Kindness, Humanity and Torn Shoes

It’s a Sunny day on the streets of Kampala. Traffic buzzing as usual, it’s a Friday; one of the most looked forward to-days by the working class. End of week means start of the party and yet ‘bars are still closed’, anti COVID SOPS.

While walking down the street, my shoe snapped and just like that, the cobbler at the end of that street was in luck! I quickly made it to his spot, agreed on a price and he gave me a seat which I gladly took. My shoe turned out to be in such bad shape that I wished my birthday was around the corner so that I’d get new pairs for gifts. While sitting meanwhile in fear of using my phone lest a thief snatches it away. This kind of paranoia lives rent free in the heads of every one walking the streets of Kampala. I caught sight of a woman fleeing what we call a mad man. Let’s call this woman Jane because what follows might be an interesting story and my character would need a name.

Jane seemed like she was from shopping but like any person without a car she was suffering with all her bags. Jane is probably in her mid twenties, clad in a little yellow dress, her feet in a pair of black heels with shades on her face. Also why do you dress up for shopping like it’s a party?

The cobbler noticed I was staring at Jane and signaled to me with his mouth a seemingly mad man approaching Jane from behind. And this bred a conversation with my cobbler.

Me: eh bambi ka slay queen kaffe nga kalabye. (At this point, Jane had just seen the madman and was attempting to flee from him)
Cobbler: Naye oyo si mulalu.

And our conversation went on and on as the cobbler explained to me how this wasn’t particularly a mad man but a shabbily dressed street beggar. The men and women we see on the streets every day, the ones we call mad. Have you ever stopped for a minute to wonder if they are really mad? Or perhaps, how they got there? Definitely a story for another day…

Cobbler goes on to explain to me how he has watched this guy grow up on these streets. A fact unknown to many passersby like Jane. Most of them fear him because he looks mad so they are always running away from him.

Back to pretty likkle Jane in yellow. She seemed to be waiting for a means of transport when ‘madman’ decides to make his move. The look on her face is beyond mortification as she can barely run in those steep heels with that many bags. That’s when she notices that Mr. ’madman’ is not on a chasing spree. He stretches out one arm to the now brave Jane as another hand is making rounds from his mouth to his stomach, as if to express his need for food, hunger.

This is when the cobbler’s theory comes to life. He wasn’t a madman but a street beggar. To my shock Jane quickly shoves her hand into one of her bags and hands the guy a big bottle of soda. Also in disbelief, Jane watches the man probably murmur a few thank yous and walk away in peace.

Soon my shoe mending is done and out of gratitude for a good conversation I let the cobbler keep the change. I got into a taxi and headed straight home, excited for the weekend too. Later on that night sipping on my tea while recollecting the day’s events, it came down to one question for me.

How do you treat the less privileged?

All the way from your ‘inferiors at work’ to the people you find cleaning the streets, picking your litter, the house help at home…
Do they even matter to you? Does the fact that they are inferior to you make them any less human? Rhetorics really…

Watching Jane sacrifice her soda for a man she barely knew could have definitely been understood in so many ways. I mean this was a shabby guy roaming the streets with absolutely nothing to give back to Jane. You could say that she was scared and eager for this man to leave her presence, that’s why she gave him the soda. But life is how you perceive it. I chose to inwardly appreciate Jane for what I preferred to term as kindness and a sense of humanity, bravery too. With my gold-medal cowardice, I don’t know that I would have acted similar to Jane. It’s not every day that people show kindness and respect to less privileged people, especially those that look like that.

Majority of us have grown wings from amassing physical wealth and declared ourselves too high and mighty to mingle with ‘low lives’. We make it seem like these people were handed a sheet with choices and they ticked the box that corresponded with ‘less privileged’. No, see if they had a choice they’d be riding in Mazeratis too. As long as we are all flesh and blood, I don’t see so much of a difference. I mean the almighty God dined with sinners and washed his disciples feet. Who do we think we are?

