DRENCHED........

I am drenched as I write this. The rain was merciless in soaking me despite my dressing to the Nines. Clad in a slim Necktie, White shirt with black stripes, a nice pair of shoes, two pairs of hankies and an expensive wallet with hardly enough money to buy it in it.

That may not have been me, but i raced almost like that.

I dedicate this to my mother who celebrates her birthday today, and loves a good story which involves real events and real people… by real people I mean me.

Dear mother,

I had to walk in the rain today because my car was still in the future. And one gentleman had categorically told me that only the rich could move in the rain. I chose to defy his assertion by resolutely walking in this rain. I knew I had a vehicle but,

That is the car am talking about.

 like I said it was still in the future. As I strode on the road between ministry of Education and he parliament soveniour shop. The rain was momentary, spitting out in different intervals, with some having nothing at all. Now, one  old man saw me when they beating of the rain had intensified, he shouted while running beyond me ‘Naye eeno enkuubba ejjogga’…… meaning that indeed this rain can undermine… and I agreed. Because this was real. Despite my smart attire, I was being drenched. Now as this rain kept falling, I thought so much of the people who stayed in Bwaise, and had to go back home to floating beds.

I think you see the Beds Floating..........

So I am chauffeured to my destination in a van with white and blue linings on its side…. Isn’t that wealth?? All I had to do was sit tight and wait to reach my destination. Many of you would ordinarily call it a taxi, but this was ‘my ride’ for the few minutes I sat there in. as we by passed the Warid Clock Tower; water was practically flooded on the road. I thought we were in India. Too bad I did not have a smart phone to be able to take the picture for you to have a raw perspective of what exactly was going on. So the best I can do is use Google to get related pictures… am sure you will get the message.  I saw a lady holding herself tight, I think to give the mind an illusion of warmth, and yet I realised that it was not working because of the fact that she wore really short skirts, and am sure the cold reached the marrow…. Unfortunately she was not the kind of woman I would run to give a warming hug, because in my head she looked like those women that you used to warn me about, mother…….here they are called the  ‘akaboozzis’. And my teacher of Literature called them Strumpets.  As soon as I dismounted my private ride, the rain descended on me again….

Now like earlier stated, I kind of studied in a school where the norm was not to run in the rain, and so far I had kept that code. But here is the thing, for those of you who think that Kiprotich is the fastest Ugandan, and then you are wrong. Men raced in this rain, in suits, and a look that inspired only laughter. I kept my hankie on my face, and it is only  fair to say that it was not chocolate brown, because I am a clean guy, and endeavour to shower twice………

You know how we tilt our heads in the rain, make a rare face , and place our teeth out, as though it would reduce the intensity or the level of Wetness, I took time to stand in the rain, stare, and just laugh at what I saw. After all I was already drenched to the inner garments that did not see the sun often.

Yeah....Only the Rich Enjoy the rains......

Do not Laugh....Am Just Saying

DON’T LAUGH…. AM JUST SAYING……….Now it is rare that I care about what surrounds me, but today I think it was a different situation all together. First I encounter one of these girls uprooted from the village and retaining all the norms that are a thing of comedy of late. As she dismounted a taxi, she had the courtesy of saying ‘Neyanzzizza ssebo’  Meaning Thank You sir and the man laughed so heartily….that all the people in the taxi got into a frenzy of argument and laughter.
A few minutes later, we stop and a passenger spots us. Now this guy races to the taxi, like a fast entrance could be able to enable him reach faster to his destination.  How interesting, because we sat for a painful five more minutes, and I couldn’t help the devilishly cute smile that creased my face.

 

Now the other scenario arose from this campaser, like they like to be called, coz the name is still fresh to them and it quite means a lot.   Now everyone has their idea of swag. This guy, what he lacked in money and style he made up for in an endowment in the lower region… how did he manifest this???? His walk/ gait and swagger was characterised by aside to side sway that showed off or rather pronounced his one endowment. The waist was to be edged forward slightly, and at first glance you would think that he is sick, but it was his swag….There  is this new excitement that is surrounding reporting to campus, especially in MUBS. Ok,personally I think that the Girls are younger, but the boys are much older…. Maybe this female emancipation thing has led to boys being left out. The Boys seem bigger in size. I think they started school late after their parents questioning the relevance of sending them to school after seeing the many ‘Bbanyuuwi b’enjagga’ loosely translated as drinkers of weed/drugs. Had I been a parent, I would have done the same………….

Then when I got back to work, one of the people I work with was at the verge of buying a car…it was a yellow starlet…can you believe?? Now it is bad enough that he is buying a starlet. But the colour yellow????? Really??? You know, one of the females I got to know on Facebook looked good in pictures. But upon meeting her, she had a behind like that of a Vitz….now a starlet’s behind was Flatter than that!!!!! Pardon me if you drive either of the cars, but I guess we are entitled to our different opinions…. And you know the colour yellow on a guy is Kind of Gay……right? Am glad you agree.I was just saying…………………. Dont Kill Me I am already dead... and with love Like Cupid.......

