Putting the Lockdown into Perspective

Drinking-at-B-B-Lounge. (Nile Post)

President Museveni did not bother with allowing bars to open. I think he also realised that the bars were opened just a day after lockdown.

On 23rd March 2020, my neighbor turned his bar into a restaurant. On the menu rolex, chapatti and omelette.

Mzei Kalaso goes to the restaurant for lunch and comes out at 8pm, singing obangaina. Then LDUs who guard the gate arrest him for breaking curfew rules.

Basically, the LDUs only offer security to premises and patrons when inside the restaurant/bar and one can drink as much as he/she wishes and stay as long as someone so wishes. But once it clocks 7pm, you have 3 options: remain inside the restaurant/bar till morning, invite the LDUs inside for a drink or pay them to escort you to your house. They are very nice. Thank you very much, Museveni for bringing LDUs.

Another thing which had to stop was the music. The sound system was disabled and you would find people watching NTV news with the volume down to zero. They make use of the sign language and experts like us depend on the lip reading experience to know what the news anchor is saying. The challenge was "zungulu".

But fear Arsenal fans. On the day they won against Manchester City in the FA Cup, they blew their own cover. They noisily celebrated for 30 minutes.

Then I remembered the Police Officer who directed a butchery to turn off his loud music. There was no presidential directive whatsoever that we should stop loud music and indeed there is no scientific link between loud music and Covid-19.

But that officer was intelligent, he realised that everytime the loud music played, it was meant to distract the police from noticing that people were playing "matatu" or card game or ludo, just behind the police post.

People are pretty smart!

They are smart like me. Now that salons have been allowed to operate, I shall be going to Mbale this weekend to cut off my hair. This hair and I have tolerated each other for all these 4 months.

I would have cut my hair from here in Kampala but Jerome has told me that there is a salon which is offering discounts in Mbale. I can't miss that. I shall get on the first bus on Saturday so that by midday, I shall be done with the barber and return to Kampala.

While in Kampala, I shall return my DP party card to Norbert Mao and ask for a refund of my membership fee. I want to join another party!

A Peak into Uganda's Social Media Groups

A few years ago, some Ugandans made it a rule that I should write an article of 1000 words everyday for the rest of my life if I am to remain in their group as a member. But then I wondered, If my audience can’t even read 20 words, what shall I do with a “1000” words article? But Lawrence is a tough lad, he insisted on 1000 words. He told me that I should stop writing for those ones and start writing for myself. I broke the rules continuously and they removed me from that group. There are times like now when I think that I miss being part of that group; given chance, I would rejoin it and try my best to adhere.

But before that happens, today I will write about Uganda and its social media groups. This love emanated from my mentor’s commentary that she shared in our WhatsApp group, the need for individuals, companies and nations to use social media diligently and make the best of it, which we have not yet embraced to full capacity. 

Many Ugandans are being weighed down by the burgeon of numerous social media communities. These groups are of tremendous importance to the members but you will agree with me that most associations mean no good to many of their members.

If the uneducated fellows wake up in the morning and hung around on verandas and along the streets, there has emerged a new form of idlers; educated, they wake up every morning, buy or borrow data bundles and “hung out” on their phones.

They are good at greeting while looking for a person to provoke into a conversation.

"mng"

"hi guys"

"gud mng"

"gm"

Then someone posts a funny picture and the madness begins.

The groups are well coordinated and most of them hate sense. They idle throughout the day but if you want to taste their wrath, post anything of more than 2 paragraphs.

In fact some have formed ground rules. They brutally resist sense and you risk being removed for posting much of it. But come on, they remove you in the morning and put you back in the evening because they want numbers to boast of.

The social groups will mostly advertise concerts, house parties, graduations, marriage ceremonies and even death. When they advertise the concerts most of them promise to go, when one of their own loses a relative there is that level of solidarity and a somber mood takes on the day. Then the group administrator suggests that they collect condolence for the bereaved. Such announcement shall be followed by stone silence. After that the fun continues, only 3 out of the 200 attended the burial.

These groups have cliques and they are bound to frequent fights; some are settled by one or two persons quitting the group or a distraction from another member who has not been following the conversation. But they also have a panel of kangaroo judges. They will always point out who was in the wrong, the arbitrators who try to neutralize tense moments and that rude administrator who thinks that he or she is always right.

