Why oh Why

Did life have to go and be so unfair to me. I used to sit under the sun day dreaming about this lot. Spent hours on end dancing the internet admiring their faces and how God had crafted them. I drew castles time and time again having tiny organism in between. Then someone woke me up and told me they dont play in my league. Really how can a person be so cruel as to turn my life backwards. Now all I can do is just sit there wallowing in self pity. (B2B, 27th, eddsla I still gat you to ogle. No worries. Yet)

Look at this Mr Jay Manuel over here doing his make up the perfect way I only dream of. This is no cheap piece of eye candy I am telling you. But I cant eat it, over to you gayuganda.

Or the dude that follows here. Story goes that I used to wake up at 4a.m(Truedat)  in the morning just to watch his 360 show. If only he had told me to make a 360 off his show back into my fantasy world and waste my energy on aaammm, (cheri help me here). He could have writen me an emaill and told me to go back to sleep at 4.01a.m. All that wasted sleep, but he is a good reporter anyway.

Then this one, I have masturbated on him once maybe twice I dont know, if you like to believe me. But I am sure you you and yes you Tandra plus antipop also agree that he is sex on legs. For gay Uganda

I was hooked onto him when I was still discovering the akward feeling between there. Then he came out of the closet and broke my heart never to listen to This I promise you ever again.  He promised but he went and unleashed this dude on me

And seriously what does this body have that I dont? Yeah thats a silly one, i know. This is the guy who rocks Lance’s boutt

Oh this dude really. At least this one would look my way. But Wapi this bird dont fly my way apparently. Look at his straight perm

Nough said. God knows why he did what he did. Hope I will stop day dreaming right about now.

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Where was the Party at?

Blogger where did you spend the night? I am talking about you. Yes you who was wearing the same top/shirt/T-Shirt/blouse this morning. I am talking about you who was standing infront of MTN/Barclays/Centenury/Celtel this morning. Haha. I saw you

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This was my day, how was yours?

Inspired by Antipop and Little Jars. Dedicated to Cheribell

It was promising to be a beautiful day, the rays of the sun beautifully bounced off the mist in the valley below. The trees on the other side of the hill awoke with the sun, shaking off the long night’s dew. I was taking it easy in my bed while mum was having a heart attack. I was waking up when I was supposed to be dressed she lamented. I was dragging to the shower when I was supposed to be going down hill. But it was a beautiful day, for her more than for me and she couldn’t afford to spoil it. So she begged and begged me to ‘get serious’.

In a long time my uncle was handsomely nice to me and maybe that is why I wasn’t in a rush to dress up for my graduation, I was still ravelling in that glory of having my uncle dot on me. I already had the degree anyway so really it’s not like they would take it away from me if I arrived late, no.

But it was mum’s biggest day, her eldest child was graduating, the one she went through thick and thin to put through school. The stupid big headed chap who got suspended at every school she went to.
The one who broke her heart every time she was called at school. Either she didn’t want to do housework, dodged a test or had a boyfriend who she share a desk with. Everyone knew my mum that one. The nice woman who baked extra cake for the kids at school. The same woman who struggled to put her stubborn child through school. Today she was as happy as I had never seen her. Not even on that day when she learnt I had earned a university scholarship, no. Today she was extra happy, those beatings had paid off. And I didn’t hate her anymore. But I didn’t want to spoil it for her so I pretended to rush through dress up.

But I wasn’t amused still because in the heat of the excitement, my uncle had suggested that I invite my dad
Me: For what? Why don’t you come with me?
He: No that is not how its done just invite him it doesn’t matter anymore.
Me: No, I wont I will go with mummy alone
But he called him anyway. And the shameless man didn’t turn down the invitation. He didn’t even hesitate to say yes, in fact he jumped at the opportunity. The opportunity of enjoying respect he hadn’t earned. Of having his first graduate child. (I am third in his line, well at least that is what I think.)

Anyway so this morning I wished we delayed a bit so he waits and waits till he vamooses off to somewhere I don’t care. I wanted him to go back wherever he was all those years of my school. But this is not how its done, apparently it’s a rule in the book. I haven’t yet read that book though.

First forward, I am at Kampala road, forgot to wear knickers. Yeah Antipop, no knickers. Anyway the whatshisname is no where to be seen. His phone is off, his son don’t know where he is. We have to wait a little while longer and meanwhile I was missing the show. But mum was missing it even more.

We were waiting for the guy who wasn’t supposed to be involved from the beginning. He was milking the last bit of joy out of it. But mummy being mummy insisted that we wait and suddenly there he was limping towards us.