Yet really, it’s the same oxygen we breathe, our blood is all red! But we step on their heads just because we can. We push them to the wall well knowing that even that wall might just crumble on them.

I have lived to learn and appreciate each and everyone’s value in society. The same way your health would be in jeopardy due to absence of a doctor is just about the same way your home would rot away if the garbage collectors were absent. And, don’t even lie to yourself that you can do it all by yourself. Because the truth is you can’t do it by yourself. That’s why you’re willing to pay someone else to do it. The trash probably smells so bad; you wouldn’t even want to walk past it. Or your nails, they are too manicured for them to dig into trash. Orrrrr your suit is too boujee for you to sweep your own office floor. So take it or leave it. We can’t do without each other; our dependencies are like an endless chain.

So what does this mean?
We need to be able to coexist and do this very peacefully. Coexisting starts from respect to kindness to love and so many more virtues that make the world a better place to live in. we are similar yet so different and these differences depending on how you see them, make us very unique. But what is it about these differences? TOLERANCE!!! Let’s create a safe space where each of one of us can lay down our weaknesses and strengths so that we protect each other but most importantly grow each other. Let’s tolerate each other keeping in mind facts such as different opinions should never be ground for conflict.
Life can be so hopeless but when you see someone begging on the streets completely unsure of whom the next giver will be or if there will be any giver at all, it’s got to make you appreciate the littlest things like even having a fully functioning toilet at your place.

Dire situations undress your soul for us to see who you really are.its safe to say that Jane is helpful and kind.

How you treat the less privileged people when no one is looking, that’s the real you! Reflect and fix yourself, our eyes are closed!

Love P❤

That No Bra-Day

Ever seen fresh shapely oranges at the grocer’s? Like really fresh orange oranges, yeah, those ones without seeds but really juicy, must be some sort of rare breed. October 13th felt just like that for me.

The male community must have been thrilled about this day, considering a lot of chest flesh was on rampage. Thanks to all the ladies ‘flexing their tities’ on the gram, dear men, what’s not to like? I mean who isn’t a sucker for some bra-less boobies attached to long or short thick necks with pretty faces and gorgeous bodies? Must have been a sight to see for y’all!

Anyway, here I was thinking to myself, come on where is your audacity girl? You gotta show some chest skin too. But poor me, even simple cleavage is barely existent. Damn, girls got chests, it was round and full bursts everywhere. Even the much smaller chests were represented. Aye, it was a field day for thee breast. I must applaud the ladies on the gram, the ones on the TL too. Y’all got so much confidence, y’all so damn beautiful. Honestly if I was into the bra business, the ‘No Bra Day’ would be my biggest threat. Can’t wait for an era where the tities are freed for life!!!

And so I did some digging, I love to get to the bottom of things. I mean, who even came up with this whole no bra day thing? Were they such a perv…? Wanting to see nipples all over the gram? And guess what I found, no it wasn’t a boob show that they were after. But people have a way of deriving their own meanings and swaying communities to follow suit. I am sure if you ask any woman why they were nipple-showing, they’d say because the day wasn’t for wearing bras. Like a ‘free da tities movement’

So the No Bra-Day came into existence on July 9th, 2011, although it’s been pushed to 13th day of the National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. This idea was birthed to celebrate the breast cancer survivors, to enable women and men all over the world stand with these women. Getting down to the effects of any cancer will show you that there is no cure unless it’s detected early enough. Doctors offer a wide range of treatments for breast cancer ranging from chemotherapy, radiation to surgery. Of course this depends on the severity of the cancer. Either way most cancer patients succumb to it. This is because it’s detected really late where even if you had goldmines, they wouldn’t buy you a cure- simply because there isn’t one. So they die in so much pain, you’d think that at that point, death would be a ‘mercy’ to them.

