Jay's Idle Notes

The Olympics are truly upon us.

2008-08-09T22:33:00.004+08:00

How does one begin to describe the atmosphere around the Olympics opening ceremony last night? Since I am not much of a wordsmith I will settle for awesome. Though I was not at the Bird's Nest I can say with confidence that I will be very lucky to be part of something as exciting again in my life.

Like I said, I wasn't fortunate enough to be at the main event though some chap had offered me a ticket at an extortionist price I had fun prowling around and witnessing all the excitement. I hooked up with a fellow Kampalan and we watched the opening ceremony in various bars on TV and huge screens in my hood.

The most fun we had was sitting on a pavement in Di'anmen watching the event on a massive screen on a building across the street with our yanjing beer in the company of grannies, mummies, daddies and kiddies. People brought their folding chairs from home and settled down to be part of the event.

Me and my sidekick cheered and clapped when our kanzu and gomesi clad Ugandan team (all 12 of them came on the screen) and the guys around didn't disappoint by giving us vocal backup though I am sure few knew where Uganda was.

Some other craziness that ensued was when the Kobe Bryant's face came on. These NBA crazy guys let out a round of cheers that was only matched when another NBA star, and son of the soil, Yao Ming led the Chinese team into the stadium. From there on it was all Zhongguo, Zhongguo (which is China, China, in Mandarin).

The only fly in the otherwise fine ointment was that we were not allowed into an area called Houhai to watch the fireworks display (one of very many all over the city) up close by the authorities. But we managd to watch from a distance anyway.

One plus was that the public transport operated the whole night, which allowed an inebriated pair of Kampalans to extend the festive evening to Sanlitun across town without having to fork out for a cab.

Its a pity that I couldn't get my hand on tickets to any of the games venues but seeing as they are on every screen everywhere, I will follow well enough. I had a tentative offer for tickets to some baseball match, which I previously ignored because I know nothing about the game but now I am desparately searching for the guy who offered because I have to attend at least one olympic event.

I still can't believe I am here in the midst of all this due to a series of serendipitous decisions. This time last year if you had told me I would be in Beijing during the Olympics I would have told you to get yourself a new dealer because the current one was giving you some madness inducing narcotics.

Adios for now lets see how the next few weeks play themselves out.

The Good, The Bad and The neither here nor there

2008-07-16T13:42:00.012+08:00

Having been in this city for two months I am beginning to feel like I am part of the place and there are things that I really like about it. I obviously do sometimes feel a tard frustrated about how some things are around here but generally its OK. In any case most of the frustrations are a result of not being able to speak Mandarin, but that is my problem. Here are just a few musings in no particular like or dislike ranking.

Getting around
It wasn't until I came to Beijing that I realised just how much I used to spend on transportation (the public sort). Beijing has a very efficient bus system that can take you virtually anywhere in the city, if you are familiar with the bus lines and connections. This is hardly suprising that Beijing Public Transport Holdings runs over 25,000 buses. And its cheap too. 1 yuan (240 UGX) is enough for most bus journey's within the city regardless of the distance covered.

The subway is pretty good way to get around quickly too. For 2 Yuan (480 UGX) you can move anywhere and change lines as many times as possible. Though the subway doesn't cover all the city the current 4 lines ensure a quicker way to dash around.

I do not even need cash to move about as long as I have my trusty swipe card (above), which I preload and just swipe away as I get on the bus or into the subway station.

I even have a bicycle that I ride around and I know some of you must be thinking I am suicidal because you have Kampala streets in mind. Because China has a bicycle tradition, all major roads have bicycle only lanes which means that while the guys in the cars are cursing in the heavy traffic jams, I am not bothered because I know they will not try to get into my free flowing bicycle lane.

Out and about on the town
I cannot honestly say I have experienced much of what one would call a typical Beijinger's social life. Thats largely due to the fact that I haven't made that many local friends yet with whom I can hang out. But the foreigners I have met many of and the bars, and other such places I go to are usually expatriate/foreign student type places but they are fun.

There is an area called Sanlitun which I will call a clubbing ghetto, not because its sleazy and dirty but because it has twisted, narrow corridor like lanes that have so many clubs and bars. It is the place to go to on weekends for a blast. There is Salsa Caribe for latin flavours, Heat next door for good old hiphop and there is a bar across the street that sells cheap beer and plays mixed music but I cannot seem to remember the name (must have something to do with the oddly named cocktails).

There is the Uganda Crane Coffee shop which is an Ok place to chill out and talk to other Ugandans, the place becomes more of a bar than a coffee shop as the weekend nights progress. Or PiriPiri, fort to meet a generally East African crowd. There are other places too like the White Rabbit (too much techno) and Club Obiwan, which I like because it has restaurant and bar separate from the dancehall where I can drink beer and surf the net on their free WiFi 'til pretty late. The owners are always coming up with all kinds of interesting theme nights and they fight for worthy causes (check flyer)

Talking of beer. That is one thing I am liking about this place. It is so cheap (by k'la standards anyway). My favourite, Yangjing beer is ubiquitous and unpretentious and at 2.5-3 Yuan (600-720 UGX) per 600ml bottle a brother can hardly complain. There is the more expensive (classier) Tsingtao at around 1200 UGX for the same size bottle which is also quite smooth. I once made a beeline for some stout across the supermarket thinking it was canned guiness. But alas, it was only trying too hard to look like it(like so many other goods here). It was OK though, just not guiness good.

I am trying to get into the whole dining out, going to the cinema and going to the numerous parks around but this is just not in my nature so clubbing it will be for now.

More likes and not quite likes later.

Sights and sounds

2008-07-03T12:02:00.002+08:00

Just thought I would post a few photos of Beijing today while I get back into the posting mode.

Regards from Beijing

2008-05-19T08:18:00.002+08:00

After months of wondering about and doing all sorts of things I find myself in Beijing, China, a city I am going to call home for the next few months. If one had told me five months ago that i would be living in Beijing by the end of the year I would have thought him insane, but I guess the world works in such ways.

I have been here just over a week and I am still trying to soak it all in. Coming from a city like Kampala like I do Beijing can be pretty overwhelming. This is a very very huge city of 17 million people. I didn't quite understand what a concrete jungle was until I came here. Its office blocks upon office blocks, apartment towers upon apartment towers for miles on end. Then you get a break from all the skyscrapers and you enjoy whatever passes for scenery around here but before long you will get to another beijing district and its concrete jungle time again. And of course everything is about the Olympics. From billlboards to phone ads to almost every packaged product the Olympics rule. More on that in a separate post.

One thing I like about this city is that it is pretty clean and very well organised. It has finely paved roads clearly marked areas for cars, buses, cyclists and pedestrians. I have never seen so many cyclists in one town (maybe with the exception of Lira). When I was told before I left that it would be nice for me to get a bicycle once I got here, I thought that they were crazy because In my mind I was thinking of a traffic situation like the one in Kampala and I was thinking, no way! but now I see that riding here is a lot more safer than in Kampala and it is quite convinient.

The one thing that bothers me a bit is the way everybody keeps looking at me. They are hardly any black people in Beijing. I was here for two days before I met any black person. The other day I ventured onto the subway and all over the station and on the train everybody kept focussing their eyes on me. The good thing is that staring is all they do which I have no problem with. I can't wait for the Olympics when all the African and Caribean athletes get here to add some chocolate to all this cream.

I will be posting a more detailed post on my first few days in Beijing later. I do have many pictures but being a dumb ass forgot the camera cable back home so they snaps will have to wait

Long time no post

2008-03-03T17:30:00.003+08:00

Its almost a year since I last had anything up here. I guess I have been too distracted.

I will be changing locales soon and thus the rambling thoughts will be coming from elsewhere but Kampala.

Now I am back I hope too reaquaint my self with all of you.

2007-03-26T14:40:00.000+08:00

Its been a while since I was last here but thats mainly because I have hardly been settled in one place long enough. That is why I'd like to share some pictures of my travels over the last few months. Enjoy.

A street in Rukungiri Town

Bored Kids outside a church in Nyakajeme, Rukungiri after the service has gone on too long

Ntungamo town's "skyline"

Car trouble in the middle of nowhere on the Fort Portal-Kampala highway at 1am

A view of the Tororo rock as you enter Tororo town from Mbale

The samerock viewed from downtown Tororo

Going up the Elgon mountain ranges. Tried to capture the waterfall but I guess I was too far.
Carrot farmer showing his produce up in the mountain ranges of Wanale sub-county, Mbale.
He'djust nicked some carrots from the chap in previous pic.

Must dash. Next time i'll put up some more pics from Soroti, Kumi, Apac and Masindi.

Ciao

From the boondocks to very sunny Kampala

2007-01-10T21:06:00.000+08:00

I don't know if its because I have been moving about in the cooler climes of Bushenyi, Ntungamo, Mbarara and Rukungiri that I feel this city has turned into a 24/7 steam bath or if thats how its been all along. I can't cover myself at night and that means I am having issues with those ear loving insects (having always considered myself to cool to sleep under a mosquito net.

The travelling around has been a good break and I feel somewhat rejuvenated. Got some business done and checked on sme people I share DNA with, who I would have not seen for another decade or so.

Something struck me about many of the places I visited. There seems to be some serious progress in general but a lot more in things entertainment related all over the place. There are satelite dishes at every trading centre and the premiership is serious business everywhere. Two builders at my great-aunt's place in Ruk town (I didnt make that up, some guys actually refer to Rukungiri that way) where having a very heated and informed argument about whether Chelsea had any chance of retaining the premiereship trophy. If any of you had seen these guys you would understand why I was surprised.

There are places where one can actually hangout and have a pleasant time out there. There are some nice night spots in these towns. Had I called Ntungamo a one-horse-town the last time I passed through, I would have been insulting one-horse-towns the world over. The town went and got itself a horse and its now a place I wouldn't mind spending a night in. I did have drinks with some of the towns well heeled people at a bar that puts my usual watering whole to shame and I quite liked the experience.

