put. Granted you may go well past your destination before it stops raining, but it’s a chance we should be prepared to take as patriots…as people that want, nay, NEED electricity!

Q: What if I happen to be outside when it starts raining and there’s no visible shelter?
A: What are you? 12? Carry a phone with radio playing capabilities and listen out for the weather forecast. Should you fail and in fact get drenched in the process, go to the dam and jump off the bridge. That way you will return the water you have accumulated and we as a nation will be one non-patriot less…

Stop drinking water.
If you thought about it, and I’m sure you have countless times before, water tastes bad. The education system is playing with you when it says that water has no taste. Think about it. If you went out hanging with your pals and asked for a shot of transparent Zappa/ Sambucca/ Vodka and they handed you a glass of water instead you’d know! It has a distinct taste! As an aside, you probably know by now that it is not “colorless” either. If it actually had this see-thru quality, you’d never know what hit you when it rained,
“What the? I’m being hit by something, but I can’t see it? What sorcery is this?”

My recommendations; don’t touch bottled water. Do not drink water at all. In the event that you go over to pay someone a visit and for some reason are offered a glass of water, slap them and say you’re a patriotic Ugandan and you’d sooner take a glass of beer before selling out to this great land of ours.

Q: What if I’m done with a meal and I need to wash it down?
A: One word; SALIVA! If you put saliva to task to produce its Curriculum Vitae, you’d find that one of its skills or abilities is washing down food. Look carefully under the line where it unashamedly brags about being featured in a song by Nameless. “I wish I was the saliva in your mouth, so I would always touch your cheeks, ooooooo!” (edit: its actually something about tasting lips)

Don’t bathe.
No doubt you’re thinking this is harsh. It’s not as bad as you imagine. Look at pigs. They don’t bathe and they are so bloody desirable. The same should ring true for you. Plus as a guy you pick up that masculine smell that women in porn flicks love (cummon, you know you’d settle for a porn flick chic any day!). Also as a chic you get to test just how far a guy will go with his love. Screw climbing the highest mountain, will he love you if you don’t bathe?

My recommendations: Don’t bathe!

Q: But how can I go through life in that state?
A: Guess you’ve never had the misfortune of sitting next to a “conductor” in a taxi…

Use loads of Vaseline.
How does this work? Well, it’s actually quite smart. You retain what little water you have in your body right, and you don’t get as thirsty as all those upper-class stiffs strutting around sipping from the Mineral Water Bottles like it’s all the rage or something. Anyway, using Vaseline will also mean that you have no need for water when you need to wash food down. When placed on the tongue properly, Vaseline makes it such that the food glides all the way down the esophagus and the smug saliva is of no use.

My recommendations: It’s usually a good idea to explain why you are carrying a great deal of Vaseline around. Its also a smart plan to move with a member of the opposite sex rather than one of the same sex lest there’s some concern.

Q: Wouldn’t the frequent use of Vaseline make me glow?
A: It depends on how you look at it. Some may even look at you and think you’re quite BRIGHT.

My Friend, Why You Are Not Kona-Dancing...%^&* You

2006-10-20T09:22:00.000+03:00

Hitmen don't do crap! Builders scare me more!

Yeah sure, if for some reason a hitman put a gun to my forehead and while sputtering uttered the words DODGE THIS (because they need some sort of catchy phrase to sign out with!) I'd pee on myself because in my mind's eye, the visual woud be that of a builder. Specifically the guys building the house next door. They have visited every form of suffering (and then some) on me. Heck! That's why I have not blogged for a while.

Time check; 7 am (in the morning for the underprivileged that can't see "AM" glaring at them...like the blasted buiders!) I'm still taking a leisurely stroll in slumberland pickin up Tulips and all. What? In my dreams all the hot women are inexplicably called Tulip...even the strippers! Suddenly the music in the strip club changes to THAT ANNOYING SONG! The patrons in the club are sort of shocked, they are looking at each other like, "WTF?...whose dream is this?" To be fair, one patron seems a little pleased that the attention is being drawn far far away as only attention can be drawn.Its the Crazy Frog, fresh from his tour of Camp Swampy. (when will that stupid frog CROAK?!)

Anywho, so I'm drawn out of slumberland with minor injuries, I'm back to the land of the living and clearly not-so-bright. Dudes are pretty much outside my window. I contemplate swinging the window open and emptying a round. I can't do that, because that would downgrade my neighborhood to level 3 which as you may or may not know is a very bad place to stay. Like, say, Straka's hair...or under Oprah's feet.

With no warning some dolt going through the voice breaking phase in life decides now is the time to check whether he can sing. He CAN'T. He won't let that deter him. He is a man on a mission. I don't know what the said mission is,but my gut's telling me he is messingup the ozone layer. My gut also told me about other guts its been hanging with. Some are not too bad.

The karaoke is over and done with but so is my sleep. It left me a note saying I know where to find it in the event that I get serious about it.

What happens next is pretty much expected, the builders get to working. Breaking up stuff in their wake with the stuff breaking equipment. And for effect they turn the volume knob on the said tools to the maximum.

Its something of a bitch, but I have to deal with it, because half the neighbourhood credits these cretin with getting them to work early. Seeing as I don't have a fixed hour for work, I couldn't give a rat's ****!

This has been happening for quite a bit and its never been a nice song. Today though, it got bloody annoying when some idiot shouted out for what could have been the whole city to hear,

"My friend...why you are not Kona-Dancing?!"

Life's Not Really A Beach!

2006-10-16T23:07:00.000+03:00

So…

We were hanging out and I was, when you really think about it, up in the sky with birds. Then my pal comes over and says there’s some kick-ass plan. Depending on your expectations in life, “kick ass” can refer to anything ranging from poking little toddlers to going out and getting wasted at a grad party with decent looking folk… it rarely takes into account The Beach. In my inebriated state it actually sounded good…

When I woke up with no trace of a hangover, I still had traces of “beach-proggie” on the brain so I called up my pal to confirm that it was not something I’d seen on the notice boards over at cloud 9. It was really going to happen and the fact that I was fresh from getting my toe worked on in an entirely non-metrosexual way was not going to get in the way of this KICK ASS idea.

The ride to the beach was nothing out of the ordinary. The road continued to move under the car as its been known to since some guy called Henry Ford put a couple of bolts together with circular things and said he’d call it an Automobile once he found some place to sit.

When we finally got to the beach, I realized that my attempts at bringing back the whole hat to the back fashion blunder made back in the day was futile. There was a bunch of guys who were already doing it and totally pushing it back to the brink of extinction.

We got hungry, and…wonder of wonders…asked for fish. It kind of made sense. How often have you gone out, asked for, oh, I don’t know, PORK and the duration it takes to get to you suggests that the waiter was tasked with going to some farm, sending Babe off to meet his maker and then gutting the bastard while following some 230page manual page to page (wow! Three instances of the word page!!) on how to roast pig, then finally delivering it across town to you. This time round, I found Nemo.

The One with Loads of dots

2006-10-13T18:30:00.000+03:00

I went to an internet café…Its been ages, but clearly I haven’t missed much. The keyboard I’m using feels kinda sticky so it simply follows that after this thing I will have stickyfingers…I would have added a hot male with sticky fingers in a bid to reference my email address,but that would not work coz then I’d have to prove it so…

The air in this place is, for lack of a better word, thick with fumes I can’t quite make out. I suppose you’re reading this and wondering why I came to the café in the first place…well, it had something to do with some pix some one put up, but that’s all I’m sayin…

Seriously, this keyboard is really getting to me. I can’t stand it one bit..and I have to keep glancing over at my neighbour to make sure she is not harbouring any plans to borrow my phone for like… I don’t know, forever…

Anywho, it comes down to this…he smell of this place has also gotten to me… how do people surf in such conditions with there webcams on? How do you smile through it…

Tell you what, I’m going to post more soon as I get home. I’ve seen the said pix and I’ve put one up of my weekend experience…

Ain't that a beach?!

My Green Mile

2006-10-05T12:06:00.000+03:00

Typically, the Green mile is the stretch a person takes on their way to the execution room...or place or whatever…Mine, it’s the stretch I have to take on my way to the clinic to go through what Darlkom feels comfortable calling “that which we may not mention”. The rest of you can join me in calling it The Thing…

Yesterday I took the Green Mile. I was not excited about it. In fact I was properly frightened. Yes, I know, it’s a very unattractive quality in a guy, being afraid and all but sod it! This stuff freaks out EVERYONE. It’s not the sort of thing you’d wish for someone, not even that kid in fifth grade that broke your oh-so-cool pen after you’d pointed out that it was a gift from my mum and that she would not be pleased if I went back home without it. Damn you, Janet! You just couldn’t settle for the bloody bic, could you?!!

So anyway, I kept stalling. And by stalling I mean the usual routine of playing video games with the prerequisite amount of blood and gore that we all love to see splash all over the screen provided, of course that it’s a game and not some other viral video from Iraq with some guy’s neck being cut off. I’d tried watching movies, but that didn’t quite cut it. Then again, it could be because I was watching House and the sight of needles makes my heart pack its bags and make its annual trip up my throat.

My friend Paul called me up and asked me whether I’d made it to the clinic and I glanced at my watch before fashioning an excuse…

“Man, I couldn’t make it. I . . . look at the time man…”

He wasn’t buying this routine and told me he would give me a push. Resigned, I hang up, dropped my control pad and got ready for the Green Mile…
Incidentally, Paul, if you happen to read this, I am calling your motive(s) into question. I am not buying the whole “it’s a birthday gift” angle.

ELSEWHERE
-“what the heck?! This rash…it…it’s an STD isn’t it?”
-“oh that, yeah, it probably is…Happy anniversary sweetie!

Back to the piece already in progress…

So began my descent to the clinic. Nervous laughter permeated the air and my heart was slowly setting up long term plans of residence in a new locale.
As luck would have it, the doctor wasn’t there. At this point all I knew was it would be a lady. I looked at the time and asked the nurse whether she honestly believed…in her heart of hearts… that the doctor would make it. She said she would have called ahead if she couldn’t… (Bugger!)

I took a walk down to an internet café in an attempt to prolong the inevitable. It was probably the same thing as the last meal by a death row inmate…

After the meal was over we went back to the clinic and found that the nurse had a new face…sorry, there was a new face sitting with the nurse (my oh-snap moment!). Thing is, she looked a little un-doctor like…I’m looking at her and thinking, why doctor, I could die in your arms tonight….

So she asks whether she can help me and I’m thinking, can you?!

Anyway, she says she wasn’t prepared for me (it just keeps getting better) and asks whether I’m in school at which point I am tempted to answer that with “hell no, I’m legal, do with me as you please!”

What I did say was, “will it be less painful, if I say I am? Coz then I could easily be in nursery school, nay, day care!!”

So she looks at me square in the eye, which was a mean feat considering my eyes were not looking at hers….and asks whether she looks like she could hurt me and I’m thinking, “do you really want to hurt me? Do you really want to make me cry…” and saying, “no, but …”

So she says we’ll do this tomorrow, and I smile and say thank you.

…guess I live to die another day…

How're You Doin' ? Good? Tomorrow's my birthday...

2006-10-02T13:11:00.000+03:00

I'm in pain. So much so, the rest of this piece will be written in the style of a Telenovela...

Pains of Life

I'm not okay. In fact, I am not well. You see, the thing is (gratuitous use of a term of endearment coming up) my love, I am in pain. And its not just any kind of pain. Its coming from without, not from within. Its not the pain of my spirit, my love. Its...(tension inducing background music) My TOE! (If I've done this just right, you have an "oh-shit"-esque expression on your face right now)

Yes, my toe. You see, I actually believe in keeping my nails short. This is because...they, are easier to manage that way, and, my darling, they become easy to manage. No no no, its not only that, but, I don't have to keep buying a new pair of socks because the old one got torn under mysterious circumstances. The truth is, my love, my sweetheart, my dear...I think that cursed Adolfo Cortez is behind this.

He will rue, no, he will pay for this, this uh, this shit! Yes, I said shit, thrice in the same post...alarmed? Quite frankly my dear, I don't give a damn. For you see, I may have forgotten to tell you. I have a nail retreating...and its not retreating quietly like Lorenzo did when he made that girl from that poor family of..of poor peasants...with no money, even poorer by condemning her to (cue stroke-inducing background track) a life of...MOTHERDOM. Yes, yes, I said it, Motherdom..what do you mean it doesn't make sense?

Does anything ever make sense? Has anything in this piece made sense?

I am slated to meet with a doctor today. Its a lady so I think the sensible thing to do is to avoid flirting. See the thing is, she will be holding a blade, and if there's anything I've picked up from Kenyanchick. Its this... women don't take crap from people... I also picked up the same sentiment after watching the first Basic Instinct...and BOUND..

I've tried out fear, Its not something I wear well. I think people can see it on me. For as far as long as I can remember, people have been able to drop hints...

Before an examination; "If you read you wouldn't be afraid..."

Meeting my parole officer; " Looks like you did something wrong.."

Traffic Officer: "If you'd had the sense to use a seatbelt you wouldn't be scared... (damn, man...I'm on a motorbike, that's a stretch...even for anyone reading this...)

Fear is nasty..it makes you go on and on about nuthin. just to prolong the time to your fate, but before you know it its here...you can do squat about it in ...THE END.

Look ma! Its a Tail With No Body

2006-09-21T02:33:00.000+03:00

...and similarly, a flick with no plot.

Okay fine, I digress. It had a plot. Hell, the movie's title is the bloody synopsis...Its all down to me. I am naive. I actually believed there's more to the movie than just Snakes On A Plane.

I didn't even get round to watching it till its end coz I figured I got the gist of it...

**SPOILER ALERT**

There's a plane...and there are snakes on it!

**END SPOILER**

The director was on a role...

look at that its a snake descending on a weed smoking couple..On A Plane

Hey, that sleeping fat lady (not to be confused with the Singing Fat Lady) has got a snake going up her dress...on a plane...

Hey, that horny guy is peeing on a snake..on a plane...

There's a trend being followed here, it involves SNAKES...ON A bloody PLANE!!

I would have loved to see some twists in this movie. The absence of the twist (yeah,sure the snakes did twist and turn, very funny Mr. Producer man!) doesn't mean I can actually go to the box office with my mouth foaming (with insults) and ask for a refund.

It's a lost cause!

Me: I mmmwant mmmwy money...

Box Office Attendant: sir, please address me with less foam....

Me: Oh, my bad...hey, your title when abbreviated spells BOA...that's a twist...

BOA: so are you appeased?

Me: er, no...

BOA: what did you expect? The title clearly states that there are Snakes On A Plane...would you have preferred Snakes On A Train? Or Snakes On A Bun?

Me: Your sarcasm is almost intriguing. You've won me over!

BOA: I'm glad, so are you going back to watch the movie?

Me: "Enough is enough! I have had it with these motherf***ing snakes on this motherf***ing plane!

Truth be told I'd have settled for something, anything...like these deleted scenes;

*Camera pans over some guy's head...he is hunched over a snake...he looks up with a sort of scowl..he analyses the snake...

Samuel L "Badass" Jackson:

WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?

As yet Unknown Dude: This snake..its like the one on my tattoo...if we dissect it through here, he will be able to testify...as per who I am...call me Scowlfilled..man, did I choose the wrong plane to skip the country after my PRISON BREAK. *UGH* It bit me... Its starting to look like there are Snakes On This Plane...

( I had to add that giveaway. the last time I posted some obscure reference only Dante got it)

*Out of nowhere..." Stop that speech...stop it now!" I'm Jack Boa, well not really, but the guy writing this is bent on throwing in some awful puns so bear with me...

Samuel L: How long does this go on...

Jack Boa: In my experience, it never quite goes beyond 24 hours

SamueL L: THAT'S TOO LONG! PEOPLE ARE DYING! Is there a Doctor in the House...

Gregory House: Yes, but I'm too busy studying Grey's Anatomy to be drawn into ER...

There's a loud bang and the plane splits, no, cracks...and then is ripped open...No sign of Superman, he is probably tryin on some new tights...

Some passengers crash on an Island where they are going to be lost but, in good time we discover that they are some of the 4400!

And we know what that means...loads of powers, no snakes in sight and see who makes it to see if the bloody movie has a Last Stand.

So I went gymin,right....

2006-09-09T01:47:00.000+03:00

It was a simple plan. Go to the gym, work out, come home and black out...It backfired....

***Go to the gym***

I figured I didn't have to dress to impress, I mean, its the bloody gym. Why on earth should I have to. Plus I'm a guy. We really don't care...Most importantly, I stay in some place called KABALAGALA. Does that sound like the kind of place that inspires someone to dress to the nines? No? Didn't think so. Its so bad, even the sluts can't be bothered to look good. They still get customers so I guess no one really cares about impressions in this joint.

I did sandals and Jeans. In my haste...no,I'd be lying. I didn't carry a tracksuit coz somehow I figured I could work out in Jeans...

****Work Out****

This is when it went wrong. I paid up to the lady at the counter/ reception thingy and endured her futile attempts at pronouncing the word discounts; "everytime you want disacounts"

She said the instructor would be with us shortly.We waited for a while before thinkin to ourselves, screw it. This dude is not coming. And so we began to use the machines as we pleased. It was all going smoothly until this finally turned up. I'll call him Tha Fruitty-nator. Kinda like the Terminator, but fruity...

"Who told you to use these machines? Who,who...who?" He spat the words out like they were that meal I had that night...

I politely told him that I tried to wait for him to turn up, but patient though I may be, asking me to wait till next Tuesday for his attention was a stretch...

"Tuesday? What's happening on Tuesday? and what stretchmarks... Okay, now get on that machine"

Dude...I'm already on it...

" I didn't ask you, did I? Now get off that machine and come here..."

So I followed his instructions, coz that's what happens in the gym. You follow a set of instructions with the belief that you will either lose weight or bulk up...or derive some bizarre sexual satisfaction (it was put forward by some Psych. Lecturer back at the university...)

"Okay, now get on that machine!" He barked.

So back I went. And expressed some concern over his order to give him TWENTY...twenty what the last time someone asked for twenty, it was this chic at Al Zawadi and even then I played dumb.

"Twenty minutes!"

Yeah, sure, making me wait for close to two hours wasn't enough...

We kept on with this charade, with him barking at me asking for twenty this and twenty that until six O'clock...then he stepped out oh so daintily out of his itty-bitty closet...It was time for some aerobics...and he was in the zone...yeah I know....you don't just get in the zone, the zone finds you. Details....

I don't know about you, but there's no way I'm going to feel amped listening to a sped up East African song...Oh listen to that...its that jam from years past, but why does it sound different? Why is the artiste rushing so that it sounds like, "Ninannokinikiskiahiimuziki..." I mean, what the hell?

If you are going to get people all psyched, play that I LIKE TO Move it song from Madagascar. Hey, I think I'll play that now. That's a jam right there...is it in English? I think they just said Dem like to move it..

So anywho, the instructor gets really psyched and is screaming out, "1...2...3...3...2...3...two more....one...2...1 more" before you know it, you've done like two hundred and thrity one bits of exercise that see you move back and forth between some board and pulling off some classic 70's dance moves.

This has gone on for quite a bit, and now I must..move it.

So Long and Thanks for All The Flicks

2006-09-01T00:38:00.000+03:00

Cineplex Wilson Road is no more…
Well, that’s what I’ve been led to believe…
No more shall I be able to refer to it fondly as Soweto. I also won’t be able to talk about the wannabe's that chill within…A reliable source told me that all my ranting and my ire is brought on by what she referred to as a case of THE CINEMA EXPERIENCE…

Why don’t YOU tell me…

Cry Me A River...

