Did Your MP Bring His Kyalo Table Manners To Kampala When You Elected Him?

There is something about the Speaker of Parliament, the Right Honorable Rebecca Kadaga to shout out loud about. Not only is she the first female speaker this country has had, she is a Musoga at that - which, gives me bragging rights because I am a Musoga. While I do know Ms Kadaga, I wish I could have gotten to know her in my own right, as me – Timothy Bukumunhe. However, there is another Musoga who is more eminent that I am, and whose name has far more clout and it’s through him, that I met Ms Kadaga. PST Bukumunhe so they call him. But I can live with that – I think.

Parliament - Home To Uganda's Unruly And Uncouth MPs 

Ms Kadaga is a jolly woman when you meet her socially and despite the high profile job she holds, she seemingly has no airs or graces – unlike the Members of Parliament she presides over during the course of her duties. The thing about our Members of Parliament, is that they have this air of ‘entitlement’ simply because they have the MP title after their names. They strut about town in oversized and ill-fitting suits they bought clandestinely from Hawker in that dark restaurant – Maddona (just across the road from Parliament), if not, from Hawker who discreetly plies his trade between Amber House and Social Security House.

Our MPs don’t derive their bravado or bragging rights from debating in the chamber or giving interviews to reporters on the steps of Parliament after a session. Rather, it comes from public functions because they love the attention they get from wanainchi when introduced as they sit in the covered pavilion sipping on a cold Coke while, the rest us, swelter in the scorching heat drinking oven temperature mineral water. But, it’s when it’s time to eat that the real swagger of MP shines through. 

MPs Like Free Food And Especially Drinks Which They Hoard Under Their Seats 

The men adjust their suits and ties then pretend to be busy in deep discussion with Colleague when Usher turns up to guide them to the buffet table. They keep Usher waiting for at least ten minutes until one of them looks up at her ‘annoyingly’ and says: “Can you wait, because I’m having a discussion with my honorable friend on matters of national importance.” Let me hmm and even roll out a LOL!

At the buffet table, MP has traits similar to that of Villager – when they see the amount of food on offer, they feel Easter lunch, Idd lunch and Christmas lunch have been packaged into one. They want to eat everything so they serve themselves everything. In the process, they also hold up the que as they once again, pretend to discuss matters of ‘national importance’ as they try to deflect the attention of Server from their now overflowing plates of food.

When It Comes To Eating, Most MPs Have The Most Vile Table Etiquette. The Kyalo Eating Habits Will Never Leave Them 

 Once content that they’ve served themselves everything they walk back to their seats. What MP doesn’t know is that at the end of the function when the cleaners come to clean up, they always know where MP sat because there is a trail of gravy on the tiles from the buffet table to their seats.

At this point, many of you are probably thinking I’ve concocted this analysis, but I haven’t hence the need to bring in Ms Kadaga as back up.

With the Commonwealth Parliamentary Conference starting tomorrow – Monday 23^rd at Munyonyo Commonwealth Resort, she imparted some advice to her colleagues. “When you load your plates, don’t overload, don’t mix dessert and meat, pineapple and matooke and the soup. While eating, even when hungry, don’t rush.”

 

It All Fell Down To Rebecca Kadaga To Give Advice To MPs On How To Behave At Meal Times 

She cited an incident where one MP was choking that M7 told his then ADC, Lt Gen Wilson Mbadi to go slap him on the back and when he did, meat flew out and landed near visiting President Jakaya Kikwete.         

After Dishing On Byenda, Quaffing Club And Bell Beer, MPs Take To The Dance Floor Paka Chini Like These MPs

              

Despite Kadaga’s advice, watch Bukedde’s Agataliko Nfufu tomorrow to see if your MP embarrassed himself. 

Pictures: elgondaily.co.ug, independent.co.ug, ugandajournalistsresourcecentre.com

When The Wolf Stalks........