I guess thats why these places haven't been spared that bloody scourge that is driving me stark raving bonkers, CALYPSO. There is no escaping the damn dance. Twice, at a wedding in Bushenyi and at another kikeesa in remote Rukungiri, I noticed the calypso is the only dance anybody seems to know. Whether the song be Omwana Wa Bandi or Ridin' Derty everybody moves about like they just broke their backs or something.

Being out there gets one to put many things in perspective. Nobody seems to give out formal invitations to some social functions. Somehow those who have to attend will be present and those that were not formally invited will not be bounced. I guess because the food is cheap and they cook it in amounts that are quit mindboggling (at least to me) they know everybody will be fed. The phrase "the more the merrier" is taken quite seriously in those parts.

Now that I am having my brains fried in K'la I am beginning to miss the "boondocks", their cool climate and laid back air.

Happy New year to Y'all

2007-01-04T19:12:00.000+08:00

I would like to wish you all a happy bran new 2007, which looks like its going to be a hell of a lot better than 2006.

Sorry I have been away for long. Originally it was because I had somehow lost my blogging mojo, but over the past month or so it has been because I have been galavanting in areas with names like Nyakagyeme, Namufumura, Katereeza, Kyaka, Ruhinda (all in western and southwestern Uganda), which are internet challenged.

I am actually just going through Bushenyi town right now and I have taken advantage of some NGO office to make this quick post.

Will be uploading some pix and getting my blog on soon enough. But first will spend like two days seeing what I have missed from all of you.

Did I wish you all a Happy New Year?

As I move on.

2006-10-31T16:51:00.000+08:00

Over the past week I have been runnining up and down while trying to tie loose ends and as such I have hardly been at my desk in the office.

Because I havent been near my trusty Dell laptop I have realised somethings about blogging that I had started taking for granted.

First aof all I am going to miss my fast connection here at the office. It tried to update twice at variuous cafes in and out of kampala but the Blogger beta and the slow connections made picture uploads impossible that I decided to give up. While blogging here I can take my time. I dont have to worry about the seconds ticking away.

Signing in and moving about is a lot easier with the laptop because of all that cookie business and the small tools, widgets, plug-ins, extensions I have added to my browser of a period of time.

I have become so used to using Firefox and/or Opera that Internet explorer is like a new thing whenever I try it out.

Another thing

For those who like TV series may I recommend getting your hands on Rome. It has political intrigue, good writting, gory violence, lavish sets and costumes. Basically everything a period epic of its kind should have.. and yes lots of sex. The sex can get graphic but it is not gratuitous. Anybody who knows how the Romans lived there lives would understand.

The road not taken?

2006-10-17T18:26:00.000+08:00

I haven’t been that regular with my posts for the last month or so because I have had a lot on my plate.

A series of slip-ups and major bust-ups with the immediate boss, who wont accept that some of the slip-ups were caused by his failure to fully grasp what the assignments from above required, over the last 10 months have led to a situation where the office has been a truly nasty place for yours truly for the last few weeks.

After thinking long and hard, with the help of some intelligence gathered through my mole in the higher echelons of this organisation, I made the very difficult decision to tender my resignation letter and give in my notice.

After 3 weeks of pushing and shoving it was inevitably going to come down to a choice of who should leave, the boss or me. I realised that was one decision that was more than likely not going to favour my black ass so I made the pre-emptive move. This way I wont have a record of ever being fired.

I am beginning to think I did the right thing, under the circumstances, because everybody is falling over himself or herself to tell me that they will have my back should I need any positive recommendations in the future. To me this means they were going to fire me regardless of the merits of my defence and my resignation gave them an easy and guiltless way out of the problem.

I am not saying I am totally blameless but considering most of the time I was operating under some very misguided instructions, I should have been cut some major slack.

All this has me wondering how different my life would have ended up had I taken up my calling to become a broadcast journalist.

As a MassComm student I developed an interest in radio and TV broadcasting (I was looking for options with no written examinations) and under the initial tutelage of a chap called Murray Oliver I started churning out some pretty impressive assignments. In those days we didn’t even have a campus radio stations and editing suites, like the Countryboyi has, to help grasp the practical elements better. You do not know difficulty until you have attempted to edit a radio skit with only a microphone and a boombox with two tape decks

While still at university I worked for a while at a, now defunct, TV news agency. I liked the work but because I wasn’t being paid I quickly took my uncle’s offer for a job that I found uninspiring.

He had a PR consultancy firm and he had just won a really big job, which required him to get some extra staff. He wanted an assistant and since I was studying mass communication he figured I would do just fine. He also knew that he could pay me peanuts and I’d be happy.

It was the allure of a salary no matter how small (it was actually quite a sum for a university student) that started me on my journey down the “wrong” path. For once I had money to spend and since I was being paid weekly, had no real expenses to talk about, I found I was above the average income level of my classmates.

Almost a year later, after our finals, I was selected by my head of department for a 4 month internship with WBS which would almost certainly lead to fulltime employment. Being the myopic person I was, I turned the internship down. Why? Because I had just received a slight increase in pay and I didn’t see myself quitting what I had to work for 4 months without pay.

As with all consultancy work, the big juicy assignment was soon done and my uncle’s company found it hard to get any new contracts (at least none as good as the previous one). Company went broke after a while and I found myself doing all sorts of dull short-term research gigs, until I got my current job, which is (or was) also largely routine and administrative in nature.

As I sit here charting the carriers of my old team from the broadcast class, many of whom have gone on to better (more interesting at any rate) things, I can’t help but wonder what it might have been like had I stuck to what I liked.

But then again, maybe knowing I am going to be on the street in 28 days has me seeing things from an unhealthy perspective.

Lady pays the bills

2006-10-11T16:59:00.001+08:00

A discussion with friends about whether or not it was OK for guys to let a woman pay the bills while on a date got me thinking of an embarrassing situation I found myself in sometime back.

I had just joined a certain international organisation, my boss of two months had been posted elsewhere and this young lady had just been posted to Kampala. She was my boss temporarily while a permanent replacement for my former boss was hired.

Since we were all new at the job (and her even the country) we soon became close. She was one year older than me but a lot younger than many of the other expatriates at work. I soon became her consultant on everything about Kampala and Uganda.

One day, after she had been around for a while and was starting to get used to the expat scene in Kampala, we were talking about hanging out in Kampala and she was surprised that I had never been to all the restaurants she was mentioning. I told her that I wasn’t much of the restaurant type and that a decent meal in some of the places she was mentioning would probably cost me a tenth of my monthly salary. As far as she was concerned dining in places like Krua Thai, Mamba point, Grand Imperial, Sheraton etc was pretty normal (of course she would, she was earning thousands of dollars per month).

Anyway soon after that she made it her mission to school me in fine dining. We did the rounds in damn near every fine restaurant in Kampala, Jinja and Entebbe. I also did my humble bit by introducing her to all the local buffets I could think of ( I once got her to eat kalo and eshabwe, which she enjoyed immensely).

All this time she kept insisting on paying for everything. At first the few traces of machismo in me were uncomfortable about it but I soon came to accept the state of affairs. I told myself that after all she was always the one suggesting where we go and the prices in many of her places used to make me shudder. So I decided to let her keep paying if she wanted to.

One day I had gone for a Kasiki in Silk and I ended up over indulging. I spent my last money on a cab to my place. When I woke up in the morning I had a total wealth of 1,800 in coinage. I had to get to work fast and since I was running late so I decided I would hit the ATM any free time I got after clocking in.

At lunchtime, with 500/= left in my pocket, I was very hungry and I couldn’t wait to get to the nearest ATM to withdraw some money and go have myself a humongous lunch. At this time my friend drops by and says she wanted to take me out for lunch. I figured the ATM could wait since my immediate problem was about to be solved. So I said yes and out we went to a nice restaurant near work.

After the meal, she asked for the bill, which came up to 32,000/=. I wasn’t bothered about anything because I knew the sister had everything covered. However, as bad luck would have, it she had three 10K notes and a 50K note. The allocated 1 hour for lunch was up and we had to rush back to office so she didn’t want to give the waitress money that would require her to go and bring back change. At this point she asked me to add 2,000 to her 30K so that we could be out of there fast.

You should have seen a brother fidget. I nearly chocked on my toothpick while I mumbled some excuse about forgetting my wallet in the office. My friend didn’t think much of it and pulled out the 50K note, which she handed to the waitress. I felt so embarrassed and the look the waitress gave me made me want to melt into the ground.

I will never forget the contemptuous look. I could almost hear her tell herself what a useless, exploiting, gold-digging, good-for-nothing scum I was. She must have shared her sentiments with all the other waitresses she met while going to get “our” change because they all started peeping in our direction to see which chap was de-toothing the Muzungu.

My friend still insisted on paying the bill on other subsequent occasions but I was less willing to have her do it. I also started finding excuses for not going out with her unless I knew I had some loot on me.

To fib or not to fib

2006-10-03T18:16:00.000+08:00

I had taken a hiatus from blogging. It was not because I wanted to but a combination of personal and work related issues conspired against me making a timely post to the “As you asked” Part Deux.

As I was compiling that (last in the series post) something struck me, which has left me somewhat, discomfited. This might appear trivial to some of you, but allow me explain my case.

For most of my life I have had one debilitating condition-I have been incapable of telling a lie and getting away with it. For some reason everybody (excepting maybe toddlers) has been able to see through my lies, embellishments, truth embroidery..etc. Because of this I have become by default a (depending on how you look at it):

1) Trustworthy person
2) Person useless at making excuses for errant buddies. Like when buddy’s gilfie asks what time him and me (her boyfriend) left the pub after the previous nights champions league game and I know I haven’t seen the chap in two days.
3) Utterly useless salesperson/advertiser.
4) Kind of person you don’t ask if the dress you are wearing makes you look beautiful/sexy/corporate/slutty/fat (girls delete accordingly) if you are expecting a comforting (but not entirely true answer).
5) And the list goes on.

Why am I bringing all this up now? This is why.

Recently I have told two really big lies to my boss (to get out of some of the trouble I have been in due to the abovementioned work-related/personal problems I have had) and he seems to have swallowed them hook, line, sinker, anchor, ship, the whole enchilada.