That’s how he ended up rejoicing with all those parents at freedom square. All the fathers who had been man enough to stand up to the challenge and take care of their kids, he was equal with them in the eyes of society today. They were thanking him and shaking his hand, not my mum. He even gladly posed for a family photo op and paid for the photo. Can you imagine! He paid for that photo, I couldn’t believe it. Today he had money and told us not to worry he would take care of it. A photo! It cost how much? 5000?

I wanted to shout to people’s faces that “This is the person who deserves all those praises not that one. But society was watching.

I promised myself I would have the last laugh much later. I gathered the lines, wrote an imaginary speech, edited it, erased, wrote another with Mummy all over it, punctuated it with the part where I could cry (Everyone does that at least all the girls) built castles in the sky. Saw myself giving my speech, thanking everyone except my dad. Yeah the guy whose village I have never been to.

I couldn’t wait for that family dinner to come. It was 1p.m when I wished it was 3p.m. Why was time dragging its feet today? Maybe my mum wanted it to last forever. But I knew good things happen to those who wait. So I waited, he had to go see a friend he said and later come for the dinner. I made him promise he would be there. He did. Said he would call me.

He never called. Never came, we waited, uncle said we wait some more so we did. But we had to start. My turn at the front was coming, I couldn’t see him limping towards us. No he is not lame so wipe that sorry look off your face. Anyway I dialled his number. The lady on the other end of the line told me “The number you have called is not available at the moment please try again later.”

I tried later, one, two, nine, eleven times she told me the same thing. I sent his number to the dustbin as edited my speech again.

In the end I left everyone laughing, my mum was laughing she had tears in her eyes, the ones that refused to come in mine. She laughed and told me to get serious stop joking. I didn’t. This was no time to talk about how poor she was and how she struggled to put me through school, everyone knew that story anyway. I didn’t want my boss to hear it to anyway.

My uncle, OH MY GOD, my tough talking uncle, the one we call iron man, Hajji Busungu, was laughing. I asked him what was funny but he laughed on. Then I realised it didn’t matter anymore. I had everyone that I needed here.

By the way this is wat I do for a leaving  now. Bwaise Kawempe Maganjo Kagoma, Seeeeee! Not only am I the chic-onductor in the photo, I also know the whats the what about the trade. See you on the next stage, kutaano( De Tamble that means Five miles)

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Ignorance is Bliss???? Really??

I was watching CNN’s world untold stories about continued slavery, trapped or whatever they call it. Anyway there was two Nigerian girls who were whisked to Copenhagen Denmark under the pretence of a better life. (Yeah I know you have heard the story a gazillion times but…) when they got there, the ‘good’ madam gone bad took their passport and told them to hit the streets and make her some money.
One of the girls was crying and I felt for her. Really felt for her that they were using her, she didn’t like it in fact hated it and worse didn’t even get to keep the money she was paid. It wasn’t her money.

Her body wasn’t her body, it belonged to the madam. The woman whose name she wasn’t giving neither did the report probe for it. The same woman I wished I could kill myself for turning another woman into a sex slave. This girl wanted to go back home, she said she didn’t know how. She knew the police makes streets surveys to arrest illegal immigrants and workers to deport her kind. She always dodged them when they did. But she still wanted to go home.
Then deep in my mind I couldn’t help but think, why why why doesn’t she walk to police and tell them her story. Ask that they deport her. Why didn’t she try those human rights activists? Or the Nigerian embassy and where she can state her case? That is what it’s there for. Why does she run away when the police is looking for her type? Please educate me, I seemed not to get what was stopping her from going home. From ending her misery, from helping police investigate this Madam.

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Jennifer out, Jennifer In

I happened to stumble upon Jennifer Lopez’s Spanglish version of Aint it funny.

You know the one were she is trying to seduce an uninterested younger dude with a perfect square jaw. Ok this one

So I was looking at her do things with her waist and remembered the days when Lopez was a seller. When men took her to bed with you. When she would raise eye brows just by walking across your sitting room. Ok your TV screen.
She was every man’s dream, you, Puff Daddy, you, I need a girl, Ben Affleck, and five more I don’t remember.
What I want to know is what happened to her insurance? I mean the one she paid to insure her butt in case anything happened to it. (Yeah Right!) Which by the way I thought was laughable as Ugandan women would beat her hands down if you are looking for the perfect rounded bossoms. Ask some Turah chic around town to turn around when you next meet her.
Where was I? Yeah Jennifer’s fifteen minutes of fame ran out. No one is asking her how her butt is doing? Yeah?