I went to the cinema to watch THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST and people wailed.
I am well aware that people clap and I will probably write about them, but this was just ridiculous. Someone was screaming out, “They are killing him!” I was thinking…
"no, you’re kidding me."
For crying out loud we had the script. We have all had the script since forever. We know what happened! Why would anyone be surprised that Jesus dies? Did anyone skip Easter?
I mean can anyone blame me for not quite feeling all CINEMA-esque after the movie? I’m walking out and people are all upset…no wait, I mean PISSED and at the brink of asking for a refund because THERE WAS A TWIST. I half expect someone to compare notes with a pal, “Man, did you see that? For a minute I thought HE was actually dead and yet...that Mel Gibson, he can direct a movie…”
Yeah, he can also push a pint and you my friend can also be a tad thick...

The nasty case of The Clap...

There's an STD that shares its name with this and I think somewhere, during the course of your movie experience you will wish this thing upon the idiot that's clapping. How the heck does this work? Oh looky, Spiderman saved the day with his web. I was so NOT expecting that. I will now get up and applaud him for doing such a great job. *CLAP* *CLAP*
What the hell, man? Spidey will not come out of this experience feeling refreshed because you cheered him on. In one swift move you've messed up some dude with a camcorder that was going to make a killing on the black market. The baby being lifted and obscuring his field of vision was forgiveable. You on the other hand are not.

My, Look at the time...

I didn't think I knew people like this until I went in to watch Superman Returns. I really thought ( and I will agree with you if you say I was being naive) that its the sort of thing that someone talks about over a beer to help the conversation flow...so there I am, in the cinema, a little miffed that I have to sit right at the front and feel like the canvas is touching my nose when someone strolls in about 15 minutes after the movie has started. If you watched the movie,you are probably aware that that's like 10 minutes of movie and five minutes of opening credits. So this dude looks at me and is seemingly shocked that I am in the cinema. I wanted to reply his, "You're here!" observation with "No, I mentally projected myself into this seat. this isn't me...its my mind playing games with you, heck let's play solitaire after the movie!" But I was trying to watch the movie...
Then he asked me if he was late. Through gritted teeth I said no...I had to ungrit them after that because I wanted to drink my soda.
5 Minutes later...he turns to me, obviously failing to notice that I was trying to follow this thing..."What did I miss?"
The appropriate response borders on Physical Harm, but I maintained my composure and calmly informed him that Superman had in fact returned while he was away...Guess I killed the movie for him,eh?

And now, your host for this Evening...

If I didn't really do movies there's a gajillion things I would do. I'd watch paint dry on a growing blade of grass or even, dare I say it, chill out. I would NOT, I repeat...NOT carry someone to the cinema and ask them to provide running commentary and breakdown the movie for me. Why would anyone do that...What's the arrangement..." Okay, I will pay for your ticket, but you have to tell me what's happening..."
And sure enough right in the middle of things..." Yeah, so that guy is not really dead. He is, like as if dead as if not...in fact, he is there as if like a dead person that is not dead, its like in that other movie of undead people that were dead, but never seemed to die. Its odd, becuase this actor does that in all his movies...like in part one of this thing where..."

I Christen thee...

I figure someone ought to pull down all the posters that they put up at the cinema... I mean, no one will really pay attention to the actor's/actress' names...they have this other character stuck in there and as a result you seem to have a crossbreed movie..."Yeah, I'm going to watch Taking Lives starring Tomb Raider..." or " Yeah, I think I should watch Fun with Dick and Jane, because Ace Ventura is in it..."

There's loads of stuff that goes down that makes for the Cinema Experience, but I can't help but wonder, should I mourn the passing of Soweto...er, Wilson Road's cinema...

Let he that has not forgotten to switch off their phone, post the first comment...

How was your day?

2006-08-24T03:32:00.000+03:00

Tired as heck, I whip out my reading material. Dude next to me is carrying loads of stuff so he figures we must have some sort of connection seeing as I am also carrying some stuff. He says hi. Its nine O’clock and I have the cold the whole world has seemingly recovered from, or dumped on me. I am tempted to snort, but hey, he is trying to be polite. So I reply. I say Hi. He nods his head in sage-like approval. I contemplate nodding my head as well, but realize that deep down I know better. It simply wouldn’t make sense if we just kept bobbing our heads to the beat of some imaginary drum.

I turn to my reading material. I am barely halfway when a woman darts in like she was racing for the seat. There are loads of seats in this taxi, come to think of it, in the world and this one is no different. I have seen better seats, but clearly she hasn’t. She is happy…as happy as she is rude. I thought this was the “polite taxi” where everyone says “hi” and nods.

The taxi fills and because I am sitting near the light…well if we were to be specific, I am right under it so I could very easily have a Michael Jackson incident and singe my hair and convince myself that it won’t grow and the only thing for it is to change the color of my skin. To avoid prejudice from the Blacks and Whites I will find some sort of middle ground and turn a shade of grey.

My hair is not singed, but the light allows me to read my stuff. We stop at a petrol station and once again I wonder why these guys waited till now to refill their tanks. I’m still wondering when the “conductor’s” voice cuts into my thoughts without so much as an “Excuse me while I intrude on your thought process”. He is asking for “big money”. Money the size of a TV presenter. No, bigger…the size of a big note. For a moment I wish I was the guy pumping gas so I can slip in a corny line like, “Ha, boss. We have a M7 situation here…No Change.”

Dude next to me asks whether 5k is big. If you ask me it really depends, hell, in front of the right sort of unemployed person 200 shillings is ginomargantuan (HUGE). The conductor looks at the dude with the sort of look that says “DUH”…not quite like the one we see in teen flicks with those cute chics in short skirts and pert noses and…by the way, I have seen some chic with a nose that, well, that’s just worth mentioning on my blog She’s short and brown and has a nose that just grabs your attention…or pokes you…or gouges your eyes…well she has a nose, is what I’m saying.

We set off from the petrol station and a while later draw up to some “stage” a “bus stop” if you will, but you probably won’t seeing as we have no buses yet. Ideally this is a great time to dispose of a few passengers and moving on. The last thing you want is some green t-shirt that is yet to discover the joys of deodorant…joys? No the wonders and perks (Perks…sounds like a nose description) of deo. So anyway, the conductor lets green tee sit on me...yeah, ON…there’s a piece of seat that’s just, er, lying there wondering what purpose it has in life and Green Tee-shirt guy can’t see this. What is wrong with this guy? What’s his malfunction?

We continue with incident. Up till the next point at which some peeps want to get out. Green Tee simply stands up and hopes they can squeeze past him. He does this with his back to me and I regret not carrying a dagger…or a landmine.

The conductor bumps himself up to first class and I am stuck with this miserable wretch. The situation is so bad even the sage next to me is not nodding…We get to my stop and as I disembark I consider for a moment what I stand to lose from literally stepping on Green tee and the conductor’s toes. I realize there’s a remote possibility that I may mess up my shoes so I simply walk out.

I get home and there’s a Spanish soap…Well, to be specific, its Mexican, but when you really think of it, they are the same…

I retire to this room, but not before taking my meds.

I attempt to chat, but my eyes are telling me no…but my body…well, it sort of restarts coz I black out and then come to.

I’m going to try and sleep now.

24 and over!

2006-08-16T23:24:00.000+03:00

As I post this,there are two decent individuals at the Call Center of the Power Company.

The following events take place over 24 Hours…and then some.

Be warned, as I write this, I am reading Dan Brown’s Angels and Demons no doubt a subtle reference to the individuals that work in the power company’s call centers…

0753Hrs.

Black Bauer wakes up and instinctively glances at his mobile phone’s screen. He left it on charge the night before. There’s just one bar of “charge”. To some this maybe regarded as progress, but not to Black. Black put it on charge because it had that one bar in the first place. This means, as you may have now deduced, that the power company has gone all out and been as shitty as everyone has come to expect.

0800Hrs.

Black is patched through to the Power Company’s call center. The female robot that answers phones everywhere thanks him for calling, (but because she is a robot, it can barely be regarded as being heartfelt) and asks him to have his account number on standby for purposes of something…

0805Hrs.

Someone, a human with the intelligence of an Ostrich egg, takes over from the robot and takes down Black’s complaint. Black for some reason actually believes this being when it claims that they will be over shortly to rectify the problem. The being then proceeds to give him a reference number so that their records show what position he occupies on the screwed up day list. He is number 245 thousand and something.
Maintaining a certain amount of humility Black says goodbye and hangs up.
He realizes it will do him no good to stay awake and wait, so he opts to sleep for the one hour it should take for the issue to be fixed.

0915Hrs.

Black wakes up with a start. It would be nice is this was because the radio had suddenly sprung to life because it’s got a new lease on life thanks to the power company. That’s not why. There is still no electricity and in a not too mysterious way, his phone hasn’t picked up some extra bars of “charge. So why is he awake? Some questions can’t be answered. Questions such as, “Does the Power Company’s equal opportunity policy spread to cover individuals unaffected by evolution?”

1000Hrs.

Black makes yet another call to the power company where he is accosted yet again albeit unsurprisingly by the robot. She proceeds to tell him to stay on the line and that he is number 5 in the queue. Robot lady doesn’t seem to give a rat’s arse about the fact that this line is not toll free.

1006Hrs

Another being of the male variety comes to the phone taking over from robot lady. With their total disregard for the call credit being expended, Black half expects the dude to say, “Thanks love, go on with your bad robot self: before attending to him. He comes to the phone and asks for the reference number. Black gives it through gritted teeth and is assured that people have been dispatched. He is about to hang up when the person on the other end seizes the moment to take the piss, “They may have started by going somewhere else, but they will be there.”
He says the last bit in a somewhat conspiratorial way.

1011Hrs.

Black hangs up! This is no longer funny. Actually, it never was. Somewhere during their training process, the call center people must have been told to commit to memory the mantra, “If you bill them, they will come!”

1130Hrs.

There is still no sign of electricity. Then the screen goes to black. Not the screen on Black Bauer’s life, the one on his mobile. The battery has given up its fight and has died. It’s a dead battery. It has expired. It has gone on to technological heaven and has joined the choir invisible; it is an ex-battery!

1215Hrs.

Black begins to wonder how it is possible that “they” may have started by fixing someone else’s problems. He called at 0800 Hrs. He realizes that they are clearly taking him for a ride. Black will not have anyone take him for a ride . . .well, save for the taxi driver when the time comes.

He calls the power company up using some other gadget that must have been wired together by MacGyver to enable him to make calls in the Third World country. (It’s an old model Nokia, calling it a phone would be an insult to GSM technology).

1227Hrs.

Robot lady is relieved of her duties by a lady called Joselyn. Though, considering their inept inability to provide solutions, its rather likely she fed him a false name to avoid persecution when the time came.

Not content with feeding him a false name, she goes on to spin a yarn about how the guy that was sent is on his way and she is very sorry about the inconvenience.

She can’t possibly know what she is talking about, if she did, she would know she has a lot to be sorry for…

The situation has led to the following;
The cheese in the fridge going bad
The canned beef taking on a new persona and tasting like fish, which the experts have all agreed is a manifestation of bad beef.
The milk has become cultured . . . not in the sense we’d like the staff at the Power Company to, you know, become. . . Its yoghurt!
A deadline for a proposal can not be met.
The absence of pressed clothes which means that there’s a certain amount of restriction in Black’s movement.
Regular “blacking” out of Black’s mobile phone which means all sorts of important calls are being missed.

. . . and she is sorry?

1412Hrs.

Jack has a visit from a person dwelling in a land where there is no such thing as a black out. This guy has electricity on at his place and wonders how its possible that Black doesn’t. You’d wonder the same thing too if, like this guy, you happened to live in the same neighborhood as Black.

1500Hrs.

Black calls the power company and is relieved that Robot Lady has been replaced by some tacky Jazz music. Guess its her lunch break…or there was a “power-cut” and she too has expired and is in robot heaven. Black’s phone battery will have great company.

Black points out that he knows at five O’clock he will be the subject of a compulsory power cut that has been affectionately christened load shedding. SO he would really appreciate it if the person on the other end actually did her job. She is called Miriam by the way..

After being assured that the situation will be rectified at 1600hrs, Black hangs up.
Meanwhile at the call center, Miriam is insulted that someone would expect her to do her job.

1615Hrs.

Black stops in the middle of a conversation to see what time it is…he figures he will give the lobotomized chimps a shot at evolution and thereby a chance to make good on their word.

The power company’s stuff is too preoccupied with planning robot lady’s vigil and as such can not be bothered to help Black.

1710Hrs.

Black bids his friend goodbye. . .
A rather infuriated Black calls and says he wants his electricity back, he wants it back NOW! There was some mention of Angels and Demons earlier. . . The person that he deals with falls under the Angel category. She explains that she will do whatever she can, but she will not make any empty promises. She points out that the area is now under general load shedding and as such he may have to wait till tomorrow at 1700 Hrs.

She also says that if Black finds out that they have been spared the “Darkness” He should not hesitate to call her and she’ll do whatever she can.

1715Hrs.

Black Bauer goes to bed, realizing there is really nothing else he can do.

1838Hrs.

Black Bauer is woken up…no, not by the radio blaring, its by his antique phone. He is going to be visited by three (count ‘em, 3) people. They do not include The Darkness of Past, The Darkness of Present and The Darkness Yet To Come, those just happen to slither into people’s lives with no prior warning.

1920Hrs.

Black Bauer has a meeting with Destiny. It says so on his phone. He strolls down to the sin ridden area below his home (not hell, hell is where they make empty promises about restoring your electricity) and chats with his pal Destiny as his phone is charged. . .turns out it was a coma so the battery comes back to…

2100Hrs.

Black receives a call from someone over at the power company. In a clever move, he doesn’t leave a name. he wants to know whether the electricity issue is sorted out…The angel at the power company is not just an angel, she is a Saint. Bless Her!

2200Hrs.

Black gets back home and is greeted by THE DARKNESS, clearly the dude that called him earlier was trying his hand at prank calls. Not Funny!

2300Hrs

Black goes to bed an puts his antique on charge hoping that its battery too will be salvaged from its coma.

0800Hrs

Black wakes up and yet again is greeted by the eerie silence that is associated with death and the absence of electricity in a place it should damn well be.
Black calls the power company where he explains what the **** he is gong through and Trevor (yeah, they have taken to naming these anomalies of nature) promises he will get back to him…Its become something of a trend, a rite of passage even… “Before you are promoted to even higher levels of asinine power, you must prove that you can lie…”

1000Hrs.

Black has been trying to read Angels and Demons and its not progressing as it ought to, so he calls the power company yet again.

Robot Lady lives!

So does Asha, the female at the other end who asks Black to let her be the last…she means the last to make an empty promise… Black gives her that much.

Asha has proven to be THE LAST STRAW!

1500Hrs

Black tries to read his Dan Brown Novel, he fails…

1600hrs.

Black calls the power company and requests that they call him back. Wonder of wonders, they actually do.

2300Hrs

Problem solved…for now.

Parts Unseen; The Second

2006-08-08T02:38:00.000+03:00

The song goes; “It’s kinda hard out here for a pimp. . .”
It says nothing about the life of a law enforcer. In fact, when you think about it, It doesn’t say anything about this particular character, whom we shall christen Andrew.

Andrew is somewhat different from your run of the mill police officers. Well, for one thing, contrary to that tag, he is in fact a Traffic Officer. He always wanted to be a Policeman, and even went as far as telling some visiting relatives so, way back when he was seven.

Things didn’t quite work out the way he’d figured and he’d settled for this. It wasn’t a bad job as such. He doesn’t mind it. Its safe, and according to recent polls, safe is a good thing to be when you’re working. The only drawback, as far as he is concerned is the fact that he has to miss out on a large chunk of his favourite show. He listens to it religiously, and this morning he will have to leave the house at 6.

I suppose a twist would be nice at this point, so here it is. Andrew makes money on the side, after all, isn’t corruption the sort of thing that’s expected. It is especially rewarding when you’re not found out. Ask a politician.

Andrew gets up at 5am and prays.

Its weird, I know, but he does nonetheless. He wants to have a great day. He doesn’t want to deal with all these annoying people that pass for drivers. In fact, he will probably let a couple of them off today. Nothing will mess up his day. In his haste, he almost forgets about brushing his teeth.

As he walks out the door, he can hear the presenter on the radio updating the listeners on just what he has planned for them. Andrew sighs as he realizes he will miss yet another great show.

He contemplates using a motorcycle to work, then lets the thought go after realizing that there is in fact a part of him that will die if he is seen.

He boards a taxi and is thankful that the “conductor” managed to procure some bathing soap. He reasons that things must be looking up in the transport sector. It’s a shame the driver has failed to evolve. He still thinks there is such a thing as interesting local presenters. For crying out loud, they can’t even pronounce the names right. Andrew wishes he’d sat upfront and schooled the driver in the Entity that is / was Dirk. A flash of inspiration dashes past and he manages to pick up the words, “Dirk Ages” before it leaves. What was that about? He wonders.

He gets to his intended destination and resists the urge to walk off without paying his fare.
He is entitled to that sort of behavior because;
He is in law enforcement
He has been cheated out of some money before and . . .
. . . He is in LAW ENFORCEMENT DAMMIT!

He doesn’t want anything to ruin his day so he pays up and shuts his mouth in time to prevent it from getting carried away and uttering, “Chief, keep the change…”

He looks at his watch and it reads 7 am. He performs a couple of routine checks. Makes sure that people are strapped in as they drive and are not using their cell phones.

That’s always been a bone of contention for him; Cell phones.

He stops another car and walks over to the driver’s side of the vehicle wearing a smile. If Andrew had a photographic memory he would recall that the last time he wore this smile was back in school when he lost his virginity to the goody-two shoes in the class above him.

He figures he will force some small talk with the driver of the car while “catching a listen” of Dirk Times.

Unfortunately, its not on the radio this driver is listening to. In fact, this is nothing like Dirk Times. Its one of those new-fangled stations that claim to be “listener friendly”. They generally get on his nerves. Their self righteous concern for the listeners bores him.

He looks at the driver’s permit. He barely pays attention to it. He sees that the driver is called Ced . . something. It doesn’t matter. He won’t be jotting down anything. It’s Happy Hour on the Highway.

20 minutes later, he has failed to get a rise out of his “prey”. He lets him off with a warning and then figures there’s no harm in dispensing some advice. He proceeds to lean over and as politely as he can, asks him to buy a toothbrush and some toothpaste.

It’s a simple case of a brother looking out for another brother. Or at least that’s what he wants to think.

As the driver speeds off, Andrew heaves a sigh and doesn’t register the words coming in over the static on his walkie talkie.

Time check, 7:45am.

Parts Unseen; The First

2006-08-07T21:27:00.000+03:00

He wakes up at four. Not because he wants to. Heck no. He’d much rather be in bed. He turns and looks at the body of the lithe young thing that kept him company through the night. Some of these university girls could be so impressionable. That’s what he thinks as he gets up. He remembers the conversation all too clearly. It was not a particularly stimulating conversation. Could have put a cup of coffee to sleep actually. But she did look good, and easy. Easy was a plus.

He’d told her he was busy, but she’d insisted on meeting with him. She was his biggest fan; her size not withstanding. He’d looked at her and asked himself what harm there could possibly be.

They’d hooked up and after a couple of drinks she’d said she had forgotten her keys with her roommate and she had nowhere to spend the night. She’d then looked at him with the sort of eyes that practically screamed, “Take me”. . .

She didn’t have to. He’d been trying to find away of sweeping her off her feet, literally and into his bed for a meaningful overnight relationship. It’s also been referred to as a One-night stand in some circles.

And now she lay there. Barely a stir. He wondered how he’d get her to leave. A hint of guilt stops by in an attempt to recall where it was heading. He wonders whether the polite thing to do would be to leave her some money. After all she is a University girl . . . the guilt remembers its original destination and sets off as Dirk (for that’s his name) shrugs his shoulder and convinces himself that he did her a favour.

He freshens up and gets ready for work.