So today having woken in a lugubrious mood, I thought I would annoy one or two people and get a basis for my article. All I did was open WhatsApp only to be met with a person asking us to join his group of a Houseparty which will be held on 1st April 2021 “Fools Day”. I would have said something worse but I chose the following;

“What do Ugandan youth do in their WhatsApp groups? They create a group everyday but there seems no difference being in one out of 10.

Mark Zuckerberg should put a cost to creating a WhatsApp group and servicing”

And the reply was not as bad as I hoped it would be, “I won’t say anything about your closed retarded mind!!!”.

That was enough to get me started. It also drew me to what a one Muthoni posted in a WhatsApp group asking what has gone wrong with the youth of Mbale;

“Mbale has issues

The youths don’t want to work

They are the ones that like partying every day

They are the ones that negotiate with the club guards to get free entrance

It’s even worse; they enter the club to beg drinks

It’s worse still on women's side, and some men

They offer them the drink; they return it to the counter to get money.”

She was removed from the group.

This fuss about the youth is at times frustrating but maybe some honesty may save a few souls; if we are truly the pillars upon which this nation is set, are we the ones we were waiting for? How shall we manage this nation if the majority youth spend the best part of their time greeting, insulting or praising each other on social? How shall we claim the future and the present if one cannot read 500 words a day? How shall we claim to be the leaders of today if we cannot even read the first page of our constitution.

Don’t we think that we need to be honest with ourselves, the world, the future generations and honest to Golola? We need to tell him that we cannot do any better. We are not merely products of bad education system but we seem to have taken and owned the failed system, we have seized it and we are carrying the bad package to our children and our children’s children but only in a creative way.

Before we can revoke the law that regulates the use of WhatsApp and Facebook, before the president of Uganda can punish you who misuse social media why can’t we repent our ways and learn to engage productively? Can’t we learn from our bad past and correct the present? If those that lived a generation before us faced difficulties accessing information and getting closer to people who matter, we are facing the same difficulty not in accessing people who matter but associating with people that do not matter.

I know that a person reads athousand words expecting to be motivated, inspired or at least exhilarated but today I thought that I could pen down something that can annoy you, move you to action. I wanted that by the time you have finished reading this article, you could have looked for the EXIT button and left the group that does not add any value to you!

Recalling the Shooting at Quality Supermarket, Nalya

Somehow social media picks us from our dust and places us on the same bench with people of very high status. Imagine, me a graduate of one UPE school in Nakunuku also coming here to give opinion on the behavior of someone who studied at Oxford and Leeds universities. Mugisha Arnold who was shot by a security at Quality Supermarket in 2019.

Despite all the hype however, I learnt to maintain my silence and only comment on issues of my "level".

Things like one shooting another is beyond me. I will passionately comment on Mama Rhoda increasing the price of katogo, raising the taxi fare from Bwaise to Namungoona, bodaboda accidents and maybe our ghetto gladiator Bobi Wine who has refused to leave us and enjoy his wealth alone.

Those matters are of highly placed people are complicated and most of all we have our own problems to solve. Just the other day, before lockdown, a guy was stopped from entering a certain mosque because he was not well dressed. I also wondered what took him to such a magnanimous Mosque to disturb the other God who listens to issues such as land titles, real estates and foreign trips for vacation. You take there your problems of a ka-boda boda accident?

Arnold Mugisha who was shot (Internet Photo)

Let us just stay in our lane; let the trolleys roll. After all we have never gone to a supermarket and bought merchandise  enough to fill a trolley. Let the bullets fly; after all some of you are too poor for a bullet to be wasted; one iron bar and you're down. Do you remember Dans Kumapesa?

In my opinion, I think that the askari was right and wrong. If his colleague was run
over for blocking the car from behind, instead of this other one picking a gun he should have run in front of the car. Block it from the front and behind and see whether the guy would have run over two guards in the same day.

Quality Shopping Village - Scene of the shooting

I still doubt whether rich people are allowed to kill more than one poor person in a day.

Meanwhile am unhappy that Mama Naki has lost a relative in Kalisizo and she must go for burial. Not that I feel for her but she wants all of us, her debtors to pay the weekly food fee on Friday instead of the usual Sunday evening. M
bu she wants to get money enough to travel to her village for burial.

The Great Expectations: Mbale City

Miss Daisy Nagudi poses for a photo on Republic Street (Facebook photo)

Mbale as a city is finally operational. But due to the scavenging COVID-19, the city has not been welcomed with the well known kadodi and fiesta which envelopes Mbale when people are supposed to be happy. It is even more annoying that COVID-19 cannot allow our "Road Meir Zanywa" to address us about the new developments and probably unwrap the benefits accruing to the attainment of such status. But as a city enthusiast, I want to preempt what our "Meir" was too shy to tell us on this spectacular achievement.