You might say my boss is a gullible, trusting chap, but then you do not know my boss. He is the kind of guy whose gaze would have made torture tools unnecessary during the inquisition. The kind of chap who would make Jack Bauer ask for his mommy (ok that’s stretching it a bit). But you catch my drift.

I was feeling good that I had gotten myself out of a spot of bother but then I got to thinking. I told myself that the ease with which I was spinning fibs was worrying. I started wondering whether I was losing that which made me Jay. I asked myself “Was I sliding down the dark and ignominious road of dark lies and deception?”

After all of 10 minutes of worrying and obsessing, I said to myself “chief, whats the worst that can happen?”

“Either you discover that your tall tales didn’t hit the mark by a mile and the bossman is only marinating on the most cruel method he can use to make you pay for thinking you could sneak a weak-ass lie by him and thus you don’t have to worry about all that ignominious road nonsense ”

OR

You just became normal.

As you asked

2006-09-14T19:46:00.000+08:00

To those that asked, here goes.
Where do you fall? To circumcise or not to circumcise, for men that is?

Circumcission seems to be the thing these days for various reasons, many of which I don’t buy. Personally, I am against circumcision simply because I am against self-mutilation of any kind. Nothing to do with all the scientific facts about reduced chances of getting HIV (condoms do that a lot better) and theories on how the girls love it better (haven’t received complaints yet). I am doing just fine with the foreskin on.

That profile pic of yours,,,do u look remotely like that? I could swear i've seen u before. Or the real owner of that "face". U look somewhat like "Chege", that guy in "The river between". Never seen him tho (i just put his name to that face).

Yes and no. The nose and forehead are quite similar, but the cheekbones are what make the major difference. Fill the cheeks out a bit, add a goatee and some more hair on top of his head and yes he might just pass off as me.

The reason I chose it though was because it was the description of a what a typical black man (un homme noir) looks like in an old anthropological journal. It’s a painting of a Mandingo slave from 18th Century New Orleans or thereabouts.

Do u blog under another identity ie. Iwaya. same writing style!Or do u atleast know each other?

yeah...you iwaya or r u buddies?

I do not blog under any other identity. I am flattered that I can be mistaken for somebody far more talented than myself. Although I do administer a specialised group blog, where I post articles under my real identity sometimes. But that is not my blog.

i always wondered,do you put both socks on before both shoes, or is it one sock and shoe and then the other two?

I had never really thought about it until you asked. I put on both socks first before I put on the shoes. Is there anything for the psychologists to read in to this.

What do you wear to bed?

Only my chocolate-brown skin. No pyjamas, no boxers, nada. All night, every night.
I have never really been down with the whole pyjama thing even as a kid. I would have probably been sleeping naked back then if it was not for sharing room with siblings and such.

Sleeping nude is the best way to sleep. It is so comfortable especially during those hot nights in this sunny city.

Lehommenoir is just a french thingie or vous parlez francais?

J'aime la langue française et je la parle mais je ne suis pas fleunt.

favourite sex position... pour quoi?

Woman on top. All pleasurable details aside, it involves less work.

i wanna know about ur love life!! is
their a significant other, y or y not? how long u guys been together if
u r indeed together?? any plans of gettin wit anyone if u'r single?? i
mean, i noticed u dont discuss ur love life a lot, and i'm curious..

There is no significant other right now. There hasn’t been for some months. I spent most of last year and early this year dealing with two “significant others”. One liked me a lot and she made this point very clear. Unfortunately I did not feel her the same (a minor detail I never got to mention to her), mostly because there was this other person I liked a lot. But this other person was very unclear and kept playing me like a puppet (she knew I was smitten). Not to bore you with details, in the end one young lady left the country hating me for breaking her heart and it was eventually made clear to me that the other young lady liked some other chap more (I wish I had gotten to find out under less embarrassing circumstances).

I am "freelancing" right now and enjoying the benefits that such a situation has to offer but I can definitely get with someone. Although when you use the word “plans” its like it is some kind of ten-point programme thingy.

3 people (if given a chance) you would love to meet

There are like a gazillion people I’d like to meet but since I don not have a ready made top 3 list I will put up these.

I’d really like to have a one-on-one with His Excellency Kaguta. I’d like to seat down with him over, unfortunately, tea and pick his brains for a while.

I hope dead people count because I’d really have also liked to meet Hitler and ask him WTF?

There is this lady Ayaan Hirsi Ali,who seems to thrive on having fatwas declared on (or is it against) her fine self. And also because It is always enriching to be in the company of beautiful women.

Hopefully that answers all.

Everyone's Favourite Ugandan Dictator Coming to a Screen Near You

2006-09-07T15:54:00.000+08:00

Just when the world was about to forget all about Amin and Ugandans could travel around the world without having ignorant chaps asking if Amin was still the President, FoxSearchlight pictures has him well-packaged and ready to be unleashed onto the 21st century.

The Last King of Scotland is set to be released later this month and it is likely to generate a lot of talk about Amin and his terrible regime.

I have to admit I have been waiting for the movie for a while because its the only movie I have actually ever seen being shot. I remember having different parts of Kampala blocked off as the crews were shooting or seeing Makerere University Library miraculously turned into Entebbe airport's lounge (at least thats what I think it was).

It was rather funny seeing old Peugeots, Citroens, VW Beetles from the 70s being planted along the roads as props. THe filmmakers would have prefered to have many of them being driven up and down but they failed to get enough that actually worked.

Onet thing that worries me about the film is that some people may not realise that the film is only very loosely based on actualm events or that the book its based on was largely a work of fiction. You might find guys asking that if Amin was all that how could the young scottish doc sleep with his wife and live to tell the tale.

Its a pity that no Ugandan actors got any significant roles. They are doing the usual standin, passerby and twoline type roles. It would have been nice to have some Ugandans up in there like in there were in Mississippi Masaala.

At least the movie was shot here, where it is set, and thus put some money in a few Ugandans' pockets unlike some of the more recent films set in African countries. Hotel Rwanda was shot in South Africa. Tears of the Sun wasn't even shot on the continent, leave alone Nigeria, but in Hawaii.

Below is the trailer.

Caught in the middle

2006-09-01T18:58:00.000+08:00

It’s about 10pm and I am at the counter in my local slowly poisoning my liver but liking the process immensely. My usual buddies are not around so I am making some chitchat with the bar lady in between watching bits of a recorded premiere league match (sans volume) on the screen above. The background music is just right and everything is cool.

In walk Jon and a beautiful young lady that I seem to know from some place. Jon walks over to me and gives his greetings. Young lady picks sits on a barstool next to Jon, who is now sitting on my right. I am introduced to the young lady and vice verse. The young lady is called Sue. The name does not set off any chimes in my head but the face still looks familiar.

Sue offers to buy pork for both her and Jon but Jon declines, he says something about an early supper or late lunch. Sue goes on to order for her meat and for drinks for both of them.

The manager walks in and challenges Jon to a best-of-three pool duel (apparently Jon walked all up and down is ass the last time they played). Jon takes up the challenge eagerly and thus I am now left with Sue and the small talk commences.

I enquire as to where I might have laid eyes on Sue’s fine self before. Sue says she doesn’t think the two of us have met. One of those Eureka bulbs pops up glowing brightly above my head and I say I am certain that I have seen Sue once or twice at a certain medical facility that has always been good to me whenever I need an excuse for having not appeared at work on a given day. Sue acknowledges working there and I realise why the face is familiar and yet she doesnt seem to recognise me. Her workplace is usually teaming with bonafide patients who keep her too busy to notice loungers with made-up diseases chilling out in the lounge reading two-week old magazines while waiting for the doctor to bring any official looking, signed and stamped, document to prove that they were actually to see the doctor.

Jon has been beaten terribly at game one (a quick seven-baller) and he comes over to take a sip off his drink. He asks me for a cigarette, which I offer. Sue tells him how her and me “as if” know each other. Jon makes some “small world” like comment and goes back to salvage his honour at the pool table.

The small talk (more like familiar banter by now) goes on over drinks and cigarettes (Sue loves to torch it too, by the way). Its all good until I begin wondering what Jon is doing over there at the pool table (especially since they are really sticking it to him) while his date is over at the counter with me.

Sue calls over to Jon and suggests he packs it in and gives her a ride home. Jon light-heartedly (at least I am sure it was meant to sound light hearted) that people with no faith in his pool playing abilities should find their own way home. Jon loses game three and I am thinking its time to get the hell out of Dodge, seeing how it is approaching the witching-hour (not to mention some sense of tension).

I am in the process of bidding my adieus when Jon says he won’t have any of that. He says he hasn’t had time to have a decent chat with me the whole evening. He offers a round and even says he will drop me off home. He had me at “another round” so the free ride is a great bonus.

Sue is now suggesting it is late and she’d really like to leave. Jon says we’ll be done in no time. Sue smiles but I can see she isn’t happy. Well anyway, we finish the drinks “faster, faster”; clear whatever needs to be cleared. Jon promises the manager he’ll definitely be back in the sequel to the evening’s pool show and we exit the bar.

We get into the car and I can’t wait to be dropped off at the turning to my block not far away. However when we get to said turning Jon doesn’t stop and moves right on. Sue doesn’t look too happy about this (probably has something to do with the fact that I had mentioned vaguely where I live during our chat earlier).

We get to Sue’s place. Sue gets out quickly; Jon follows soon after and tells me to give him a minute. I move to the front, light up (I have travelled in this car many times and I know he’s cool with it), and wonder what tiff I have just gotten myself mixed up in.

The car is parked just outside the gate and I can hear a bit of the exchange going on on the other side. I convince myself it has nothing to do with me until I hear my name mentioned twice. Jon comes out and we set off.

I am dying to ask what just happened but Jon answers me before I do. Sue is apparently an ex of Jon’s friend and she has wanted to bed Jon for a while. She had apparently figured that night was the night and she wasn’t amused by the fact that one Jay tagged along and ruined everything.

I am quick to point out that I didn’t ask to be dropped off. Jon says he is aware of that fact but that my being in the bar gave him a way out of spending the night at Sue’s without appearing to be the bad guy. Apparently he needed time to find out if she wasn’t on some mission to get back at her ex. I suspect he told the chick that he would have loved to stay but he couldn’t leave a buddy stuck in the middle of the night

I was like damn; I’ve probably made myself an enemy without even trying.