He hadn’t yet sauntered into Mbabazi’s, but you could hear him. Whoever he was talking to, must have been on the phone because I couldn’t hear any responses. He was hollering at the top of his voice in Luganda about how he had done this and that, and that the deal was successful. He was all full of grandeur – boisterous at that, but annoyingly, he wanted everyone to know who he was around and that he had just pulled a deal.

Disclaimer - This Is Not The Man In The Story

Popping his head round the door, I wasn’t expecting what I saw. He was a man who was just ‘there, there’ – in a faded polo T-shirt, green trousers (who wears green trousers?) and sandals. And as soon as he sat, he began barking: “Stella, bring me a beer, you know how I do my things.” For one reason or another, Stella was reluctant to serve him so he pulls out his phone and from where I was sitting watching him, it was a pretend phone call. After a wild conversation about how he’s already in Soya, he calls out to Stella saying that John is on his way and has bought him two beers. Again, Stella refuses to serve him.

On that, he dips into his pocket, pulls out three crumpled 1k notes and Stella serves him a warm Nile Special.

For all his boisterous self, Dude, so I later found out, was a petty house broker – dealing in houses that rent for no more than 80k a month and second hand taxis. His phone was a kabiriti that he had configured in such a way that whenever it rang, the torch would flash on and off. Talking of trying to stand out – hmm!

80k A Month Housing Units

I also found out that the Soya waitresses, the ba-fumba emeree brigade, the car mechanics know of him as a failed broker who likes to talk grand but in reality, there nothing grand about his talk except a web of lies.

In one of his conversations – to a woman, he talks of how he doesn’t like it when he calls and she takes her time to answer. Then he added: “I am here in Soya, you come and pick money.” Following on, it would appear the mystery woman didn’t have any money on her to come over because next, he was telling her how he didn’t believe in sending money via mobile money, because they are thieves.

Are Mobile Money Agents Thieves?

He did though, promise to pick her up because the car was parked at Haas petrol station just up the road. He finished off his beer as he tried to vybe Waitress then left. I watched him walk out towards Hass, except, he didn’t get as far as Hass but to the stage and boarded a taxi. So the ‘car’ was a taxi?

Stella says that since she started working in Soya, Dude hits on all new comers within hours of their arrival. She describes him as ‘not attractive, smooth and brash’ - so smooth that it’s impossible not to believe him. He always turns up in different cars. Sometimes he would change cars three to four times a day.

Where Was His Fleet Of Taxis?

There is the story of Waitress who was just off the bus from Bushenyi and worked for Charles who has the best chicken in Soya. Waitress was brown, tall, good looking but, daft and taking her to work in Soya, was simply throwing her out to the wolves and Dude didn’t waste time in pouncing.

His ‘fleet of taxis impressed her’ as did the number of ‘HIS’ houses he would visit in a day. So mesmerized she was by his spiel and how he claimed to be a low key man but loaded, she quit her job.

No need to tell you how the tale ends except, she got burnt and has resorted to loitering outside Capital Pub in revealing skirts.  

Pictures: qz.com, monitor.co.ug, newvision.co.ug, voanews.com   

                  

When Greed Turns Into Blackmail...

One thing Juliana was so fixated with by the time she and boyfriend Andrew graduated, was she didn’t have the patience for him telling her how he would be loaded by the time he hits 40. She wanted him to mint ‘their’ money TODAY and not twenty years later.

To be honest, Andrew was rather dim not to figure out that Juliana had no desire to cohabit with him in a rented hovel in Naalya and play happy families while he builds up ‘their’ fortune. She wanted the good life immediately, and if Andrew couldn’t provide, she would hustle. However, she didn’t want to be known as a hussy who sluts it from bed-to-bed looking to snare a man to give her the good life.