Zeroing down to breast cancer brings you pictures of survivors, women who have faced it head on and come out victorious. But what does ‘victorious’ mean in this case? If you ask me, the first step to victory over such ailments is still being able to have life. To breathe, eat, walk and sleep just like any human being. To also be able to return to your loved ones while you’re healthy is victorious. But victory for breast cancer survivors is much more than just mere breath and ability to do all those things. It means undergoing surgeries that may leave with you with a flat chest or one breast. Carrying out mastectomy prevents the cancer from eating up your entire body.

You could think that it’s such a small price to pay in exchange for a longer life
But we all know a physically grown woman has two breasts and so bras were made to hold breasts in place. Here comes a grown woman with none walking into a clothing store and into the underwear department and walking past the bra section, not even stopping to scoff at the exorbitant prices. There is pain in that!
And so this is where my criticism for women flaunting what they have on a day like this comes from.

Let me open up my mind for you. I don’t see the point of showing off full chests in celebration of breast cancer survivors. Calm your tities!!! It’s purely bad irony or such a bad joke! I would expect people especially females to go all out for these survivors. Why not reach out to hospitals to offer free cancer screening? Dear TL queens, why not push hashtags on the necessity of routine cancer screening for every woman out there? And those amazing photographers, what if you decided to do free photo shoots for those brave survivors? Don’t you think these would be the perfect models for a ‘no bra-day’ photo shoot? Imagine the gram awash with such beautiful pictures even just for a day! I hope I make a valid point each time I let thoughts like these flow on paper. Correct me if I am wrong.

Anyway, my heart has a few whispers for all the breast cancer survivors! Here goes nothing.

Dear Mamacita, you are strong, brave and very beautiful.
You are so many things this world will never be able to describe or even see.
But I don’t care about the world; God will handle that for us.
I want you to know that your kind of beauty lies on the inside
Your kind of beauty is so many bright shades of bravery, strength and hope.
Embrace your scars and breathe in all the love you can get
Fix your crown and rock the world
Lots of love!🌹

And don’t get me wrong. See this ‘No Bra Day’ could also have gone the other way around. It could have been that day that women get to go almost nude for a cause. Say for example, we as the women are going braless today to show you a few things. One of these things could be the cons of wearing the wrong bras. Also studies show that it’s healthy to take off that bra once in awhile. So this is where ladies going bra-less would work to show other ladies out there that even without a bra you can still look dashing and totally sexy!

I totally appreciate each woman or girl that embraced the No Bra-Day. I love that you are bold and daring. I love that you can embrace these days without fear or shame. Most of all I love that you are in love with your bodies. Because guess what your amazing bodies are a thousand middle fingers to all the body-shamers in the world!

And so hopefully the next No Bra Day will have a better agenda; it starts with me and you seeing these things differently. Also, I hope it could be pushed to a whole week with lots of awareness activities and bra-less boobies!

With love,


Dear reader, my name is Uganda. Today is my birthday, and I am turning 58. Well at least that’s how much history can remember; deep down I know that I am way older than this. Infact, I feel immortal. I stay in Africa, been here most of my life and I must say I like it here. Depending on where you are, the sun rises each morning and sets each afternoon just the same almost every day. My skies have known rainbows too. It rains but doesn’t snow. My skin glows when it has drunk enough water, it gets green with grass and many forest species. I am vast. Very deep and shallow too. I am friendly if you don’t hurt me, however I have thorns too if you must get violent.

Enough about me let me tell you about my people. Their skins are dark brown and light brown, black strands of hair complete the look. The men, they like to go bald, ah but these millennials, you’ll find them with afros and cornrows or dreadlocks. If you ask them, they’ll tell you, times have changed, and really, I am okay with that. My men are quite strong with egos heavier than rocks, massage those egos and you have them at the center of your palms. My women, ah… God is such a show off. Have you seen the sunset reflected on their backs each time they bend to fetch water? The women are beautiful mostly when they wear their plain skin and braid their thick hair. But just like men, they have learnt to paint their bodies from nails to lips to eyes to the lashes, it’s all colorful. And if you ask them, they too will say, times have changed, a little makeup never hurt. Also, I am okay with this.