Everything you've always wanted to know about Jay, but were afraid to ask.

2006-09-01T15:30:00.000+08:00

I got this idea from another blogger a while back but I didnt think much of it then. But now I think
it could actually be interesting.

Basically, I want you guys out there to ask me anything you want. The questions can be about
myself, my opinions on issues, they can be whimsical but humorous. Actually anything except my
name.

This ought to be interesting for me seeing what kinds of questions y'all come up with.
Send in the questions by email to hommenwa at yahoo dot fr.

Will be dropping the answers in a week or so. For obvious reasons, some questions I might not answer fully.

Of Unstirred Martinis and Beautiful Women

2006-08-22T18:15:00.000+08:00

I have done little else since Friday evening than try to watch all the James Bond films (the official ones anyway). I have only managed to watch 8 and a half, which leaves me 11 and a half to go.

It all started when I found out that a friend of my housemate had a collection of all 20 movies on DVD and I convinced my housemate to borrow them so that I’d finally be able to say I have watched all the Bond movies.

I have been a Bond fan since that day when my old man came home with our first VCR and with it Live and Let Die. From then on the debonair spy would become one of my favourite movie characters of all time.

I started with the 3 I hadn’t watched before Thunderball, Goldfinger and Licence to Kill and as I made my through them I started realising some things I had never taken note of before, mostly because I watched my first 13 Bond movies between 1985 and 1989. Back then I was easily impressed and things like plot, dialogue and elements of cinematography were not of much interest to me.

But over the weekend I kept wondering why most Bond fans think Sean Connery is the best Bond ever (I prefer Rodger Moore). I also realised that the Bond franchise needed the changes it underwent in the six year hiatus between Licence to Kill and GoldenEye. For one the portrayal of the Bond girls in the earlier movies of the 60s and 70s just wouldn’t fly today. For starters all of them fall for the guy as soon as they lay eyes on him, they might turn on him and attempt to put a steel blade through his ribcage later but he will have had his way with them by then.

I remembered a grimy and unshaven Pierce Brosnan leaving the North Korean Prison in Die Another Day and I compared him to the first two bonds who never had a hair out of place even at the worst of times (in Diamonds are Forever Sean Connery’s bond barely survives cremation by a matter of seconds, but gets out of the confine unfazed and with hair and crease line neatly in place.

I should be done by Friday and I want to make my own “Best of” series, while I wait for Casino Royale latter this year.

Right now though, I am trying to figure out which theme song I like more Sheena Easton’s For Your Eyes Only, Gladys Knight’s Licence to Kill

Just for Just

2006-08-18T16:06:00.000+08:00

Being the lazy guy that I am, I never do anything unless I really have to. As such I never iron
anything unless I am going to wear it right after. I have now become used to acertain pattern
in the loadshedding schedule and I know on which days to iron an extra shirt for that morning when there will be no electricty.

Somebody somewhere turned everything on its head and yesterday morning I woke up to an electricity free flat. I mmediately knew I was in trouble because the only two clean "office" shirts were so creased they looked like they had just been spat out by a cow that had decided it didnt like how they tasted after chewing on them for a while.

I ended up going to work in a shirt with a few of those African designs on them- I had decided to bring the casual friday a day forward. I kept getting odd looks at the office but surprisingly nobody questioned my choice of shirt. It wasn't until later while at steakout for the rock night that everyone I met was asking if I was on leave or something.

From now on its mass ironing for me. Anybody know a cheap dhobi?

I have read many technology reviews and many sites have interesting writers but nothing has amused me more than the guys at niggaknow. Its not so much for the reviews but for the language and the humour. Granted the language is rather explicit and somewhat racist if you are white or asian, but I found it funny using hardcore ghetto slang to review the tech.

Speaking of tech. Apparently Ugandans do use the WAP services on their mobile phones. I was surprised to learn that many Ugandans access the beeb on their cellphones (considering the small number of Ugandans
with cellphones (saying nothing about those with WAP enabled sets).

Any of you believe in time travel? Is world war 3 starting in 2015? A chap called John Titor told us it will when he dropped in from 2036 looking for some 1975 IBM PC for some kind of research in his time. After acquiring what he wanted, he dicides to check out the years and landed in 2001 and started dropping all sorts of predictions on the future on many forums and chatrooms. Even had sketches of his time machine and all. Check out this site dedicated to his predictions and this wiki that puts it in perspective. I say it was a damn fine hoax.

Enough randomness for now. Gots to get back to ~~the future~~ work.

Its an anniversary

2006-08-10T20:07:00.000+08:00

I have just realised that it is exactly one year since I stumbled upon blogger, opened an account and made my first post on this third rate blog. Why I chose Inzikuru as the subject of my first post and not some “hi I’m Jay and welcome to my new blog” kind of post, I can’t recall.

Blogging has since become a major part of my life and checking out my blogroll everyday has become a near addiction. It’s amazing how something that I knew nothing about before 10/8/2005 has quickly become a part of regular activities.

At first I thought I was a lone Ugandan sailing the vast sea that is the blogosphere until another sail picked up my message in a bottle and responded with urls of other blogs that had been around longer. Thanks Ivan.

Now I have a whole lot of blog friends and acquaintances, many of whom I probably pass on the streets many times without knowing (probably just as well for them). Some of the bloggers I have met have been philosophical, poetic, analytic, lyrical, angry, soulful, scandalous, odd, clinically insane etc.

I now have my on nook of the net to put down whatever is on my mind and it is great. I get to write stuff in a way a like at my leisure while enjoying the experience before I sit back and wait to see how people respond.

Heck, this blogging business has even got me on the BBC site (looking around smugly).

Next stop: My Own Website. Though I don’t think my lazy ass can keep one going.

Any Stasibasiphobes in the house?

2006-08-10T15:00:00.000+08:00

While trying to get some light to the dark and murky place that is my mind by way of my trusty friend google it dawned on me that I am not as messed up as I had earlier imagined. There are a some really troubled souls out there judging from some of the disorders and phobias I have come across.

Think of any irrational fear of anything and somebody somewhere probably has it and it will have a medical name. This guy has a list of all manner of phobias.

While reading throughthe list, I wonder why anybody would be dendrophobic (afraid of trees) -except for hobbit lost in the Fangorn Forest. But then, phobias are not logical.

I would think being afraid of being buried alive (taphophobia) is normal and those
who are not should be the troubled ones.

If any of you answered yes to the title of this post I suggest you jump of a not-too-high building and land strategically as to carefully break you spine that way you will become paraplegic and you wont have to be afraid of walking or standing up anymore.

Getting the movie. Then and Now

2006-07-31T19:30:00.000+08:00

The proliferation of bootleg DVDs of very new movies (many of which are still showing in the cinemas) got me thinking of how far Uganda has come in terms of accessing the latest entertainment. My mind went back over the years, thinking over how things have really changed.

I can’t say I remember when I watched my first movie, although the earliest clear memory I have of a movie is of Clint Eastwood’s A Fist full of Dollars which I must have watched around 1983/4 at an aunties place. Back then I wasn’t sure whether it was TV or not.

We got our first VCR (along with the first colour TV) in 1985 and with it came 3 movies Live and Let Die, Assault on Precinct 13 and All Quiet on the Western Front. Owning a VCR meant having a constant supply of tapes to feed it. This is where the problems begun. The likes of Darlyne and Inktus might not believe that there was a time when there was no real Movie Library in Kampala (and Uganda for that matter).

I remember my old man used to bring home tapes with the words Whittaker’s (or some such name) video library written on them. Now before you start saying “but I thought there were no video Libraries” let me explain.

Mr. Whittaker (if there was ever any such person) had come up with the ingenious idea of having his friends in the UK record stuff for him off the telly, which they could send over to be lent out to the likes of Jay’s dad. But because the recording was off TV and the people doing the recording probably just set the timer and headed on down to the pub, the tapes would come with commercial breaks, public service announcements, breaking news etc. We would go some minutes into a movie like the Far Pavilions and have a ketchup ad thrown in before reverting to the “regularly scheduled programming”. Something like that would probably piss me off now but I was six at the time and even the ads were fun.

The other good thing about these tapes was that Mr. Whittaker felt that the entire 180 minutes of the tape had to be filled. Along with every movie came a few episodes of some sitcom or series. These were mostly british programmes like Fawlty Towers, Not the 9:00 o’clock news, Top of the Pops etc. and sometimes the American series like Miami Vice (somehow I do not see Collin Farrel and Jamie Foxx, in the soon-to-be-released movie, having the kind of chemistry Don Johnson and Phillip Michael Thomas had in the TV series)

Thanks to Mr. Whittaker I developed a love for British TV, which has remained to this day.

We moved to Jinja in January of 1987 by which time VCRs had spread all over the land and the movie rental business had started developing. We soon became members of Bashir's Video Library, which was next to Town Talkies video hall.

Bashir did have the movies (the proper ones without commercial breaks) but the problem was the variety wasn’t that great. The movies were generally categorised thus;

-“You kill my father now I kill you too” old style Kung Fu flicks with titles like Snake in the Monkey’s Shadow. Closely related were the latter day versions of previously mentioned flicks. High-octane Hong Kong martial arts kickfests all based on the same cop drama/revenge script Police Story.

-Vietnam flicks. You remember the type where some badass GI would mow down a whole battalion of Gooks (their words) and not somehow not get hit by a single bullet shot at him. Case in point, Leathernecks.

-Those good old shoot ‘em up plotless B-Movies with titles like Exterminator.

On top of that the newest movie was two years old.

Did we mind? Heck no. That is until we were watching the movies faster than Bashir could stock them up. One thing I remember that stood out of place at Bashir’s was 30 something tapes of Dallas (they just didn’t fit in with the rest). We watched them all and this was the interesting Dallas (up to the point Jr Ewing dies). It’s funny when you consider that all that can now fit on one DVD.