We have tried, as a Council of Mbale City Enthusiasts (CMCE) to compile ten expected benefits and we shall present them to you one by one from one up to ten. We don't want anyone to be shocked when you find yourself with a bouquet so huge that you cannot hold.

Presenting the expected benefits as compiled by CMCE

1. City status

From today, all dwellers and those born in Mbale should edit their addresses to add the word "city". Failure to honor this shall attract a heavy penalty which may be as heavy as banishment from the city. 

2. Jobs

Having been declared a city, all "dirty jobs" and those jobs which endanger lives of the city dwellers shall be reserved for people from outside the city. People who work in despisable positions like Executive Directors, Human Resource Managers, Banking officers, Engineers, Doctors, nurses, teachers, lawyers et cetera will be reserved for non-city dwellers. The city dwellers shall be expected to engage in prestigious occupations such as sports betting, hanging around big politicians, being political assistants and running social media pages. Basically, city dwellers need to only involve themselves in those jobs which don't cause stress and strain.

Mbale Clock Tower- the Central point of the Town - Daily Monitor

3. Weekly Allowances

We shall be entitled to a weekly allowance. At first, this allowance was supposed to come monthly but we factored in the need for weekly recuperation until our propensity to save improves. There is no specific amount set for the allowances, they will depend on your needs. These allowances shall be a preserve for only those who opt not to work. If anyone is tired of working, they can just sit at home, send in their weekly requisition to the city finance director and the money shall be instantly wired to your account.

4. Administration

In fact, Zanywa who is our first "Meir" was not born in Mbale. We shall not allow our own people to administer Mbale City. We shall be hiring people from other parts of Uganda and make them "Road Meirs", Councilors, RCC, and those other administrative positions. We shall not afford the indignity of our own being a Member of Parliament to endure long hours in the National assembly and yet you need to spend time with your family. Therefore, people from Busiu, Bungokho and Bufumbo should prepare themselves to come and do this administrative work of the city as we chill.

5. Marriage and family

Marriage shall be compulsory to all people and the city shall have a special budget to facilitate marriage functions from home to the church. We shall then treat you to all expense-paid honeymoon in Bahamas. We want to simplify life for our people. Otherwise, what is the city for if it cannot offer paradise to its people? One can even marry more than once in a year but can only be married to one person at ago.

Because we understand the side effects of child birth, all children shall be born through surrogacy if approved by religious leaders who are still under lockdown.

6. Education

With this kind of life, what do you need education for? When our citizens want to move out of the city to alien places where they cannot speak Lugisu, they shall be availed a translator. So long as one knows how to post on Facebook and hurl some insults at opposing politicians, that is enough! The money which would otherwise be wasted on education shall be spent on facilitating brothels and paying for our people's luxuries.

7. Medical Care

We shall set up the best hospitals but outside outside the city. Generally, we don't like the smell of medicine and contagion from health officers. We shall therefore purchase land from surrounding districts and set up magnificent hospitals which shall be run by doctors who do not reside in the city. Whoever falls sick shall immediately be picked and dumped in the hospital for care.

8. Religion

We are tying to figure out whether we actually need different buildings for different religions especially those who pray on different days and those who pray on the same days and to the same god. We think that we can use the same building on Monday for witchdoctors, Tuesday for Budhists, Friday for Muslims, Saturday for the SDA and then Sunday for the Christians. This selfishness which makes people build prayer houses next to each other shall not be tolerated. If this fails, we can hire descendants of guys who built the Tower of Babel to put up a single structure for all religions to occupy but on different floors.

9. Housing

All land and houses shall belong to the City Authority and therefore, you can sleep anywhere you wish to. If you went to Bukonde and it gets dark when you're there, just look for a house and occupy, sleep and own it for that night. We want to return the good old life of hunting and grazing. Sleep wherever darkness finds you, all houses belong to the city center.

10. Transport

We don't need roads and railways. We just need an airport for those people who will be landing in from villages. Don't expect the city council to fix those potholes and repair the outdated railway, we shall have a transport system never seen before.

However, as you await the fulfillment of these fantasies, you must remember that it all comes down to  you, as an individual. This rubbish-town maybe elevated to whichever status there is, but the challenges in your life will only be met by personal effort. It will take your individual courage to thrive; consistent, bold steps that you take everyday is what will make you.

