Have i missed something?

Every morning on the way to work, the same thing happens to me (and to many others, i assume). It is getting so boring. I am starting to think that there is something going on that is way beyond my age. And my reasoning capacity. Like in that movie…

Anyway, why would the same guys walk past you and try to trick you into exposing your greed so they can take your money every morning? EVERY MORNING?

It goes down thus: Two guys walk towards me but i can’t tell they are together. One is a little infront of his crime buddy. The one nearest to me drops the same old bundle of money (and i use ‘money’ in a very loose sense). He walks on so i am supposed to assume that he has genuinely dropped his inheritance of Uganda Shillings 1000 times x. The guy behind him jerks into action; he grabs the wad of bills and turns away to walk in the direcition i am headed.

Instantly, he strikes up a coversation. I have a new best friend. Because i saw him pick somebody’s money. If i don’t tell, he wont tell and we can split the loot 50/50.

Ha!

Again, Ha!

The first time this happened, i actually picked the money and ran after the oblivious victim. His friend kept on hissing for me to let it go but i was so naive…Eventually, i caught up with the dude and tagged at his shirt. He had to turn around. I gave him his loot but i think by then, the plan had been blown apart.

But that musta been like four years ago. Since then, i have learnt that this is some sick trick to rob greedy folks. I have also learnt that many things can happen in the space of one day.

Four years later, peeps be tryina fool me with this strange trick? What am i missing?

Oh happy day?

It’s not much probably but we could start from here. As those old gits say, a journey of a thousand miles… 

Money Mike and the other guy have been splashed on the national newspapers behind bars. I know it might be just for show; that they are already back home sipping on something nice in crystal glasses as they wait for the computer voice on the shower complex to tell them that the water is warm enough, the way they like it. 

The ministers are probably laughing at all the excitement. That’s the way things be in our part of the world. But that the government has taken this step, done what the Rwandans have been doing for ages, and imprisoned someone over graft is a cause to say yippee about.

It doesn’t matter that the guys who really should be there are probably out in the open. We shall deal with them later. Is it public opinion starting to move things here? Could it be said of other issues like the fact that government has slinked away from Mabira? (They didn’t even tell us, we found out from other sources that they had backed off). 

Back to the mulamwa; Jim Wange is not in the country. Alice Kaboyo, the lady who’s been saying all sorts of crazy things implicating the first mom has been arrested as I write this (as per Capital FM news). Mbu she gave herself up. But that is beside the point.

 When one takes a position of responsibility, they should take the fat salaries and the penalties for misusing that authority in the same vein. Or maybe, start a trend of resignation when things go bad on your watch. 

In other news…  

When you read radiokatwe.com and the Red Pepper you start feeling a lot like this here dude.

the thky ith falling!

Paul Kafeero, gone too

On Thursday last week, one of
Uganda’s most prolific singers died. Paul Kafeero was always an enigma to me and when he passed on, I was hurt in more than just the usual way that one is affected when one of the thousands of musicians dies in the country. 

Needless to say, those who’ve heard his songs will agree that he was one strange guy. The lyrics he dropped in his songs were not what you would expect him to write, especially after you had seen what he looked like. The poetry was just beyond him. 

My folly was procrastination. I planned to interview him for two years. I waited too long. Thursday proved he is so gone. I am never going to hear from his own mouth what drove him. 

I used to write on the entertainment beat. Now back in the day, the hip subjects were not the likes of Paul Kafeero or Fred Ssebatta. One editor actually told me to drop my plans to write about Mariam Ndagire because the readers of the section were more into Michael Ross and J Kazoora. I thought Ndagire was very talented, what with the plays she writes and the deep songs she sings…used to sing! 

I came close to doing that interview. I met Kafeero at one of the monthly Jam on the Greens at the National Theatre and wanted to do it then. Unfortunately, he was clearly inebriated and I knew I had to die another day. 