My children are innocent and filled with curiosity, and quite clumsy. The tenagers are embracing growth slowly by slowly. Let me brag some more. My people are quite ripe with their raw talent, we have unsung legends! When my people tickle their voices to sing, any disease could heal. We’ve got artists and writers, sportsmen and dramatists too.

Back to me, lately I have been thinking about me. Come to think of it, I don’t even know what my name means; I mean who even named me for starters. The Christians, they call it baptism. So was there a sort of celebration upon my baptism or did they just take me for a joke and decide a celebration was not worth it?

Being me has come with a lot of ups and downs; you know how people always assume that the good outweighs the bad? I honestly feel like if you put mine on a scale, they balance!! I have had some good years and some terrible ones. There are days when my people think about what’s good for me and on other days they think about what’s good for them. I wouldn’t want to call that self love. Anyway they have always fought to own me, like I am merchandise with a cheap price tag! I can’t lie to you; I love the attention because I mean it’s always about me. My leaders, my people, my minerals, what I have to offer, what I stand to get- tell me you wouldn’t enjoy being me.

I am writing to tell you my story. Many people have tried to rule me since my first birthday in 1962. Many of them were short lived except one who has been at it for the last 34 years. I have seen conquerors rise and fall yet one day they were a force to reckon with. And I am no fortune teller, but we all know the human life span has a curve that ends with a not so gentle slope sometimes.

Back to my story, I am proud of my people for leaving most of their culture behind, they now wear cloth and shoe and sleep in brick and cement structures. This may seem normal to you but there was a time hides and skin covered only the private parts and shelter was either in caves or under grass thatched houses.

Also, they embraced one God and the rest has been history.

And so my dearest readers at 58, you may think I have seen it all. I kid you not, it feels like the show is just getting started. A better story makes the headlines every other day; some headlines make me want to step on the rest of their heads. ‘Uganda discovers oil’ ‘Uganda ranked 10th in fighting Corona in the world’, ’Uganda’s Joshua Cheptegei beats another 15year world record’ of course, there are pretty nasty headlines too ’Chaos as the country ventures into elections’ ‘Corruption eating away at Uganda’s economy’ ‘Makerere Ivory Tower Burns down’ ‘Uganda still grappling with gender based violence’.

But today is my birthday, and it comes once a year. My people get so excited and throw parties celebrating liberation from colonialism. And I laugh at them, when the wind is blowing the trees, yeah that’s me laughing. I laugh because this liberation seems like such a badly written story… a story for another day. Today, sing me that song that starts like this, Eh Uganda, Mungu Imarisha… Don’t sing it in English. Pour me a glass of redemption, hopefully, I can save my people.

Tell whoever is responsible to preserve what’s left of me.

Till next 9th October, I remain yours faithfully.

To be or Not to be

Being an ardent fan of the hottest new wave of musicians under the brand name Bantu Vibes, I derive inspiration to write this article from one of their songs ; People by Denesi ft Lamu, Chenkobe. I picked up what they call a “hard line” from that song and it goes , “the teacher told the student, who are you and killed the dream”.

I am sure many of us have bumped into annoying questions from elders in regards to who we want to be in future, expecting answers that have a lot to do with proffesion. And so growing up, most of us wanted to be lawyers, doctors, pilots….when I learnt fancy English, I wanted to be a neuro surgeon-it sounded so cool! Years later, I am in business school!
Judging from the status quo, professions with heavy titles are the in thing. I for one have always thought it very prestigious to be a lawyer; my mom thinks I’ll get married to one.

Professions with heavy titles come along with various pluses, they earn you a seat at the corporate table, they earn you a fat bank account and a front seat in church especially when it’s fundraising service/mass. If you’re in luck, they earn you a lifetime partner; basically these kinds of professions should guarantee you success.

And so when your parents haul you off to school with the most cliché advice (study and get a good job), this is what they want you to be. For them, that’s how to be successful.

But what if the script changed? What if we didn’t have to be white collared professionals to exist among others?