As he dresses up he sees her bag, lying on the floor. He hesitates, but curiosity gets the best of him and he sneaks a peek.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary in it. Well, there’s a half empty pack of condoms.
That explains how they managed to get them at that hour of the night, he thinks to himself. He also appreciates her thoughtfulness…he doesn’t see the Identity Card that shows what Secondary School she is still in.

Dirk arrives at the station at a quarter to 6. He pours himself a cup of tea. Good help is so hard to find. He wonders whether he should mention to the manager that he had to pour his own tea. Five years here and he still has to perform such mundane tasks . . . His mind drifts back to the girl he left back home. . . But only just, he has more important things to think about.

He goes through his mail. A couple of plaudits here and there and then there it is. He knows who its from even before opening the envelope. Worse still, he knows what’s been written. Its one of his strongest critics . . . no, not a critic, a hater as some of those guys he’d been hanging with in the states would say. The States, hmmm, he makes a mental note. He figured he will talk about that during his show.

Its now five minutes to six.

He considers calling her. But what will he say? That he was checking on her? It wouldn’t do. In fact, if he did that and any member of his species got to find out, he would without a doubt suffer “The Fate Of A Thousand Suns”. . . which is a simple procedure involving the loss of his nails one by one without any application of anesthesia. Well, that’s what’s written in “Alpha Masculinity 4 Dummies”; a book he picked up in the United States. And is not everything connected to the States legit.

He puts his phone down.

He plays a couple of songs and then goes on to tell the listeners what to expect during the course of the show. He finds that he sounds more authentic when he affects an accent. It used to be such that it wasn’t his, but with the way he kept dropping it, it made itself resident.
One of the draw backs would be the fact that people listening in to his show would complain that he messes up the artistes’ names. Then again, at that time, people are too preoccupied with work and losing sleep, they seldom notice.

He begins to talk about his visit to the United States of “A”, then stops as his mind makes its way back home… into the bed he left her in. He cuts it off before it gets into the house and goes on. He hopes no one notices the brief hesitation and if they do, that they appreciate the “coolness” of it all…

He asks listeners to call in and glances at the studio clock hanging on the wall opposite him.

Its 6:30am.

Meanwhile. . .

2006-08-07T18:35:00.000+03:00

My cousin just made the observation that I keep posting images of stuff I don't have, and I'm thinkin. . . YET!
. . .and basing on that,here's a somewhat distorted pic of the Toshiba Gigabeat.

Look at it.Is it not a thing of beauty and,and stuff?

Need I apologise for the delay in postings? Its not as bad as that time I had the "Parts" saga,is it?
Which Part saga you ask?, Well. . .
1 2 3 4 End

Sometimes They Grow

2006-07-30T13:07:00.000+03:00

Where do I start. . .

I was out hangin yesterday, started simply. I went over to my brothers' place. Yeah..they do have their own place. I figured I'd say hi to some pals in the general massif (area) and go home and do somethin geeky like rip DVD's or sumthin. Then I was invited to tug along...Me. . .hang out with all these learned people. . .peeps I used to look up to? Couldn't pass up the opportunity could I? Forget that..We are talking about free drinks on a boring Saturday evening. Why say no?

So we went to some place called Catch the sun...Oh,snap,It was a little more clever than that,it was Katch The Sun. By day its a day care center and by night time. . .It transforms into this kinda quiet place that people come and drink from.

Whilst I was there, I saw this girl I went to school with. She is ,like, what. . .2-3 years my junior and she was with this guy that could have easily been her father. Come to think of it,I could be reading it all wrong. . .This might have been her father.He had his arms wrapped around her like..like fathers do.and when she got up to place an order, the look he gave her as she swayed around in her short and incredibly pink skirt was a look of , "my how she has grown. . ." and then the glint in his eye...

I later hooked up with my cousins. And we went to Al Zawadi. Well,one of 'em calls it Al ZiZi's and I hope it catches on soon.It sounds like the kind of thing I would call my bar. So while we were chillin' these chics come and sit at our table. . .no one is willing to own up that they invited them over,so . . .so we will stick with the THEY JUST HAPPENED TO COME OVER version of the story. After some small talk we did a couple of Vodka shots and it was then that we registered their accents, almost flawless "Outside Country" speak. In fact they would have pulled it off if they hadn't gone and used the word "box" in a statement explaining the fate that would befall the guys hitting on them when they got high...Who says "box" anymore?
I'll smack you silly is just as tawdry...Anywho,one of them found me eating and (I can't recall how we came to this) volunteered her age..."I'm 16..."
So I'm thinkin...WHAT THE ****, who let you out of your house,forget house,your room...your bed...

Later, we had to take some other girls home and...well we were all upset, at the very least the fact that we had to carry them may have had sumthin to do with it... ITS NOT HOT YOU PERVE! Its actually uncomfortable when they are splayed out like that..and you are carrying two of them..and they are 17years old..One of them noticed my discomfort and was all apologetic and stuff and had just started stroking my cheek while saying sorry when I threw up...Sorry, that was wrong, I didn't throw up, I had to get your mind back on track...SO anyway.We were all a little upset and so one of my cousins offered me a sip of his vodka...Then one of the asphyxiating devices I was carrying reached for it and "Downed" it like it was water...then she offered me some, so I figured I'd kill the whole thing by going like, "OH right,coz that'a like kissin,huh. . ." I figured that's what grosses out kids these days, you know, some adult saying such retarded stuff. . .I was wrong. She looked at me and went like, "No. Kissin is if our lips meet. . ." and then she looks at me like that Father figure in the 3rd or 4th paragraph up that side

So, we drop em off and she goes like,we really are grateful..and if you want me to show it,gimme your number...So I snort in obvious disgust, (no,really,this was every shade of wrong) and she goes like..."What, I'm not that young...I'm old enough. . ."

. . .Sometimes they do grow

Blogger Ate My Post or How I Posted Twice in 10 Minutes

2006-07-27T18:45:00.000+03:00

I’d posted something tending towards deep. For real, and now its been taken away from me. I was on a roll, is all I’m sayin .I had pulled off some subliminal advertising wherein I just let a link hide in my text with the intention of whipping it out a little later.

I remember there was something about Rock Music. I think I was going on and on about how its gotten all stereotypical lately and the general consensus is that anything done by a white that sounds good is Rock Music. To that end, Justin Timberlake doesn’t do Rock…Eminem does, I’m sure you’ll agree…

I mentioned something to the effect that I was happy that Country-boyi had gotten Skechers…shoes that I myself intend to get soon. I think I mentioned that I was just energized…I will also look into the K-Swiss issue comrade!

The title of the post was Whatchu Sayin to tie in with the link I was promoting.

Back to the rock stuff…I was concerned because, as I go for rock tonight I will be engaged in a conversation with Dee and someone will exclaim that Kelly Clarkson is not really a Rocker…

This person may well be wearing a suit and not feeling the music…heck, might as well be a lawyer…
…to be fair, not all suit wearing peeps fail to appreciate Rock…the dude I’ve linked you to does suits and Rock...does one of them better than the other I must add…

So, the question; Is Kelly Clarkson’s “Because of You” a rock song? Think about this carefully… its an incredibly deep song and pulls at your heart strings, makes itself a swing and gleefully plays in there…The one ROCK-ish thing about it is the fact that you can grimace at the stain on your shirt that’s cost you a set of digits (read: telephone number) and then at some suit wearing dude and mouth, “Because of you” before proceeding with your version of getting postal on him.

Is Howie Day’s “Collide” a rock song? It’s just too deep…what is not deep, but also falls in the “is it really Rock” category is Ashlee Simpson’s “L.O.V.E” its just…well, you know, not rock

I realize Black people do Rock, like say Lenny Kravitz and Eminem, but just so you know, Iryn doesn’t…

That said…you lot really should be headin’ over to THIS PAGE!

Nikey Suckey Suckey!

2006-07-25T23:39:00.000+03:00

I had knda hoped that some suit from Nike would have hollad by now. They didn't! As such I am switching my allegiance to Skechers...Oh man... things look so freakin SWEET...

@JKB. . .
*Deleted Scene from previous entry*

"Are the spirits of which you speak the distilled kind?"
-Distil...Wait, that's like blasphemy...I'd smite you if I wasn't too high, *hic*

Me Likey Nikey!

2006-07-25T22:34:00.000+03:00

I honestly haven't come up with any serious reason why,

Whenever into a shoe shop I enter, I wanna buy,

That really cool brand,with its simple swish,

To pick up a pair is my only wish...

And if you got this far thinkin' "This is deep"

....SHEESH!

What power problem is this country facing?I've had electricity for,what,two days back to back!
Y'all think we are not developing? Think again. We have electricity,baby!
Shocked?
You bet your fine little ****,I'm shocked...and yet,why should I be.I come from a nation where schools are sold to the highest bidder,and then crushed so Hotels can be built and ladies of the night can get spots to show off their wares...
"Me I am waiting for CHOGM so I can move to my new office"

This is the stuff of dreams...Dreams I had back in high school...there I was in class thinkin, "Man,if only this classroom collapsed and a hotel block sprung forth" ...you're all familiar with that daydream,aren't ya? Inktus? Dee? Anybody?

The taxi fare also went up,but that's neither here,nor there...What's here is the dawn of a new era. One in which peace talks can be held over "wine and muscle".

"So, are you going to quit this bush stuff?"
-What?..Oh man,this is the stuff right here..what was your question?
"will you quit slayin"
-What am i sellin?
"Slayin!!"
-hehe,I'm just playin with you,I got you back there,didn't I,eh?
"hehe,you did..you did...so seriously..."
-Nope *BURP*

Bringin Down the House

2006-07-20T20:56:00.000+03:00

Listen, I appreciate the fact that people think I am not into TV...well,I wasn't and I made it known. But for the love of God..I don't want to watch some overhyped show...like Prison Break or 24...It used to be 24, but somewhere along the line Prison Break broke into the whole thing and now everybody is recommending the thing...Thanks,but no thanks.

I am watching HOUSE...which in my opinion is a nice thing. . .Its like a decent version of E.R.

I have gotten into it so much,I have a guide for the few that may not know what to expect...

1)Switch on the DVD player

2)Hit Play.

3)Opening sequence with someone falling sick, if the director(s) feel like it, they will kinda zoom in and show us (in all its GORY) what exactly is happening.

4)Someone freaks out and the opening credits come on. (at this point it would be advisable to call up a friend and tell them what you're watching and just how gory it is.)

5)Shot of the hospital

6)Shot of House...

7) House is told about the problem,he is reluctant at first,but then he takes on the case and makes a quick assessment...House is wrong

8)Sorry,House is never wrong...

9)House gets his team on the case while he deals with some other nagging patient

10)House tells the team They are wrong...

11)Take note of the time, if its no where near thirty minutes in, the cure is far off

12) House is sour,but he is also witty,so we will let that go...JACK BAUER IS NOT WITTY

13)The team brainstorm and House walks in

14)Close to thirty minutes? Good, the cure is around the corner...

15)The cure is here,and so are the closing credits

Now,the thing about 24 is this...something that can best be summed up thus, STOP THE TERRORISTS...is stretched out for ages...

What If he wore Sneakers

2006-07-20T03:52:00.000+03:00

There's a song from way back when (which means we will probably hear it during Rock Night) that has the singer wonder out loud, "what if God was one of us?"

I kinda feel uneasy with that direction...come to think of it, there's probably some religious sect that wasn't too pleased.

So,to avoid stepping on toes, I'll ask..What if Spidey wore shoes?

Yeah, I realise this may imply that I have some sort of fascination with the whole Spidey saga, but if you look real close you will notice that;

If there's no image above this, I have been conned!

a)I'm trying to get you to buy me these shoes
b)I'm doing this to step on Darlyne's toes....

Seriously,footlocker has a promotion of sorts..I want these...I also want an Ipod...

Incidentally blogger won't let me upload pix...so I'm going to try and beat the sytem,if this doesn't work...I tried.

What's Crackin?

2006-07-19T10:25:00.000+03:00

I apologise for being such a lousy blogger. I guess unmployment has impacted me worse than I care to admit...well, I think its unemployment. After all, most of the frequent bloggers are employed in some capacity or the other.

I just started watching House (or for those nitpickers among all y'all House_M.D).It's actually quite nice. Yeah its got some gory stuff in there,but after watching Nip Tuck (....Nip/Tuck) you ought to be able to stomach just about anything that TV dishes out...well,not anything as such. I have failed to watch Straka. . .and Mosh. . .and that chic on Jam Agenda. . .which is really sad, I'd gotten over the Kazoora complex I'd developed ages ago then WHAM! There's a new addition to the program. . .that just won't stay put. This chic dances to silence! How the heck...forget how, WHY...is there some rule in the broadcasting world that states that at any one point you should be animated.That you should be moving in some way. . .really?. . . My bad, I guess that chic over at UBC didn't get the memo. HER LOSS.

I just realised that the toothpaste I use is branded New Spicy flavor..then somewhere along the line, there's talk of it being hot! I know what you're thinking. How did I fail to see this when I was picking it out of the 500 brands available.

(yes, 500. Each is a variation of some other, such that Close Up has some 30 sumthin cousins, ie Closer,Close Dent,Closer Den,Clo Den, Up Close,Close Yap, Club Pilsner...)

Let's take this one step at a time, I think the real issue here is the marketing guru that came up with this stuff. Did he actually consider,even for a minute what he was saying?

"Oh yeah,we are like so going to get them, we will introduce a spicy taste in the morning....its going to be hot! and when they least expect it, we will slip in some garlic. Someone stop me, I'm on FIRE!"

*****Welcome back NATHAN*****

I watched Superman Returns. . .

. . . that's all I'm saying . . .

Ah man,you shoulda seen it!

2006-07-01T23:26:00.000+03:00

I downloaded the teaser thingy for the new Spiderman movie and I gotta tell ya...this thing is off the hook...or,erm,off the web. It looks incredible and I have gotten really amped about this thing...so amped I have my own theories from just watching the Teaser....join me... First of all, I think this one is going to be called Spiderman and his enemies. nuh, I'm kiddin. I actually think the producers would have gone with The Evil Within or WEB OF DECEIT if the Nigerian filmmakers hadn't beaten them to it...only that the Nigerians skillfully masked the title and made it read Roses In The Rain,but we know better,don't we? There is also a villain that looks like Imhotep from The Mummy when he "gets his sand on" and I think his back story involves him being a hydrophobe or sumthin. I guess the producers are trying to go all moralistic on us and trying to encourage the young'uns in the audience to bathe..dunno about you,but I think I'd skip showering for a chance to be that cool!
There seems to be a scene that may not have made it to The Lord Of The Rings movie but is cleverly put to use here...
Hang on,seems blogger won't let me upload the pix...which totally messes me up...How am I supposed to show you these awesome pix?
oh heck..you shoulda seen it...

Thinkin Out Loud...

2006-06-30T15:03:00.000+03:00

Down With DDT. Seriously, that stuff is nasty. I have seen loads of documentaries that say so. Come to think of it, I also have a theory that involves Ken Lukyamuzi and an alliance of people that do not want us to hear what he has to say about DDT…or the song Hotel California.
So here’s what I suggest, lets grow Venus fly traps that have been genetically modified to (wait for it) EAT Mosquitoes! I know what you are thinking…I’m clearly taking the piss. I am NOT..I was when the idea came to me…at STEAK OUT…doing ROCK NITE some justice.
I honestly see some potential in these things. I watched this movie once called Little Shop of Horrors (and if you have a clear copy I’d like it) and this plant was bloody articulate…then again the silly thing ate people…It was not its fault you realize. It just happened to have a taste for blood…it was a kinky plant like that…also it had Angelina Jolie’s lips…(oh Angelina, when will you adopt me and smother me…)(…snap, that was incomplete, smother me with kindness and affection)
Anyway. Back to this plant issue…I think it would be cool to have a plant lying around conversating with you and chasing away the mosquitoes. I think someone should take this idea to the President. He has time on his hands; we know that unlike we mere mortals the President is not moved by football/soccer/democracy...

Dear Diary

2006-06-28T23:38:00.000+03:00

I went for a wedding over the weekend. It was given loads of attention by the press. And when we did actually arrive for the reception part we were asked to switch off the phones. I guess that's because guys go around making calls and receiving them in the middle of some speech.

The function could be summed up in two words...Product Placement!

There was an advert after just about every itsy bitsy thing...I will attempt to recapture the moments;

MC: Did you like the music?Yeah? You can buy music from _____________

Friend of the Bride: For those of you who don't know,I work at a radio station, I'm on air between the hours of______. I am also a musician, My new album titled ____________ comes out soon

MC: we are so happy to be here at _____________ where "Quality and Luxury are prime"

I'm kinda sleepy...

Coming Soon

2006-06-26T18:47:00.000+03:00

Watched Anything Good lately?

2006-06-06T14:38:00.000+03:00

I haven’t been yet, but I gather the new X-Men flick is best described as being “there-there”…So I figure, I’ll just do my own thing, It goes like this…

The movie opens with a young Magneto running away from some suits. “Why are you running after me? What do you want?” He asks. panting…the agents stop running and we notice they have some really ancient looking headsets and then they speak…in turns, with each completing the others sentence…
-He is just…
-A mutant...
-That’s…All.
The agents realize what they have done and then look at each other, long and hard as only agents can and then they morph into Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhal and go to the mountains…but Jake falls down and breaks his back and Heath comes tumbling after.

Meanwhile Magneto has stopped running and is trying to come to grips with the fact that he is a mutant. Lost in his thoughts he does not hear an all-too audible announcement that a curfew is in effect. And then his “abilities” are made manifest. He unleashes a powerful blast of magnetismness that is like so bloody powerful it messes up the controls of a plane flying overhead ( to make this really authentic we will give it the name Oceania) and it is like, you know, knocked out of the sky. No one knows where it lands, but we can safely surmise its Lost.

Different guys are called in to investigate and the government settles for some guy who says he knows someone that will do it in 24 hours. After putting him to test and questioning his ability to deliver results, he mutters simply, “You don’t know Jack!”

On the street that Magneto is doing his thing some guys corner another Mutant with like…wings and stuff. He says he does not want the cure, “I’m Sorry!” The guys whip out their erm…syringes (Its kinda hard to avoid innuendo after using the words “Whip out”) and then they say, “Not yet you’re not, but you soon will be…” then WHAM! There’s a flash of light and then we see Light bulb boy. He knocks them around a bit until one of the guys whips out his really cool Sony Ericsson W810i (with free minutes) and calls the power company,but not before saying,”I’ve had enough of this”
The guy over at the power company hits the switch and then LightBulb Boy dies a cruel death.

But it is not in vain. The winged mutant got away…

To Be Continued…

Mind Games

2006-05-27T20:13:00.000+03:00

Hi,
if you've been in Uganda for a reasonable amount of time you know that we are not really...well, we have Power issues. Not over in state house.State House is nice. Its so cool even the Queen of England wants to stay there. Yo true story!...Anyway, back to our power issues. Very sick stuff. The elec goes off unexpectedly, well to be fair,sometimes it is expected, but for the most part its shock and awe.
One minute its on, the next *POOF*...Like that,its gone.
However for the past 4/5 days I have had electricity.Its unnerving.
I have resorted to jotting my feelings in a diary...Next!

Commercial Break

2006-05-25T01:08:00.000+03:00

www.kronusbranding.com

I'm using this chance to plug...to pitch...You know what,I'm tryina advertise my wee-company.So It would rock big time If you placed this INCREDIBLY HUGE BANNER somewhere favourable...and incase you were wondering,no I didn't actually design the robot-looking dude,but I did play around with the rest...

Censor This..

2006-05-24T00:06:00.000+03:00

Since the dawn of existence, there have always been moments when the course of history shifted. Such a turning point is upon us now. The conflict between the better and worst angels of our very nature. Whose outcome will change our world so greatly...there will be no going back. I do not know if victory is possible. I only know that great sacrifice will be required. And because the fate of many will depend on a few, we must make the last stand.