And maybe, you may also choose to live as a villager or a rascal in the so-called city!

A Dream That is

I used to only dream on those nights after eating cassava. But yesterday, no cassava but I had a dream, it is not like the Martin Luther dream, it was a horrible dream. And as a good Catholic, when I awoke, I held onto my rosary, I made a petition to God, I implored the Virgin Mary and my Saint Denis to intercede, to pray for us. It was a very bad dream that I never wish to see happen. When I got out of bed, I thought that I would share it with “my people”. I thought that all the people should know that what lies ahead may not be the best, at least in dreams

THE DREAM

Picture of a man killed by Kenyan Security Forces (internet)

In this dream, we were traveling on a ragged bus from Kampala and upon reaching Magodes Trading Centre, the driver stopped and informed us as we can ease ourselves before continuing.

Just like the other passengers, I also looked for a tree trunk. But, as I emptied my bladder, I beheld a man being led by 5 elderly fellows. Since all others were just looking, I also just looked and after the call went back to the bus.

As we settled to set off, I realised that all the passengers were mum with their heads bent. The woman seated adjacent was sobbing but suppresively. I equally bowed my head and asked my co-passenger to know what happened to the man who was seated with the woman adjacent.

“The man is Bwire Francis, he has been hacked by people who took him off the bus while we were out. They were accusing him of belonging to a group of politicians, which group they don’t like.

End!

AFTERMATH

The dream shook me to the marrow because there are so many times when I have thought that maybe one day I will be picked in the same way; from the bus, private car or office, I will be picked from the streets, bodaboda or home. Maybe I will be picked from a hotel room, dinning or from a bar. The dream was terrifying but I prayed that if am to be picked one day, they better not humiliate but kill me wholesomely. I don't mind dying and no one remembers, but they should not pluck out my heels or remove my eye, they should not tie weight to my testicles or electrocute me.

To you the authors of death, “When i annoy you and you feel like you can't endure me anymore, take me to a bush, tie me to a tree and fire the bullets, let me know when I am going to die so that I can say my last prayer but don't torture and leave me disabled, just hit my head hard with a club so that in an instant I will be no more. Don't use a lethal injection, keep your midozalum, you probably don't want to watch me lurch and gasp for air, with my open eyes watching you, it will be bad for me to writhe and gnash my teeth infront of you My captors, kill me so quick and dump my body in the great Nile so that at least even if I did not go there in my lifetime, my blood can reach the Mediterranean sea, and the crocodiles can have a feast that night.”

I prayed, not that I am your everyday superstitious person but as a Christian, I prayed that this dream never comes to pass. Then a voice from above told me that it is already happening but the victims are still too meek to retaliate or the survivors are too busy to mind!

They don’t even know the next victim!

That is Wrong With Our Country!

Internet photo (Maybe subject to copyright)

Sometimes I seriously doubt whether I can make a good politician. My perception of politicians in Ugandan context is a group of people who pull off as very important people when in real sense they are not. I am still not convinced that the world cannot exist without politicians. Because honestly, an accountant keeps books, a doctor treats people, an administrator organises faculties, a teacher educates a nation, a pilot, captain or driver ferries people and goods, a judge and lawyers deliver justice and a police officer keeps law and order (depending on country). But what does a politician do?

When discussing patriotism I don't even think that many politicians especially in Uganda should lay a claim. In many cases they are the most unproductive and ironically they are unnecessarily many and highly paid members of our society. Everywhere you look there is a politician that we could do without but they have strategically placed themselves to assert relevance.

That is why in build up to Uganda's football match against Senegal in the round of 16 at AFCON 2019 when one MP criticized the players and questioned their patriotism it got me laughing so hard that I missed the match, which match we were supposed to lose.

A member of parliament earns over $100,000 a year, and they are unnecessarily over 400 in number. In comparison Uganda 30 Cranes players earn allowances sometimes once in two years and we have to make them beg for it. And when it gets to She-Cranes, it is even “worser” than bad.

Then a member of parliament questions a sportsman's patriotism? Of course if there was a machine that measures patriotism, politicians’ measure would always be below average or in negative. Don’t you see these guys who keep deposing dictatorships and they then turn out to be worse? Don’t you know these guys who in their 20^th year at the helm claimed that Obote had overstayed?

