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#UGBlogWeek: The Election Survival Toolkit

#UGBlogWeek: The Election Survival Toolkit

Alright, listen up.

I’m only going to say this once. It’s way too hot and repeating myself will likely take its toll, I will not cave to your “I beg your pardon” and “come again”… no repeat no surrender.

Tomorrow is D-Day, the day we march to the polling stations, dip our fingers in ink with the hope that soiled thumbs move mountains.

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Elections were held…now what?

Elections were held…now what?

Now that we have voted, we can pat ourselves on the collective back. See, it doesn’t even matter whether your candidate took the biscuit. What’s important is that you are now, for lack of a better word, relevant.

You know those stories you hear from elderly folk about how they participated in some sort of monumental event, like say, walking to school ten kilometers away? Read more

The New Place. The Clinic

The New Place. The Clinic

You’d think moving to a new place would mean a fresh start.

See, my lifestyle may have been upgraded somewhat, but my immunity’s still a bitch.

How was your Christmas Day? 

I got off to a decent enough start. You know, the sporadic load-shedding that suggests someone at the power company is sending you signals by Morse Code.  Apparently you can’t sue ‘em because of something on every bill that indemnifies them. I think it’s the bit at the bottom where they tell you they will disconnect your power supply if you have not paid up by the time the silly uniform has walked through your gate.

Then there was the rain. Read more

of primary importance

of primary importance

You may not believe this, but I went to Primary School once. I think it’s what people on the other side of the ocean call Elementary School, but, moving on. I went to primary school and I too had the privilege of sitting for my Primary Leaving Examinations…and, as it is now, my generation of candidates also had the system fuss over them. Looking back one question looms in the recesses of my steadily greying grey matter.

It’s not so much, why did I need to learn how to arrange stuff in Alphabetical order. Read more

An Innocent Michael Jackson Post

It just occurred to me that while I was not a hardcore fan, I am moved somewhat by the entity that is (or was, if you believe he really is dead) Michael Jackson. See, there was a point in my life where I was in awe of the backslide and the gravity defying lean.  The first horror flick I watched was the Thriller music video. Peering from behind my fingers as Michael turned into a werewolf, freaking out as the zombies did their dance and Michael’s girl screamed. Curiously, there were no nightmares after this, just the belief that Michael was the devil incarnate and that he could transform into a werewolf whenever the moon was full… then into a car (Moonwalker) then into a Panther (Black or White). I thought, shit, that guy is good… until the stories that he was a devil worshipper started to move around. Those were not special effects, that shit was real! Lucifer was at work!

The scales dropped from mine eyes soon enough, but as time waned, so too did my fascination with the king of pop. I didn’t become Anti-pop, that honour fell to someone else. I just didn’t think there was anything magical about Michael anymore. Sure I appreciated the awesomeness of the music videos, the depth of some of his songs, but I didn’t care to try and memorise his lyrics, which was just sad seeing as back in the day I had to keep rewinding the cassette, playing back and writing to get verses on paper. In the era of the net and concordantly easier accessibility, I didn’t care.

Anyway, long story short, I received a tonne of messages when Michael died and I was not as moved as I thought I should have been. I didn’t even play the sadistic replacement game that I usually sink into when someone famous passes on (Aaliyah shouldn’t have died, so and so shoulda, Left Eye shouldn’t have died, thingy shoulda! and so on and so forth). I just shrugged and continued sipping my drink, bugged no end by the plethora of textual activity that was stimulating my cell phone.

Somehow I managed to survive the eulogies that saturated the airwaves, my eyes violated no end by the headlines screaming at them from the newspapers.

It was only when I watched the video for the Earth Song that Saturday following his death that it started to sink in. You have to understand, of all the Michael Jackson videos, that particular one kept evading me. I never, EVER got to watch it from start to finish. This time was no different. I ‘caught’ it as it was about to end. Yet again, Michael had managed to elude me. No matter, I finally felt a tinge of grief, a smidgen of remorse.