The Powers That Be ( I really have no idea who they were in this case) decided that we as a nation should not watch Brokeback Mountain. I can't recall what the argument was. I think they may have been afraid that some Ugandans,too impressionable, would watch the movie and then turn gay...or (God Forbid)...become GAY COWBOYS.
Understandably that would be a very bad thing. The last thing we need in our country are cowboys. We have enough problems as it is with the Karamajong and their rustling.
***And in the news today, we are pleased to report that the cattle rustling problem is the same.It is unchanged,I repeat.UNCHANGED.Incase you were afraid of travelling before,you can rest easy because our government has prevented a national calamity...COWBOYS coming into existence...In other news, a whale saved a cow when...***

Its worth noting that we are also not keen on watching the Vagina Monologues....Sure,its okay for Champion King Masterpiece to stage a series of shows in a language no one has understood...or will bother to,but we can not be enlightened by the monologues. For crying out loud...its just a monlogue.Where is the harm in that? Its one sided...

While they are at it,they let V for Vendetta slip under the radar...I am not sying its altogether a surprising thing.I mean...Vendetta,man! how is that going to arouse any sentiments in the masses? Brokeback will,but a movie with V (the symbol one of the politicians back here uses) and the word Vendetta is just fine...I think the government is not giving us enough credit. We are really not that dumb...Seriously,we didn't buy the water level excuse to justify loadshedding. Someone's taking the piss...and we are not happy...Ofcourse you can't see that.Its too blody dark to show it.

The Da Vinci Code is here.No one has said anything.Heck I wouldn't mind a prophecy right about now...
****There will be 6 movies released. One will not be shown and that will leave 4.Of the 3 that remain 1 will be about church and the other will have spice...what?who...oh...sorry.I meant Spies,but not like the ones being tried for treason.No,these ones have money. A LOT OF MONEY. If you want that kind of money come here and touch this reel and it shall be yours...***

Soon we are going to have the X-Men movie.Am I excited? Quite,but I made the fatal mistake of going here.So I'm going in just so the people at the cinema don't think I only do 12 in one DVD's that we get from Malaysia...a country that is more gifted by nature than ours if the adverts running on CNN are to be believed...

What next?

2006-05-19T12:06:00.000+03:00

I am at a very bad place right now.The realisation that I am about to end my campus tenure (somewhat) and join the hustlers..ha! That's rich...What I meant to say is,join the people who have rushed through a half-baked University education to realise that there is infact a great big world out there and it's baying for blood.

I've oft said this and I'll reiterate...I think the way forward is pursuing a career as a local artist.(read; a musician born and bred here). Its got loads of perks,like...uhm getting in to the Street Jam without paying a dime.

I think I will spruce it up a bit. I will pioneer the collaboration as it was originally meant to be..like the Touch It Remix. I intend to go all out and engage all the artistes worth performing i this project. And once I've got both of them,we will unleash upon the masses a video to rival the video that everyone is talking about at the moment. (is it that obvious that I'm not really following trends?)

And incase you are wondering, yes,I have infact got a name picked out....
Voracious Reptile!

Disclaimer: In the unlikely event that my Spellings are a bit dodgy,its not due to some attempt to be "one-with the artistes of the world", but rather a keyboard malfunction...

Apologies of a ...

2006-05-17T03:24:00.000+03:00

First off I'd like to state the obvious. I was not banned from the blogsphere. The government of this great country loves my work.Its the power company that has a problem with me, but that's not really a big deal because we have since learnt that very few humans do infact run things at the dam.

I have also been studying for my examinations.I'd like to say they are my final exams, but that would be a blatant lie. If you have been to Makerere, you know that they do all they can to keep us there. They grow attcahed easily...the administration,not the ladies. This time round,I have been deemed worthy of continued tenure at the hill. I am almost tempted to attempt wit and say I am doing my Masters or I am Studying:Reloaded. I can't bring myself to do that, because (on top of it being pretty weak humour...the kind Amarula Family might actually think is brilliant and write into their *cough cough* performances for years to come) Retakes are a bitch. There, I said it. I am stuck with a bloody retake because someone may or may not have handed in a coursework and the arrangement at Makerere is such that you have to do a retake if

You fail miserably
You have missing coursework results
You attempt to have a life
You make it clear that the only reason you are in class is the fact that your home is too far away when you leave the bar.

I have also been kept away from the net because of Computer Problems that have had me meet all sorts of experts that go through what contribution they have made that my PC may live to Die Another Day.
Standard conversations are in the vein of, "I opened your computer, looked at what lay before me and pulled out the thing that was probably messing it up and then i shut it. I then switched it on and proceeded to install some software that was corrupted and after doing that, i poured myself a glass of juice because I seemed to pick up something..i think your computer had a virus..."

At this point I am staring aghast at the apparent lack of humor that some of these techies have.

In other news I have also been to Steak Out on Thursday where I arrived at the conclusion that Rock Rocks...

PAY UP!

Gifted By...who are we kidding...

2006-04-22T23:15:00.000+03:00

Hi there.
I'm your pal.We've met,probably shared a seat in the taxi because the bloody driver has the idea that there's always room for one more...You know me,I'm just any other Ugandan.

Oh wait,that won't scare anyone off from this blog will it? I figure I just scored a few points for our beloved pearl. Sadly we won't see them on CNN or anything,but all those people asking asinine questions in the chatrooms and remarking that I "have exceptional English for a Ugandan" will take a chill pill. I mean, we are Gifted By Nature for crying out loud..Yeah, we may mix our "l's" and "r's"...but that doesn't make us any less Human.

I am not angry. I am actually a little deluded. See, the thing is, i have a test tomorrow, but can't get anything in.I really have tried.And it doesn't help that I do not have any interest in the subject at all...plus the notes I am reading are messing up my eyes..UGH.

So let's examine the whole Gifted By Nature thing...not too much though,I really do have to read...

Our transport sector is gifted..I mean look at the boda bodas,man!That's some gift right there. Wait,don't leave, this is a very serious argument. When you sit on the boda bodas (I may have forgotten to mention this earlier, a boda boda is a motorbike of very very low standards that is used as a means of transportation) there is no chance of the rider trying to place you in an armpit lock the way the taxi conductor does. Its awfully cool.Insane,even. Ofcourse some have suggested that boda boda riders are aspiring to be conductors and as such try to show that they qualify by insisting that you,your friend and the pretty chic standing next to you can all fit on the Boda. Its called the Sandwich,everyone's doing it.

Our Education System...It rocks! And I am not "just" saying this because I realised how easy it is for people to discover who I am. I really do believe that we have a great system going for us. How many other countries will go to the lengths we do to make sure that kids don't cheat (sounds like a poor imitation of Hips Don't Lie)? I mean, we have spies sitting among the students. I really don't know how that happens, guess the students are not "gifted". I don't know about you,but I think I would notice that the dude sitting next to me is not one of us.I mean, after an entire year, you have a rough idea of who your schoolmates are. They are usually the ones in the uniform and without the beard and the bloody Walkie-talkie!

The women...nuff said!

The entertainment industry...I haven't been around much (something someone saw fit to point out when I was applying for a Visa a while back) but I am fairly certain we have a Gifted lot here. Its in the names..No Creature...man,I can't go on typing,I have to stop briefly and look at the screen and scoff..No creature...*five minutes later* I think the artistes may beg to differ. We do not hold them with the high esteem every other celebrity deserves. I mean,it should be such that, you stop in awe, shocked that you are in the presence of (insert suitable name here) but that never happens here...Nope, we will just drive off insulted that (insert the suitable name here again) dared to ask for a ride in our cars just after we had them washed. This one time, I walked right past one,none of that "OHMYGAD!" stuff, I figured he was shooting a video and was not really serious when he was asking me for some money...I think they edited that bit of the video,coz I haven't seen myself in any of his videos.

Our politicians...they,,not all of them you realise...its usually the ones that I haven't met personally...I get biased. I really wish they were more accessible and would not be shy about bribing.Its just money! Oh,right, the politicians that I haven't met..we are gifted with those too, they really do represent the interests of the people...I'm thinking the people are interested in money,and the politicians make this clear. I think our problem is the fact that we are not interested in giving money to those that really need it,its all about US US US..so its not the politicians fault,its really you and I messing ourselves up.

TV...The national broadcaster got a new look recently. Please note, new look does not always translate to cool,but we pulled it off..we are in the league of other national broadcasters in the region.And by the region I mean around lake Victoria...especially to its North.

I really do think this country rocks. Its like, that really rocking thing. Our undoing is the fact that we have somehow convinced ourselves that we deserve better. That we deserve more..more electricity,more money...more recent movies at the cinema..and more time to keep writing this...

Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

2006-04-10T15:37:00.000+03:00

The story so far…

Rwandese Guy (definitely a Diplomat) is Caught in the Act with a woman that may or may not be Ugandan but is definitely not his wife and is asked by the Powers that be (that are, without a doubt, Ugandan) to leave the country. On their part, the second lot of Powers that be (whom we are well aware happen to be Rwandese) demand an apology for embarrassing their, er, reprsesentative.

Names have been left out of this piece not because I am trying to protect anyone’s identity, but because I can’t be bothered to look them up and confirm their spellings.

I’m a little curious, what’s the big deal? It can’t be such tedious process to formulate an apology. In fact, the ease with which an apology can be fashioned implies that just about everyone involved in this thing should be able to apologize.

I reckon the guy that was being cheated on should be able to look into the cameras and tell the Ugandan people that he is sorry (there is a back story here). He can not claim he is way too patriotic for that (you really need to check out that back story!).
I think his apology should be along these lines;

“I am sorry I walked in on them. It was wrong. I should have had the courtesy to knock first. What I did was just rude. I certainly hope the trauma I may have induced by walking in is not long term and that we can come out of this experience changed and refreshed. To the people of Ugandan I also offer an apology. You should not have to keep reading about me and my wife…and that guy. I am well aware that the story has relegated other bits of interesting reading such as Besigye’s opinion of the Judges and their kin, Load shedding and Chaps Holidaying On Government Money (I really can’t take credit for that one, its all over the web). I am doing everything I can to push this thing away. Once again, I’m sorry.”

Quite frankly, I realize that the impression you get out of that is that The Rwandese Diplomat (sounds a little like the title of some West African- East African Collaborated flick, doesn’t it?) gets away scot-free…so let’s give him a chance to apologize…

“Uganda…*sigh* May God Uphold Thee! Man, this stuff wasn’t supposed to play out like that. You guys have got to believe me. I mean, you have seen the quality of our babes. They rock! I think it may be something I ate. This is not to say that Ugandan chics are not all that. They are. It’s just that this particular lady may or may not be Ugandan and the whole mystery adds to the appeal. You know the feeling. It’s sort of like when you ride a boda boda (read motorbike). You really don’t want anyone to know you were there, but the curiosity gets the better of you and you throw caution to the wind. To the women of Uganda…I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you before all this happened and now, with the way Uganda seems to have discovered that it too can deport people who may or may not be pursuing a variation of Kyeyo, I may never get round to it. Gifted By Nature though you may be, this lady was a Gift of Nature…”

In all fairness, I suppose we ought to give the lady a chance to look us in the collective face and say sorry…

“Sorry.”

I don’t know about you, but that’s good enough for me.

And in a surprise twist, we have an apology from a party that has been messing us up over and over with no regard to our feelings…until now. Presenting, the Power Company’s Apology.

“Oh man, you guys. We realize our timing was off this time round. Of all the times to let the electricity stay on, wow. Massive blunder back there! And yet, in our defense, we had to throw some light on the situation…Alright, we didn’t have to. We really are sorry. We went ahead to load shed Muyenga (to be honest only three houses in that area were affected by the “blackout”) and leave electricity on in that room. In fact, according to our records the whole country was in fact living in darkness at the time…oh ****, that’s not right… Our apology, that’s not on the record. That was actually part of a Presidential Candidate’s manifesto. Yet again, we would like to ask that you accept our apology. We are committed to improving the way we operate which means, the next time there’s a nationwide blackout, everybody will suffer the wrath…will, er, share the fun that is DARKNESS.”

Suffice to say, it’s very likely these apologies will never make it to the masses because, like I said earlier, Sorry seems to be the hardest word…

Darkness Falls..Or just saunters in,I don't know

2006-03-13T02:59:00.000+03:00

I wish to state the obvious my delay in posting has been facilitated by forces that I have no control over. I have absolutely no way of containing the situation. The Power Company has officially succeeded in doing what the Government keeps messing up, gagging people.

For all intents and purposes its not such a bad thing.In fact,its proven to be most insightful.

The guys over at Customer Service are clueless...or at least that's the impression I got.The lady that picked up the phone after 12 minutes was baffled by my insistence that they call me,rather than the other way round. I pointed out, as calmly as I could, that the number I had dialled was NOT toll free and after being put onhold for the said 12 minutes,it was highly unlikely that I would have the credit for a follow up call. Her professional response to this was a series of 'hmm's'...In another setting I am sure she would have bobbed her head a bit and gone like, "get out! I mean like,for real..you're like so paying for this?"

After a while we established, and I say we because somewhere along the line she had me convinced that I was in fact calling a toll free line, that it was actually one of those lines that you do pay for...HEAVILY.

There was no solution though,nope!Her shift was ending in about thirteen minutes and there was no guarantee that the person replacing her would give a **** about actually doing a follow up.I feel for them, there's nothing as inconveniencing as doing the job you are paid to do.

A while later I called,can't recall how long after,probably after like A DAY. and a calm lady picked up...calm is the new drowsy! She assured me that my power would be back around 3am, which I figured wasn't entirely bad...Fate did,and by the time I woke up (after countless dreams featuring returned electricity).there was still NO POWER!

The Election Article

2006-02-24T02:54:00.000+03:00

We knew this was coming,but first a random quote;

Everything that has a beginning has an end. I see the end coming, I see the darkness spreading. I see death... and you are all that stands in his way. If you cannot stop him tonight, then I fear tomorrow will never come.

And a holla @Inktus!....now the story....

I really have no idea how far I can stretch this.I am awfully sleepy as it is and I think they have stopped offering result updates...This thing has really played out like a Reality Show.One I could have scripted thus;

Dude wakes up.Its only natural.I mean if you're gonna start your day it only makes sense that you should wake up at some point,right? So this guy wakes up. He is happy for the beautiful morning, the birds singing outside his window and the Houseboy making noise in much the same locale as the birds.

He takes a bath and dresses up and goes on to vote.He doesn't know where exactly,but he is in a good mood so it really doesn't matter. He could walk to the end of the planet if he had to,he loves democracy. He very nearly does walk to the end of the planet because someone,in their infinite wisdom,saw it fit to strike his name off the register.

He still loves this brand of democracy. This stemming from the fact that some other dude has offered him about 40 ballot papers to use.

He walks to the box...watch him walk to the box...

I'm going to sleep.I apologise for wasting your time....

A History Of...Valentine's?

2006-02-12T14:05:00.000+03:00

St. Valentine appeared to me. It wasn't a dream or anything, well he did mention he wanted me to go out there and do his bidding and lead lonely hearts to the right rooms,but that's hardly relevant. What he wanted was for me explain how it went down. Knowing how brilliant you lot are, I am sure you've figured out by now that "it" is the true story of Valentine's day.

.......::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::.........

Like every tale that is set way back when,this one has its origin in Rome.Its 269 AD and no one has a Television set or a mobile phone. Its clearly before evolution as we know it. In fact things are so dire you couild be shot for being in love. Dreamy looks were forbidden and that is why Valentine was actually a great guy, he allowed people to have dreamy looks in his cottage, know how there are smokers' corners and stuff?Yeah valentine set up a couple of Dreamy look corners in various spots. This dude was clearly off his rocker.

Somewhere during the course of the year,no one really cares when.Valentine got thrown in jail. Well we think it was Valentine, there's a random possibility it was some dude called Warren that got thrown in for treason,but got Valentine's details off the yet to be invented Internet and committed the first unknown act of Identity Theft. Anyway, so this guy is in jail, chilling and all that and is a little riled that no one has checked on him when suddenly...

Jailer's Daughter (JD): Valentine, buddy...I'm in love!
Val: Do I know you?
JD:Not really but as the years go by, I play a pivotus rolus in this story...
Val: Wait...I have heard of you, you go by the name Trinity...which must mean I am the one.I'm gonna break out of this cell then?
JD: erm, what the heckus are you going on about? I was just trying to tell you how I happen to be in love and the Emperor is not down with that.
Val: Down with Love?
JD: Not that.With Prisoners that think way too much of themselves. Anyway,what I am trying to say is...you're gonna die!
***Tune plays that even in such a prehistoric era signals that death is close by***
Val: Did you hear that?
JD: You mean the tune that played signalling that death was close by? Yeah, Its part of the soundtrack from "Son Of The Mask".
very random reader: There was no death in that movie, oh wait I get it...The death Of Jamie Kennedy's acting career.You!! You're good!
Val: I can't shake off the feeling we are not alone in here.

The jailer's daughter left because Marconi had just invented the Television and some idiot had then and there invented Soaps.

Meanwhile, Emeperor Claudius was trying to make sure he had an army-us large-us (In plain speak; a Large Army) and to that end he asked the men,nicely, to join the army.
Many people received text messages; "Send a message with your friend's name and number in the form "Name & Number" wants to join the army pronto!" and win..."
So quite naturally they sent the messages and won themselves some very unflattering ranks in the army.

You have to bear in mind the mobile phone had not "quite" been invented by then so it was mostly down to the whole String and Can routine. In which case People would wake to find itsy bitsy notes in their cans.

This didn't work simply because no one had the credit to respond.Plus in most cases the men were away arguing with their families and (curiously?) never found any missed calls.

Claudius was not happy.In fact the term for his mood was Pissus Offus. So he decreed as most rulers were wont to, that there would no longer be any marriages henceforth...a word that has notoriously resurfaced recently. There was some joy because...

Some Dude: We no longer have to go for wedding meetings.
Some Other Dude: heck,I don't need to dress UP anymore..no more black shiny sandals and black togas!
A lady with an African butt: Darnus!I was hoping to be a wedding planner at some point

The said lady is thrown into some containment chamber and emerges later in time as an actress.

So Valentine had been thrown into jail coz he was the go to guy for weddings.It just wouldn't do to try recruiting someone and have them flash a finger with a wedding band and declare "Recruit This!"

Strangest thing was, people actually liked this guy.I mean really liked.They actually went out of their way and wrote some notes and threw them into his cell. You can't imagine how grateful Valentine was.It was 269 AD so there was no toilet paper...

The jailer's daughter kept on coming and that ominous tune would play,but this one time it was particularly loud...

The jailer's daughter was not there so he scrunged around for a note that hadn't been used and erased the sender's name and replaced it with his own...and signed, "With Love from Your Valentine"

So there you have it...at no point did he see things get to the point where we'd be running around like the infamous headless chicken trying to wish someone out of Jail a Happy Valentine's day.It's sad.
Its depressing...

Its Over!

The Return

2006-01-22T16:57:00.001+03:00

I'm coming back to post.I realise its been a while,but so much has been going down since...well,a lot has happened.Like a few minutes back I saw this guy wearing a black mamba tee...I'm lookin and all i'm thinkin is WTF??Ofcourse its not as cool as the one on this page,but I suppose that's open to debate.Because of that move,I've been forced to rethink the design...