But anyway, in a nation where we have turned our priorities upside down, I think this is not going away soon. It is the explanation as to why we keep suffocating ourselves with political positions and discard professionals to the bottom end of the payrol, we pay locally trained doctors peanuts, causing them to look for places where their services are appreciated. Then as a solution we hire Spanish speaking doctors from Cuba to address the shortage and give these Cubans a translator on top of amenities that we denied our own. You may think that our politicians have a grudge with Ugandan born professionals that to increase a teacher’s salary to cover basics, they rather hire Kenyans and pay them double what the Ugandan teachers are requesting for.

Do we need some brain transplants or the results of our mess will teach next generations lessons so big that they will avoid the mistakes of their forefathers?

Of course, our generation is not likely to contribute much to Uganda seeing that we who were born 36 years ago are soon reaching menopause while still believing that Uganda is too difficult to be managed by ourselves or one of our own. And therefore we need to maintain people from the other generation to the extent that even when we need change, we must replace an old turk with a dotard.

I sign out!

When Laws Go On Holiday

By Wabuyi Denis 

Yesterday, we were stopped by a traffic officer for some reason; she knew best. But after greeting, she waved us on without asking any questions. Maybe she was bored and wanted someone to talk to. Indeed if I was a traffic officer and felt bored, I would stop every vehicle, greet all the occupants, one at a time then wave them off. But the less than 30 seconds interaction with the officer brought back memories of my first encounter with law enforcement. 

Matatu on a road in Kampala (Photo by Daily Monitor)

One time; those days when I was studying at Uganda College of Commerce (UCC) in Tororo, I witnessed something comic which keeps coming to mind whenever I see a traffic Police officer. Being a law abiding citizen, it was also my first ever encounter with law enforcers.

I had boarded one of those ragged matatus which plow the Mbale - Tororo road which road was also ragged. As we approached a place referred to as Mailo-aboro in Japadhola, a traffic officer waved down the matatu. From his (driver) reaction, I sensed that something was terribly wrong; either with our driver who was also ragged or the ragged vehicle which was ferrying us, the ragged executive officers.

We later on learnt that our ragged driver was actually not a driver but a conductor who was sitting in for his boss and he did not possess a driving license.

The traffic officer could not take our ragged conductor cum driver’s defense to his crime.

The excuse that the ragged guy gave was: "My boss (in reference to the officer), today is a Sunday. I did not therefore expect you (traffic Police) to be working. I have always been driving on Sundays without a license and have never been stopped"

So, our driver was perplexed to find out that the laws had not gone on holiday, as they always do.

In the confusion which ensued, I misplaced my kaveera of roasted ground nuts. Therefore, my first encounter with law enforcement deprived me of the groundnuts which were to accompany my breakfast for 30 days.

That is why I fear being stopped by traffic officers.

The Story of Tyuwu-tyuwu and Diluted Milk

Sunday, June 14, 2020

By WABUYI DENIS

These small, black frogs which seamlessly swim in village water streams? I bet no one knows because you all look to be bred in town on tap water. But that is not a big deal, just try to picture organisms swimming in not so clean water.

Not many years ago, there lived in our village, a man who was very intelligent, and I am told he is still alive. But I cannot attest to his being intelligent any more since I last spoke to him 20 years ago; before I could even turn into a teenager. In respect of privacy, we shall call this man Tyuwu-tyuwu; your failure to pronounce it should be blamed on your primary school teacher not me.

Internet Picture, may be subject to copyright

Tyuwu-tyuwu was a proprietor of a very big dairy project of one malnourished cow and its calf. Well, the allusion to bigness of the dairy is not in accordance with the number of cows but the many customers who trekked to his small house to buy milk. It is said that you never went to his home to buy milk and returned without.

The customers were also attracted by his insistence on selling his milk at half the price of other milk producers. Indeed, Kharende who had 2 Fresians was said to be selling less milk than Tyuwu.

But what we failed to understand was the magic which made Tyuwu's malnourished cow produce more than 10 cups of milk in a day. He insisted that his cow is always fat in the night but after milking is when it looks malnourished during the day. Some people said that he diluted his milk with water and the ratio depended on the demand. If 4 people showed up to buy milk and what was left was one cup, he would excuse himself through the backdoor, rush to the water stream, get water, add to the milk to make 4 so that none of his customers would return home without milk.

One day, one of those "big days", when the town folk returned to the village, one returnee insisted that Tyuwu-tyuwu diluted his milk with water. As evidence, he showed the several "woyakos" which were swimming in the milk to which all people beheld and we wondered how Tyuwu is going to get out of this panorama.