By now the eighties were ending and we were back in Kampala. The good news was that real video libraries were opening up like Bimbo and Ripples (which was the video library to be a member of), but the bad news was that the membership and borrowing fees were way to high. This led to the emergence of a coordinated network of lending and borrowing movies among friends.

If person x had that movie you had to watch like Terminator 2, Rambo 3 or Die Hard you had to find him an equally interesting movie or trade him something just as cool (like an Asterix/Tintin comic book, The Newest Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew novel). Lunchtime at the Rocks in Kitante was the time most of these exchanges could go down. It had the feel of some kind of stock exchange with young boys haggling over what movie was worthy to be exchanged for another or one guy promising to lend movie to another for an extra day on condition that a certain comic book was thrown into the bargain.

It wasn’t long before the Ugandans hooked up with bootleggers from around the world and swamped the market with the latest VHS movies there were to offer. Soon the bootlegged copies started getting bootlegged and every other neighbourhood had a video lib stacked with 5th and 6th generation bootlegged VHS tapes.

Then there came the shortlived VCDs followed by the DVDs. Since these days everybody and their uncle has a DVD player, VHS has all but disappeared. The DVDs are ubiquitous on the streets of Kampala and boy are they cheap. For the price of an “original” tape of back in the day you can have yourself 5 full-length movies on one DVD. Nowadays the only movies you cannot get in Kampala are those you have a hard time finding in regular outlets anywhere in the world.

Kitante Petition

2006-07-26T14:52:00.000+08:00

Some of the almuni (like yours truly), friends, parents and wellwishers of Kitante Primary School are seeking signitures for a petition preventing the the illegal apportioning of the School's land. If you feel the cause follow this link and add your signiture to the petition.

For those of you who might have gone through Kitante Primary School try and imagine no cops and robbers "in the rocks" and all the other games that could only be enjoyed because there was enough space to run around. Those of us who went through the school when corporal punishment was the norm might have also wished that that bamboo grove by the Museum fence had never existed but this wouldn't have been the way to get rid of it.

Car trouble: Two words you won't hear from Jay in a long time

2006-07-13T23:00:00.000+08:00

The gods have conspired yet again to prevent me from ever owning an automobile. Just when I was putting together the last bits of the ingenious scheme that would somehow get me to purchase a car out of the loose change that is inappropriately called my salary, cars are about to get really expensive (the used ones anyway).

Actually, between you and me, I am smiling inside. Now I have another excuse to give those who keep asking me why I do not have a car. That’s not cause enough for a smile, I hear some of you say. Just hang on a second.

I am the only guy my age I know who has almost no interest in owning a car. The only times I get to wishing I had a ride are:

a) When there is that ballistic date looming and I know I have well nigh to no future with said date if I do not pull up to her crib behind the wheel of a car (preferably a fancy one).
b) When I have over indulged in the pleasures that are only to be found in Club Pilsner and a quick account balance inquiry (hand in pocket) reveals I have only 5,000 and the cheapest taxi cab to Bugolobi is 10,000 and everyone I know who owns a car seems to have vanished.

However these two scenarios are not that common because, being somewhat socially dysfunctional (if this phrase means something other than what I think it means, don’t tell me), I do not date that often and when I do my dates do not mind sharing the comfort of the 100s of “specials” I part own (by virtue of regular use). I have also developed a nearly superhuman ability to keep tabs on my dimes even at my most inebriated (granted sometimes barmaids ‘forget’ to give me my change or threaten to call Mukiibi, the barrel-chested bouncer, if I don’t stop accusing them of cheating me of change).

I have no problem using the blue-striped taxis and I do not go through the agony of my housemate when cash is tight and he has to part with 20k for 3 days worth (curtailed movements and all) of premium petrol.

Besides having read the, ridiculously few, minimum number of Club Pilsners that can set off a breathalyser, I do not think I would be using my car on weekend evenings when I need it the most.

Museveni has done it again

2006-07-13T18:00:00.000+08:00

Museveni has just offered another investor prime property in the city without the courtesy of consulting or informing the major stakeholders. Is it just me or is our President's dishing out of public land getting out of hand.

For all the reasons I had for wanting Kaguta's son out of State House in February, my major peeve with him is how he micromanages everything and the way he is running the country like a personal homestead. He is convinced(actually tries to convince everyone) that nobody else has the the good of the country at heart and therefore he has to perform the thankless task of being in charge of everything-setting university tuition fees, deciding who builds where, offering land to investors (99 year leases and all) et cetera. What hubris!!

The thing that ticks me off most is not so much that the land was offered to an investor (to build an IVF clinic) but the fact that everything was done as a personal directive from the president.The Uganda Investment was directed to facilitate the process. Kitante Primary School, The Ministry of Education (Kitante is a public school) and other actors like the land board were not consulted.

And some people wonder why some of us never believe in his "one more term to consolidate achievements and strengthen institutions" speeches.

Its bad enough that all the wetlands around the city are being gobbled up by bigshots in connivance with corrupt City officials, but having a President who seems intent on ridding Kampala of any open spaces is a bit scary.

Land belonging to, a national broadcaster, two of the biggest free primary schools in the city, a public park and God knows what else, all given away just like that. Its just not right.

Where is this? K'la back in the day

2006-07-07T18:07:00.000+08:00

These are pictures of K'la back in the day. I'd like you guys to tell me from which parts of town they are and what is there now (if anything has been changed).

Uganda Oyee. 2 out of 3 aint bad

2006-07-02T19:19:00.000+08:00

It has been a weekend of mixed results sportswise for yours truly.

On the world cup front England was sent packing after a penalty shootout with Portugal. This was bad news for me because as I have indicated somewhere in these pages I have been a supporter of the English team for years now.

In an attempt to get away from the England-haters that were making my life miserable at the Kampala rugby club I decided to relocate to quieter environs to watch the France-Brazil match hoping that the samba boys would be sent packing (I am one of a minority of people who do not feel Brazil, but its for reasons outside their football prowess). Les Bleus did not disappoint and they beat Brazil. I was one of the few very happy people at the end of the match, which "cost" me some friends (people do get overly emotional about football).

The win brought back memories of the 1998 World Cup final where I was one of a handful of France supporters in my local pub. I got into an altercation with a (very drunk) Rwandese patron, who had spent the whole match calling the French "genocidaires", when I told him to lose gracefully and leave irrelevant politics out of football.

HOWEVER, the highlight was being present to watch the grand mauling the Cote d'ivoire rugby team suffered at the hands of the Rugby Cranes (Uganda's national rugby team) at Kyadondo Rugby Football Club on saturday. The scoreline stood at 30-7 by the time the final whistle was blown. This brings Uganda a small step closer to qualifying for the rugby world cup in France next year.

A lot of work still has to be done considering we have a very poor away record (the cranes had lost to Morroco 36-3 a few weeks earlier). But considering the Ivorians held Morroco to a 9-9 draw in Abidjan recently, we stand a chance of putting on a better show against the Morrocans when they visit this sunny city in September.

Uganda wins, France wins and England loses.

Like they say 2 out of three aint bad.

Its official, Kony is nuts

2006-06-29T15:32:00.000+08:00

Joseph Kony has just granted an interview to a British journalist in which he claims that everything he does, he does on behalf of the spirits. The spirits guide him and give him instructions.

Its at time like this that I wish I had the powers to order an all out carpet bombing of his hideouts (which are known) and have this holy spirit rebellion business done with.

If the spirits give orders that lead to the suffering of thousands then I say we silence the medium.

For their sake, at least.

Better Luck Next time

2006-06-28T17:06:00.000+08:00

The Black Stars have proved they can tussle it out with the best. See you in SA in 2010.

Does anybody else feel that the refereeing could have been better?

Finally

2006-06-22T22:02:00.000+08:00

Finally the template change is done. Still a few things to sort out though.

What do you guys think.

Blog Problems?

2006-06-16T15:19:00.000+08:00

I inserted a background picture sometime back but it only appears in the preview and not on the blog page. I was surprised therefore when LA said that it was killing his eyes. Carlo also mentioned that she cannot read complete posts on my blog because they cut off before the end.

Since I do not notice any of these maybe something is weird with my blog when viewed from other computers. If there is anyone who has any problem viewing this blog let me know so that I can make whatever changes that are neccesary.

Football Racism?

2006-06-12T17:47:00.000+08:00

This is not about Samuel Eto’o being insulted by hooligan fans or about black players having bananas hurled at them while they are on the pitch. It is about me and what role race plays in my making a decision to support a team. I will almost always support a team that is fully or majority black against a team that is not. Does that make me racist? I guess it does in a way.

International tournaments like the world cup are the ones that always bring this out in me the most. I have done little else over the past few days but watch the world cup and except for England (which I have a particular soft spot for) all the other teams I have supported vigorously have been dominated by black players.

My Ivorian chaps went and put up a great fight but fell to the Argentines after playing the better game and being victims of a dodgy offside goal. Earlier on the Andean brothers from Equador had humbled Poland. Then came the soccer warriors from Trinidad and Tobago who held Sweden to a goalless draw when everybody thought that they were going to get thrashed thoroughly. The Angolans also lost gallantly against their former colonial masters Portugal, who were expected to use Angola as a practise session for their meeting with Mexico. I can barely wait for the Ghanaians to take on the Azzuris tonight.

Like I was saying, all the teams I have supported above are made up mostly of black players and that is essentially why I supported them. The fact that they were playing teams I can find no reason for supporting may also be part of the reason. That I automatically decide I am going to support Ecuador, yet I have never seen them play outside the world cup beats me.

Every time I am pondering these issues I come across information that just makes me understand why. Take the Ecuadorians for example. Black Ecuadorians have for years lived on the fringes of society and are by far the poorest of the various groups in that country. They have been kept in that state by a kind of institutionalised racism that favours the white and Mestizo (mixed white and Indian) population. However, in 2002 when the predominantly black national team qualified for the world cup, everybody was falling over themselves to identify with the team. This publicity has in a small way made the previously “invisible” minority visible and slowly a few doors are being opened for them.