By graduation, Andrew had found a house for them – in a Naalya estate and the rent was affordable – 300k-a-month which, his parents agreed to meet until he found his footing. He was, so he told us, in ‘temporary housing’. Of course Juliana sneered at the ‘temporary housing’ saying she “can’t live in a house that has mabaati for a roof.” So she gave him an ultimatum. “When you get your act together, let me know.” Ouch!

When he next heard from her, she was inviting him to her flat in Bukasa, Muyenga. He went over with an open mind bearing in mind he knew her job a lab assistant in a private hospital didn’t pay well. But when he got there, the flat was impressive enough – three bedroomed, tiled, granite kitchen and so forth. Quickly guessing, he estimated rent must be in the region of 900k + a month yet, she was barely earning 400k. He suppressed his thoughts as to how she was able to live in an upscale flat on her meagre pay.

On that visit, the flat was almost bare but on every subsequent visit and to plagiarize from the NRM Party manifesto, there were signs of ‘steady progress’ - a 40-inch curved Samsung screen, a six burner gas cooker, microwave, and stainless steel saucepans from Game Store. Again, he suppressed his thoughts as to how she was able to afford those luxuries on her pay.

Meanwhile, he was still incarcerated in the Naalya rental and while he had a job that paid 900k, he just couldn’t afford the stuff Juliana had in her flat. He still had to make do with cheap or second hand clothing from downtown. And shopping in Game Store for stainless steel saucepans, was out of his realm. He bought cheap ones from a roadside stall as he walked home from the stage.

Over time they began to drift apart. All updates on what she was doing, he got from Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. And when he saw the pictures, the haunts they used to visit while dating on campus because they were affordable, had been replaced by outings to swanky high end joints - La Cabana, Skyz Hotel, Jazz Safari in Munyonyo and wait for it, wait for it, securing herself an invite to Rajiv Ruparelia’s wedding anniversary bash – yet Rajiv and Juliana live in different worlds! But he still had hope in her because in the pictures, there was never a photo of a recurring man hovering in the background who might be her financier.

But all scams eventually unravel. Juliana wasn’t whoring around as Andrew and we, his friends suspected but, using her position in the HIV lab to blackmail clients into keeping their statuses under wraps. Obviously she got fired, was blacklisted and went underground. The last Andrew heard of what she might be doing – hustling in Hoima.

By the way, Andrew – so he tells us, bought two acres of land somewhere off Entebbe Road. He might just be true to his word of being loaded by the time he hits 40. 

Picture Credits: psychologytoday.com, differencebetween.info 

                    

Is Your Dad Chuck Norris, Rambo, Arnie Schwarzenegger Or Van Damme?

Quora, an online website, describes a ‘father’ as being more than just a name or a title. “A father is one who loves his sons and daughters with unconditional love. A real father accepts his sons or daughters if they tell him their gender orientation is different. If their sons have fallen in love with another boy, or daughter with another girl, they will still love them unconditionally.” With that narrative, it’s easy to quantify Quora as an American website and that its 722 employees must be white.

Wait up, no mention of: “Being a King Kong, the master ninja and a person who can goof all other dads?”

If Your Dad Was Rambo, Who Would Mess With Him?

 It was shortly after a Shaggy concert at Speke Resort Munyonyo. Kids were larking in the pool while Expatriate Parent loafed on the sun loungers soaking up the sunshine. As we stood by the kitchen munching on burgers with The Mullah who is of Indian decent, shirtless Expatriate Parent, who had a body that was a wrap of Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jean Claude Van Damme, Chuck Norris, Rambo and who stood 6ft plus, marched up and started rebuking Waiter for getting his order wrong.

IF Waiter was scared, I was terrified because this mix of Schwarzenegger, Van Damme, Norris and Rambo, had biceps the size of the steel central column holding up Crested Towers building. If a melee brewed, Waiter was but mere fodder. By the way, I like a melee now and again to get rid of my frus, but not with Arnold, Jean…. I half expected The Mullah to follow suit, but he didn’t. He stayed put, finished his burger then, launched an attack on Expatriate Parent.