Incidentally,I was actually tryina get the other tee made but kept runnin into all sorts of sh...of trouble.I went over to some place and this lady gets properly freaked out and is like "Black Ma...ha!I am not touching this,I can't,I will Not..."(at this point I'm thinkin'..got it lady!you had me at I am not touchin this...) "you need some written permission from these guys.
I'm understandably shocked,on top of dealng with the election menace the guys have to take time off their busy schedule to write some sort of permission chit?
Do they have headed paper?
I move on and I am sure any day now I'll be walking outside Uganda House and have this lady scream out,"that's the guy!Arrest him,he is the guy with the snazzy idea for Black Mamba tees!"
What happened to the love of money? Forget that,what happened to the whole being sensible thing?
These guys are not really called Black Mambas.Heck,when their kids are filling in the form,they do not list their dads' occupations as Black Mamba. These are real people,much like you and me...okay that's stretchin it,but I'm sure you understand what I'm saying...

Oh yeah,has anyone been here yet?

Year Ender

2006-01-14T01:54:00.000+03:00

Its another of those long articles (bye Carlo) but it made it to the Sunday Monitor and it was a full page (welcome back)...I will get back to proper writing in a bit.

It’s the first day of 2006, and you’re probably in bed wondering what you were thinking when you made those resolutions. There’s also the odd chance that you are reading this on Saturday because you have nothing to contribute in any social gathering. Regardless, let’s look closer at what happened yester year…
January
Betty Bigombe poses with some rebels as part of the peace process that on top of showing that they have the desire to lay down their arms, aims to show how photogenic army fatigues can make a person. In that one move, Betty thwarts any chances of ever holding the Presidential office. (There’s a law somewhere that says candidates should not appear in photos with anyone in the bush)
February
MTN goes on with its uncanny ability to coin expressions that will later be repeated under the influence of alcohol. This month it’s Simu Ya Malaavu which incidentally is what a few professionals discern to be a Lipstick coated Nokia 1100…there’s a story going around that a woman left her husband after he failed to explain where the lipstick came from…
In an unrelated incident, Sylvia Awori ends her reign as Miss Uganda’s organizer. There’s widespread shock and a little bit of chagrin from a group of roadside preachers that had taken to rubbishing the event every year.
The word Monologue (surprisingly) starts to enjoy notoriety as the government decides Ugandans should not watch The Vagina Monologues.
March
UEB is no more and there’s a collective sigh as UMEME takes over. There’s the odd chance this is because we believe that we will watch Michael Jackson Scream in the courtroom.
MTN redeems itself by announcing that it will soon start billing by the second. This is actually bad news for “beepers” because they realize they are fresh out of excuses. It’s adapt or die and some people cross over to networks where they can Beep.Often. The few that fail to adapt turn up as ghosts on the Voters’ Register.
April
The year sees many people reconsider a career in politics after at least three Politicians mention how there’s “no money in politics”. In what many hope to be an isolated incident the Infamous Underwear and Pen incident take place. There’s a theory being advanced that the only reason this incident took place was to divert Bob Geldof’s attention…
The Fanta bottle is given a new look that many experts liken to a very curvaceous and very short woman made out of glass..
May
The Get On Board campaign to end poverty by using a bus is underway. An individual opines that he can avoid applying for a Visa by sitting on the bus.
UMEME tries to encourage people to pay their bills with the promise of rewarding them with appliances that will consume even more electricity. It works.
Capital and Simba FM have no intention of Kissing and making up over the latter’s foray into English Radio. Our attention is briefly diverted from Michael Jackson’s case.
UTL realizes that the government has been on phone for quite a while and sues over a bill of shs. 16 billion. No one knows whether the budget will scrap the airtime tax to remedy this…
June
Someone in government clearly wants to protect the taxpayers from massive phone bills and subsequently the excise duty on airtime is raised by 2%. This inevitably means that conversations will be much shorter and the few that actually take place might have words tightlypackedlikethis.
Numerous people start complaining that the battery life of their phones is being compromised in the wake of shs.50 text messages…MTN’s response? “Whazz Y’ello”
People put acting silly on hold when it emerges that their actions can be captured on phone and sent around…the effect of this is seemingly felt worldwide as Tyson quits boxing…
July
International Artistes of relative significance decide to treat their fans to free shows in the name of bailing Africa out of poverty. A roadside preacher looks on, shakes his head and remarks that they are leading more people to hell.
BLU3 is involved in Kimansulo…when a streaker runs onto the stage as they are performing (while the ladies are decently clad, I feel compelled to add)
Bebe Cool has a nasty experience when he is “stabbed” in a night club. The wounds he shows as proof of this horrendous experience have an analyst remark that “…it might have been a rubber knife.” immediately triggering theories linking Krazy Joker (a yet to be discovered artiste) to the incident.
Krazy Joker leaves the country paying his fare with fake shs.500 coins.
In an attempt to show that we are as developed as the rest of the world, Hotugandans.com goes online…pictures go around, filling mailboxes with the subject, “Gifted By Nature”.
August
We strike gold as a nation as Dorcas Inzikuru wins big in Helsinki. The ambiguity in the statement is due to the fact that conflicting reports of the sum she made were given. Its got a massive impact, because in the same month Bobi Wine and Buchaman get saved.
Juliana appears in the papers at least 12 times this month looking good and declaring that she is “Single and unbothered”.
The government is so pleased with the whole Gold thing and as a result offers her a diplomatic passport, a car, a house and education. The Secret to success is thus discovered…If you run like the wind, things will fall into place. The only snag may be the education that is slipped into the package.
September
For all the good food in the UK (and I say this because that’s what movies lead us to believe) some Ugandan women opt to strike instead. The rationale being that if they get really skinny, they will not be allowed to set foot on any planes out of the UK thereby avoiding deportation.
The TV tax is abolished and a man has a fall out with his wife over the Television set they sold in a bid to escape taxation
October
I celebrate my birthday on the same day with Gwen Stefani and India.Arie and I consider letting it go without incident.
The Miss Uganda Pageant is back, and this time progresses with the speed of a gold medal winner. It ends as soon as we realize its back on and Juliet Akankwasa takes the title.
Buchaman devises a foolproof way of getting ladies to swarm him by performing, “Lwakyi Temumatira’ which when translated means, “What’s your case Women? Stop Hatin’”
This approach backfires for Mesach Semakula and instead wins him a PAM award which he proceeds to take with him to Sweden to verify its authenticity.
November
Makerere’s annual Students’ strike takes place and there’s massive looting. In another isolated incident, people seem to be moving around with unusual amounts of airtime on their phones. There’s relative concern when a student pulls out a brand new phone with the screen protector intact and proceeds to call CNN to offer his views on the strike.
Black Tee shirts are the in thing all of sudden and grant the wearer’s super human abilities such as being able to jump out of moving vehicles in the vicinity of the High Court.
Movie buff Pkayzee starts penning a script for a TV show in which; by day certain individuals are police officers and then when disaster strikes, they emerge in Black T-shirts wielding Uzis and speaking in Swahili.

Like many years before it, 2005 ended with December in which Uganda was fined $6- $10 billion for taking some weight off the ground in Congo
Nation’s with far better TV programs withdraw their support prompting the remark that, “..it doesn’t matter, we make far better coffee than they do.”
There’s a brief scare when it reports have it that Ssebagala is standing for Presidential office. The fear is put to rest when it turns out that there was, in fact, a typo on the posters and they were supposed to read “Mayor”.
There’s also some confusion in various political camps when the publicity people do not know whether they should do their jobs or wait for Miria to help them out.
Luzira seems to have a very stringent budget when it comes to advertising its services and relies on the Newspaper for publicity.
In an entirely unrelated incident Besigye gets publicity for a certain prison in a certain third world country, there is some question as to whether he will charge the prison for giving it mileage and use the money to fund his campaign….

Let’s see what 2006 has to offer…

Get It While Its Hot

2005-12-07T10:36:00.000+03:00

In conjunction with other parties that decline to be mentioned I am giving you the opportunity to have this.A limited edition Black Mamba Tee.
Why is it Limited in its edition?
Because no one else in their right mind would be caught selling this.

So why am I doing this? The need for money has smoothly guided me out of my right mind.
Hey I'm not complaining.This is a snazzy tee-shirt.

You want to make a statement right?Wear this Black Mamba Tee and strut over to you favourite watering hole.

We also have a Black Mamba tanktop for the fashonistas among you.Heck we will give you this thing in PINK!

Look at that blood-like design splattered across.If that doesn't bring out the die-hard in you,go rent the movie!

What are you waiting for?Get yourself a Black Mamba tee today!

Nothing says "To hell with the law" like Black Mamba. This is the real thing, a genuine article.

***No real blood was used in the design of this Tee-Shirt***

All I Want For Christmas...

2005-12-07T09:25:00.000+03:00

As I write this,Christmas songs are blaring around town,a presenter has made the observation that (s)he has played the first Christmas Track this year (Big deal in some parts,I suppose) and some optimistic people are waiting for presents.
Its a nice thing,optimism.It makes you blind to lots of stuff.
I'm obviously not going to get what I really want for christmas. Well I can't be too sure can I? It is Christmas afterall and miracles do happen,so I won't sulk just yet.
Ofcourse it doesn't hurt for a plan B,while I wait for her.(It takes an incredibly slow person to actually try and figure out what I want for christmas,I've laid out the clues)

A Sony Ericsson W900 or W900i. I am not picky,I'll settle for either.
An XBOX 360 game console. I want the full set,complete with wireless controllers and the hard disk.
A car. What?I am being sincere here.A car would be a nice thing...so would a flat/apartment now that I think of it.
Money.lots and lots of money...
Angelina Jolie.I reckon its a phase,a couple of christmases (that can't be right) down the road I'll wake up and ask myself what I was thinking,look at her lying beside me and weep...or scream, "damn you Pitt!!"
A heart for the guy that denied me the visa. Or two hearts...One might not really do the trick.
World Peace.It was a great line in Miss Congeniality,I figure placing it here might revive my career in some way....

Anyway,on a somewhat serious note (I say somehow incase someone thinks I was kidding about the initial gift list.I really do want that stuff).What I really want for Christmas is Happiness.That's it. She may not be here,but she's still in my life,so that keeps me going.

Then I've got y'all who may have impacted my life in one way or another. Judging by the size of my phone book can not really go around doing a metion of each and everyone of you,and I don't want to explain how I forgot one or two of you.

My writing buddies.
The peeps that keep me going, that actually ask me why I am taking my sweet time with posts. the people that help me aspire to be what I keep thinkin' I can be. If I've written with you sometime you fall in this category.If you have a blog and I've seen it,you also fall here.

My drinking posse.
How do I break this down further. We've done drinks this year.We are yet to say we got wasted properly.I'd like to say we'll get there some day,but that attitude's for losers...We have to be specific with this stuff...

My workmates.
You'd think I'd be able to actually start identifying people one by one in this here category. Good times with had,wouldn't want to kill that with some random cynical remark.

My Campus Buddies
The people I talk to so that anyone seeing me at the University is under the impression that I posess some skill at interacting after all.For deceiving the masses that I have a spine and a heart, I applaud you and would recommend that you spread some of this deception in the visa office of...

My Campus Buddies II
I tend to miss out on lectures and you happen to have notes,how you do it is beyond me,but I will not look the gift horse in the mouth.I'll keep leechin'. Thanks you lot...Clarification,in as much as you seem to be turning up in many of the categories,this is the one you do not feature in Darlyne ;o)

My Campus Buddies III
Anyne that has said in passing (drive-by-mention) that a coursework is due...or is actually holding on to my coursework for me...conveniently leaving out the motive for this act of kindness (so you can gloat as you hand it over)

Le Familia
You've kept me grounded,kept me sane and in ways even I have failed to comprehend kept me in school.I ain't hating on y'all.I appreciate you.Big time.I am even willing to overlook the fact that you've refused to visit my blog,in which case this paragraph is sorta useless...(look look,I used the word "sorta")(Anyone that gets the underlying reference to the word "sorta" also happens to be a great pal and...and all that).
Thank you for being there for me for real!

Just about anyone I have had a conversation with,that I've had the pleasure of dissin' and gettin dissed back.You all make it worthwhile to live life the way I do..not quite in the way she does,but you all have lots going for you.

Merry Christmas All,

And to all A Happy New Year!

***This is not the last post of the year***

Part...The End

2005-12-06T16:00:00.000+03:00

The ride home is pretty uneventful, save for that brief stop that Cedric makes to pick up a snack from a roadside vendor. I suppose you may wonder what would posses anyone to do something as retarded as that. This, as you can imagine is not something that can be explained with just the one answer. We will attempt to look at three.

1.Hunger that leads to a (see 2 below)
2.Complete disregard for all things sensible best summed up as (see 3 below)
3.STUPIDITY

Having made an assessment we will continue to see what the protagonist of this tale is up to and more importantly attempt to fit in more big words.

The meal, if we are permitted to exercise a certain degree of liberal naming, seems to have hit the spot, Cedric is in a good mood. The kind that has him hum to the music playing on the radio. It’s not a nice song, in fact, by any sensible person’s standards it can not be called a song.

Cedric gets home and is still in the greatest of spirits.

He goes inside the house and at that moment out of the shadows emerges a being with the most sinister of intentions. Then again, sinister is relative. After all, a person going and placing a link on someone else’s blog might have his motives called into question. This time round, a tyre is stolen.

Its as simple as that, no fancy moves. One minute the care has a tyre, the next it doesn’t. The culprit leaves without a sound, well, barely a sound. There’s a scream as he gets on the road, but that’s all there is to it.

Cedric meanwhile has taken a shower, a brief one. It’s merely for effect. Just to get rid of the smell of sweat that has built up.
You’ve sweated before, you can relate.

He wonders, ever so briefly what the scream was about and looks for a tee shirt. He picks one that’s got the “F” word scrawled across it. His girlfriend bought this for him so it’s only fitting that he should wear it today. After all, worse tee-shirts have been worn.

Donning his tee, Cedric walks over to his table and picks up his car keys. He knows he will have to refuel the car, what he doesn’t know is that he also has to fit a tyre on it first.
Until now…

Cursing under his breath (because that’s all you can do when you’re working on your car) he toils away, consoling himself all the while that when it’s fixed, he won’t have to share a seat in a taxi.

He has had numerous bad experiences with taxis…and hairy people, but that’s not important.
Cedric jumps into the car and drives out heading for a bookshop or some other place he can get a card from. He finds one and parks.

The aura inside the store has a tremendous effect on him, for all of a sudden, his mood is much better. He takes some delight at the glances his tee shirt is fetching. He picks up a large card and a gift and makes his way over to the “counter” to pay. The service is incredibly favorable and he is done in no time.

He steps out and finds that his car has been bedecked with accessories no driver wishes to own. His vehicle has been clumped.

He tries,as have many drivers before him to locate the person to resolve this little disturbance.He finds him trying to board a taxi.He is visibly pissed when Cedric tries to reason with him.He has a look that suggests that he has been delayed from making a call, a booty call.

That out of the way,Cedric drives off and tries to ignore the rumbling that's building up in his stomach.Its not quite the kind that signifies that your tummy has had it with digesting the enzymes the saliva was giving a ride,rather it seems to be suggesting that a visit to the loo might actually be a brilliant idea.
A message that does not quite make it to the brain.If it does,the brain chooses to pretend that its either not in or taking a shower.

Cedric drives over to his girlfriend's home and finds a car parked at the front of the gate. (And in case you were wondering,she didn't work today.Its her birthday so she called in sick)
Its a nice car, and it has all four tyres. The tyres are not the reason Cedric is looking at it like that.

He wants to believe its another man.A rival even. He knows better.Its his girlfriend's father and at that moment he emerges from the driver's seat. He gives Cedric an odd look.

Its a very bad time to be Cedric right now.He is going through a rough time trying to decipher what that look means. On the one hand it might be that his girlfriend's father doesn't like him very much...something he made peace with a while back.

Then,ofcourse,there's the T-shirt.

There's no time to fully assess the situation because the Woman in their lives comes out to meet them.
She leads them to the sitting room where they proceed to engage in light conversation.Its incredibly light seeing as Cedric decides to play the mute. The beads of sweat trickling down his forehead do not improve the situation.
Neither does the stomach rumbling.

"Honey,are you okay?"

He tries to nod that he is,but at that moment his speech is interupted by a message on its way to the brain.Turns out the stomach has had a disagreement with the food from the roadside vendor and now wants to evict it.Attempts to reach a compromise have yielded air.

Cedric excuses himself and makes his way to the bathroom. He can feel his "father-in-law's" stare burrowing through his back.

He sits down and ..well,let's just say he gets down to business.

He can hear his girlfriend arguing with her father over how she chose him over all the worthwhile suitors.He loves that about her.The way she always sticks up for him.
His hand reaches for the tissue...and misses.

Well,miss is such a strong word,he does make some contact with the hard paper thingy that usually holds the soft part of the roll...

Panic grips him. In his moment of desperation he finds clarity. His senses have seemingly hit superhuman levels. He can clearly hear the conversation going on outside the door. The topic has changed and now his girlfriend's father is speaking. Asking after her well being...and then he asks...

"Three days?When are they coming to fix your water...?"

Part Four

2005-11-04T17:15:00.000+03:00

The office is not unlike any other manager’s office. It welcomes you with a certain aura, an aura that will later have you claim that you entered with a certain sense of foreboding. It is with that sense of foreboding that Cedric enters the office.

The manager is the picture of sinister. To complete the part he is going to play in this tale, he is bedecked with a tie sporting the now immortalized line, “Do you feel lucky?” It is only immortalized for the simple reason that he has made it a point to shove it into countless employees’ faces.
No one knows where he picked it up from.
The word around the office is that he actually had the tie made personally. And that the guy that put it together, the tailor, quit the business immediately after that lest he soiled the reputation of the trade with that move.

It’s a little known fact that Clint Eastwood uses the line, “Do I feel lucky?” in Dirty Harry, the same line is used in countless other movies but that’s neither here nor there.

Cedric is here and he can’t imagine why on earth the boss is looking at him like that. An expression he can not quite place until he is engaged in a conversation.
“I say, you look like something the cat dragged in last week after having its way with it…”
That’s the boss. He never stops short with words if he believes he has an arsenal. And to add insult to injury he seems to wait for an answer at such awkward moments. Cedric tries to find something to say, but he is bailed out by the manager.

“Seriously man, you look like crap. If you can’t handle your drink you shouldn’t drink it…the beer, because clearly you can not handle your drink, can you? A sensible employee would have called in sick or something. Unless of course you are short of sick days.”

Cedric does the only thing he can do at that point. He starts to play with his tie. It’s a nice tie with dots spewed all over. It’s the kind of tie you would play with if you were given to wearing ties and actually got into an office such as this.
The boss is rumbling in the background.
“…so, I find myself asking, what is wrong with this chap? Does he feel lucky? Cedric, you need to ask yourself, do I feel lucky?”

There they were, those hideous words that possessed many implications. And now, yet again Cedric runs to his tie, it seems to have stuck itself firmly to his shirt. It doesn’t want to play fair. It’s a good thing, because at that moment his mouth decides it’s been on leave way too long and now is the moment for its comeback!

“Well, errr, sirrr...” such is the situation when not everything is working as it should. The brain is weak, but the mouth is willing.

“It’s alright Cedric, just take the day off. I am not a mean person. I am a kind person. Many people don’t realize this but…there’s a fountain of kindness welling up within me. Practically waiting to explode.”

Inspired words one would think, so why is Cedric disturbed?
It could be the fact that it’s a long spiel of sorts.
It could also be the boss’ hand placement as he says this.
Did he just do the LL Cool J lip licking thing?

A question that will have to go unanswered because our hapless hero darts out of the office. He doesn’t even bother with picking his belongings from the cubicle lest his boss changes his mind before he makes it out of the office….or worse still says he was kidding.

He does stop briefly by the receptionist’s desk. He figures he will give her a piece of his mind.
And then, all too late, he realizes that his oral capacities have gone AWOL. He cusses. It’s internal. He just can’t seem to get a word out right now.

As the doors of the lift close he is almost certain that the office messenger and the tea girl are talking about him when they say, “…he looks like he slept at some vigil. And forgot to freshen up!
He gets to his car. No puncture. Yet!