On Sunday, the music channels were going all out, airing ALL his music videos. I plopped myself in front of the TV and waited; Earth Song, you shall hide no more. Sure enough, it came on. Around the same time my sister’s friend arrived with her two little nieces in tow. I hit the pause button and went to alert my sister as to the presence of her guests. When I got back, one of the toddlers had undone my recording and moved on to the Disney Channel in the pursuit of some stupid **** called Hannah Montana! Yet again, no Earth Song.

Last night, I resisted the urge to give in to the widespread Michael moments on Facebook where the average facebook status message ranged from Michael Jackson song titles, lyrics and blatant proclamations that his legion of fans would moonwalk with him to his final resting place.

I caught bits and pieces of the send off on the telly. Just enough to make me think, SHIT!

Dude is gone.

In other news. . .

I have the flu, but let’s not make this post about that. I got an award from Sleek…I’m supposed to brag, but I don’t have that in me. Well, I could try, but shit, what could I say that you don’t know already? I be the realest, got posts so fly they should be up in the sky with birds…hang on, Microsoft word actually recognizes the word realest. Would that mean there is such a word as ‘realer’? It’s the Obama effect, I suppose. We have a boost of blackness in our vocabulary.

I’ve got three phones sitting on my desk. The Nokias are supporting each other in what looks like phonography (pornography…geddit? No, would you rather I said textual intercourse… What gives, Microsoft word recognizes the word textual?? Are these real words? Have I been out of it for THAT long? Which other word snuck into the lexicon while I was away…let’s see, ‘rentedmess’ . Aha, still not there!

I just realized I have not read today’s papers. I’ve read the pepper, but that doesn’t count for… great, the boss just dumped it on my desk. There’s an upside, the phones are hidden now. The headline on the Pepper- HOMOS WANT TO KILL ME makes you think. See the thing is, for a while now, guys have been purpoting to be gay with the hopes of getting asylum abroad, but now it turns out you don’t need to be gay to claim asylum. You can just say they want to attack you. George Oundo, I salute you! There’s a line where he claims that ‘some of these homosexuals are very powerful people…” er, okay. Bet there’s gonna be a probe into that soon enough.

The New Vision quotes the president of the republic as saying that opposition leaders are blind. How the heck is this news. He has been saying the same thing since forever ago. Of course at the time he said he was the only one with ‘vision’, but it is the same thing isn’t it?

Oh shit, the New Vision also reports that Robert Kayanja’s personal aide was kidnapped and beaten up by guys saying he should say that Pastor Kayanja had been sodomising boys. When he refused, they offered him $100,000 and pocket money amounting to $20,000. They also said they would fly him to a destination of his choice.

What is wrong with this picture?

First of all, I think they got the order all wrong. See, if you want someone to do your bidding, you start all diplomatic like then resort to violence if all else fails. You don’t beat a guy then offer him some money. He is probably thinking “Shit, half that money will go into surgery correcting the damage to my face”. Tell the guy, if you must that you will also pay his medical bills. Say you are sorry then dangle that carrot in front of his face. Don’t bloody hit a guy FIRST!

Secondly, they’ve got the wrong guy! The guy that outs gays is in the other paragraph and his name is George Oundo. As it stands, HE wants to leave the country, and clearly he is an authority on whose gay and who is not. Why go after the personal aide? George recognizes that there are some gay people, tell him you will make the playing field even for him. That’s the dude that wants the carrot! Give him the friggin carrot!

This flu has got the best of me, I’ll be right back.

My Neck, My Back Hurts JUST LIKE THAT

Let’s just dive right in shall we.

I have Spinal Spondylosis…the condition, not the movie. It is not the reason I walk with a, er, bounce. But it sure as hell is the reason it feels like my ribs are not held together and are engaged in a playful game of poke the lung every time the vehicle I am using goes over the humps that litter our roads. It is also the reason my back hurts like a bitch. Yeah, there is no colorful way of describing my back pain.