The same can be said about other black minorities. The fact that their brothers are doing well on the sports scene gives them a reason to be proud (think of the French world cup winning team of 1998). Something positive to claim as theirs after suffering daily racism and being painted as lazy, criminally-minded types that are a strain to other harder working members of society (think of the French world cup winning team of 1998). This applies almost everywhere from Brazil to England to Holland. The Black guys on the pitch are the heroes of their people.

Therefore, if sometimes I tend to support all the African teams regardless maybe its because I want them to go out there and win one for the continent. Let the headlines be positive for Africa for a few days at least.

So am I racist or is there a better term for my “condition”?

Friday night with Richard Pryor

2006-06-03T17:34:00.000+08:00

For once in a very long time I was at home on a Friday evening and the odd thing was that I was comfortable and I didn't feel like I was missing out on the usual Friday "fun".

The reason for this unlikely state of affiars was a chance meeting with a DVD hawker, which resulted in me purchasing Richard Pryor's (RIP) "Live from the sunset strip" video concert. The hawker couldn't imagine why somebody would be interested in something he had been carrying around for ages and he practically gave it to me for free, considering it was original (I kept wondering who he might have pilfered it from and I felt a bit guilty). Those of you who live in Kampala might understand how hard it is to get such "non-mainstream" DVDs (without parting with 10% of your salary that is).

I first encountered Richard Pryor in Brewster's Millions when I was about 10 and for years his movies with Gene Wilder were some of my favourite. Later, when I discovered stand up comedy, I discovered that many of the famous stand up comedians of today and the past (Eddie Murphy, Whoopi Goldberg, Dave Chappelle etc) were inspired by Pryor.

Pryor pioneered the in-your-face, honestly vulgar brand of stand up that has become the norm for many Africa-American standup comics. Stand up that is replete with the F-word and has a no-holds-barred take on subject matter. He was the first comedian to openly use the word nigger in his routine and he got a lot of flak for that.

While watching his 1982 concert on DVD I understood why he was at one point considered the funniest man in America. His honest self denigrating style is endearing. His routine on how he set himself on fire while freebasing is so funny yet it should be a sad testament to a life of excesses and self destructive addictions.

Pryor uses the search for his roots and identity to great comic effect. He describes his trip to Africa and how it opened up his eyes. After seeing black people going about their lives as bankers, diplomats, polticians (and drunks too) in their own countries, he vowed never to call any other black person nigger.

I will be watching the DVD many times again and I plan to start scouring all the bootlegging joints for any other such gems that they might ignorantly be too eager to dispose of.

I can see where you live

2006-06-02T20:17:00.000+08:00

I dowloaded google earth a while back but I had not really checked it out until just now and I think I have found me another reason not to leave this laptop. Google earth lets you zoom in on virtually any location on earth and for the most part the pictures are of good resolution.

I have just taken a virtual tour of Kampala and its been quite interesting.

Check out Nakivubo/Newpark Area and Queens clock tower.

I just might be getting the layout of where one of you guys lives.

Mombao snaps

2006-05-30T22:40:00.000+08:00

Mes amis
On a chiller atop das boot
Little fishies as seen through the glass floor of the boat. That trip kinda freaked me out coz i seen all them shark movies and the black guy never makes it.

Got to busy pinting and nearly got swallowed up by the tide covering the sand bar in the ocean

ooops

Arrival in Nairobi

I am somewhere in the snaps. Lets see who will point me out (under no obligation to deny or confirm).

Might put up more if i can get my formerly trusty dell to stop acting up. This internet cafe business is taking to long.

Living it up in Mombasa 2

2006-05-30T22:24:00.000+08:00

Mombasa’s south coast is a truly magnificent place to get away to and unwind. The fact that it is mostly rural means it is very peaceful, idyllic and beautiful.

On the way to the hotel we passed a few small hamlets and sleepy towns where nobody seemed to be in a hurry. These people must be used to shuttle buses filled with tourists, otherwise I do not see how, considering the near absence of vehicular traffic, a bus full of rowdy singing young fellows could be treated with such indifference.

We were booked into the Alliance hotel. Actually it is three hotels that share the same strip of coastline and are under the same management. The Alliance Jardini hotel and the Alliance Safari hotel are you typical modern hotels, but our hotel the Alliance Africana Sea Lodge was somewhat different. It was made up of (Bandas) Cottages that had a bit of a homely feel to them.

To say that the days went by to fast would be a bit of an understatement because either I was living it up ‘til the wee hours or I was dozing off during the plenary sessions. The activities organised ensured that there was no time to get bored.

The thing about such conferences is that you can be sure that the current host wants to outdo the previous one, and the Mombasans went all out. I had never had of an all night open bar for close to 1,000 people but that is exactly what I experienced on the welcoming night at the Neptune Paradise Hotel.

The taps flowed all night and the guests’ attempts to dry them were all but futile. Throw into the mix a Barcelona Vs Arsenal champions league final and you know that things were bound to get heated. This was the second time that I was watching a champion’s league final this far from home. Like the last time I wasn’t really bothered who would win, which is not what I can say about all the people around me. As it turned down the majority of chaps were on the losing side and the poor beer kegs had to pay for their foul moods. Suffice it to say that when the bus came to pick up those of us who were not staying at the Neptune, quite a number had lost all sense of coherence and balance.

There is something about people that makes them undergo major transformations when they are away from home. This I bring up for a number of reasons, the main one being that I noticed that a number of fellows who are ordinarily calm and reserved whilst in our sunny town had metamorphosed into drinking (admittedly only soft drinks like Smirnoff ice, tusker malt lager and white cap) skirt-chasing fellows. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that girlfriends and nosy prying workmates were not around. Or maybe it was all the nubile young females that took the proximity to the beach as an excuse to dress as skimpily as is legally allowed.

I wouldn’t go as far as saying that there was an atmosphere of reckless abandon but I wouldn’t be far from the truth. It seems some chaps were on a mission to get laid as many times and with as many different people as possible. Soon some of us, whose ambitions did not go further than making lasting acquaintances with the barmen and the occasional late night skinny-dipping in the pool start to look out of place.

A word of advise my young unworldly friends (yeah right I hear you say). If ever in a situation where everything around you is appealing and you feel you want it all, calm the hell down and strategise properly. This one chap was laying on the lyrics to a girl one minute and talking to another girl the next. This left a number of less than amused lasses who fell for the charms of the more attentive hyenas lurking in the shadows. At the end of the evening Sir Wanderalot was left to nurse a pint while cursing his buddies for daring to busu (his words) him.

I did manage to make an interesting observation, a few of the Kampala ladies who ordinarily tend to treat me only slightly better than they would treat what the proverbial cat tends to drag around started saying hi more often and asking why I wasn’t playing water polo with them. Trust competition to bring on such a change. With all the hot-blooded young lads running after the equally hot-blooded Kenyan University students and trying to woo the hot Ethiopians, albeit with little success (Ethiopian guys can tight mark like a problem), some people were feeling decidedly ignored. Being the magnanimous chap, I decided to make their Mombasa sojourn more interesting (things are a bit awkward now that we are back home).

So it was always the same around the pool and the beach during the afternoon and around the pool and the hotel discothèque every evening. Friendships being made and strengthened, international goodwill and understanding being promoted and general merrymaking all over.

I know the “major” reason for attending was to conference, but a quick perusal of the programme told me that the beach was going to win out on the conference hall most of the time. The talk on stock options as a means of saving was immediately thrown out because I have nothing to save. I felt I could probably give a better talk on youth and sexuality so I passed. Public speaking I attended just to give time to housekeeping to do their job. I only attended the technical rotary stuff because somebody felt that as an incoming director I had to prepare some kind of report.

It’s a pity I never got to go back to the north coast to visit the town properly, but I cannot say I really regret it. There was more than enough to keep a brother busy in our little nook of paradise. There will always be next time and the having been bitten by the Mombasa bug. It won’t be long before I am back.

Living it up in Mombasa

2006-05-23T21:30:00.000+08:00

I am still shaking the sand out of my ears while I try to get back into work mode after what I can only describe as a heck of a week in Kenya, specifically Mombasa. I thought I would give regular blog updates on my escapades but I soon realised the extortionist rates for internet accessat the resort I was in would not allow that. You will have to do with the "postmortem" version.

I had heard a lot about Mombasa and I could not wait to go check out the ocean for my first time. Me and my pals left this sunny city on Monday for Nairobi where we would hook up with our Kenyan pals before heading out east to Mombasa for the same conference. We boarded the early Akamba bus with some luggage and copious amounts of Uganda’s finest Waragi.

I hear someone asking what Waragi has to do with anything. We carried a lot of it along for three reasons.

First, anybody who has travelled between Kampala and Nairobi will attest to the fact that the journey is long (12-13 hours) and that it is hardly the smoothest after you cross the border (highways is one area we beat our neighbours in). To keep the journey short and interesting, one needs to sleep heavily and for those who are so inclined, what better way of doing this than downing a few sachets of UG. Beer is discouraged because of the pee breaks associated with it. Second, we always take our Kenyan friends some waragi every time we are over there. They dig the stuff. Third, we had the feeling that the resort we would be staying in was expensive and we didn’t have that much money with us. We thought that it would be a good idea to carry along our own stash for those days when things got tight. No we are not alchoholics, we just like getting high.

The journey went on smoothly until we got to the border and someone brought it to our attention that carrying around all that liquor might bring us trouble from customs officials (it was quite a lot) and that since sachets were banned in Kenya (something to do with their popularity among school kids), our boxes of Waragi sachets would be confiscated. We were not going to have any of this happen so we set about distributing the contraband among us and hiding the sachet boxes as far as possible. Nobody was stopped or questioned and we continued on to Nairobi.

We got to Nairobi just after and we quickly went with our hosts to freshen up and eat something. There was nothing much going on for me in Nairobi except a chance to visit the Maasai market on Tuesday and add to my large collection brass bangles, shell necklaces and leather sandals. We later converged in a bar called Hooters, which was the rendezvous point before heading on to Mombasa.

The shuttles arrived and we left Nairobi for Mombasa around midnight. For some reason I had always imagined that Nairobi and Mombasa were not that far from each other. So when I was told we had another 9 hours to travel my heart sunk a bit.