Internet photo(Maybe subject to Copyright)

A sitting of the Local Council (LC) was called the next day after Tyuwu-tyuwu refused to refund the returnee. Now, it was Tyuwu-tyuwu's belief that you should never return money that has been given to you for any reason or other.
The sitting reflected its importance, the returnee had paid the court fees and the full LC Committee was summoned to deliver justice. A lot of discussions, arguments and counter arguments ensued until the returnee produced evidence of the milk with the tadpoles still swimming in as evidence that the milk was diluted by Tyuwu-tyuwu.

Tyuwu-tyuwu conceded to the presence of the small organisms and then, "I am surprised that these people go to school when they are wise and return when stupid. Who of you has never seen woyako in my milk? Put up your hand if you have never seen these tadpoles in the milk?"

He looked around without expectation of dissent. Tyuwu had captivated his audience the way he wanted by involving them. "You see, no one. Even the chairman himself. We know very well that my cow drinks from the stream just behind my house. And it is not unthinkable that many a time when drinking water, the cow partakes in the tadpoles too. Where do you think the tadpoles go?"

Before anyone could answer, he continued with his oratory. "These woyakos when they enter the body, they come out through 2 outlets; the cow urine or the milk."

Everyone in that meeting seemed to nod in agreement apart from the complainant. In anger, the returnee picked the milk and splashed all of it on Tyuwu-tyuwu with some spatters staining the chairman. The returnee was made to pay for damages and the case was closed in Tyuwu's favour.

This story came to mind when I was thinking about so many decisions which are made in Uganda’s parliament against the will of the people!

This post also appears on the link below:
https://nangalama.blogspot.com/2020/06/uganda-how-do-you-call-woyako-in-english.html

Just Random Thoughts about Life

Last year was a funny one. Watuulo came to me selling  hen at 40,000; a hen for God's sake! I asked why and how he comprehends me paying 4 times more than the usual price. He told me of all his needs. He needed 30,000 to pay for his daughter's school dues and also remain with "some ka-money in the pocket" as a man.
Apparently, he was pricing his hen according to his needs.

Kawuuzi, a "former OB" got a girlfriend in 2017. She immediately stopped eating at home, needed a smartphone, and a lot of nice things.

A rock at Nyero in Kumi: It is said that if one is barren, they come to this rock,
make love and they will surely conceive by supernatural powers

Walakira, a graduate whose current occupation is being Anyango's boyfriend convinced Anyango to sell off her father's land so that they can acquire a better and bigger piece of land in Zirobwe (his home area), build a house and do farming. They sold the land in Bugembe, Jinja and got the money. Soon after the money landed into his hands and before he could acquire the land in Zirobwe, Walakira's generosity meter rose to 120 and before 2019 could come to end, he had gotten an assistant for Anyango; a helper who conceived before Anyango could!

Life is funny in its perspective but the truth is that I never got to understand the Primary School debate of "Village life is better than town life" until recently when I stumbled on a friend's woes in his struggles to win a place in the "League of Men". He ended his story with a very subjective hypothesis which certainly is informed by his miscalculations: "If you gave 200,000 to a village girl she will buy 2 goats and use the balance for her hair and clothes. Give it to a town girl and she will just frown at you.  After all, 200,000 cannot even pay rent. She will slice it into pieces and rush to donate the 200,000 to KFC, Shell Petrol Station and a Chinese bag maker."

What a sadist my friend is!

Effective Communication is Key

I was seated in my wooden chair minding my business when someone sent me a text message: "Watching piggery farmers program on TV. I love, admire and want to be like them".

I told her it's impossible especially with her eating habits.

She asked why and I explained why she can't "be a pig".

"Stupid, I never said that I want to be a pig, I want to be a pig farmer."

I then clearly understood what Dr Juliet meant when she taught us about clarity and completeness when communicating. 

You're talking about pig farms and then say you wanna be like them. How will I know that you want to be a farm, rather farmer and not a pig?

In this lockdown, and especially to  my young brothers and sisters, there is no need to rush, we have all the time. 

Write full words and write complete sentences!

Effective communication requires that the message should be clear and also complete.

But how will you achieve these if you can't even write a two letter word "OK" or "you" in full?

Martha says that it is either laziness or illiteracy. But even when the former is more prevalent, chances are high that it is a combination of both.