MUBS STRATEGY....

Welcome to MUBS pals. This is a place many of you have dreamed of for your lives, and as you have noticed, the rumour about it being hideously expensive is true. So true that most of you wish that you were in MUK….dining in Katanga, and wining in Wandegeya, with desert in Kikonyi. Sorry you are here now.

On the brighter side though, there is a place in MUBS too that could cover all your appetite needs without having to injure your pocket so bad……I will tell you all the details that there are to know about this place.

This is an article about a place; it examines the demographic, geographic, and moral implications of this place. There are certain facts that are definitive about certain places, and they have been like that for quite a while. This place fails to only defy one odd…which actually is a stereotypical assertion, that of the men having the ability to consume more food than the women. I will begin with the fact that this place is owned by a lady who has apparently been to Mecca, and so she becomes a Hajjat. And from her name was born the Taxonomy or name of this place. It is now known as Hajjat’s.

As you have guessed, it indeed is an eating place. And yes, rice too is served in this place. Well, contrary to the ownership, this place harbours more males than females, and they are usually the hungry kind, correction, those dedicated to the calling of food consumption. I am a lean male being, and my rate of food consumption can arguably be compared to that of a thirteen year old girl, although I am seven years older, or thereabout.

Now, what are the facts??

·        The food served can be too heavy for a man my size to carry……True

·        Water is given as an after sales and before sales service….True

·        Payment is at the counter after consumption and discounts are allowed, including eating on credit for those who are  loyal enough………….True

·        It is for a particular class of students……False. It’s for all, poor, rich, diving, walking……allllllllll…..except some females…..

·        This place is as hot as an oven in the seasons of the sun……Arguable… coz the food too emits its heat on the eater……..

My Experience:

Now my first encounter and intercourse with this place was on a hot Thursdays afternoon, after a heated academic discussion with few females who contributed hardly. It was thus kind to say that I was indeed hungry, and angry.  Now, the person that too me thee…. Name withheld, was one accustomed to the habits of the place and as I had previously mentioned, I find really bizarre.

Like a weevil, he dug into the food resolutely, and steadily nibbled his way to a spotless plate.

Me on the other hand, after a couple of fork fulls, I was too satisfied, and yet food  was too much on my plate, and it mocked me for my inability to finish it…..the same was done to me by my friend….

The kind of talk that characterises this place ranges from politics to religion, soccer, etc etc etc

WHAT KEPT ME GOING TO THIS PLACE??

Now this is mathematical, so be keen.

Ordinarily, I would spend 6000 to 7000 on food for a day, and about 2000 on water to drink, and 500 on PK(dudes, your breath matters.) if you did the math, you would realise that in a week of 7 days, I would use about 65500shillings just to nourish needs to keep me alive. What do you think would be left for happening and girls then????? NOTHING!!!!! DAMN!!!

Now with the discovery of Hajjat, look at my new expenditure…..food a day was 2500, and water was free…PK was constant.. So for 5 days I would spend 15,000shillings!!!Unbelievable…. food was 2500 only coz all I needed from Hajjat was ONE MEAL FOR TWO TO THREE DAYS, AND I STILL FELT SATSIFIED!!!!!!! That left me with about 50,000 at my disposal…. I DON’T EXPECT YOU TO ASK HOW I GET THE MANY GIRLS YET MUBS HAS MONEY ATTRACTING FEMALES.

So when my MUK buddies envy me, I smile, and tell them tales of how much game I possess. The truth is a little secret that I am not willing to share.

WELCOME TO MUBS BOYS……YOU CAN CALL ME FOR MORE TIPS. THIS TIME I WILL GIVE YOU LEGIT ONES………..

CHASING BUTTERFLIES.

CHASING BUTTERFLIES…. When I was younger, I raced after butterflies, and hardly caught any. The simplicity with which they tossed, twisted, and danced through the air was always an awe inspiring sight. Despite this simplicity, they always evaded me, and yet the grace and pace of their slither never changed.The older I grew; I learned the origin and destination of these creatures that seemed to have a sempiternal beauty. However, despite that new found prejudice, I still had so much that I had to eventually learn from these memories. And I did not give up.In life, we have ambitions that we tend to chase. They are attainable, and easy to catch if we persist with the struggle despite the evident circumstances.  The world will instil lots of experiences and tales that will be a foundation in frustrating your efforts to catch this ‘butterfly’ of your dream. True that life is not smooth, and dreams may ignore the worst attached to them, but The best thing ,therefore, is to catch it in its beauty, and have it while it can last.When I persisted, I remember having been able to catch some butterflies, but let them go to feel that gratification that comes with giving freedom to a creature. I would then watch it dance, sidestep invisible things, and linger for a while, until eventually it disappeared and I saw it no more. Whether or not someone else caught it or not did not matter to me. I knew that it had a short gestation, and had to change eventually.Some dreams have to be let to go, especially if we realise that they will not last or be fruitful in the long run. Others may catch them, but one thing for sure is that all ambitions have a short gestation, whether or not attained, and should be harnessed before they transform to frustration, fear, regret, for they are born from despair, motivation, and the environment.I live seeking to harness the moment, and savour it while it lasts. It’s the best thing to do.  God bless you.