 

The Dad To Have: Arnold Schwarzenegger 

The Mullah, is short and portly so who did he think he was to take on a 6ft plus mix of Schwarzenegger, Van Damme, Norris and Rambo? I could see myself spending the rest of the afternoon on my hands and knees looking for his teeth in the grass. Meanwhile, Expatriate Parent’s young son had rolled up with his friends and was stood there with a full beam across his face and waiting for the inevitable to happen – that of his dad goofing the lights out of the Mullah.

Except, it didn’t go to script. In shock and awe feat, The Mullah launched in first with a tirade of swear words – some that I had never heard of at Expatriate Parent. And he didn’t just stop with words. He stood on his forefeet trying to gain some height then, stretched his arm out and wagged his index finger literally millimeters from Expatriate Parent’s eyes, while continuing with the onslaught of swear words.

Jean Claude Van Damme Can Goof The Life Out Of All Other Dads

When the dust settled, you could almost hear a pin drop on the grass. Expatriate Parent glared down at The Mullah and The Mullah scowled back at him. Expatriate Son looked on waiting for his dad to unleash the mother of all punches while Waiter who was being berated was long gone. On the other hand, I thought of pulling at The Mullah’s shirt and urging him to walk away but the unthinkable happened.

Expatriate Parent simply broke into tears! In a matter of seconds, he had deflated from a muscled body, to a scrawny and feeble one – almost akin to that of India’s Mahatma Gandhi.

Then he blubbered about how much he had to drink the previous night and how sorry he was. If there was ever just cause for Expatriate Son to divorce his dad as they are so fond of doing when they feel let down, it was then. I mean, how does a portly short man, shame your dad who, has a combo of a Schwarzenegger, Van Damme, Norris and Rambo body in front of your friends?

 

Nothing Gets In The Way Of Chuck Norris

Perhaps, that’s the reason why Quora makes no mention of: “Being a King Kong, the master ninja and a person who can goof all other dads” in its definition of fatherhood?   

Picture Credits: rollingstone.com, comicbook.com, businessinder.com

     

      

Expelled From School And Sent to Prison

I was fortunate enough, that during my academic career, I was never suspended or expelled from school – not because I was a good boy who towed the line, but because I was never caught. There was a band of us at The Grange School in Kenya, who were always that one step ahead of Mr. Layfield, the headmaster. I could list the names of my partners in crime and the ‘offences’ we committed, but I shudder at the thought of what dad – Mr. Bukumunhe that is, or their parents would say.

The Grange School, Limuru, Kenya

By the time I met Jeremy Whitfield at school in England, he had been suspended from six schools and expelled from four. If that was not ‘achievement’ enough, he had a list of petty criminal convictions to his name and guess what, he was barely 17-years-old!

The first time I saw him in action with the schools authorities was in the chemistry lab. He had an altercation with Teacher that saw him lose his rag. Short of starting a bonfire in the lab that necessitated the fire brigade and police being called, he threatened to cut out Teacher’s heart and feed it to the dogs.

If I recall, they caged him in a juvenile detention center for a couple of weeks before being released back into society and school. When he came back, obviously the school’s administration was on bunkenke but remarkably enough, he towed the line – for almost a month until a squad of police cars pulled up outside the school during lunch.

What startled, is the disorder in the dining room with Jeremy making a run for it - to the nearest exit and fleeing down a back alleyway. But amusingly enough, it wasn’t only Jeremy who fled. Ten others also fled and as did a number of black males who sported dreadlocks.

Entertainingly enough, once the dust settled, it dawned that the police hadn’t stormed though the school gates to make arrests. On looking out the French bay windows, they had turned up on other business – to a house across the street which, we later found out was being used as a marijuana and cocaine smoking house.