It took a while to arrive at this diagnosis by the way. In typical Ugandan fashion, the first doctor I saw said it was Malaria. Let’s think about this for a second. I have a sudden back pain, a dull ache in my right hand and the ribs in my chest feel like they are trying to have forced intercourse with my lungs and somehow this is supposed to be a strain of malaria?

How is this even remotely possible? Have the anopheles Mosquitoes enrolled in some Military school? Did the Italian Mosquitoes send some Mafia Enforcer; Don Squito? Has the virus had enough diseases like Ebola and AIDS taking its shine and decided “Screw this. You don’t know who the **** you are ****ing with!” (I don’t even know why I bothered censoring those words, what else could it be?)

So anyway, I told the doctor I didn’t think it was Malaria, but he insisted that I take the test. No lie, I hate needles, but if they will reveal what’s going on, so be it.

Results came in and….. NO FLIPPIN MALARIA!!!

However, the doctor is not buying this. “It could be hidden, take these pills.” Hidden? What the hell? Are the White Blood Cells and the Malaria parasites working together? From whence did this solidarity come?

So I took the drugs for the first day and surprise, surprise, I was still in pain! So I sought a second opinion.

I won’t name names, but this doctor is notorious for deriding our local doctors and their Malaria prescriptions. For once I was on the same page with him.

His diagnosis, “You have a long thin neck!”

Er, okay.

“Actually, you are tall and thin.”

Shit, I could have stayed at home, looked at myself in the mirror and saved myself the consultation money!

“So, your spine *something something* nerves *something something* pain”

BUT

“Let’s run some blood tests just so we can be sure we did not leave anything out”

Oh Crap, Mister! You don’t wanna do that! I have this Malaria Parasite in there that will break the friggin needle before you can get a sample!

The results; NEGATIVE for anything of significance.

So I’m told to stick with painkillers for the rest of my life. EXCITING! This brings me a step closer to being like that grouchy doctor on TV.

YET

The pain refused to go away!
It just stayed and stayed,
Stayed like it wanted to play!

So I got a third opinion! And that’s how I found out that I have Spinal Spondylosis! In as few words as possible; Spine, Bone, Poor Posture, Nerves Pressed.

Treatment

Physiotherapy!

The doctor has this little gadget that has these funny pad thingies that distribute jolts of electricity through my body. It’s an odd sensation, and I’m sure the doctor knows this.  So I don’t understand why he thinks I can sleep through the whole 30 minute ordeal. It took some getting used to, but when I finally accepted it as a friend (not on Facebook, Erique!) I just had to know its name. What do they call you, oh buzzing gizmo! Who shall I say cured me of my malady?

The doctor was only too willing to offer, “It’s called a Digital Therapy Machine!”

Are you kidding me? I was offended! You might as well slap a sticker on its side that says “Sylvia”

The doctor was on a roll. During the second session of physiotherapy, a belt like thingy was strapped around my waist.

“It will produce some heat!”

I was comfortable with that, what pissed me off was its name.

“This one is called a hot belt…”

Catch you on the other side

Other Side
I think there’s a boda boda guy trying to off me. I’m not sure but it could be for this Human Sacrifice thing that has swept the country. Everytime I jump onto his bike, I give him specific instructions… and directions. I tell him exactly where I want to go. Then I wait.

Sure as rain, he always tries to branch off to some dark place, until I tap him and say, “Boss!”

Then he goes back the way he is supposed to.

I feel compelled to tell him that I am probably not the witchdoctor’s type. I am tainted. The witchdoctor wants virgins. I’ve had sex before and I’ll be damned if I don’t have it again!