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MANDELA

SOMETIMES, THE BEST THINGS TO SAY ARE TO SAY NOTHING AT ALL....

FOR ALL THOSE WITH A LOVE, REVERENCE, RESPECT, AND CANT FIND THE WORDS APPROPRIATE ENOUGH TO EXPRESS SUCH SENTIMENT, JOIN ME IN SAYING:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MANDELA.

MANDELA ALWAYS ALIVE.

MANDELA LIVES ON….ALWAYS WILL

Now am writing this when the whole world is worried about whether or not Nelson Mandela will make it out of hospital this time round since he has been ill for a  while. Actually, several news agencies have pronounced him dead, while others have news that his condition is critical but stable. So I have chosen to stay off Facebook, twitter, television, internet and all media that could put me on edge about this Great Man.

Nelson has been a Mentor to me and I don’t appreciate  the portrayal of him being dead one minute, and alive the next minute, more like that of the frog king in the animation Shreck.

I have known him to withstand harsh conditions  like the many years in jail as you all know, and on several occassions has he been ill and in hospital and yet survived. But am not writing about that which all or most know, though.

It’s rare that a living hero treads the earth in our midst, and I really hope he remains so for a little longer. So I ask the Media to back off and let the man be, unless the doctors communicate otherwise!!!!!! Even upon his death, I am sure that his place in the abode of the likes of Mahatma Ghandi, Mao Zedong, Julius Nyerere, and others in that trade is clearly set. He will still be a hero, a much bigger hero actually.

Many of the Leaders who fight to liberate a nation from an abyss of oppression of sorts tend to want to 'own' their nations. They cling unto power; grow greater and meaner ;until that which they fought for is lost somehow in the cloud of the new ways they adopt. They stay till revolution takes them out, death, and what they fought for is watered down and their own supporters start to view them in a despicable, un-trusting, condescending perspective. They forget the merits their presidents formerly fought for, for reasons already stated….I could mention many I think are in these brackets, but I will not taint my article with their names, even for the local ones.

Mandela however, after gaining the freedom from apartheid, he let the people enjoy it,  retired, and took the role of reference, reverence, authority and respect that many in the previous brackets will never enjoy. It is said that every country in the world has something named after this man. Now isn't that great?? Such authority, power, influence, worldwide!!!!!!! I wouldn't question that.

Now his life has always justified my coinage of ‘Breaking out of the cage of commons’. He broke out of that cage of greed, blind ambition, extortion, selfishness that surrounds many currently. And the purpose in his battles was not lost.

I am sure everyone has their own story to tell about the Great Mandela, so I will not say any more. I trust that most accounts of this man are very true.(and yes, he calls the queen of England by her maiden name, and can get an American president out of  a serious meeting for over 30 minutes just to listen to him) not to dilute my aim or lose purpose in my cause, I will end here. In short, I will always seek to break out of the cage of commons like the one man I look up to Mandela.

If by the time you read this he is gone, I say RIP, and I will always live to cherish His memory. If not, I say KUDOS MADIBA, YOU ARE ALWAYS A FIGHTER…GOD BLESS NELSON MANDELA.

Life is short… cliché indeed this expression is,

But the truth there in is too true

For futile yours will be when nothing is left to remind

Those later living of how useful you spent the short time,

Kids you may have yet, but the worst critics they are

Looking to you and finding no mentor-ship to emulate,

Yet consoling themselves in the fact that you are their parent.

That I find harsh and bitter for a soul that seeks rest

My mark I prepare differently

Even with no kids,

 many a kid will want to be like me

Even yours, if yours are but only the procreation mark…

Short and well lived it should be

So that they miss you even when they knew you not

Or were born ten decades into your grave..

From your pot let them sip. Mark the world with you stain

One customized to betray your trade…..

An adorable and beautifying one it should be...

                                                                                                

Uganda Martyrs.

The Uganda martyrs

A humble people; Charles Lwanga and companions,

Driven by a relentless conviction,

Call it naive following or blind faith,

They set an invaluable example of faith..

Their heroic sacrifice, for an ideal only but new to them,

Neither fire, spittle, ostracism nor death scaring them;

Withstanding Threat and persecution…

Holding on to the heavenly reward,

Being killed; by fire and beating; and not flinching,

They exemplified virtue,

Purity in simplicity; love; the ultimate sacrifice

Now we celebrate their victory,

The fruits of their foresight…

We bask under their umbrella sanctity,

They shade graces upon us,

Make worthwhile our spiritual journey

And our convictions they strengthen.

May we lead in their example,

Be purified and purged in our flaws

So that we too can be worthy of the Ultimate kingdom.

Happy martyrs day.