My apprehension was not misplaced because that journey was wrought with a number of problems. We had hardly moved for an hour before we got a puncture in the dead of the night, in the middle of nowhere. I knew we were gonners because we wouldbe ripe pickings for a bunch of highway robbers (think of it, young lads and lasses, many in various states of inebriation,with money in the pockets). Luckily a patrolcar came by and the cops stayed with us until the tyre was sorted out. 7 or so hours later we had another puncture that was much worse. It cost us 2 hours, a lot of sweat and our tempers. Our tempers, because out of the 24 people on the bus only 4 felt it necessary to give the lone driver some help in changing the tyre. The rest simply sat at a distance and played cards while enquiring every few minutes why it was taking long to get a simple puncture fixed.

All sweaty and tired we got to Mombasa.

I quickly got to learn that there are two very different Mombasas. One is Mombasa city on the north coast, which is mordern and ancient at the same time. The other is mombasa Island (south coast), which is mostly rural and awash with holiday resorts and beachfront apartments.

We crossed from north to south coast on the largest ferry I have ever seen, which was absolutely free.

I found it an amusing coincidence that having never travelled on water my whole life, I found myself on a ferry, crossing two very different water bodies, twice in exactly one month.

After travelling inland for about 30 minutes we got to the place that would keep us blissfully sequestered for the next 3 days. That though will be a story for some other day.

Mombasa-bound, hopefully.

2006-05-11T16:34:00.000+08:00

I ought to be heading to Mombasa in a few days time if only the bossman can sign my leave application. When I brought up the subject of leave a few weeks ago he was OK with it but now he is being elusive. Since I have already paid for accomodation and everything, I am getting a bit jittery. I am going to attend this conference and for some reason my boss cannot understand why I am spending my money on something I am not "benefitting" from. He jokingly asks me to be honest and tell him the real reason.

I have been a Rotaractor for a while now and over time I have learnt that any gathering that involves large numbers of Rotaractors (and Rotarians) is anything but uninteresting. The camaraderie and interactions are reason enough to attend. There is also all the networking and making contacts, which cannot be a bad thing. But it is really the fun bit that makes these annual district conferences a must for me whenever I can attend.

Hopefully, I will soon be spending my evenings sipping on fuity cocktails and trying to explain to the others why Ugandans are all that, as I create some strong international bonds (hint, hint), somewhere on Mombasa's south coast instead of dodging boda boda's and playing cards with my housemate in the candlelight.

Where are the candles at?

2006-05-09T20:44:00.000+08:00

With all this news about electrity tariffs going up by 37% and the fact that Umeme is in trouble I am forseeing some more darkness ahead. What is Uganda coming to? We are going to pay more for a commodity that we are getting less and less of.

When I first ranted about the power rationing, I thought that the suitation couldn't get any worse. Since then the blackouts have become more frequent and Umeme no longer has the courtesy to stick to the rationing programme it prints in the papers.

I guess we will have to buy more kerosene lamps and generators (for those with deeper pockets). But hold on. That won't really solve anything because fuel prices are shooting up so fast even kerosene might soon be too expensive to buy (considering its now going to be a necessity). I don't think that those generators that the government was thinking of installing to mitigate the effects of the power shortages are going to be answer after all.

Where does this leave those of us who cannot afford the the 1.2 milion for a basic inverter or the costs of solar panels (solar energy is so cheap, if only the initial setup wasn't so costly)?

I guess I should head on down to the shops and stock up on all the candles they have. Given the way things are going the government may soon want to raise the taxes on these too after it has realised that they are selling like crazy.

p.s. I can't keep going to the bar to avoid the darkness at home. Suggestions requested on possible activities to while away the dark hours.

ROCK ON

2006-05-05T17:43:00.000+08:00

Recently Steakout (my favourite Friday hangout) introduced a Thursday rock night, which was a novel idea because Steakout is known mostly for Friday’s old school soul and the East African jams on its Utake Saturdays.

I hadn’t come round to checking it out because Thursday’s are not really good days to hang out (depleting the batteries for Friday and all that), but due to the incessant and random power cuts these days I decided that there was no point in going straight home to a dark flat in Bugolobi yet there was a rock night to check out in Steakout, which is pretty close to where I get paid to blog on company time.

I was sceptical about the kind of rock music I would find there because, in my opinion, rock and Steakout were as incompatible as raggaeton and intelligent lyrics. However, I was pleasantly surprised because the DJ went the distance and really played music that sent me back and forth from my days as a nascent rock fan to the stuff I spend idle Saturdays listening to.

The year was 1994. FM stations were less than a year old in Uganda and only 2 existed, Radio Sanyu and Capital Radio. The weekly American Top 40 show, hosted by Shadoe Stevens, made its debut on the airwaves and hence a teenaged Jay was introduced to rock music (alternative and soft rock specifically). Soon Shadoe show was replaced by Casey Kasem’s Top 40 which later competed with Rick Dees’ show for a while until Casey was dropped and Rick remained solo.

I was taken back to the days when I first bobbed my head to songs like Breakfast at Tiffany’s (Deep Blue Something), I only wanna be with you (Hootie and the Blowfish), Basket Case (Green day), What’s the frequency Kenneth (REM), Smells like teen spirit (Nirvana), Two Princes (Spin Doctors), Mrs Jones (Counting Crows) etc etc.

In ‘95 Capital Radio made its way to Mbarara where I was studying and by then me and my main man G had garnered enough clout in school to have a radio in dorm without being bothered by the authorities (I wonder is it still against the rules to have a radio in school). Finally we could listen to the Top 40 live, as opposed to listening to the same old shows recorded on tape everytime we came back to Kampala during the holidays.

Back then we were viewed as oddities because we listened to “weird music” when everyone else was listening to Montell Jordan’s This is how we do it, Soul for Reel’s Candy Rain or Coolio’s Gangsta’s Paradise. But while moving about on Thursday I saw that a lot had changed. More and more Kampalans are as familiar with Ngoni and Ragga Dee as they are with Nickleback, Coldplay and Matchbox 20. Rock lovers like myself are no longer oddities and thankfully it is becoming easier to access rock music regularly around town.

So for now I think I will be going home a little bit late on Thursdays after getting my fix of rock music.

‘Til next time. ROCK ON.

Balkanisation, Ugandan Style

2006-04-27T21:40:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, I was trying to update my list of work contacts and when I came to the local governments section things became a bit tricky. I realised that I had just come round to adding districts like Amuria, Nakapiripit (very belatedly) to my address list and here I was faced with the task of looking for the contacts of many new districts most of which I was hearing of for the first time.

Sometime last year the government decided to increase the number of Uganda’s districts from 56 to 72. The parliament approved the increase to 69 and 3 other districts are awaiting approval.

The reasoning behind creating new districts from the larger ones made sense when it had just been started in the early 90s. The argument back then was that certain districts were very large and some of the subcounties in those districts that were furthest from the district headquarters were not receiving their share of resources due to their “remoteness” but now it has become a misused vote getting trick by the government and a weapon of blackmail for the electorate.

These days every time an election comes around the President promises somebody a district. Sometimes, as was the case in Tororo county last year, he was told not to bother seeking votes in the area if by election time they didn’t have a district of their own ( I forget what they called it).

It had come to a point where if you blinked you’d miss the creation of a new district. I have somehow managed to get a list of the districts and I am trying to place districts like Kabingo, Bukwa, Amolatar and Butaleja. None of them is on the maps yet and neither are they in the telephone directories.

Actually some will probably not appear in the directories for a while given the fact that telephone lines and thus fixed telephones are yet to make a debut on their soils. Some districts that have been in existence for years do not have telephones yet in their district headquarters. I was trying to set an appointment with the district leaders in Amuria sometime back and you have no idea what a hassle it was to get the mobile telephone number of the LC5 because it is the only means by which to contact him.

Many of these districts do not even have a half decent permanent structure to house the headquarters and other district offices. They are still being run from the offices of their mother districts.

Infrastructure problems aside, the creation of large villages and calling them districts has brought about some really petty quarrels. In Manafa, the people of Manjiya subcounty threatened not to be part of the district if Bududa subcounty was not declared the district headquarters instead of Bubulo (something to do the with the fact that the people of Bubulo always seem to get the good things). In retaliation one of the subcounties made its own letterheads because it could not have its official correspondence bear the address of another subcounty. Such petty quarrels plague almost all the new districts.

I will not even get into what each new district means in terms of costs. More district officials to be paid, more women parliamentarians to be overpaid etc.

To be fair, a district like Koboko (where I have been twice) stands a chance because it has had its own infrastructure (most of it privately built) for years. An amazing feat considering the entire town was razed to the ground and it was a ghost town for nearly 10 years following Amin's overthrow (Koboko was Amin's hometown). Koboko town is always abuzz with life and business to and from Sudan and Congo (Koboko is in the extreme northwest). The district is financially viable and it has promise. Ibanda had been a sub-district for over 20 years and should have been made a full district ages ago.

If this balkanisation goes on there will be a welcome to (insert district name) sign every 2 kilometers in the near future. We might soon have places like Bugolobi and Najjanankumbi districts.

For now, I guess every time I want to contact Kiruhura’s CAO (Chief Administrative Officer) I will call Mbarara and tell them to shout across the border and find out if the guy is in office.

Island Fun

2006-04-22T04:20:00.000+08:00

I was in the Ssese Islands for part of the Easter weekend with a few Ugandan and Kenyan friends and I must say I should get out of Kampala more often. There was nothing that wasn’t fun about the whole trip.

I got to make my maiden voyage on a ship (actually its called a ferryboat but if it moves, sways and looks like a ship then its one) and contrary to what I thought would happen I didn’t throw up due to sea or is it lake sickness. The MV Kalangala left Nakiwogo in Entebbe at 2pm and we excepted to reach Ssese at 5pm. Initially I wasn’t looking forward to spending 3 hours on the lake but I got round to actually enjoying the experience. It helped that I was surrounded by about 20 friends so the engaging conversations and card games took my mind off the waters. In fact after the first hour it was quite festive in there, thanks largely to constant flow of beer from the bar and various other carry-on drinks and snacks from people.

