Saturday, August 26, 2017
It was an odd Sunday last week. I stayed in. Not because I lacked in company or dime was bleak, but I thought I would stay home and slumber. The thing is, every Monday when I greet my female friends and female work colleagues and I ask about their weekend, the conversation tends to drawl along this stroke.
TB: “How was your weekend?”
Female Friend: “Fair.”
TB: “What did you get up to?”
Female Friend: “I was sleeping.”
Now check, mbu ‘fair.’
For a while, I used to think that Female Friend had been clubbing all night and gotten home in the wee hours of the morning and hence the need to sleep. Except she hadn’t been clubbing all night. She was in bed by 9:30pm on Friday and Saturday and cuddling a teddy bear Ex-Boyfie gave her on her birthday some years ago. So what did she mean when she said she spent the weekend sleeping?
A prod further and I was enlightened. I found out that after she had tea and bread for breakfast, she went back to bed - not because she didn’t get enough sleep the previous night, but ‘just to sleep.’ Hmm! I prodded deeper and I got told women, especially Below 35 Year Old Woman spends the weekends sleeping for err, the sake of it or ‘for just’ as I get told every Monday morning.
Last Sunday after morning tea and bread, I went back to sleep. Except I couldn’t sleep. So I tried to force sleep and I still couldn’t sleep. Rather than lie in bed idling, I decided to read the book I’ve reading – Bill Bryson, The Road To Little Dribbling until I remembered what I had been told. Below 35 Year Old Woman doesn’t read - not books and if she reads newspapers, it’s The Kampala Sun because it’s got many colourful big pictures of people at functions and parties. The only reading her brain can conceptualise is her WhatsApp and Facebook messages.
Getting back, before long I found myself drifting off into slumber, though it wasn’t a deep chloroform slumber because I could still sort of hear the rattle of a boda exhaust pipe as the bike hurtled down the road. But what was surreal about drifting in and out of sleep it that I had an array of dreams of which I can remember none except this one. And please don’t laugh!
That I represented Uganda at the Sex Olympics finals in Italy, Rome and scooped our first ever medal – the bronze. If I had put in more effort, I could have gotten the silver but Judge deemed my ‘finish, dismount, roll over and fall asleep’ technique rather weak and wanting. Coach thought of appealing.... That’s where the dream ended and much to my aggravation because the noise of Grass Cutter’s machine next door woke me up.
As I lay seething at Grass Cutter, it got me thinking. I wonder how many Sex Olympics Below 35 Year Woman has attended and is it that the reason why they like spending the weekends sleeping?
After a hearty lunch and after Grass Cutter had taken his leave to go and annoy another neighbourhood I went back to sleep. Sleep this time came effortlessly – probably because I had quaffed three beers and when I woke, it was 5:30pm. The entire afternoon had been wasted with not one notable dream to remember.
At work on Monday when asked how I spent the weekend, well before Below 35 Year Old Woman had finished asking, I had already blabbered that I spent it sleeping. Guess her response? “It was fair. I spent it sleeping.”
Jeez, get a life!
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
"How did the interview go" - I ask. A pause then: “It went well and one thing that Employer wanted to know, was if I had the ability to ‘think outside the box’.”
Years back, it wasn’t about thinking outside the box because Employer didn’t need that kind of employee. Rather, he wanted people with multi-tasking skills.
Just to make sure we are on the same page, Google defines multi-tasking as: “The ability to perform multiple tasks during the same period of time, which are executed concurrently in overlapping time periods with new tasks starting before others have ended instead of sequentially one completing before the next starts.”
Many people proclaim that they can’t multi-task, but can. They do it every Saturday at wedding receptions – almost without thought because they have ‘the ability to eat cheese cake dessert in the middle of the lamb curry main course or being able to combine the soup starter with the other dessert option – chocolate ice cream.’ That is multi-tasking – not waiting for one course to end before starting the next.
The worrying aspect about multi-tasking is that we become smug and aloof that often, we fall victim to our effective ability at doing it. I know that didn't make sense, but you will see why Employee gave up on people with multi-tasking skills and opted for those who think outside the box.
A couple of years back, Young Man was arrested in Romania for using an electric saw to slice his mother to pieces. All would have gone well for him had he not chosen to multi-task. He decided to watch television as he diced Mother into cubes that he didn’t notice the cord tangling up his arms. Apart from dicing Mother, he also ended up sawing off his foot.