As he drives out he heads for the one place he can take refuge at a time like this. At ten in the morning before he sees his girlfriend.

He goes home…

And Now,An Announcement..

2005-11-04T11:14:00.000+03:00

PART THREE

2005-10-19T21:39:00.000+03:00

You would half expect him to trip and fall in a most gratuitously painful way. He doesn’t. He actually makes it to his cubicle in one piece. Well, as close to one piece as he can manage on this most unfortunate of mornings.

He consoles himself with the knowledge that in here, in his little world, he is safe and the world will not be able to screw him over in here…or will it? It’s a question that goes unanswered because at that moment, that precise moment in a way that is bizarrely similar to the coincidences in movies or clichéd stories, he receives an alert on his computer monitor.

He checks his mail client…navigates to the inbox. Its spam…or at least it looks like spam to anyone that is not interested in improving his prowess between the sheets…

He can’t think straight. He looks over his shoulder the nagging presence of paranoia refuses to leave. He signs into his chat client…They are not supposed to do this sort of thing during office hours. The morning has thus far registered itself as being a bitch, the likelihood that the afternoon will go easy on Cedric is slimmer than a Versace model.

He signs in and hopes that the receptionist will be online. She is nice, that receptionist. Always thoughtful, always smiling…yeah, she has lots of potential for an inter office romance. The connection is made and she is in fact signed in as well.

He is still trying to formulate a statement that will guarantee a meaningful, sensitive overnight relationship involving, among other things, his wanton desire to find her tonsils…

Lady Luck smiles down on Cedric.
The receptionist makes the first move;

Seductive Angel: I’ve been waiting for you!!

Cedric’s heart skips a beat…as it starts to find its rhythm; he punches away at the keys…

Adonis On Steroids: Miss me that much?

He realizes a bit too late that that line is a bit cheesy. He looks around his desk for that print out of pick up lines from last week. As he picks it up and begins to look for a suitable winner, she replies.

Seductive Angel: well, therz sumthng I wanted to tell you. I jst didn’t know how to phrase it.but I’m going to just come right out and say it.

Cedric’s heart does its beat defying stunt again and his hand reaches out for his ringing cellphone and makes it go silent. His eyes want no part of this and they stay firmly fixed on the monitor…Meanwhile there’s a drought in his mouth and saliva is just a rumor that enzymes have been hearing of lately…

Seductive Angel: you look like S**T, what happened to you?

Everything goes back to normal; Fate empties the last round of bullets into Lady Luck and continues dealing with Cedric.

Cedric considers typing back something about her uncanny resemblance to….and that’s where it stops…His mental faculties have gone AWOL. He does the most sensible thing someone in that state can do. He signs out. Its pretty obvious at this point that there’s no work that’s going to be done.
He looks his phone for no reason other than the fact that it has seemingly become one with his hand. There’s a missed call. Its his girlfriend…

Another wave of realization hits home at that moment. It’s her birthday. Ideally he would have called her by now to wish her a happy one. We have since established that this is not an ideal day so we don’t really hold it against him.

He picks up the office line and then replaces it. Calling an external line would mean asking the receptionist (who at this point is registered as THE BITCH in his mind) to dial out.
He needs an excuse to leave work, he needs to come up with a cunning plan. The kind that will have them say his name with reverence…

“Oi, Cedric, you lazy prick! The boss wants to see you in his office, right now…”

He successfully avoids saying something nasty to the bearer of the message as he gets up and walks over to his boss’ office…Before walking in he makes sure the tie is in place.

He knocks and enters the plush office….

Part Two

2005-10-13T12:21:00.001+03:00

Its not 6 anymore…

You would expect that this sort of thing would faze our hapless hero. It doesn’t. He toys around with the idea of calling in sick and then stops in his tracks. It occurs to him he has used up his “sick quota”. Usually as a result of binge drinking. Never as a result of this. In retrospect, this is not the kind of thing you can expect to happen, so it goes without saying, you never really plan for it.

Cedric hasn’t and he accepts the card fate has dealt him. It’s a stack of cards, but that’s not really important. He dresses up and rues the fact that he is without any credit on his mobile phone. He would like to think that’s the reason he isn’t calling in sick. He picks up a tie that coincidentally spreads out in a user friendly way, and places it delicately over the stain on his shirt. For good measure he empties the can of deodorant spray on himself. It may be an old shirt, one that he wore yesterday, but, if he smells good he can get away with just about anything.

He refuses to accept that life has actually turned on him so he lingers around a little longer, hoping that the people at the power company will accidentally switch the power back on.
They don’t. They are steadfast in his resolve to make life hard for him. He realizes that now so he stumbles out of his house.

For a fleeting moment he expects to find his car rendered immobile, suspended on some building bricks in such a way as if to suggest that we are in fact back in the Stone Age and Fred Flintstone is the lead character in this tale.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he acknowledges that he is being overly paranoid. He jumps into his car and as he revs the engine makes sure that he is in fact tuned to a listener friendly station.
He moves on without incident. Aside, perhaps, from stopping and picking up a pack of strong mints. The attendant behind the counter seems to sympathize with him. He can tell. Its in the look she gives him as she hands him his pack from a distance…it’s a cross between holding her breath in the hope that he will leave or at least stop talking before she passes out and genuine disbelief that anyone can possibly have morning breath that bad.

There’s a terrible traffic jam up ahead, but that doesn’t matter. Cedric has used public transportation before and he knows his way around these things. He knows of routes that even the guy that plans the roads of the city doesn’t know about. He is, without a doubt, in his element…until he gets stopped for driving without using a seat belt.

The traffic officer, for that is the preferred title for these individuals, is clearly pleased with himself. He wears a smile that can only be duplicated on the face of a pubescent horny lad that has lost his virginity to the goody-two-shoes in the class above him. It may also be similar to the one worn by a politician that has survived close scrutiny in a case involving misappropriation of funds.

So with his “I did the headgirl” look, the traffic officer proceeds to strike up some idle chit-chat with Cedric. Cedric is bored, but he is afraid of letting this show on his face lest the rather inarticulate officer catches on and fines him. He endures this for a bit until, probably bored with the one sided conversation that has stretched into 20 something minutes, the officer lets Cedric off with a warning.

As Cedric mutters his thanks (and under his breath his conviction that traffic officers are really chimps still trying to come to terms with the whole concept of evolution) the cop leans over, so close that Cedric can almost feel an eyelash making contact with his skin, he ‘advises’ Cedric to pick up a toothbrush and some toothpaste from the nearest shop.

Its advice that goes unheeded.

Cedric makes it to the office an hour late. Actually, that’s a lie. He drives through the gate that leads up to the office building an hour late. The look on the gatekeeper’s face is not very reassuring. For all his hard ups and possibly the misery that he has suffered in his life, he seems to be looking at Cedric with pity. If he had the capacity to read thoughts (as his teachers seemingly did) Cedric would know that the gate keeper really does sympathize with him and is now pleased with his own job. He is convinced that if he too was working inside the building he would look haggard and fraught with misery.

Cedric walks into the building and heads towards the stairs…his office is not really on the 12th floor par se…Then he reconsiders. He remembers all the looks that he has been getting and he figures that he should use the elevator, if for nothing else to avoid more glances and possibly avail himself an opportunity to look at himself in the elevator that was installed in it for such situations.

As the door closes, Cedric begins to make a self-assessment and tries to believe the worst is behind him. Fate hears that and laughs a nasty little laugh that only fate can...then puts a call through to its accomplice at the power company.
The line is busy!

The doors open and Cedric steps out.

He walks into the office and makes a dash for his cubicle…

Part One

2005-10-08T22:03:00.000+03:00

It starts at 6:30am.
It’s not usually the time he gets up, but the things that happened during the course of the night have greatly impacted his sleeping habits. The most prominent event during the course of his slumber was the unannounced visit of the mosquito brigade. No, not brigade. More like a choir. Brigades seem to have some sort of purpose. And yet, for as long as he can remember, choirs have seldom done anything useful…well save for worshipping God.

That fact alone sees him disqualify the word choir in reference to his nocturnal visitors. They seemed to have a sense of purpose last night. Granted, even in nights past they seemingly know what they want and go out and get it, but usually there’s some sort of agreement. No activity until he is deep in slumber. No documents were signed, but they seemed to have reached a compromise. Either that or the mosquitoes had since enrolled in some school that imparted the elusive skill that is Tact.

He stumbles out of bed.

He would have loved to lie in bed longer, but the presenter on radio seems to have got a new lease on life and is going into overdrive. It doesn’t help that he has clearly refused to give the English language a chance. At the very least he should have the decency to pronounce the artistes’ names properly. That’s clearly not his style. He’d much rather prattle on about his recent trip to the United States of “A”…there’s a brief pause as though there’s the desire to have the listener fall out of his seat, attributing the eventual brain tumor to the suspense that was created. The presenter goes on, asks people to call in so he can gloat some more. Its starting to seem like this guy is actually convinced that the whole world does in fact revolve around him.

It’s also evident that the entity around whom this tale revolves has not yet been given a name. Names are not important. So we are led to believe from the whole sticks and stones may break my bones banter that we spew whenever or wherever we feel cornered by a 13 year old foaming at the mouth with filth and profanity picked up from stand up comedy.
Nonetheless, we christen this hapless individual, we call him Cedric. It’s a fictitious name, randomly given so that I need not explain myself to the other obvious choices.

Cedric makes his way to the bathroom.

It’s the sort of thing he would do. He has to get ready for work. In his state of transition between sleep and whatever state we are in when we are not sleeping, Cedric makes his first significant contact on this Thursday morning. He collides with the shelf. Suddenly the idea to have the shelf carved out of the heaviest wood money could buy is flung out of the window. The cusses he unleashes do not quite make it to the window.
In fact, they do not even make it past his mouth. It’s simply too much work.

He limps to the bathroom, passing a stack of clothes he is certain he’d left behind for the house help to wash. The reality that he has no clothes to wear begins to sink in. he climbs into the shower where his hand is greeted by emptiness where it ordinarily has its rendezvous with the bathing soap.

Cedric is the poster child for Calm. He will not let this faze him. He reaches for the washing soap and holds his breath hoping this will actually prevent the strong cheap smell from registering.
Denial does its work and he is also convinced that the cheap scent is not stuck to his skin as he steps out of the shower. Fate considers making him slide on the bathroom floor and dishing out a compound fracture…then it hesitates, there’s more in store for Cedric.

As if to send the point home, Cedric’s hand “bounces” yet again. There seems to be no tube of toothpaste. Well, it’s not really a case of “there seems to be”, it’s pretty obvious that there’s none.
Cedric, practical guy that he suddenly is, figures that he can remedy this by chewing some really strong menthol laced gum.

He also figures that he can wear yesterday’s clothes and get away with it. It’s called “rebounding”. So he reckons he will rebound. For it to actually have a term must mean its an okay idea, one he is so pleased with; he convinces himself he can also hide the stain on his shirt by elegantly drooping his tie over it.

Suddenly, the obnoxious presenter has gone very quiet. Cedric hopes its one of those “suspense-inducing” moments. Or, at the very best, that the presenter has suffered a stroke that has left him without a voice. This sort of wishful thinking can only go on for so long. The truth makes its first appearance in this story as it suddenly dawns on Cedric that the power company has done him in…

Rebirth

2005-10-05T20:38:00.000+03:00

Every so often I tend to digress…and while I’m doing that I end up making all sorts of mistakes in my blog. This is one of them.

October 3rd.My Birthday. I kept on dropping hints, kept rubbing the date in everyone’s face. If you didn’t get it you’re lucky. In retrospect, what was I up to? Was it really worth it? I mean everyone that reads this has probably got a birthday, well almost everyone.

I like to think of it as an opportunity to look back and make some sort of assessment of a year gone by, ask myself if I am better off than I was years back. More often than not the answer comes back as Yes! I am.

Years ago I didn’t have you guys as friends. Years ago I didn’t have a blog. Years a go I didn’t have a shot at the Big L…Love! for all y’all that have decided to play dumb.

Loads of stuff has happened along the way here. Some good, some bad...Nonetheless, it’s not how often I have fallen down that matters, but how many times I have gotten back up again. Oft its been because of you…at other times its been coz of Divine intervention. All in all, I couldn’t do it all on my own, who am I, Whitney Houston?

This is my way of saying Thanks..For everything,far too often we go through life without actually appreciating the work of our friends or if we do,we fail to acknowledge the contributions, the changes they have consciously or subconsciously made in our lives…This here is an expression of gratitude to the web-literate pals I have.

Those that can not be arsed to learn how to surf have not lucked out. I reckon in the next couple of days I’ll still say thanks. It’s a one week thing I hope…

So without naming each and everyone of you…Cheers!!

****The Usual Me will be back shortly!****

Trapped In Office

2005-09-28T08:44:00.000+03:00

The year 2021 rolls in and the words No Change wake me Up

I'm stretchin' and yawnin'In an office that don't belong to me

And a voice yells, "Good morning, Afande", from the next room

Then he comes out and briefs me

And to my surprise, I have no clue…

Now I've got this look in my eyes

Like, what have I done?

How could I be so ***** to be have laid here til the donors got mad?

Must have lost the track of time

Oh, what was on my mind?

From the bush, went to the podium

Didn't plan to stay that long

Here I am, quickly tryin' to put up a speech

Searching for a proverb

Tryin' to get one the haven’t heard before
Then he streched his hands in front of it

Said, "You can't go this way"

Looked at him, like he was crazy

Said, "You man move out my way"

Said, "I got a dictionary at home"

He said, "Please just use that one there"

"Corporal, I've got to get home"

He said, the opposition was comin' up the stairs

"Shh, shh, quiet Hurry up and get in the Office"

He said, "Don't you make a sound

Or some shit is going down"

I said, "Why don't I just go out the window?"

"Yes, except for one thing, we on the 7th Term"

"Errr, Errrrr quick, put me back in Office"

And now I'm in this plush office, tryin' to figure out

Just how I'm gonna get my crazy **** up out of statehouse

Then they walk in and yell, "We are Home"

he says, "The Money’s in the room"

They walk in there with smiles on their faces

Sayin', "Money, we've been missin' you"

he hops all over themAnd says,

"I've surfed and downloaded your speeches"

I'm tellin' you now, this guy's so screwed that he deserves a court martial

Throw him out of the way

And start to snatchin' his medals off

I'm in the Office, like man, what the **** is going on?

You're not gonna believe it

But things get deeper as the story goes on

Next thing you know, a beep comes through on my cell phone

I tried my best to quickly grab the ****er

But from the way they act,

I could tell it was too late

They hop up and said,

"There's a mystery going on And we’re gonna solve it"

And I'm like, "God please, don't let these guys assume this office"

One walks in the bathroom

And looks behind the door

One says, "The Tee Pee is under the Bed
He says, "Bitch, say no more"

He pulls back the shower curtain

While unclasping his belt

Then he walks back to the room

Right now, I'm sweating like hell

Checks under the bed

Then picks up a magazine

He looks at my manifesto

I pull out my Back up

He considers running for Office
He comes up to Campaign

Now he's at the podium

Now he's assuming Office...

The World's A Stage: Miss University

2005-09-25T00:08:00.000+03:00

The Players:Johnny M. , Abedi Nasser Obole
The Guest Stars: Mera,Solo,James

The Plot: Set up a pageant of Mega Proportions,receive acclaim and do it again next year Pageant is to showcase the beauties of all the Universities in Uganda.

The Story Unfolds
From the word go,it seems like a very feasible idea.It has lots going for it.The key factor being the fact that there is actually no Miss Uganda contest this year in which case this is infact ideal...idyllic,you get the picture.The Miss Uganda contest gives ladies the opportunity to come out of hiding and show off what they have.In recent times it has also availed them the opportunity to show what they lack as far as Sense and Sensibility are concerned. Its absence means there ought to be an avenue for the ladies to vent their...well to flaunt what they've got.

Realising that this thing is going to require some sort of skill,the key players bring in Mera. A law Student,she has successfully organised several fundraisers and this should be right up her alley...or at least that's what the key players of this thing (what will later be referred to as a debacle) seem to think.It helps that Mera has a flair for getting things done and has previously shown an amazing ability to get things done.
That said,she is asked to come on board to dispense advice.

Somewhere along the line someone makes it known that there is infact another Inter-University pageant being planned.In their infinite wisdom,the players place Mera on the chopping block without her consent (as is usually the case in such cases) and make it known to the Red Pepper (Uganda's Leading Tabloid,or so it proclaims) that she is organising a pageant.They conveniently leave their names out of this and the story runs.

Mera is understandably pissed and an apology is issued to her by the players in this tale.But its too late,the tabloid has picked up a fascination with Mera and a few days later claims that she is sinking Ugshs.70million into the function.

Mera decides this thing is not really going as it ought to and opts out of the whole thing. Ordinarily people would leap at the opportunity to be linked to so many zeros/commas as far as money is concerned,but the heroine of our tale wasn't keen on this.

There's a snag...
Things take a nasty turn and its beginning to look like the Pageant might not happen.The key reason being the curious absence of money.I use the word curious in the broadest sense and to better understand why it is infact a curious situation,we have to look at...The Background...

The Background we have to look at
In the beginning there was money,and in this money were numerous possibilities.Possibilities such as expensive lunches,loads of airtime and the ability to totally ignore sponsors of the event...

and The Snag goes on...
So there's no money,well there is,but its not enough to actually pull off a beauty contest..or run adverts...or print posters..or buy a text book.Somewhere along the line a mysterious force emerges on the scene and says he will buy the outfit...price tag: $30,000.
Money is a wonderful thing and the players happen to think so too,so they hand over their cheque book and other important documents even before money has changed hands.Such is the faith of these people.

The snag reloaded...
During the course of events (you may recall these events as money not changing hands) the price tag drops Mysteriously(?) to $12,000.It never materialises and its starting to look like this thing just won't happen.

Announcing more special appearances
At this point Solo and James emerge on the scene.Its worth noting that loads of people were sure this thing had potential,these two being part of that generalisation. So they make a few suggestions,but many seem to keep hitting the proverbial wall which is manifested in the person of Johnny M.
Mera is back on board,still as advisor,not quite as person organising the thing.
For the record,advisors do exist in the world outside politics.

I'd like to propose a toast...
A cocktail is organised to help reinforce the public's confidence and also try to convince companies to jump on board and sponsor this thing.Its a brilliant idea whose only setback (initially anyway) is the fact that...Mera's back in the news
Rumour (the guardian of "it") has it that the cocktail achieved its purpose,but the players managed to mess up the whole thing and numerous potential advertisers are lost...

The end is at hand
There is talk of postponing this thing,there isn't enough money to make it happen.or buy a text book..but the players hold on to the belief that massive advertising will make a difference.it probably would if it was free!

This is it...
The show flops...Badly,rumour has it again that the organisers are going to go back to the drawing board and take this from the top.Those in the know,ie,the brilliant ones among us,know that's not happening soon.

Casualties of War...
Mera is the press' darling.the attention she's getting is the kind that would probably inspire a song or Whitney Houston to invite her over to divert the public eye from her.She (Mera,not Whitney) has been portrayed in the press as the organiser of the function which is not just unfair but is a total lie.This owing to the fact that her role was not too different from that of..
Solo who has escaped the press mentions but is owed a reasonable amount of money.A figure that might be overshadowed by that owed to
James.A car of his has been used as collateral behind his back (this mode of operation was seen earlier,so the culprits need no introduction) and he is properly pissed.he won't show it,but it is expected.
Me!!

My heart goes out to those unfairly implicated in this saga..and whoever might have plans of organising a similar function anytime soon...

I gotta warn you,this is about a Kwanjula.

