We have so much we are doing to break the vicious struggle of “making it” but we are not doing the most important thing, selling ourselves, well. We do not own our struggles when it matters most. We are not shooting our shots well. Our bull’s eye may not come soon.
I had to be cut away from my dearly beloved bed because of the unspoken love for Happy Hour and everything that comes at half-price.
I drove into a road block a few days ago. They stopped us. Mean looking men waved the driver down with sticks longer than a day. Men protecting this nation from its demons. Men who bear cold nights to run after kondos.
I won’t confirm whether what you have heard or hold against Karamoja is the right or not but I am certain it is mythical. It is not a lie but it is also not truth. Think of it as a promise made by a politician to his constituents during the electioneering season; you can only harvest it when it comes to pass.
Uganda is beautiful but I must say it has toilets for cities. All but Mbale. If your eyes do not stray beyond Republic Street. Republic Street is neater than a pin. It isn’t strangled by congestion. Still wears the makeup of 1962 in the face of Indian Merchant Shop Architecture. And might have the most disciplined citizens; my eyes nearly grew sore looking for a bastard footpath on the green.
The past two Sundays have gone by without me putting to paper anything that has irked me in the course of the week. It is something that is unusual –I have published a blog post every Sunday for the past two years– which obviously did not only bother me but worry me too. Not so … Continue reading Advertising, as is, in Uganda.
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For having dished out wads of what seemed to be "her own" money to revellers on many a night in different hangouts within Kampala, she went viral. Got a not-so-huge following but at least a whole load of attention. She was lauded and cursed in equal measures. But since revellers are always in "autopilot", she … Continue reading My case on skewed attention in Uganda.
Then God commanded, "let there be light," and light appeared. God was so pleased with what he saw (can you imagine God too gets excited about His own creations), He went on to create you and me as well as those who do not know about this blog post. 2015 years after the birth of … Continue reading Don’t read.
For the love of our country, we wished them into parliament and bestowed all our hope unto them until they come again -in 2016, to ask for votes but for the love of their party, they have shelved work in parliament on numerous occasions and headed down to Kyankwanzi. Of course to forge a way … Continue reading For the love of…
Did he get sacked or he just got himself and us all sucked into shambles? Whatever the case is whoever orchestrated the sham is gave him quite some stick. He did manage to even get him back to work from leave. Whilst he did maintain a firm demeanour throughout the whole sham, one could easily … Continue reading Of shams and shambles.
Ironically, the firm presence of kiboko did not guarantee that indiscipline would be absent
How was your 2019? Mine was a cocktail. He lined my soul. I lined my pocket. Someone's daughter lined my heart. Tell me, does it get any better than this?
I do not remember when last I was accused. How can this be me as a child? This is a girl. I am certain Mum shut that door after me. There was only one girl before me and no one after me.
I am sorry. I didn't take you with me. The invitation card knew who you were unlike me. Unfortunately, the card couldn't take you with it.
Independence is beautiful. It gives you a lot. A lot of time to think about home. A home with free food, family and no bills. Independence also gives you an opportunity to eat lots and lots of junk food. Not chips and chicken take-away; Rolex. Rolex stuffed with nyanya mbisi.
It is a few minutes after 04:00 a.m. when I give up on sleep that night. Eight hours good, six hours fair enough, four hours not good enough, says the doctors. But I do not remember the last time I enjoyed eight hours of sleep. Am I sick? I only went to sleep two hours … Continue reading Who Stole My Sleep?