I am trying to understand what’s going on in his mind at these points, “I think he is sleeping, I can take him the other way…” Shit, speaking of ‘the other way’, maybe it’s not Human Sacrifice this guy is after…

In other NEWS

The president loves himself some ‘TOOKE‘ biscuits. Would it have killed the geniuses behind this product to sit down and think of a more awesome name… I don’t know about you, but if a kid walked up to me and said he wants money for Tooke, I’d slap him for being so obscene…

skirting on petty issues

It’s old news. Nsaba Buturo has gone and opened his trap yet again. This time round, because he realised he’d simply be repeating himself ( and thereby boring himself as well) he avoided Big Brother and went after short skirts.  click dis!    and dis one coz its new

I am not one to claim that I know the inner workings of parliament, but don’t we usually send these guys in to represent us. To discuss issues that really really count. I mean, come on, miniskirts?? 

The vibe I’m picking up here is that this dude was bullied as a kid and he views this as an opportunity for payback. 

I seriously wanted to go into the whole Big Brother issue, but I can’t see what his angle there is/was. “I never got to hang out with the cool kids, I won’t let Uganda see others” ? That’s a possible angle. But the thing is, the last lot of contestants were not the cool kids. Well, not entirely.

According to the web,

“Minister Nsaba Buturo told journalists in the capital Kampala that wearing a miniskirt was like walking naked in the streets.”

I beg to differ Mr. Minister. Walking Naked is like WALKING NAKED in the streets, wearing a miniskirt is nothing like that. Not even the kind that are as thick as a belt, or a handkerchief. We have seen naked people walk around the streets and I assure you, seeing someone in a miniskirt is tonnes better and does not really provoke a gag reflex. It may provoke an entirely different reflex, but shit. It IS NOT LIKE WALKING NAKED!!

“You can cause an accident because some of our people are weak mentally.”

Dude! I know as the minister of Ethics and such you are supposed to be the custodian of all things sacred and pure, but don’t bloody make generalisations like that. “Some of our people”…”Our people”? WTF? We had to deal with the whole Amin thing, now you’re giving us that? 

A guy logs into a chat room and introduces himself…

-” I’m from Uganda and I am hot for you, I wanna slide my”

-“Hang on… Uganda? I’ve heard about you. Sorry sweetie, I don’t think you can handle this jelly. I’m way too bootylicious for you.”

-“But…”

-“I know your type, you’re weak mentally.  Bye sugar” 

– “Shit! That’s the 6th one this week.  I will never be able to get a visa! Damn You Nsaba Buturo”

“If you find a naked person you begin to concentrate on the make-up of that person and yet you are driving.”

Okay, that’s all kinds of wrong. If I found a naked person, the last thing I’d be concentrating on is the make up. No matter what kind of eye-liner or masacara or whatever she’s got. Even if it was Beyonce’s Bleaching Cream… unless of course you meant to say concentrating on the “anatomy”…and even then, I really doubt anyone that found a naked person would find this person whilst behind the wheel of a car.  I mean, dayummm that’s some friggin ambition right there. 

But let’s compromise. How about this, if a person is driving and chances upon a naked being, let him drive to the side of the road, park and kill the engine and then “concentrate on the make up of the person” that is naked at the time. Naked people do not last forever. So, after said naked person has left the line of vision of the driver, he can get into his car and drive away. Thus, no accidents. 

“These days you hardly know who is a mother from a daughter, they are all naked”
I wasn’t going to say this, but, Sir…are you married? Do you have kids?… are you trying to tell us something?
Would I be right to say that some of our politicians are weak mentally? That they cause accidents by not debating the issues that matter… that these days you hardly know a kid from a minister of ethics  

How many accidents are caused by drivers fighting to switch off the car radio when Nsaba speaks?

Should they ban him?

In closing, conversation between colleagues 

-Nothing onscreen has more getting laid than sex and the city

-Clearly you don’t know about porn

 

APPEAL: Please Return The Red Pepper's Calendars!

The word for today is NIBIRU…not to be confused with Mubiru, which may or may not have been my lecturer’s name back at the university. Come to think of it. It wasn’t my lecturer’s name. He was called Kapere. Pretty funny guy, he just didn’t know it. . .or if he did he didn’t care. SUCKER! Read more