Here’s a short story. Back in my village we get together for Christmas, my fellow Kampala cousins come along too. So the cousins who stay with Jaja are excited and always regard us with so much importance-this has never sat well with me. This particular boxing day evening, we happened to be at the farm digging into roasted pork and basically enjoying the wealth my tribe relates of my Mr. know it all uncles (we all have those irritating uncles that feel the need to show off their not so much knowledge) decided to ask each one of us what we wanted to be when we grew up. The famous answers echoed left right and center until one answer that sent the choir into laughter.

One of my cousins who stay with Jaja said he wanted to be a ‘tipa’ driver .A tipa is a form of truck that usually ferries sand, stones, bricks or helps people carry things when they are shifting to another house. We all laughed at him and most attributed the young lads answer to his prolonged stay in the village.

Left alone, I asked him about his answer. He said,”I want to be a ‘tipa’ driver just like my father. My father is a strong man and I want to be like him, he also helps people take their cows to the market for sale.(told you its cows in my village, they could pass for currency). I want to help many people who can’t walk and drive them in my ‘tipa’ when I grow up.” I didn’t need to ask this boy further.

Most of all, I prayed to God he wouldn’t end up in some westernized school that would teach him to have white heroes and role models .His dad was just what he needed to be who he wanted to be. For this young boy, it wasn’t unrealistic titles he wanted; it was virtuous that he wanted to become because he had seen it looked good on his father!

And so I ask you, who is reading my mambo jumbo, to be or not to be? What is fuelling the fire inside of you? Is it some random school motto or is it the insatiable need to fatten your bank account? Better yet is it the need to walk into a room and have heads even more wise than you bow before you? Or is it the famous choruses like ‘You Only Live Once’? Would you be what your parents have paid schools to make you? Or shall you design your own blueprint? Shall you attach titles to yourself?

If you ask me, I’ll dare you to wear virtues on the sleeves of your fancy coat. I hope we become the generation that retains the power to make decisions for ourselves. Fuck the dollar rate; go do a job you would still do if you weren’t paid to do it.

Don’t answer peoples questions regarding who you want to be 5 years from now if you don’t know the answer as of yet. You’re not pyschic! Tell them you live for today, tomorrow will take care of itself. Ask them if they like who you are today? Better yet, ask them if they like who they have become. Shake that table for them!

A budding writer recently wrote encouraging us to stop procrastinating, telling us to live for now. Our caterer back in high school wore a shirt with the words “the time is now”. Each day the sun graces the earth is another opportunity to be the best of you. I would say find someone and strive to be like them but even twins don’t have the same abilities. Whatever you do, don’t let them define you for I believe that definition is such a limitation!

To be or not to be cuts across many spheres of life. you could be fat, skinny,rude,polite,neat,reckless,loving,rich,poor,blessed,beautiful,talented,funny,proud,atheist,God-fearing,happy,grateful,sad…..
You could be all those things if you choose to, so make sure what you become is what you chose to be!

Monday Saloon got me like…

Monday isn’t a Saloon day, but my nails had to get done. The country must be run. Anyway, my mom likes to say that I like expensive things😂, but tell me, if you found a Prado at 1million, wouldn’t you think twice about it?
There is a way yoghurt gets to your tummy and makes love to it….today I ate vanilla yoghurt
! So, I checked into the saloon….waited 15minutes and then the nail guy was ready for me. The Covid death rate has reached to 12. “Hello, what nails are you doing today”?
“I’ll do Gel, just the finger nails”
As usual, my amazing earpieces are never far, I had sensed it was going to be a boring session.
Now this saloon has it’s ‘bu things’ they first give you cold water for free…then they wash your hands in warm water😌
My nail guy today was called Ken, very stubborn lad.
And so they first put colourless vanish on your nails, then you put them in an UV LED machine as if to bake them fast fast.
Client on the left hand side with her nail guy number says “naye muwagile ku Mzee”
Her nail guy “nyabo tukole colour ki?”
Ken, my nail guy “Kati nyabo okakasa nti Museveni alumilizibwa Uganda?”
Client on the left hand “naye nawe”
Her nail guy … “Nze Uganda enyumira mwana”
At this point, I am thinking my Ken nail guy is hilarious 😂. So it’s my turn to pick a colour, the TV channel is National Geographic, five lions are chasing a giraffe.
I am torn between white and light blue. Ken suggests a light shade of purple.
Nail guy number two finally speaks…kale nze Nze wemba Kenzo, walai Bobi muvako.”
How topics changed so fast , I don’t know.
This is where I ask Ken who his ideal next president would be…I chose a light shade of purple…..
Ken “anyone else but Museveni would work for me”.
This is when client number 2 says the most outrageous thing ” iieee but the man is still strong, olaba he made 40 pressups”
Ken” naye nawe, Kati kyogamba nti amanyi gegavuganya egwanga?”