British Police Carrying Out A Raid

And all went back to normal until the police turned up yet again and on friendly terms to lecture on drug abuse. It was an insightful talk especially the part about being able to detect if somebody is on drugs – glazed all over eyes, needle marks and pimples.

After that lecture, Jeremy and a number of others didn’t show up at school for a while. We later found out that they had been ‘suspended’, and were helping the police with their enquiries in an issue over ‘handling stolen property’. It turns out that Jeremy’s brother – who was expelled from school when he was barely in his teens, was in a gang that had ripped of a truck at a service station on the M6 motorway and made off with electronics.

An Expulsion Letter

When Jeremy returned from his ‘suspension’ he looked a frightful sight – withdrawn, almost a recluse. And almost as soon as he returned, things started to go missing. A computer went missing from the computer lab as did some chemicals from the chemistry club.

The writing on the wall or rather his expulsion from school came late afternoon when police walked in during a geography lesson I think it was, and stood just inside the door talking to the lecturer.

Almost immediately, the entire class turned round and looked at Jeremy who, in a futile attempt was trying to shield his face. He didn’t struggle as they led him away and it was the last time we ever saw him. 

Her Majesty's Prison, Morland In Yorkshire

We did later learn he was sent to jail at Her Majesty's Prison - Moorland, for 8-years. 


Picture Credits: Daily Star, onlinemadison.com, telelgraph.co.uk, ahu.edu         

We All Have A Judas In Our Circles

Jonathan is an amiable man of good heart, character and is always there when friends need a bail out. Since his move to Uganda from across the border, he has integrated well into Ugandan society and has even taken on a Ugandan wife. In the build up to his wedding, friends rallied round him especially, Judas because that’s what he is – Judas, except then, we didn’t know he was.

Judas, was a groomsman at the wedding which, shows just how much faith Jonathan had in him. Months after the wedding, Judas fell on hard times. And what did Jonathan do about it? He took him in – as in, accommodated him in his house, fed him and clothed him.

Everything went well until one evening whilst he was upcountry, Wifey called announcing Judas had outlived his welcome and needed to go. However, Jonathan, was having none of it. Judas was his friend, his tight and it was he who had invited him to stay, so it was he to decide when Judas was to go and not Wifey.

With that, Wifey passed on well over 100 WhatsApp messages from Judas to her – sent whenever Jonathan had travelled upcountry. I am sure by now you can guess where this is headed – don’t you? Judas, was hitting on Wifey. One of the messages read something along the lines of: “Why do you lock your bedroom door? Don’t you not hear me knocking at night?” Another in part read: “Please open up, I am standing outside the door.”

Let’s pause a minute to digest. It’s past 2:30am, so what would Judas be wanting with Wifey at that hour that can’t wait until the following day? Well, the only ‘talking’ Judas had in mind was between his legs - as in sleeping with his friend’s wife. Is there any need to tell you that the s**t hit the fan? When Judas realized that the game was up, he had the common sense to flee the crib before Jonathan came back from his travels. Of course, he attempted some pathetic attempt at an apology, but it was beyond that. The damage had been done and they have never spoken to each other since. By the way, Judas is still on hard times – years after the incident.

When Matthew started dating, he would hang out with Squeeze along Ggaba Road – Moto Moto, Miki’s Pub and Attic before it moved to its new location and occasionally in Soya. Everybody knew – including his friends that Tall Girl was Matthews’s girl.

On one occasion at Soya, whilst Tall Girl was with her sister, Jonathan called Waitress telling her to buy them drinks and if they would care to join him. Before Waitress placed the order, she cautioned him saying: “You can buy them a drink, but note, they ‘belong’ to Matthew. Jonathan didn’t have to think twice as to what that meant. He quickly finished his drink and left. The message was very explicit – Tall Girl was spoken for and he was not bound to do a Judas on his friend Matthew, as had been done to him.