2005-09-12T12:24:00.000+03:00

I figured Kwanjulas were a straightforward affair.You go to some place get fitted into this long dress and then wear the coat and for some reason you don't feel less manly.Actually,on the contrary you feel like the alpha male and later during the course of this thing,you think nothing of the guy doing a little curtsy every five minutes.

As of Saturday,this impression changed.

I did the whole dress thing,"get in touch with your feminine side,whoa!!slow down,that's way too feminine...here,wear this coat over it and no one will ever know"..so I wear the coat and no one ever knows.What someone does though,is ask me to remove the shirt I'm wearing underneath.Not in a kinky sort of way,more in,"Get that ****in' shirt out of there,you look less cultural.What are you trying to do,get us fined?"

I remove the shirt and I think its as it goes over my eyes that I fail to notice the dark clouds gathering overhead.Its a sad day to be the guy removing your shirt in the name of culture...

We jump,actually that's a lie,"I",I jump into this truck thingy that was responsible for transporting among other things,a goat and a cow.Its a terrible combination that.It would probably sell BIG Time in Hollywood,but back here,its downright annoying.

We converge at Shell Bugolobi (look for a Ugandan,they'll draw you a map) for what later becomes a full out briefing.Its also a perfect opportunity for me to switch cars.Please bear in mind that I am not a snob or anything,but there's a way "Smell of Cattle" is not the fragrance I wish to be wearing when we arrive at the in-laws.I make a bee-line for one of the cozy carz and then get stopped.There's a briefing in here and I gotta be a part of it.

In the past I've wanted to develop a deeper understanding of my language.Its incredibly embarassing.I should know this stuff.But lots of times I am angered by some stupid Taxi "conductor" and I can not find the words to actually tell him what I think of him and what suspicions I harbour of his upbringing.With any luck I should be able to find the Luganda equivalent for Baboon and sloth's offspring in the next couple of weeks.Until then,I am stuck with this shrug and the following interpretation of Our Side's negotiator's speech.
***The Negotiator is,on top of being a title of Samuel L. Jackson's flick,the guy that's responsible for getting the girl's parents to say."Take her,make her happy...be in someone's blog"****

This is what I heard our negotiator tell us.Made it seem like some sort of football strategy...
"blah blah do not tug your Kanzu,you will be fined,blah blah blah,and when I clap you clap blah blah blah Ladies,you have to kneel.I should have informed you before you got that expensive looking Busuti (keep that Ugandan nearby,(s)he knows these things,you don't) blah blah blah.Stop tugging at your Kanzu for chrissakes.*punch* blah blah,now we are going to need some volunteers...

I sort of tuned out at this point...I was taken up by the dark clouds and the drizzle.I couldn't understand how I had overlooked that.Well,no matter,our in-laws probably have some sort of shed erected in our honour that's got a little solar something somewhere...

They didn't.Well to be fair they had a tent,but no sun.Midway through the proceedings,it starts to rain. I only mention this because I happened to sit at the edge and I was collecting drops.This in turn had the effect of stretching the function.The negotiators were non-plussed and seemingly wanted to give everyone their money's worth.NOW???of all times?We should have hired a taxi "conductor".

We finally got to the bit where we hand over the gifts. The dude that had ushered us in was like,"relax,we are not selling the girl,we don't fine or anything"...I couldn't find him at that moment otherwise I would have demanded an explanation.The good thing about going and doing the gifts thing is that it gave me a chance to wringe my coat and collect water in a pail...for no reason.

If I'd known where the negotiator/speaker (he is getting monotonous!)was going with his tripe,I would have probably "forgotten" to bring in the beers.Heck we all would.We found out to late that this guy had actually figured that the letters in the names of Beers actually stand for something.No,I take that back,for a lot of things. So for the next Half hour he goes on to tell us that BELL is Beauty Ends Loathing and Lust or some such banter.If he'd gone into Tusker,I'd have quit drinking the damn thing.

We finally got round to the part where we eat and pretend we hold no grudges against the speakers.Particularly hard when you're dripping,but...

After all this stuff we say our goodbyes,a feeling of accomplishment on our side and theirs; Great,Our speaker probably bored them to bits!
and we leave..but not for home,that would be way too convenient.We go to an Irish Pub dressed up in Kanzus.
The good thing about this,the guard can not frisk you.It just ain't natural...

ALONE IN THE DARK

2005-09-01T15:05:00.000+03:00

Yeah,I know the title is something of a big deal.I mean,you look at it and you think,"That's a video game title,isn't it?" or better still,"That's the name of that Christian Slater flick that was incredibly boring and for some reason very few people saw through the facade and went to the cinema in droves and even when they got out they did not warn their pals..."
Its probably both,but it also happens to be where I am right now.
For the past couple of,what,days?weeks?Well for sometime now I have been under the impression that people I interact with at various levels know something I don't.
Seriously,it has probably been happening for a while but I chose not to notice it,'coz that's me.I'm a "choose not to notice it" kind of guy.
So I went for a Kwanjula a while back and suffered some massive food poisoning.You know what that entails so let me spare you the gory details.What I did not know is that I had a headache.
The doctor on the other hand knew this.How this stuff works I have no idea,but she did.Yes,she,we are getting somewhere,more female doctors in the field.So anyway,she asks me what I've got,this while I'm squirming in my seat,grabbing my stomach like someone said he will take it away if i don't hold onto it...

So rather than being cocky,I tell her that "I have the stomach ache from hell and other things..."So she looks at me the way most doctors look at their patients when they are making an assesment..."How long have you had the headache?"

Hang on...Headache?
"No,that was stomach ache,you know,like this thing that I'm holding for dear life...I suspect it might have sumthin' to do with the Kwanjula I attended last night..."
She gives me that look again...
"So you have a stomach ache...and a headache?"
I'm a bit confused by now.When did I get the headache?Why do I have a headache...and what is this headache she is bent on giving me?
"No,I have a stomach ache!I have not had any involvement of any kind with any headaches,lately anyway."
There was some progress at this point because she whipped out her pen and crossed out the headache.I guess I should point out that at this point I was beginnning to doubt this lady's credentials.It didn't help that for a doctor,her handwriting was awfully neat.
"So,have you had anything to eat?It might be food poisoning...did you eat anything last night?"
She had to be kidding me.Who had I been telling about my experience with the whole Kwanjula thing?Okay,I'll play along..
"Well I was at a Kwanjula so the question is,what didn't I eat.."
I half expected her to answer this with,"I don't know,what didn't you eat?"She didn't.
"Yeah,well I suspect you ate something that is now manifesting itself in a nasty case of food poisoning so bad you are forced to hold onto your stomach like someone said that if you didn't they'd come and take it away from you.That and,ofcourse,a headache."
*The phone rings as I'm trying to protest,she answers it and midway through the conversation she realises that she is not alone in the room anymore...Never was actually,so she says bye and gets back to me.*
So have you taken any medicine?Painkillers or something.
To which I reply that I have taken a couple,plus some antibiotics.
She is non-plussed and writes me a prescription comprising Painkillers and...yep,Antibiotics,because,"These ones are more in tune with what you've got.."
I didn't argue.Life's many lessons can be summed up perfectly thus;Never argue with your doctor!
So after writing it out she looks me in the face and asks if there's anything else that's bugging me.Its been an awfully long and stressful session so I tell her.
"Nothing really,but I do feel a headache coming up..."

Then the past couple of days I keep receiving double takes from the guy that I buy my breakfast from every morning. He always asks me if I am really buying what I told him.Always,"You want a HOTDOG?!" or "You want a MEATPIE?!"
I'm sure if I gave him the chance he'd go like..."Are you serious?You have got to be kidding me.Why woul you want that stuff?Dude!!!"

-and That's a wrap-

Here's a Thought

2005-08-21T22:50:00.000+03:00

On the Recent Kyeyo Law

Kyeyo: What Ugandans do abroad in an attempt to make ends meet. Derived from the fact that it also includes sweeping roads with brooms (Byeyo) from time to time. And now as they are making some sort of headway a law is introduced that could very well sweep the smiles off their faces.
A while back Zoe Bakoko Bakoru said something about a Kyeyo law coming into existence. We didn’t think a lot about it.Something was said about the president launching it at Speke Resort. The way this was said implied that something significant was going down. We waited with little more than bated breath. Personally,I could not see how exactly this thing was going to work.
The Visa Refusal letters always have something about seeking recourse to Public Funds.Technically this means that they do not want us to get their money...wait their funds.Its a BACK OFF type arrangement and all of a sudden we are getting a law to streamline the whole employment thing.
The implications?Somehow our government reckons that it will be able to tell the other Governments to recruit our guys.Hang on...What gives?Aren't we taking this whole Live 8 thing way too seriously?
There is simply no way this thing makes sense,from previous experience the Visa guys here make it appear as though we'd have better luck squeezing lemonade from a rock (blood makes me queasy and mis-spell stuff) and all of a sudden we are supposed to believe that we shall stroll into the Visa Office and say "Hi,I'm a Ugandan and I'd like to go over to the UK and seek recourse to the Public Funds you have for so long been protecting..."
The President (also known as Our Glorious Leader by some and The Guy Who Would Have Made More Money If he Was Not serving the Nation by himself) says this is a temporary solution. He reasons that we could make use of the Ugandans working in space stations and stuff abroad.Ofcourse we could.When we are done with drilling for oil in Lake Albert we desperately need Rocket Scientists to come over and lay the blue prints for what it would take to effectively build more castles in the sky.

(This is a bit late,I thought I'd posted it until I mentioned it to someone and they gave me a blank expression...)

The Corny Article

2005-07-22T10:52:00.000+03:00

This one’s no good,move on to the next article.So there I was,standing by the roadside,waiting for a taxi.One drew up shortly and the ‘conductor’ asked me to get on board. I gave the taxi a long hard look and decided against it, there was simply no space.Plus I was getting some nasty looks from the thirty or so passengers that were spilling out of the windows.
“Some people are getting out.” The conductor attempted a pitch.
He didn’t need to tell me this, I could see that for myself and I politely told him so.
Muttering something under his breath about fuel prices, airtime taxes and my apparent snobbish attitude,he left.
Wondering how I was going to get to the city I started to walk.I had absolutely no intention of walking to town,you realize,but I needed to create the illusion that I was making progress in some way.Suddenly,there was a voice,
“Are you going to town?”
I was perplexed.Actually that’s a lie,I was freaked out,so I asked, “Father,is that you?”
A brief pause,and then the voice came back, “Faza? No,boss.Its just me;a boda boda cyclist without a spare helmet and a bad attitude.”
You need to understand that I was pressed for time and was undergoing a serious case of selective hearing.I chose not to hear the bit where he said something about having a bad attitude.
I was not keen on the idea of haggling over fares,so I attempted an alternate conversation…
“Man,these clusters of humps…we keep moving like this and I will not have kids.”
No response.Not even a grunt.All he did was swerve a couple of times to avoid the inconvenience that was the smooth bit of the road.
I tried once more.
“Last night’s weather,awful wasn’t it?It rained cats and dogs…”Then he spoke.
“Shaddup!” the words were spat out with a fair amount of venom.
I thought I’d heard wrong,surely it was the wind playing tricks on my ears.
“I said shut up!You know,as in shut your gob or whatever.Its not an effect of the wind playing around with what I’m saying.Its all me.I’m telling you to shut up!I warned you though,I just happen to have a bad attitude.”
In the ensuing one-sided conversation it emerged that his wife had left him for two guys aptly named Katz and Doug on a rainy night .Her reason being that he had failed to play his part in the Make Babies Promotion.
It was sad really.Surely by now everyone knew that the whole Make Babies thing was a scheme perpetrated by some sinister organization so it could come out and claim that German imported condoms were not doing their work.
“Look man,” he went on, “I realize its not your fault,but you should have seen this coming.”
With that he made a sharp right turn and we ended up in a field of maize that had previously not existed.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked,his eyes suddenly looking red.
Maybe they did look red as I jumped on,but I was way too preoccupied. Excuses aside,I had a nasty feeling I knew where he was taking this. My fears were confirmed.
“I am a bad man.Not like R.Kelly or that Bebe Kool fellow.Cut me,I bleed…”
I had to step in,this was getting inexcusable, he was clearly taking the piss,stealing lines from the Spiderman sequel, “What’s that got to do with anything?”
He hesitated before replying, “I’m just saying,I have achieved Bad Man Status.Your attitude has angered me,so I’m going to make like Red San and Step On It!”.
I was briefly confused, “On what,my attitude?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, have you had a chance to look at where you are?”
I took a long hard look around. I saw a couple of maize stalks lying on the ground.Other than that there was barely anything noticeable. Then it came to me,” Ndi Ku digi!”
“Exactly!So,do you always accept rides from strangers?” He inquired.
“Well,I rarely call them strangers if I have to part with some money.” I pointed out.
I was starting to get scared.Would anyone actually read this without occasionally pausing and wondering where the truth ended and how much of it was bull.
Then he cut into my thoughts.
“That’s actually a valid point.I say,were you done?”
I was a bit confused,“With what?”
“With your thoughts.I have this annoying habit of interrupting people’s thoughts…not that it matters to me anyway.I have a bad attitude and this has gone on long enough.”
“What has?The ride,the utter foolishness of it all?” I asked hopefully.
“That too,but I was talking about something else.Don’t you have a word limit?You probably do.So,if you don’t mind,I will go into monologue mode for the most part.I have issues,you see,big twisted issues. I wasn’t breastfed as a kid ‘coz my mum liked me as a friend…but that’s not it,I am as bad a person as you’ve painted me so far.Sure I’ve dragged you through this field,but I am like any other sane person. I pay my taxes by way of airtime and I most certainly don’t go around wearing banana leaves during Spring in the United Kingdom trying to prove a point.I am,however, a cereal killer!”
What I wanted to know is how I fit into this thing,what I asked instead was, “Is it possible that you have got this serial killing business all wrong?”
“Boss,look around you!We are in a maize field,I have destroyed enough crop and soon as I’m through,I’m going to Burn Dem Down.That makes me a certified Cerial Killer!”
“Or an utter moron,”I opined, “So what do you need me for?” I was getting really impatient and all sorts of asinine thoughts were setting up abode in my head. One of them had me convinced that this is how crop circles were formed…”
“Sorry about this,the whole breaking and entering thing.I need a writer!We cerial killers need publicity.Without it we are inconsequential,useless and as unappealing as feuding artistes.Oh darn…we have come to the end,”
“Of what? This tripe? This nonsense, the banter…”
He cut in for what was to be the last time.
“Of the article.”

A League Of Their Own

2005-07-11T11:44:00.000+03:00

Yesterday I successfully entered the echelons of people that can use the phrase,"I spent my Sunday washing clothes" or its equivalent,"I washed".
I realise this is not an issue,and there's the random possibility that I am actually displaying some spoilt brat tendencies,but I still think its a big deal.It actually helped me open my eyes to a few crucial facts,primarily that my wardrobe comprises a great number of jeans and khakis and that I have generally been malicious with my demands that the house help washes them.
Nonetheless,he has been promising to get the job done.For all of two weeks I have been waiting,watching with considerable despair as my supply of clothing waned.On Saturday he made the same promise and I haughtily replied,"that's what you always say!"
Sure enough,he didn't turn up and that's how I ended up with this proggie thrust upon me.
After the harrowing experience someone commented on how well I had done.Reminded me of those times back in primary school when teachers would pat peeps on the back and say (whilst unwittingly condemning denizens of students to eternal embarassment),"congratulations". In the same breath she also mentioned that the househelp was probably embarassed.
Personally,I doubt that among the thoughts that ping-ponged back and forth in his mind he actually registered,"Oh crap,he actually went and washed his clothes...by himself...How Emnarassing!

Picture Perfect

2005-07-03T15:32:00.000+03:00

I’m, not hating,far from it.I respect the whole concept of photography.Given the right setting I’d pose with Angelina Jolie if Bradd let me.But that’s it.I would not go all out on the whole thing the way many people do.It never ceases to amuse me(yes,I am actually a very to amuse person...which is why Breakfast Shows hold some sort of appeal) the lengths people go through for pictures.
I asked someone what they hoped to achieve from this,whether the answers to life’s greatest mysteries would be revealed within the flash of bright lights or whether she had actually chanced upon the secret to youth.I desperately wanted some sort of “deep” reason that would leave me in a state of awe or at the very least pondering the intricacies of film and the like. She summed it up in just the one word-JUST!
Suffice to say,my afternoon was killed and I consoled myself with some asinine game whose objective had me trying to guess what the next Ebonies play would be called.I didn’t see Obnoxious Abomination coming.It just didn’t make as much sense as the other titles. For the record,you can really find yourself in an Inextricable Dilemma wherein the outcome will without a doubt be an Excruciating Conundrum.The perfect example of such a situation would be sitting through any of their TV series…and I use the word “Series” in the broadest sense of the word.
Don’t Worry,Be Happy
Someone claims that getting your picture taken is some sort of anti-depressant.Apparently if you are feeling low and walk into a studio you will emerge shortly afterwards in such high spirits.Two things clash with this theory.I have never seen anyone smiling in those mugshots the police in “outside countries” take in the movies.Secondly alcohol is reputed to lift spirits faster than photos,seeing as there is no time lag as they “develop” alcohol.
Amnesia
There is simply no other way of putting this.People supposedly take pictures so that they can remember how they looked at some point in their lives.This prompts the question,“Then what?”.How exactly is this going to impact your life or the great hereafter?
Just
You can not “just” take pictures.There has to be some reason,heck throw in some sort of vanity or narcissistic spiel.“I figured I looked incredibly good that day and seeing as I described myself in that chatroom where people go to meet their future spouses as looking drop dead gorgeous,this was ideal…now obba where do I get blue eyes…”
There are a few questions that are exceptions to the “just” excuse.You can answer some questions with the one word.Questions such as,“Why do you say all those nasty things about Jennifer Lopez?”
The issue here is not so much the fact that pictures are taken.People need to make a living,Winnie Munyenga needs stuff to talk about..the issue is the fact that people will actually go to the ATM,withdraw money walk past all these takeaways and airtime joints and get a picture taken…Just for Just!!

Club Hoppers: The Story Of One

2005-07-03T14:43:00.000+03:00

This is one of those articles where I claim the plan was simple,then I back track and you realize I was not very honest the first time round and the plan was nowhere near that.The truth is the night in question was destined to have some harrowing experiences.We’d just left a graduation party and this should have been the climax of the night. Seeing as I have just started writing this its pretty obvious that it wasn’t.
The first stop was Garden City.Somebody had suggested that it was “actually happening” on Saturdays.Somebody lied.I suppose we were to blame.We should have seen it coming.On a very “happening” night the guy at the gate hands you the parking tickets with lots of aggression.Actually if you don’t lower your car’s window in time he’ll probably hook you up with some instant ventilation.This particular night he was simply not “feeling it”.From the way he was handing them out it seemed like he had actually realized that for his 5 years in law school,this was a major setback in the whole “conquer the world plan for global domination” he’d planned.
Even then,we ventured into the great unknown.One of the people I was hanging with actually voiced some concern,“If this place is so happening,why are there very few cars here…did guys get towed?” As is wont to happen,we ignored the voice of reason and made our way to Alley Gators where there was very little going on.And that’s not taking into account the Karaoke.It didn’t matter anyway,we’d actually decided for another venue.Going to The Venue held as much appeal as watching paint dry.
A quick call revealed that the place to be was actually Kamwokya.
We made our way there and someone figured playing pool was not such a bad thing on anight such as this.Fate intervened and somehow Fat Boys,despite having a pool table had registered its highest number of pool players ever.The othe place with a coastal sounding name wasn’t too bad either.It had a bevy of chics clad in brief skirts (which is not entirely a bad thing) and totting Smirnoff Ice like there was some sort of promotion taking place.We didn’t stay for long though. If we had,this piece wouldn’t have anything to do with club hopping would it?
We ended up going to the Rouge,which can best be described as this really cool place with red walls and a higher number of English speaking chics than you’d find in other night spots.The other thing about this place that was really hard to avoid noticing was the music being played.(Would have taken quite a bit of effort not to notice that,really).It was the kind that doesn’t force you to go into hiding because some idiot on the dancefloor is trying to show some chic that Usher got his moves from him.
We still were not pleased with comfortable with this so we hit Club Silk where we met some guy dressed like he’d stepped out of some East Africa TV music video.I wouldn’t say he was wearing too much jewellery but if someone was out to rob him the ideal weapon would have been a magnet.
The night,as has this story,ended with PunchLine.