In Paris, USA - yes there is a Paris in the US, Chap clobbered Wifey and Toy-ee to death then doused them with petrol to burn. His intention was to burn them then flee while smoking a celebratory joint - until he thought about multi-tasking. As he gathered their remains, he lit up the joint, tossed the match to the floor and unaware that he too was also doused in fuel, he flared up like House-ee’s sigiri and suffered third degree burns.
Closer to home, there is Pompi. Rather than send a txt to one recipient at a time, he multi-tasked - while deeply engaged in a raucous conversation and sending txt messages to three different people. Is there any need to tell you what happened next?
After dropping OPP to his Buziga home at 2:00am, I too multi-tasked – opening a bottle of TML with my teeth, changing CDs, trying to pick up the phone up from the floor and all while driving. Naturally, I lost control and drove into a swamp where the ride began to sink.
And at Deputy Speaker, Jacob Oulanyah’s wedding reception in Speke Resort Munyonyo last year, If only Policeman had not multi-tasked – he ate dry cheese cracker biscuits while eating the main course – Irish potatoes, beef stew, nakati, grilled fish plus more. Then he choked and scurried off to spew his vomit into Lake Victoria.
But the winner in all this has to be Billy Goat. You see, Billy Goat got the horn just as the herd was about to cross the highway near Wobulenzi. Rather than stifle the urge till he got across the highway to mount She Goat, guess what he did? He multi-tasked and tried to mount her as they crossed the busy highway! So smug and aloof he had become that he didn’t notice the speeding Fuso fuel trailer which mowed him down and turned him into highway muchomo - much to Vendors delight.
Pictures: New Vision, Bryanston Pictures, Internet
Saturday, August 19, 2017
In the 80s and 90s, Miss Uganda had all but died – not that anybody wailed at the funeral because often the pageant was ill prepared, rode on a shoe string budget and Contestant who braved the catwalk didn’t get the prizes promised to her by Organiser.
In 2001, in walked the unheard of Sylvia Owori who at a Rock Bar press conference, announced to the nation she had bought the rights to the pageant and was going to make it grand. “It won’t be held in Sabrina’s Pub (which then, was the number one spot for functions) or some backwater dive in Ndeeba. Miss Uganda is going up market. It’s going to be big and it’s going rock Uganda. Watch this space!”
That said, she swung us – the media hacks, a soda or was it a beer or two and a ka-samosa and we were on our way. We had, of course, heard it before - after all, what credentials did she have save for a ‘failed’ stint as a music promoter when she brought that Jamaican dancehall artiste whose signature tune was: ‘Oh No!’ and called himself Red Rat, assuming my memory still sparks and I’ve not been struck by a bout of dementia.
But true to her Rock Bar hype, Owori wasn't talking fwaala because she did make Miss Uganda great again! She got sponsors with bottomless pockets – Total, Bell, Crane Bank and MTN. And as they say, the rest is history.
One thing about Miss Uganda is that they held regional’s – in Lira, Mbale, Jinja, Fort Portal and Mbarara. At the first regional in Lira, Lira didn’t know what to make of it when the Miss Uganda band wagon stomped into town. All they knew was girls are needed to take part in a beauty contest and with that, just about every woman from the district turned up for auditions and I mean EVERY woman from Grandma Ongom to Great Grandma Akol. In tow was Fat Woman, which surprised me because in my naivety, I thought that Fat Woman only came from Mbarara, Fort Portal, Bushenyi, Kabale and Buganda.
|Victoria Nabunya, first Miss Uganda winner under the Owori reign in 2001|
Moving on, before Ms Owori came into play, in a moment of temporary insanity back in 1998, I attended Miss Kabalagala which was held in Capital Pub, a pub renowned as being the top hangout in the land for Prostitute and thumping rock music.
From start to finish, Miss Kabalagala was a chortle. I don’t know how they sourced the girls, but when First Girl came sashaying down the rickety catwalk, we weren’t sure if she was trying to imitate a person with disabilities or if she had something stuck up her bottom. Second Girl, when asked what she would do with the prize money if she won, she said something along the lines of buying Roadside Vendor chicken for Friend and a teddy bear. Another tried to show case her dancing talent by withering on the stage like a snake trying to wrap itself round its prey. Hmm!