He was an interesting character, that one. He turned to me and smiled throughout when I introduced myself, like he was dreaming a continuous sweet dream. His permed hair was badly hidden under a black cap and his unruly beard was in those days truly coming into its own. 

He was standing alone, without any hangers on like he was an alien in the community. It was a community of musicians but he seemed to be misplaced. He sipped on his beer and waited for his turn to go upstage and do his thing. 

Paul Kafeero intrigued me because of the things he sang about. He was always looking ahead of time, peeping into the future and telling the world what he saw. That he was a skilled wordsmith was only a bonus. He was first a prophet. 

One day in a taxi to Ntinda, as I tried to ignore the annoying chick next to me who sat like it was her lounge at home and not a scrappy old taxi, I heard his hit, Walumbe Zaaya for the first time and I fell in love with Kadongo Kamu. That’s when I started listening to others like Ssebatta and Matiya Kakumirizi. I discovered that these were the words of wisdom from a time long gone but they were still very potent.

 

Because i waited, i’ll never know.

Check this out

“Hi back at you.”

“So where have you been? the whole family’s been waiting for you. You missed supper.”

“Ah…what does my presence have to do with the family’s stomach cravings?”

“Nothing. Just that you are the life of the party and when you are not around, there’s always a serious case of indigestion. Peeps be going to the john and the sound that comes from there be awful.”

“Dude. Cut out the attempts at ebonics. The last time i checked, you were not Chris Tucker.”

“Any way, what have you been doing?”

“Oh well, now that you ask, been checking out a very interesting blog. Try it out some time. Your life’ll just move on higher and higher.”

One fine day

He doesn’t know if he’s awake or still asleep. He never knows. Things just swim into focus for him and they always have an eerie glow about them that he’s since learnt is not ghostly. Could be something in the concoctions he drinks before he blacks out.

He stumbles out of the shack he calls home. Out of the rudimentary structure of sticks hastily put together and a black polythene thrown over like the rains are coming and the builder wants to get in before.

He misses the duck in the doorway by a feather. Why is he stumbling? Oh, it’s just the mwenge from last night at Maama Nalongo’s. When the mean paying customers get tired of watering themselves, they always leave bits and pieces in the glasses. Bits and pieces of alcohol.

That’s when he strikes. Sweeps the tables and sucks the bottles dry. To the last drop.

All around, energetic looking young men are in various stages of wakefulness. The untidy clothes they have on are not going to go off for the rest of the day. Or the week, for that matter. The shirts and pants will straighten as the elements deal with them during the day.

Our hero heads for the big town. From where he is, he can see the metropolis beckoning like a strange woman. He doesn’t know what to expect but he has to go. He takes a last look at his lodgings and heads out. This could be the last time he is seen in these parts. He goes where the world leads him, you see.

There’s action in town. There are thugs running riot in the streets. He doesn’t know exactly what is going on but since there’s nothing else to do, he can always join in. The crowd is screaming some crazy stuff he does not understand. Things like, “Third term” and “Forests” and other kinds of confusion.

He could even get some coins to buy muwogoand porridge at that small kafunda next to the sewers in Nakivubo. It has one lone table and a lame bench that was definitely stolen from the primary school that used to stand in the neighbourhood. The Government closed down the school, mbu for sanitation reasons. Well, their loss.

They have the heaviest porridge you see and not very many people like it there because of the smell. He can have the place to himself without suspicious idiots staring at him. Where there are crowds, there are coins.

Suddenly, he is on the defensive. The police are doing that teargas thing again. In addition, there are goons with clubs and the look in their eyes tells our hero that this is a group he doesn’t want to mess with. They are the definition of badass. He turns and runs.

But his escape is cut short. Some guy in a Hummer knocks him down. For a moment, he doesn’t know what’s hit him but when he comes to, there is a crowd a few paces away and they are having a field day stoning something on the ground. The car that hit him is in flames. How did he survive after such a monstrosity hit him?