Client number 2 smiles, her nail guy smiles awa too.. And so Ken tells me how this saloon attracts big people who come with body guards that first install security cameras before the boss can access it” I just laugh it off and throw a ka “nga you’re a big saloon also”. He continues to tell me how working here has helped them meet these big people who advise him to invest in his home town because the future is uncertain politically. Interesting right?. Ken asks me, what if your were nabbed by traffic, what do you do? I reply like any other Ugandan, “I fix the situation chap with a few shillings and get released!” Don’t condemn me btw! Ken laughs at me🙄….And so I ask him the same question. He says” One time I was caught beyond curfew time on a jaj, I remembered I had this big man’s number..I called it, first time, second time…he picked up and asked for my number plate. The officers let me go saying va wano totuletela bizibu.” I rode from biharwe to Mbarara without any other traffic guys interrupting my journey!” I smiled in awe!
Nail guy number 2 asks Ken what his evening plan is. Ken tells him they should go grab some “pink things” later on in the evening.
Some pink things? My mind obviously curious, I ask him. He smiles and whispers, “pink pussy”!!! Pink what? I burst out and laugh and so I ask how much is it, he says it’s like 5k. How cheap, whole time my mind is running wild. And so I ask again, how do these pink things look like. Ken says, I have one on my wallpaper, let me show you! And yes, I wanted to see…..booom I see a fancy glass of pink alcohol. My days, what was I even thinking….
Soon, my nails were fully polished and Ken did some amazing work. I decided to tip him an extra 5k for that pink thingy he seemed to like. He said it doesn’t hit as much as Ug!

As he makes a receipt for me, he tells me that Besigye supplies fuel to the army troops who go to Somali to fight. Too much information for sho….. The Lions managed to over power the giraffe and I ended up taking Ken’s number. He told me he as planning to move out and start his own thing, I guess I just got me a nail guy…

The Other 20million thingy..

Uganda has by far proven to be a giant sleeping lion that only wakes in the midst of tragedy and we all know, lions strike hard!

Needless to say, I only know a little more than Mzee at the dairy. Probably, I know that Mr Museveni always wears a white shirt each time he addresses his ‘bazukulu’ which Mzee who listens over the radio doesn’t see! Both Mzee and I have grown to appreciate the government in this pandemic issue. Though I don’t know about the price of salt anymore.

Nevertheless our beloved government is there for us, for we voted the right one-we are not like Scobie, we have hope. Believe you me, this radio has been working since last year, occasionally changing batteries and adjusting wires, and so recently as Uncle Joel was giving his sequenced addresses to show us that he cares, he mentioned donation of food to the likes of Mzee’s family…..because the government cares and can’t afford to see its loyal voters die, at least not before the next election, excuse my mind for the way it perceives certain ideas.

I don’t know for sure that Mr Bes’ gavo would have done a better job had it been running the country by the time this ‘Whitish’ virus hit and sadly we will never know. For all we know, the virus’ presence might cease as soon as ‘okulonda’ is done….

I certainly would wish to be in Mr.Kato Lubwama’s shoes at this point in time. Formerly his dream was to hit the jackpot and grab a mere 1,000,000 shs. But now he is silent about the 20M cashing in to every MP’s account, probably he has had one too many shillings. Maybe it’s stopping to make sense or the damn shillings feel too good, he just can’t get enough!