Has she kicked some guy’s ass lately with that round bosom? And now that something has happened to it, (If anyone knows any media that has made a mention of it lately, please forward the link) will they compensate her? They say media can make and break you, I bet she didn’t think they would hang their boots on her.

Time to turn the light on another Jeniffer. Hudson

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I gatta have me one soon

Do they get any cuter than this?

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Uganda’s love for free ratings…..

She called all attention from everyone who was minding their business to this ‘bizarre’ conclusion. She was laughing yes but she had some good news to share with her team and later with Uganda at large. “Uganda is the third best place to a mother,” she said. She was still laughing but was happy.
We laughed too and told her to check and check again. SURELY, this is Uganda. Yeah nationalism has refused to keep Museveni off the bench so really anything in Uganda is a just for laughs gag.

“The statistics are here, Save the Children,” It was the 9th annual State of the World Mothers’ report released ahead of mother’s day.
In a split second everyone was surrounding her to dazzle in the glory of beating 146 other countries to third place. First would have been better but third was satisfactory considering that it’s not everyday that Uganda takes a seat in the top positions in and survey. Beating South Africa, Kenya, Nigeira, Namibia, Botswana, Libya?
“I have been to Botswana, don’t be deceived by their town, the people in the villages and slums are worse off than us,” someone shouted. Phantom, apparetly someone agrees with you
Another announced how researchers from Namibia said Uganda’s maternal health care system is better than theirs.
The revelling in the glory of these findings went on for a while. It was even more glorious when it was revealed that Nigeria and Kenya were among the top ten countries were 66% and 56% of children respectively go without basic healthcare. Uganda was super, finally better than Kenya I say.
Those around were quick to celebrate the findings that we are not badly off after all. How Save the Children come to this conclusion beat me.

Its like these guys were lelaving in a different Uganda, not the one whose potholes I wake up to every day. I had to see if I was not being jinxed here.
On checking the full report, it was revealed that Kenya, Namibia, Botswana, Nigeria, Ghana, Zimbabwe and all the other African countries we had been pouring scorn on where in fact ranked in their own category, less developed countries.

Uganda was among the least developed countries together with Tanzania, Rwanda, Burundi, Cambodia meaning that Uganda was worse off than all the other countries it needed its own ranking with its cronies.
What that meant is that in fact Uganda is among the worst performing countries.
You know like saying at least my child is better than his/her stupid counterparts in class in P 2 Y.You would have seen me whipping the smug off their faces. Some accused of not being nationalistic like them.

The real deal is that for every 25 women in Uganda, one dies giving birth and for every 7 new borns one dies. Put this along side our biggest rivals, the ones we always compare ourselves to. Kenya stands at one in 39 women and one in 8 children, South Africa one in 118 mothers and one in every 14 new bornes.
So how did Save the Children come to this conclusion that many people mistook for ‘glorious’ findings?
If you picked copies of New Vision and Daily Monitor, they fell for the prank too, and glorified us for a job ‘well’/not well done.

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Suddenly I didnt qualify to be Ugandan

So here goes I jump out of the car at the stage and run to the other side of the road to grab a cub to Steers. This Caramel craving has been eating me up all day and I wanted to feed it. I need to make a call because I had like a zillion missed calls and zero airtime. In front of me I notice these yellow-cum-brown kiosks that sale anything from chewing gum to cigarettes and yes airtime.

The first two shop attendants tell me they have sold out on Celtel airtime. I make my way to the third where two men are minding their cigarettes. One in a black jacket who I later learn is called Gaetano is holding a hamlet. My mind tells me he is the owner of the boda boda in front of the shaggy shop.
I inquire if they had Celtel airtime to which they reply in the affirmative. When I give Gaetano my Shs. 5000 he hands it to this other raggedy guy. He makes his way to a near by shop and comes back with Celtel airtime in Shs 1000 denominations.
I explain to him I don’t need 5000 airtime but 2000 because I need the rest for transport. I could not believe it when he said he doesn’t have my money. ‘I either take the airtime or go and hang.’

“What will you do to me? Are you a general’s wife?”

That is when I notice his army jacket and the reason why he can refuse to give me back my balance.

“What can you do to me, do you know me? I won’t give it to you. In fact go away from here.”

He is chasing me off public property.

I am standing at the stage and it is clearly marked that. Stage. The only way I could be saved from this unfair treatment and embarrassment is if I pull out a marriage certificate to prove that I was a general’s wife. But I am not even married. I want to scream at this point but I know this animal could strick me if it wished. I wanted to cry but I told myself people are staring and I couldn’t give him the satisfaction.