What they are stoning is what used to be someone’s son. Maybe. He can’t be sure. He can’t even care. His legs are broken. Broken at the knees. Both of them. He is trying to crawl away. No one notices. He has no one to help. And he didn’t even get those coins.

Breaking the bank

When you go to the ATM next time, watch for the big spenders. If you find yourself in a queue behind people who look like they are going to withdraw more money than you can think of spending in a month, to use in the casino next door, find another machine. Because you’ll waste precious hours and you’ll probably be disappointed.

If you find a bunch of kids from the UK trying out their newfound freedom, amazed at the prospect of spending thousands of currency and still having a lot more in the bank, run. These are people who come from the cold climes and when they come around at a time when their countries are freezing, chances are that they have loads of cash to throw away while the temperatures rise at home.

The cost of living is too high in Europe, we’ve been told. What we spend here on living is only a fraction of what goes down the drain that side of the great divide.

So when peeps like that come around, be sure about what you want. You have to think fast as you stand there aghast, staring at the twenty drably dressed youths laughing away and itching to stick their cards into the wall machine.

They think they are only getting a little but in reality, comparatively, they are breaking the damn bank.

 

Things to do if you decide to stay around and get the money because you don’t have fare home:

Pretend you have run stark raving mulalu mad, pull the note pad out of your pocket and start eating the papers as you grin evily at the young girls, scare them away.

Or

Just go into covert mode and tell them in a low Jack Bauer tone that there’s a bomb in the machine and could they please walk away? WALK AWAY WITHOUT RUNNING OR SCREAMING, that’s it. Scare them away.

Get your money. Run.

Proof of life

Little kicker

Quiet and unseen

Like a girl?

I think i’m going to like it here (In which i dabble in product endorsement)

 

 

It’s the story of my life. I am a wanderer. So even when I decided to move over to this here thing, I had a niggling feeling deep down that I was going to be moving again soon. But I have a feeling I am going to stay after all.

 

WordPress allows me more freedoms than Blogger could think of. I can get my stats and check out my favourite blogs without a hustle.

I know there are probably many other forums out there that are better than WordPress, given the dynamic way the World Wide Web is. But for now, lemme just enjoy.

In other news, the greatest team on earth is going to Athens for the final of the European championships. Liverpool beats dates Milan AGAIN. You’ll Never Walk Alone people.

Moved house

Was nice while it lasted, thank you maám.

going over to http://detoxcenter.wordpress.com/

Great people.

Revolution implosion?

A guy died yesterday in Uganda. He was brilliant and he was on the rise. Actually, word is that he died earlier than that but the right political line was to keep it hushed till the system had covered their behinds.

He was misplaced. He was just too clever to be a stooge for the system. Always wondered what he was doing on that side of the fence. He was too good for the army too good for the constitutional assembly and too good for the intelligence agency. He was too qualified; the peeps under him, even those who were older just couldn’t keep up with his brainpower.

Now he’s dead and he is dead too early. He died of what they have told us is pancreatitis. The majority of us have never heard of the disease. A bigger number wont even understand it even when it is explained.

The two major newspapers ran a story that was too similar to be the truth. Y’know what they say, if it is too straight, then its gotta be crooked in reality. The state rushed to explain. And they went overboard. Their words didn’t match their emotions.

As said earlier, this dude was too good for his position. He belonged in the private sector, making oodles of money and ignoring the bungling system. But he fell for the charms of the leader. And he started worshipping him.

Maybe he thought he would change him and make this country better.

The brave Red Pepper has already said he was poisoned. The peeps in the bars are saying more than that and it is not the piss talking.

Before the Lutwas were kicked out, there were a number of mysterious deaths. Government bigwigs were falling like flies. I can’t verify this coz I wasn’t really there. As in, I wasn’t bored enough to leave my toys and books to listen to the folks discussing national politics.

Things fall apart. The center cannot hold, they say.