Okay, so Jonathan didn’t know Tall Girl was spoken for, but he did the honorable thing when he found out – he left her alone. But Matthew’s other ‘friends’ were not as honorable as Jonathan for he says, whenever he went to the washrooms, upon his return, he always caught somebody scurrying off from the table.

He adds: “It would have been easier to grasp had it been a random who, didn’t know the status quo that was trying to hit on her, but when it’s a tight friend from the inner core, it’s a bitter pill to swallow. Now, I have no idea which, of my friends is genuine. If we can’t trust our inner circle, then who do we trust?”     

Picture Credits: astramusic.com, americamagazine.org, geek.com

      

 

    

When A Bout Of Temporary Insanity Hits....

There are, many out there, who don’t grasp the concept of ‘tongue-in-cheek humour’ and take what is written, as a direct attack. In this ramble, I expect many to do just that - take what I have written as a direct attack, but what the heck.

Until a few weeks ago, I’d never heard of Vincent Ssempijja. Leafing through his profile, nothing is out of the ordinary especially when it comes to education, for he holds a Master of Arts in Public Administration. He has also held a number of government jobs that today, he is the minister of agriculture.

Vincent Ssempijja

On the other hand, I have heard of Salva Kiir, the current president of South Sudan. Unlike Ssempijja, Kiir is known because of the Stetson he wears wherever he goes – even to bed most probably. Looking at his Wikipedia profile, there is no mention of his education except, somewhere in his teens, he joined the Anyanya battalion in the first Sudanese civil war.

So how do Ssempijja and Kiir connect? They both made utterances when the brain was not connected or plugged in. In other words, ‘the wires’ were off.

Ssempijja decided he wants to issue all animals with birth certificates – that “every calf will be given a certificate at birth." The registration targets domestic animals including, cows, sheep, goats, pigs among others. For the record, a birth certificate is a vital record that documents the birth of a person. In this case, won’t farmers be in a fix, because the legal portion of the certificate shows the child's name, date of birth, parents’ names, sex, place-of-birth of the child, father’s name, place-of-birth, mother’s name, place-of-birth and occupation among others. So how are farmers supposed to determine which bull in the kraal sired the calf?

Is This What The Certificate Will Look Like?

On the other hand, Kiir directed that the country’s national anthem does not belong to the nation or its nationals, but to him alone as president. You see, Kiir is peeved off that everybody is playing it and he can’t understand why so he sent his information minister to issue a statement that in part reads: “For the information of everybody, the national anthem is for the president, and functions attended by him.” Hmm. Next, is he going to say the national flag and treasury belong to him too? And their anthem won’t get played at sporting events overseas.

Salva Kiir

Of course, I think both Kiir and Ssempijja belong in strait jackets and locked up in sound proof rooms so nobody can hear them. However, there is a loop hole that might just allow them to continue uttering their nonsensical utterances and that’s by pleading temporary insanity.

If they plead that, the law requires that Ssempijja and Kiir be evaluated by competent mental health professionals - like the men in white coats at Butabika Hospital. After completing a psychiatric evaluation, Shrink will testify regarding their probable mental state at the time they made the unfortunate utterances.

The testimony of Shrink who examined Ssempijja and Kiir must, answer the questions of law, and allow the public to decide whether the testimony and other evidence in the case allow for a finding of temporary insanity. Those questions that must be answered by the expert witness include:

·       Were Kiir and Ssempijja unable to tell right from wrong, or did not understand that what they said was stupid, irresponsible and thoughtless because of a psychiatric or psychological illness?

·      Were Kiir and Ssempijja, because of psychiatric illness, were unable to control their impulsive behaviour and spoke without engaging brain first?

·     Because of a specifically diagnosed mental illness, Kiir and Ssempijja could not understand the public ridicule and outcry of their actions.

The Men In White Coats

While Shrink has yet to make his findings public, the men in white coats are on standby to cart them away. 

Photo Credits: kshaf3.wordpress.com, observer.ug, eagle.co.ug, Daily Monitor