I am just a common man; a very regular citizen who thinks about some undotted I’s and uncrossed T’s.

See what if we returned Kato Lubwama to his former breadwinning job, I hear he was a comedian and see now fatefully all comedy has been restricted to only that that your eyes can find on the television or you tube, but I bet this pair of amazing legs that Kato never had a YouTube channel. Picture him and his family seated staring at the Television waiting for when Uncle Joel will say… “ due to the pandemic, we are giving out free food to the needy, and maybe we shall see that loans are restructured” and yet the chairman of his area knows only too well that Mr.Kato’s family is not a needy one, I mean celebrity tabeela needy mwana!

What would Mr.Kato think about the arrest of MP Zaake for donating food? Would he still think it illegal and deserving of punishment, yet his own household is at the brink of starvation!

As a not so-important human in this country, I have learnt that humility and humanity obviously rhyme but dignity and wealth will never rhyme just like humility and wealth too….though they will try to associate poverty with crime, yet they also don’t rhyme. This is not just a language issue, it a tale of virtues buried prematurely, and buried real deep.

One of the MPs on a talk show insinuated that government is simply giving them a tax free sum to donate while the speaker said this ‘tweny M’ is to spread the word. But Mzee in kyempene village already has a radio- shall the MP buy him a new one? For what? Or perhaps a Television set? His eyes are so sick!

My almost tattered dictionary defines donations as that which you give from what you already have not expecting a thing in return…so my very lousy thinking would hint on questions like haven’t MPs made enough ‘twenies’ to be able to just spare some to donate?

Oh but this is my favorite, imagination… I imagine having a job where your paid hefty sums and also added ‘twenies’ to donate-damn, I wouldn’t even call this column the Common man’s column, heck I’d call it the ….wait, would I even be writing? What would I even rant about? I know, being me. I’d rant about men that like to scratch their groin area in public, petty? Yeah, I know!

Another scholar said, on the same talk show, “I wouldn’t want to be an MP, there is so much pressure on them from the people!”
Again, aren’t they the government? Don’t they care for their people? Why then must they not deliver as expected?

I am sure this is the point when the previously ordinary Kato would ridicule H.E Bobi Kyagulani for returning that ‘pleny tweny M’. Like, how dare he even?

Nevertheless on the same talk show, an uncommon man associated this 20M handout to a situation where a thief amasses so much and shares it with you, would you then go ahead to report this thief…I mean you’d get caught too, right? Apparently Uncle Joel has amassed so much and therefore continues to assure the masses on rallies about the nRm government’s wealth, ‘Gavumenti ya NRM teyine akasente, konka eyine sente nyingi’.

And excuse my commonness but Runyankore has become too common these days. Just like sharp noses and ‘Janet cuts’ if you know what I mean. I wonder why Ferraris aren’t so common in my village though!

So why wouldn’t Uncle Jo use his money the way he wants huh? He has mastered the politics and learned to integrate the economics too not knowing that literature prostituted this kind of politics along time ago, just that writers are being arrested now and their mouths nailed together.

But if you ask me, I’d say Uncle Joel has knows how to ripen young fruit and later squeeze fine juice from them. ‘Every man has his price ‘and so he is just doing what’s best for business.

But we must applaud Uncle Jo, our third worldness has shamed the first world nations, handling a deadly pandemic like as it were a mere cold where only you need to take some fruit to heal. Hopefully after these 100 and something days, Uncle Jo will rebuild the nation!

So, I sip my juice wondering where father Lokodo and his big rosaries are in this crisis. Has the absence of homosexuality issues rendered him jobless? I wonder where Mr. Edward Ssekandi is, hhmmmm…..these dormant volcanoes! Anyway, as a common man, I’d like to sit and enjoy my “Munanansi” without any more hiccups…you see, these days news bulletins have scary headlines….
Your C.M