And by the way, what does it feel like to write "ok" as "k"?

Denis Wabuyi

This article also appears here: http://nangalama.blogspot.com/2020/05/uganda-clear-communication-is-key-to.html

IT IS JUST A SNAKE!

By WABUYI DENIS

A few years ago, I think in 2005. I was moving with my fellow evangelists, going door to door preaching the good gospel to bring many more souls to Christ.

Because it is rural Bugisu, we reached a point when we needed rest and got a spot under a huge tree.

As we rested while planning where to go next, a beautiful green snake made its way out of the shrub and made its way toward where we sat before we scared it off. As it scampered for safety from us, dangerous humans, we also exclaimed "Jesu" and walked off.

We had moved around 100 meters from the snake's sanctuary when my evangelist colleague thought that we should lock hands and pray. I asked why, and he told me that we must pray against the "devil" who had just "attacked" us.

"I didn't see any devil, it was just a snake, they have missed me many times", I said innocently.

I narrated to him so many stories of childhood when on various occasions we have found snakes in our house and sometimes in the same beddings where we were tucked.

The next day, the fellow evangelist shunned my company.

This flashback came to mind when I was moving with a colleague; a distance from home and saw a snake. His impulse was to kill it, mine was wondering why kill a snake which is in the wilderness.

"It is not the devil, it is just a snake!"



Also appeared on my sister Martha's blog: https://nangalama.blogspot.com/2020/05/uganda-it-is-just-snake.html

Taro (Kimitolotolo) in my Village Perspective

Internet picture of the Taro plant (Kimitolotolo)

By WABUYI DENIS

Isn't this kimitolotolo?
They are very delicious when prepared in ground nuts with kumushelekhe.
We used to have a bird which would always remind grandma whenever she delayed to serve lunch.

It would sing like,
"kimitolotolo, kyera Wokuri"
"kimitolotolo, kyera Wokuri"

Meaning; sweetness of kimitolotolo is killing Wokuri.

I last tasted them in 1996 when I last ate from my grandma.

The next time I visited her in 2000, she had lost her sight and was staying with her blind mother (my great grandma).

They always insisted on singing to me.

There was this funny song whose lyrics I cannot recall so well but it was a mix of Luganda and Lugisu.

They went along something like,
"Khatalina khatalina bakhana, banasul'ebwelu,"

Then great grandma would sing along,
"uuuu, uuuu"

I never used to want to leave but they always had sudden change of mood and their nice stories often ended in bitter disagreement and then the blind great grandma would threaten to hit her blind daughter (grandma).

This would make my grandma cry which would also reduce me and my cousin Biira to tears. In May, a few days before or after my 11th birthday, my grandma died.

Somehow, I have not understood why but my grandma was buried at the same site as her father and not her husband. One of these days I will ask mummy whether it is because she was the youngest of my grandpa's wives or because she did not have a son born to her. She only had daughters and all went to settle in their marriages.

But I think having born only daughters in such a setting is the reason why.

In turn of events, my mother has born only boys for children. Same number as her mother.

My grandma was the last grandparent I had and was the only one of my biological grandparents who crossed to the new Millennium.

I need to find out how her husband (the one I am named after) got to have 3 wives, many children but still educated almost all his daughters. For a man who was born in early 1900s, that was epic!

Mpozi, how did I reach here?

Kimitolotolo ikyera Wokuri!

Should We Cover Our Eyes, or They Should Cover Their Private Parts?

Serena Williams cups her breasts
(Photo may be subject to copyright)

BY WABUYI DENIS

The current Covid-19 scourge will definitely leave a mark on our lives and may also change us forever. This change we shall carry on to the future generations without telling them why it was necessary.

One of these days I have started imagining my children's children having to wear a mask covering their mouth and nose without knowing the real reason why. And innocently, they will also carry it on to future generations. These generations may also take it without asking.

If you're doubting this, tell me the reason why African girls cover their breasts? Does anyone have a genuine founded reason as to why it is "indecent" for an African girl to move topless at a beach the same way a man does? No. It was just carried from somewhere and adopted as a way of life.

It reminds me of Gilbert Bukenya (fromer Vice President of Uganda) when asked why he supported NRM for that long and thus being part of a regime that impoverished his people. He retorted that he was also innocently carrying ekifulukwa whose content he did not know; he accepted without asking.

Apart from a few uptown girls, majority people born before the new Millennium should bear me witness that while growing up in our villages, we would go to the garden with our mothers. As the sun rose and it got hot, the women would pull off their blouses, tie them around the waist and leave their breasts out.