Seeing Red:A Rouge Story

2005-07-03T13:19:00.000+03:00

The first thing that crept into my mind as I entered the club can not be printed.Not necessarily the first thing when you get down to it,but the first word.It was an exclamation of sorts.Nonetheless,I made my way up the stairs and my vision was accosted by the colour.

I realize at this point you’re looking at this and thinking, “What did he expect?What an idiot?” In my defense,I half expected a few shades of any colour but red,but red is all I got.
In a somewhat unique way,(and I say unique in the broadest sense of the word) the club is pretty roomy.I casually observed a lady nearby doing the splits.

Before you get all high and mighty,ask yourself how exactly this is a bad thing. Seeing as there was sufficient room.she didn’t bother anybody.Plus the Rouge is probably the only club where she could do this.In Silk someone would have tripped over her(and said something tacky to the effect,“I fell for her!” *embarrassed laugh*) and if she’d taken that sort of thing to Ange she would have been trampled under some sort of stampede.
Let’s face it,sometimes Ange tends to get so crowded you spend half the night trying to get in.

Something about the place gave me the impression that I didn’t quite fit in. I can’t put my finger on it really.It might have been the fact that the music could not quite be danced to(someone will probably want to dispute this) or the fact that the smoke coming up from under the dancefloor was very suspect.Given the right amount of smoke you could look out for someone,anyone that you had a grudge with and visited your wrath upon him.

Then again I almost felt the way I would if I entered a nightclub only to find that I was one of 12 Ugandans...no,scratch that,Africans...

This is a good thing,you realize.It means that no matter how badly off you are,you can never be the worst dancer in a place like this….

Such Is Life

2005-06-12T18:41:00.000+03:00

Alright,I've been gone for quite a bit.Been dealing with some major issues,but I'm okay,fine even.Infact I have done some massive soul searching and come up with so many truths and I think I'm gonna wax it all sentimental on y'all.
But first,the advert...

Y'all gotta meet my pal Ernest.He has his own blog,which isn't really saying much coz y'all have them too.But you need to check his out.Its like the illest-realest thing there is.This guy happens to be the reason I write(you know,so guys can go like,"Man,you're as funny as that guy").For real though,you need to see this blog.

And now the mush...

Here is the thing.We all get into relationships (there goes Carlo) and think life is cool. Then some of us,late bloomers if you will, get into these things and get so friggin' excited that we tend to gush and force feed you this stuff...And then there's the insecurities that come along with these things.
Ideally this should be a good thing,not the migraine inducing shit it eventually becomes.On the one hand as a guy you become the Alpha-male and figure you are way too,uhm,manly and you don't know the meaning of emotions and yet after all is said and done you want to reach out and gouge the eyes from any idiot that dares mention your "other's" name. And then there's the paaranoia which is where the chics tend to come in...
See the thing is we realise that we are actually dating some amazing people and that people would have to be downright stupid not to notice. On ocassion this leads us into some massive showing off which brings us the bloody migraines eventually.
This is probably why we tend to get worked up in the long run.We have infact loaded the gun that's going to finish us off and we fail to see that. We start thinking up all sorts of scenarios that eventually throw us into some nasty spells of insomnia...
Okay,so here is the thing,I honestly don't know where I am going with this thing.I think it might have been borne out of the need to give Ernest's blog some mileage (which it dully deserves mind you). and I figured I would go about it by writing an ode to the girl in the life magazine.
Right about now I am waiting for my brother to come on line so we can chat about life and the universe in general. I apologise for making you lot spend such valuable moments of your life online reading this banter.Then again...
You all know me better than that,I don't really feel sorry.Half of you haven't parted with a dime to read through this.And since you have come this far,has anyone noticed that I have written HISTORY...you know,if you read the first letter in each paragraph.No?Man you guys are awful...

Gimme a HI-5...Gimme a Break

2005-05-04T15:49:00.000+03:00

Right so we have this brand new idea right,its called HI 5.Y'all know about it,I know you do because my mailbox is practically bursting with pleas from people begging me to be a part of HI 5 so I can get some ninety sumthin' pals. Seriously now,do I need this? Do I really need more friends?What are you guys getting at?

Who has some terminal disease and is going to need replacing?

So anywho, I opt to play along,let's see how this whole Hi-5 thing plays out,oh Lord,new friends,what an exciting prospect,more birthdays to forget,more names to stuff into my head...(yeah i know,not a mean feat,but regardless)And then here is the twist. After all the wailing and quite frankly scary threats I have been receiving (Yo! Nigga,accept this here request or I'm gonna burst a cap in your ****)...NO bloody testimonials!!

Listen,or read or whatever,I am not saying I am a great guy or anything.I certainly don't help old ladies cross the road or nothing'(Let's be honest,if you pulled that stuff back here you'd be yelled at and get enough sneers and jeers to make a beat-boxing album)..but I know you guys,you lot are wordy.Plus,Carlo attested that she is actually techno-savvy,so...What the heck is the problem? Don't you guys care?What did I do? *sniff,sniff* you guys are bringing back memories of an unhappy childhood....Not mine though,some poor hapless bastard next to me that's sympathising and suggesting i should just stop right about .....

NOW!

Got It...Is this Plagiarism...

2005-04-17T20:35:00.000+03:00

I went for this rally with as much zeal as I could muster on such a hot Sunday afternoon.
See, the thing is, usually, when people tell you to go for “The Sprint”, they make it sound so exciting. Like it’s an event that could only be eclipsed in awesomeness by the abrupt declaration by Joseph Kony that war isn’t really his thing and he’s opted to become a missionary.

What they don’t tell you is that there’s a chance that you might actually derive from it levels of excitement as high as those a child sitting in on a discussion about the downward spiral of the Cuban economy. It started simply enough — long journey to Garuga with the adrenaline levels moving at a speed surpassed only by snails racing through mud on a hot day. The guys I was travelling with were great company though. Made the journey worth it, actually.

You have to understand that I am not a sports scribe, so the last thing on my mind was whether Emma Kato’s new vehicle could actually round a bend without losing any fuel in its tank. I was out there for the thrill of… actually in retrospect, I can’t say I had a clearly laid out plan. That probably means I shouldn’t belly-ache about the presence of Uganda’s own Amarula Family (sorry Uganda, such stuff shouldn’t keep happening to you). There was some spiel about someone willing to reward with sh5,000, anyone that found his sh20,000. It was actually quite funny. Seriously, it’s been funny since its inception in the ‘80s.

Moving on, there were a couple of food stands. The most impressive thing here were the chips. They actually looked palatable. Ordinarily, such places inspire the notion that fries found there will have been carved from a tough-as-nails spud that will defend this reputation from inside your stomach and emerge victorious elsewhere.

Speaking of which, there were actually some loos. It’s not that I went looking for them as such, but when people emerge from bushes zipping up their pants and smoothing out their skirts, one can’t help but figure where you are supposed to go when you need to go about your business.

At this point you’re probably wondering whether I am actually going to subject you to a long-winded piece with no mention of skimpily clad vixens that were out to show off as much flesh as they could whilst acting surprised that guys ACTUALLY DO find this appealing.
Well, sadly yes, there were none of those, and if they were there then they did a pretty good job hiding.

There were, however, a number of Fashion police cases and a chick with hips huge enough to disqualify her from some competition involving faces.

And there was the lake a short distance away, with people swimming and a kid that figured swimming in the nude was actually the way it was meant to be done. Speaking of lakes, I half expected to see some guy emerge with a sack of cash flung over his shoulder and disappearing in the crowd. I might have gotten there late.

Then there were the cars. It’s been a week since the event, I honestly doubt there’s anything that I could say that hasn’t been said yet. Well, they were fast, and they looked like cars that were being used to wreak havoc. You know what? This isn’t really moving in the direction you would want it to.

Not very unlike the performance of the make-shift band that was set up to actually draw our attention away from the naked swimmer or the people oblivious to the importance of keeping the environment clean.

Right, back to the band.

Initially it was churning out some good stuff, no lie! The songs actually drew a crowd of people who were either drunk from the cheap brew that was lurking in the depths of gourds and calabashes or heading towards drunken stupor. Then suddenly without warning, they started doing adverts for Jomayi something or other, the guys who made the rally possible, or the music that was keeping people away from the rally and the fast cars wreaking havoc. Looking past that, it was pretty cool as far as rallies go.

Granted I figured they should start being picky about who should attend these things (the way that bouncer at Silk pulls it off).

By the end of the feat everyone had accumulated enough dust to start a low-scale farm — on their bodies!

Can We Please Have A Moment Of Silence

2005-04-16T23:47:00.000+03:00

I hate silence,really I do.Its not like I have some incredibly "deep" reason behind it,like It awakens all sorts of emotions within...like fear or something. I just can't stand it...I'm sitting here,right?bored as heck coz I have some design work to pull off and I can't come up with anything.Its the silence...it sucks a**e!!
My cousin isn't helping much either.I think he knows how much this sucks.Just sitting there,playing around with his laptop!!Ugh!
I haven't done anything significant lately,well,not counting taking Carlo's diss in my stride.I reckon I'll stop here and see if I can lift my article off the newspaper's website...

Here We Go Again

2005-04-10T21:31:00.000+03:00

Its gotten such that I always want to come up with some catchy title for my blogs.I actually thought anatomy of a strike was brilliant,worthy of a Pulitzer even(assuming Pulitzer's were awarded on the basis of titles)..then I went to Google and there were about 500 Anatomies.Its pretty sad really.I can not lay claim to having the only anatomy,coz someone in Portland also thought that would be a cool title for her dissertation.

I went for a rally today.I wasn't like,really psyched for the thing,no lie.I just thought that after all the stories it would be really neat if i actually went and saw these things for myself.I would love to delve into the minutest of details,but that sort of thing is for my article this Sunday,so...

Beware The Man With The Pen

2005-04-10T11:41:00.000+03:00

Long title,isn't?Well,there's a good reason behind this...I went to this grad. party over the weekend,my cousin's actually.It was neat and if I could do it all over again...I pro'lly wouldn't...I was pining for the greater part of it.Thinking lots about Vee..Oh crap!I think i just lost Carlo...Oh well,never mind,you're still here.
So after the party I went to the nightclub,because that's just the sort of thing you do when you've gone for a graduation party and all...It was pretty empty (corporate night,which doesn't make sense,why would any corporate type be in a nightclub??) so I moved around a bit,tryina find people that knew me,then I was spotted.I went said hi to a pal who introduced me to his pal...THE MAN WITH THE PEN!!
See,from the offset he looked like the kind of bear-sized person that people tend to fear.Then he asked me what I wanted to drink...There was a debate over Tusker and Castle lagers,but he gave in and got me a Tusker..then he whipped it out (I love where you pervs. are taking this...)he pulled his pen out of his shirt pocket and signed for the drinks...I should have known better than to stay here at that point,Have we not been told similar stories?me neither!
So that was it,throughout the night i kept getting hit with drinks from every which way...and then in an effort to show that we were pals and all,he would do this whole hug thing that knocked everything but the beer out of me....scary stuff this.
By the time the night had ended I was spending most of my time in hiding.I know,its some crazy stuff,Who runs away from free drinks?well,after about 4 drinks you would never be caught drinking,you would to...to the safety of your thoughts.Thoughts of she,and how it should be..well what do you know,Carlo made it this far...

To Blog Or Not To Blog...

2005-04-05T12:05:00.000+03:00

So I wake up this mornin' right?With my head in the clouds because,as you can imagine its the sort of thing you do when you are in love. The other thing you do is go all out and declare your feelings for this special person to all and sundry (sort of saying,"leave me the heck alone).Back in the day,it used to be such that you would resort to using the radio and send dedications.It was lame and tawdry but it was expected.Now the stakes are raised and the whole Declaration thing has been taken to the net.Think of it as erecting a shrine of some sort for the person you are going to spend your life with on the World Wide Web.
Its pretty nifty and is made THAT much better when both of you actually have the site thing down to a science.No,wait there's nothing to it.Blogs have come and made it THAT much easier.
So you go forth and declare your undying love...your way of telling the world (your friends actually,you have no time to go and tell the world you're in love) that this is the person responsible for your decreased levels of hanging out with thema nd you don't care what they think...In my case its true,I am madly in love with my girlfriend the expanse of sea or land and what not between us is a bitch but we are willing to make this work....But as was the question with the whole radio dedication thing one can't help but wonder...do we really have to go and force this stuff in your face...

And then there was silence

2005-04-03T10:50:00.000+03:00

The Pope is dead...Its a sad day worldwide. Catholics have been holding vigil.The news channels were filled with profiles. My mum came over and told us...actually we met in the corridor cuz i was going over to tell her (not really the bearer of Bad News,but...) and she told me. Its pretty depressing. We all know where this is going,media frenzy! all these newspapers will come out and proclaim that he was in uganda at some point and that he said he loved the country. We all do the suck up thing pretty well,don't we. Me?I was up waiting to talk to my sweetheart...

Its Easter...

2005-03-27T14:38:00.000+03:00

Happy Easter all...This would be a great time to remember all the great stuff our saviour has done for us...Especially the Get-Out-Of-Hell-Free card...which is pro'lly why we have this lovely holiday to begin with...
Ofcourse some sickening debate will ensue over whether I went to church,so I'm not going to front...No I didn't..I wanted to...but I kinda got sidetracked.I'm going to make a major effort to.The only Hitch(incidentally I have seen the movie by the same name) I suppose is....wait,there really isn't any Hitch,I just wanted to introduce the fact that I had infact watched the said movie..
So people,let's do church wit renewed zeal,with passion and fervour and thank the Lord God almighty for all the good things he has done for all the great people he has blessed us with...I don't know about you guys but,that category expands to include my sweetheart...y'all get your own...

This Is The Story Of A Girl

2005-03-13T03:02:00.000+03:00

Yes,I do realise that this borders on the kind of thing that will have me get sued for violating some law or the other against posting song titles in my Blog.But seriously,this is in fact the story of a girl...

I am the proud second half in a relationship.How proud you ask?Well, for one thing I am putting this up for all and sundry to read.I realise I may suffer the wrath of some you guys that will actually ask me whether I think you have never been in love...you probably have,you just didn't run to the net and proclaim,I'm Crazy About You Virginia...

But I am a very fair person,I realise you get all sorts of sentimental lines and emotional outpourings from Raymond's Blog,the last thing you want is me to go on an all-out mush-fest over the most incredible person I know..(Don't throw the Bible at me and start quoting verses..I said person...God is on another level...)

That said,I'm happy and there's a certain level of trust and hope that's been restored in humanity.Life is infact not such a bad place to be while you wait for things to smooth over,and its made all the more worthwhile because of the great people you meet and know almost instinctively that you want to spend the rest of your life with...and when you realise that this is true you can't help but delve into this...THE STORY OF A GIRL.

Here's To You

2005-03-12T14:21:00.000+03:00

My Net's acting up again.The last time something like that happened I typed anatomy of a strike...(its down there somewhere)."Oh Crap" I'm sure someone has muttered...actually knowing you lot,its not under your breath.You don't mince words...we need guys like you telling Bush to **Content Removed By Blog Support**

Anywho,it certainly feels good to be back,I suppose the only thing that totally tops that is the fact that I am officially the second party in a relationship...I love how these things work out.Its amazing...and its also the kind of thing that would appear on Raymond's blog...so none of that overly sentimental stuff here. Yes I am truly madly deeply in love and I am given to quoting lines from Boyz II Men tracks without really thinking about it,but that's pretty much it. I would have to pay Raymond for biting his style a'la Blog Romance...

In an entirely different twist,I was planning to title this post Couple that Rocks,then I realised I would go with Raymond and Carlo for pulling a Bush-Blair attack on my blog..and then all sorts of questions would spring forth,"why wasn't I there?"..and I can no longer use the excuse,"I didn't think you used the net"...the last time I did that someone went ballistic (look everybody,big words!)...plus I also realised I was hoping to use it as leverage or sumthin' so that the alliance that is Dee-Jay would bribe me to get featured...

I'm sorry these things stretch out so,I really am.I'm a lamer and I talk too much..but you know what?One of these days,you will figure I'm going on a rant and everything will be moving on great and out of nowhere,when you least expect it,I'll just...........

STOP.

That's Reality....NOT!!

2005-01-23T03:57:00.000+03:00

Got Tricked Into Doing This
Its evident the TV execs. We have so long expected to give us great shows have gone on leave. Either that or they have genuinely run out of ideas. Whatever the case, they have set off a nasty precedent; REALITY SHOWS!! The sad fact is that they just can’t work here in Uganda even if we so badly wanted them to.
Take Punk’d for instance. It’s a sort of Candid Camera© affair wherein Celebrities have all sorts of practical jokes played on them…usually testing their breaking point. This show just can’t work here because, on top of having no celebrities, the pseudo-celebrities just don’t have the sort of patience that would delay a commercial break. The average kind would yell obscenities, jump onto a table get a good view of the onlookers and yell some stuff about people’s parents. The other sort will simply force a grin and pretend that his/her life is always like this.
Then we have newlyweds…wherein we have Jessica Simpson and Nick something being followed around full time. I mean, honestly, who exactly would be interested in such mindless scrutiny of how celebrities live. We already have “as-if” (that would be one of the phrases David Tumusiime is looking out for) tabloids littering the side walks, the last thing we need is to watch another celebrity trying his hand at Pidgin English.
Of course there is the option of watching “Life in Customer Service”. This would probably be worth the watch. For one thing we get to see who the droning voice at the other end of the line belongs to, or who gives asinine answers to the effect, “Oh No! seriously?...” plus we get to kick them out of our misery! Of course on occasion we may develop a soft spot for the hardworking ladies, but either way I think I’ll float this to, I don’t know, UTV when (or if) they get privatised. And it has continuity value, the first time round we can focus on UEDCL, then in the next season we tackle mobile phone companies.
We all know that The Swan wouldn’t work. Its that show where these women that are convinced they are, well, ugly, get makeovers and then stand to win loads of money. It just can’t work because most of the women here that would be ideal for the show are under the impression that they have found the perfect self esteem enhancers; marinating in cheap perfume and undergoing self induced epidermal chromatography (bleaching).
Of course at this point a fair share of eyebrows is raised in concern. The ardent reader is wondering, “Did he actually miss Big Brother? Or Popstars…or The East African TV auditions?”… the answer, NO! I didn’t! What I was trying is to put into practice the underlying premise for “Faking It”. I was trying to escape my extremely happening life where I am not bothered by the apparent lack of good programming on the Television. I was trying to pull the wool over your eyes, but you caught me. And you know why? Because the reality is, these shows are so shallow and predictable we tend to know where they are heading way before the characters do.

Its a New Year

2005-01-08T15:02:00.000+03:00

Got Tricked Into Doing This
First off,Happy New year,Its amazing we have come this far...it kind of screws up the movie industry 'coz now they can't quite pull sci-fi banter that begins with its the year 2006. The sad fact is, we are so not buying that anymore.Granted they may still get us to go all "ooh" and "ahh" but they'll have to work harder at it.
The future is here which means we are going to be hit with even more futuristic crap and Matrix Rip-Offs...
In another development,I'm going to start "yapping" about video games 'coz they are a passion of sorts...
And if you've read this far...DAMN!!I'm impressed,I'm having a hard time staying up to type this...