I wanted that rage in my heart, mind, stomach, soul and my fingers to bust into this huge power so I could give him the mother of all beating but here I have never taken karati class.
When I decide that he take back his airtime and give me back my money, he shoves me and tells me I can call whoever I want to arrest him.
I have never ever felt betrayed in my life. That moment I wished I had a direct line to the president because apparently Uganda starts and stops with him as this guy was telling me. I wished I had a gun. I wished I had fought in the bush 20 years ago maybe then this dude would treat me like the human being I am. I wished I could walk through the gates of CMI and probably meet my father there. But he wasn’t. I wished someone anyone could tell this hippo that he was being anything and everything an idiot.

I just wished I had someone to listen to me, no not listen to me but someone to help me. This retard’s friends were just laughing because they knew that his army jacket speaks millions and heck he can shit on my head if he wished it. When he asked that they shut up and just look at me begging for my money, they did. I ran to the shop were he got the airtime to give it back to him, but the guy just sheepishly laughed at me when he was ordered not to.

I wondered how often this happened to someone who would be as helpless as me. I couldn’t believe I was begging for my money, MY MONEY. If I shouted I risked being thrown into the speeding cars and no justice would bring my broken legs back.
“You can even go to police if you want you pauper,”
Ok at this point probably you are think I am lying but if I could I would reply back a tape and it would reveal a lot more that I have left out. If I had his name it would probably be all over this page calling him all manner of absurdity because that is all I can do.

I know the guy who was sitting next to me in the taxi was wondering what I was crying about. But if I told him, what would he do, he didn’t have an army jacket on his back. My ice cream evening was replaced by a hapless cry in my bed. Now I know there is nothing that can break me than being helpless. Today I know I am not a Ugandan until I am wearing an army jacket or if I am This general’s wife.

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Fresh Fish: Some One? Any One?

So being new to these things of blogging, Do I bitch slap a blogger when I think they are being shallow? Do they bitch slap me? Instead of commenting do I write my own blog? Cheri how the **^*^%&%$* do I upload fotos? What is URL what the hell am I supposed to do with that URINAL thing? Do I fall in love with Tumwi or Cheri? Do I ask Antipop for some? What are the limits? I need an education. I am trying to learn how to walk people. I am George coming out of the Jungle, The gods have been crazy in my world, I am trying to stop worshiping a bottle in this case your blogs and disturbing you with mine.

Do I just pretend that everyone is nice and that there is peace in the world? Do I pretend that Cain and Abel never gave birth to war? Remember theirs? Now it’s all over the world and we are wondering why when there was war in the world with just four people on/in it.
So if I don’t win blogger of the year and Tumwi those do I shout she don’t deserve it even when I know she does? Name calling? No Name calling?
Do I shut up at this point and listen to you educate me? Ok. Go.

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555: Hehehehe

Hey, BLOGGERS what’s all this gabbage nonsense you are always spitting out? What’s all this LOL, Laughing, Laughing out Laughing out Loud? I don’t like it, I just don’t like it. Why can’t you just say the Lord is my saviour in the land of the living. oh I mean, “This is very funny”, “I cant stop laughing”. That is the kind of vibe you should be giving us. I also don’t want you saying it anymore because you heard someone use it somewhere and it sounded funny. I don’t like this Talibang bang bang aranga. I don’t like it.

And why do you always use LOL at the end of every sentence? Why? Are you a pecker boy? You don’t know your sense of humour that you need to state it on the back for you to remember? Are you just stupid? Bloody busted!
And another thing, Tumwi rang me the other day, she says stop blogging on her page, get your own blog, you hear me antipop? Why don’t you get connected to the internet and write your own blog? You are a very smart boy/gal, one day you will marry one nice fine African wo/man preferably Ibo.

Why don’t you learn new things men, like ROTFL to mean Roll(ing) on the floor laughing or 555 like the Thai to mean LOL or hahaha.
But you know just for now, stop nagging us out of our skin with that LOL? Do you even know who started it? Where it came from? It could mean Lousy overated Loser, Lots of love and here I don’t need you to declare your love, I gat plenty from Antimetha. Hehehe! Sorry Antipop. If you ever use That LOL where I am I will send you on the first train back to Kabulasoke. I said you will go where back to Kabulasoke.

And you know what you will be doing, you will reading the dic to find out other ways of driving us up the wall. Every morning afternoon and evening. And if I hear one more time, one more nonsense from your mouth about this Chanel, I am African boy I can spit what I want, I am younger Baz, you know what I will do, I will cement fufu in your eyes and throw Okusu in your bum, JUST TEST ME, JUST TEST ME.

BORROWED FROM RANTS OF A NIGERIAN AMERICAN

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