The same woman would come back home, walking all the way from Shituulo to Namunyu without attracting any stares because along the way, we would find even men hanging their shirts on the backs as the sun got hotter.

I also don't know when breasts became private parts but the first time I saw it was in the movies. Then one time we escaped from school went to Kingfisher resort in Bukaya. There, I saw women covering their breasts and not covering their butts. It was my bewilderment that drew the attention of the attendants to arrest and flog us for trespassing. By then, flogging a kid was a community responsibility and somehow, those matters simply ended like that without involving the parents and the schools.

But at the resort, I could not imagine someone taking trouble to cover their breasts and not minding about their butts. Maybe because the butts of the other generation had depressions inflicted by injections and "riding bicycle'' that we never saw our predecessors (in Africa) display them with pomp.

Thus, from our setting a man or woman could carry on with their activities topless and it is not regarded indecent but if you move with your bottoms out, that would earn you a day at Kanyanya’s shrine to conjure the ancestors! But of course if you have been watching movies or your parents have, it is the opposite; cover the breast, let the buttocks swag!

And as times surely change and people prefer to shed off more clothes, I picture future generations being asked to cover the faces so that they don't see each other's private parts. In their wisdom or rather lack of it, they won’t realise that it all started with covering the mouths and nose to protect ourselves from Covid-19. I do not wish to live in those times but I equally don't find reason for wearing clothes if all our faces are covered! If the face mask falls off and you get to see all the undressed people around you, you will endure it; the same way we endure when wind carries a woman’s dress and she takes a minute to pull it back or rather the way we villagers are trained; when you happen to see an elder naked, close your eyes.

I will end this by thanking President Museven for the lockdown. It has pushed some of us into a creativity (you may read idle) mode. Some people from Mayuge are working on the cure. But some of me here, in Busiu are also helping the world with ideas which will shape society after the Kadaga’s cure has been launched and the whole world cured of COVID-19!

WABUYI DENIS

When Hunger superseded Disease

The road to my Village

Today, I woke up with enormous joint ache, but some pains make me forget mine which have persisted for 2 days; because I know that this is not even a 10th of what other people going through.

Today, I thought it wise that the children who are loitering around need to get revision papers to keep them "in class" while in this lockdown, avoid idling and possibly learn from one another.
I encountered a good friend of mine (bodaboda rider) who told a heartbreaking story but one which is a representation of many Ugandans under current circumstances.

A friend came to his place at 5:30 am and knocked (to his bewilderment). Just like a good neighbor, he opened to him asking what the matter was. The friend narrated to him how his family spent the previous day without any food and his little children have been crying all night. He was therefore requesting Simon to give him his (Simon’s) motorcycle so that he can be able to ride around hoping to get money to feed his family.

He also told him that the youngest of the kids is sick and the last time her mother took her to a hospital, they prescribed some medicine which he has not been able to buy. “how will the baby even swallow the medicine on an empty stomach?”

It is a painful story because currently, the bodabodas have been banned from carrying passengers which forms over 95% of their clientele. Simon ceded the motorcycle and 2,000 for fuel. Even as he gave out the motorcycle, he was not sure whether it will return because thousands of them have been impounded.

As if that was not enough, as I was bemourning the great pain the bodaboda riders were experiencing, another man from Namunyu, who had also come for printing told me that I have not seen enough

Simon the Bodaboda owner and rider loading cement in Busiu,
Before the lockdown

"I went to see the woman in the neighborhood who helps me with my garden and I wanted her to assist me with the garden. Fortunately or unfortunately I did not find her but instead her son who had come with his family to her mother. When I told him why I was there, he hushed me and asked me to just show him the garden before his mother can take that tender."

"He did not even suggest how much, he just said whatever you offer, I will take it. Apo na apo (there and then), he took to the garden with his whole family and by 6pm (after 4 hours) they had cleared the garden."

"He insisted that I choose how much I give him and seeing the desperation and also the speed at which they had cleared the garden, I gave him 2 times what I could have given another person".
This is how bad it is, the people out there are looking for survival not enrichment or convenience, they are hungry and angry but they have nothing to do.

Today, one young man was reportedly shot dead in Mbale town for carrying a passenger on a bodaboda but for those people out there, they would rather die of COVID-19 but not hunger.

We can do something about it; all of us. You can reach out to a neighbor who does not have food.