Now this is where this week’s ramble cajoles for next Saturday, 26th, is pageant night - Miss Kansanga so the banner strewn at the junction of Kabalagala and Gaba road screams and I think it’s being held in that dingy pub next to the market. “Atte where else” I hear you howl.
I doubt regular readers of read my column will show - not OPP and Doc because they are in outside countries, not Tilly or Donna Muwonge because they would have flown out, certainly not Bayego because she smirked when I told her about it and Miss Na-Gundi, well she is not the sort of person to show case her latest sweeping ensemble in a down trodden pub. I however, expect Julio and Nodin to fall in.
But I am unfazed and will attend for the other day when I asked Car Mechanic what he thought I might expect from it, he said: “Wagenda kuba wajudde akabozi, n’abawala b’omukatale nga abaganzi baabwe abavuzi ba piki ne boda babawagira” (It’s going to be full of House Girl and Market Girl with Boda Boyfie cheering them on”).
|The expected crowd at Miss Kansanga|
Now, is that not apt justification for Miss Kansanga being a plot?
Pictures: New Vision, Sylvia Owori, Bukedde
Sunday, August 13, 2017
I find myself perturbed this Sunday. Has the scorching Kampala sun gotten to people’s heads? Am I the only sane person in town? Or am I just being intricate? There are scores of things that I see happen in this dusty city of ours to which I have no response.
LUDO: Back in the day, Idle Man used to play omweso. Omweso, so I am told, involves a great deal of thinking. The brain has to work. But it seems Idle Man found it tasking and flung it out in favour of Ludo if not, Snakes and Ladders - games that don’t require any thought and winning is dependent on the roll of dice. And get this, Boda Man will stop to watch as will Level Headed Looking Man and with mesmerised and wow looks on their faces. Jeez!
UGACHICK: Why does Aga Sekalala call the company Ugachick, yet they don’t sell chicks but fully grown chickens?
THE LIFT BUTTON: Am in Workers House with six other people waiting for the lift when Chap turns up, looks at us like we are morons and proceeds to press the lift call button which I might add, was lit thus meaning it had already been pressed. Twenty seconds later, Chap presses it again – four-to-six times in quick succession. Politely I lean over and whisper that no matter how many times he presses the button, the lift won’t move any faster and it won’t skip floors just because he has hit the button six times. He retorted by swinging me a “who the f**k do you think you are” look.
BY ORDER: Who is this person - By Order? You’ve all seen the notices in supermarkets, restaurants, offices and shops and at the bottom of whatever message is being conveyed, it’s signed off as ‘By Order’.
KCCA POTHOLES: When KCCA Engineer decides it’s time to patch up a pothole, he sends Repairman and what Repairman, does is to compose the pothole to look neat - as in slicing the edges to make it a square or rectangle. When done, he heaps all the crumbs on the side of the now neat square or rectangular pothole, gives it a good clean sweep and vanishes for the next four weeks until it’s time to repeat the process all over again.
POLICE and TRIBE: Cop loves to know what tribe you are when filling out a statement. A statement without mention of tribe is not a complete statement to him. Does Cop think that when the case gets to court, it all hinges on tribe and without it, Judge will throw it out?
ROADSIDE PREACHER: Roadside Preacher spends the best part of the day idling about Shell Jinja Road making a racket. When he gets home in the evening, does Better Half ask something along these lines?
Better Half: “Honey, how was your day?”
Roadside Preacher: “TB saw me approach his ride to preach for him and he quickly wound down his windows and blared out profanity steeped gangsta rap music.”
HOOTING TAXI: Has taxi Driver been reading up on Pavlov’s dog theory and that if he doesn’t hoot multiple times, we wouldn’t know that we have to take a taxi and would walk to our destinations?
AM FEELING HEADACHE: “Am feeling headache”, is a favourite of Campus Girl especially, Akamwesi residents. Listen up Campus Girl and for the umpteenth time, it’s not “am feeling headache” but “I have a headache” or “I can feel a headache coming on.”
SPECIAL HIRE TAXI: Before Uber came along, what were the chances of getting into a special hire taxi and Chap taking you straight to your destination without a detour via the nearest gas station? Virtually zero!
LEANING WAITRESS: The day I walk into a kafunda and Waitress does not lean on the table when she comes to take my order, I will swing her 20k!
All those questions haunt me that I can’t get a decent night’s sleep and am frightful that I might end up in the loony bin if I don’t get the answers.
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