After the ferry docked at Lutoboka pier in Ssese, we made our way to the Hornbill camp, which is right next to the pier.

The scenery at the camp took my breath away. There is a long semicircular beach that is shared by Hornbill and another camp and for a few seconds I thought I might be on some south pacific island until I looked around and saw the dense forests and water that was so still it couldn’t be ocean water.

I looked at the still water with both longing and trepidation. My “slight” fear of water means I have never quite learnt how to swim. I can get around but panic sets in every time the water gets shoulder high or I feel my feet are not touching any terra firma. That’s why I resisted the temptation to dive right in and instead opted to first check out the sleeping arrangements.

Most of us had opted to camp in tents (others preferred cottages) and those of us who had booked earlier found our tents ready. However, there was a mad rush for single tents (as opposed to the larger compartmentalised ones) by those whose plans for the evening involved getting cozy with somebody else in the tent as opposed to singing dirty rugby songs at the campfire. Personally I didn’t care where I crashed because I didn’t intend to do much sleeping and because I knew from an earlier experience that the campfires are the place to be.

Everything from there on was just a blast. I got to play some water games, tour the beach and generally make merry. I had a buffet supper that was quite nice and after that the night and early morning were full of singing, dancing and getting nicely juiced around the campfire.

I went to bed at some point but it can’t have been long because before long I was being woken up to go and have breakfast before boarding the 8 am ferryboat back to the mainland.

I did manage to make it to the ferry in good time and when I looked around I realised many people were paying the price for a good night. Major General Katumba Wamala was on the same boat and I remember him smiling bemusedly at our group of party-scarred people.

Sseese was quite the experience and I intend to go again, but this time I will be getting cosy with someone and there will be no all night campfire parties.

P.S would have liked to post some pics of the beach but somehow each has an individual in it and I wouldn't like to put people up on the net in their skimpies without prior consent. For the campfire, there are reputations to be protected. I dont know who reads this.

Muganda Man buying lingerie

2006-04-20T16:48:00.000+08:00

I got this clip of a muganda man ordering sexy lingerie for his wife and I thought it was quite hilarious. I hope you guys do too. If its not clear try here

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Anything for the Visa

2006-04-20T16:16:00.000+08:00

I am always amazed at the number of young Ugandans who would do virtually anything to go and live abroad (Europe and USA being the preferred destinations). Some people spend every waking moment planning how to acquire that precious visa at the expense of doing things that would benefit their lives in Uganda at present.

I got thinking about this recently when I bumped in a young lady I studied with at University. After exchanging the usual greetings we got to talking about what some of the people we studied with were doing and it turned out that quite a number had since left the country. What really struck me though, was how this lady went on and on about how bad luck seems to foil all her attempts to get abroad.

Apparently my friend has never bothered to get any meaningful employment, outside one or two research assistant jobs, in the four years since graduation. Initially she was waiting on her brother in the states to “hook her up” with a pass to the states. The brother wasn’t able to help despite his constant promises of “working on the things”, which was hardly surprising considering he was an illegal alien. After giving up on her brother she has since attempted, unsuccessfully, to obtain UK and US visas at least five times. In the process she has spent millions in dealing with crooked “travel consultants” (racketeers and scammers are more suitable names), visa fees, acquiring bank statements etc.

If my friend was a down-on-luck, unemployed and uneducated girl from the village I would probably understand her actions. But she is not. She has a university degree and if she can marshal 1 million shillings to pay a travel consultant for a visa every time she wants to travel (when will these people learn), she can get money to get her started in something.

She is not the only one. Because of the nature of the work I do, people are always asking me how I can help them get scholarships for short courses abroad or which conferences I can get them registered for. Many of these people are only looking at the course or conference as a ticket to the “greener pastures” offered in these countries.

I will be the first to concede that life in Uganda can be pretty difficult sometimes and that everyone has the right to pursue whatever they think will make them happy and prosperous. However, what makes me want to weep is that Uganda is losing out on many young people who cannot look around them and see that opportunities are here too. Many have delusions of a life of glamour and quick riches in the lands yonder.

Utter madness is when a young widow stakes her land title, sells all her property, sends the kids to granny and “invests” all her money in obtaining a visa. She gets rejected, she can’t get back her money and in the end she decides to take her own life. Why, Why, Why.

I think a very serious change in the mindset is required.

Up in Smoke

2006-04-05T13:30:00.000+08:00

Recently BAT Uganda introduced the Dunhill brand of cigarettes to the Ugandan market. The launch was a festive and colourful one at Speke Resort Munyonyo. Personally I hope the brand does not gain any popularity, but probably not for the reasons you think.

I am pissed off that they have the audacity to introduce other brands to Uganda after shafting us and closing down the manufacturing plant in Jinja. They send all the employment to Kenya and they still want our dimes.

You might wonder why I am not going on about the grand conspiracy to have tobacco kill off the African through increased cigarette production in Africa after deep slumps in sales in other parts of the world. Or how cigarette smoking is bad for the health etc.

First, I won’t be telling anybody anything new. Second, seeing how I have been smoking for 11years it wouldn’t seat right with me. So I am looking at this purely as a smoker and a pissed off Ugandan one at that.

For all its sins BAT Uganda (BATU) was until last year putting a paycheck in the hands of hundreds of Ugandans employed at its cigarette manufacturing plant In Jinja. They were also paying the Uganda Revenue Authority a hefty paycheck after selling said cigarettes. But last year they did some restructuring and shut down the Jinja plant and decided that it made better economic sense to produce all the cigarettes for the Ugandan market in Kenya (all that is left here is a leaf processing plant and administrators). Obviously many jobs were lost and the shillings paid to the national coffers are less . BATU’s net loss was 6.94 billion shillings ($3.86 million) mainly attributed the loss to restructuring costs resulting from the closure of its Jinja plant.

My excuses are dwindling. I used to tell myself that by smoking I was doing my bit in keeping a tobacco farmer in Arua, or a factory worker in Jinja, happy. Taking one for the team, so to speak.

Besides young Ugandans smoke to much already and they are starting younger. We do not need any more temptations for those impressionable wannabes. I am waiting to see what coolness they will associate Dunhill with.I can already see the yuppies displaying their shiny Dunhill packets at counters from SteakOut to Silk Royale.

Yes, I know that my REX brand is produced in Kenya. I still can't help thinking of it as a Ugandan cigarette. If I must smoke imported tobacco at least let it be something historically associated with Uganda.

What? I am not making sense? You are probably right. I am in a very “Jay state of mind” right now. Just that there is no forum for Ugandan smokers to rant in.

Ministry of Health Warning- Cigarette Smoking can be harmful to your health

Onyo la wizara ya afya - Uvutaji wa sigara waweza kudhuru afya yako.

2006-04-04T19:23:00.000+08:00

Just checking if this test video post works. I plan to send Jay's Eye View to another level.

I once was told that the messier the desk, the busier the person (hint, hint).

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Diplomatic Adultery/Espionage

2006-04-04T15:00:00.000+08:00

The ongoing saga of the Rwandan diplomat who was caught in flagrante with a married woman in an Entebbe hotel is just the latest in a series of events that convince me that somebody in the machines is not happy unless we are having issues with Rwanda.

The whole incident has the hallmarks of a frame-up. A very unimaginative frame-up, but one nonetheless. Who ever heard of a diplomat being arrested by police for adultery. Whether or not he was sleeping with the woman is immaterial (according to this, he wasn't). It is the treatment he received after arrest that leaves me thinking the whole ordeal was meant to embarass the young chap. He was detained for almost 4 hours after clearly invoking his diplomatic immunity.

My suspiscions are all but confirmed when the adultery story is closely followed by an inside story of- surprise, surprise-espionage accusations. Obviously the government wanted him out of Uganda and the adultery bust was the way they figured they would achieve this.

Now before I get accused of being in cahoots with foreign spies let me say this. There are many ways he could have been sent home through diplomatic channels because God knows there have been other Rwandan diplomats before him who have been summarily expelled. The whole adultery angle is what gets to me. It seems the diplomat (and by extension Rwanda) also had to be embarassed in the process.

What amuses me is that it is widely acknowledged that diplomatic missions and espionage go together like well salted crisps and a cold lager. Actually wikipedia, under diplomatic immunity, says "The espionage conducted by embassies is actually more a custom than a violation of diplomatic immunity, as it is continuously carried out by all major world powers". I assume therefore that all diplomats are acknowledged as potential spies and are always being watched to make sure they do not get any really important secrets.

I wonder what retaliation our southern brothers are going to carry out. This see-saw game of accusing diplomats of espionage has to go on. Rwanda has been tagged and they have to do something. I wonder when all sides will get tired of the games and decide to go native on each other (this time across each other's borders, not in hapless Congo's backyard). All the provocatory moves are about to be played out.

p.s. WTF is adultery still doing in our penal code.

A village burial

2006-03-27T21:11:00.000+08:00

I spent most of yesterday in rural Bushenyi. Actually I spent most of he day travelling to and from Bushenyi (680km round trip). The purpose of the visit was to attend the burial of a distant relative. This was after heavy doses of emotional blackmail from my mum, which involved her telling me how important it was to always attend burials as a show of solidarity and how keeping aloof would result in nobody caring about me when I died. The part about solidarity I got 100% but the part about nobody coming for my burial just beat me. I wouldn’t care less who came for my burial because I will be dead.

Yesterday’s experience gave me an interesting insight into village burials. I have been to maybe 3 burials my whole life and I have always, with the exception of my old man’s eons ago, been no more than a distant observer at these functions.

First, the burial was like a major social event that brought all the people out in their good clothes, although the old lady we were burying was not a major community figure from what I could gather. The villagers came streaming in at around 1pm because it seems that there is some unwritten law that says all burials should start at 2pm.

People were then called for lunch and I started getting the feeling that the punctuality had more to do with the free meal than with time consciousness. In true village spirit, everybody was invited to lunch, even some chaps who struck me as just being curious onlookers.

During lunch I was surprised by the quantities these chaps can put down. I was passed a plate and at first I assumed they had served for 3 people due to lack of plates until I saw everybody around get served with similar heaps. I got the lady serving to give a smaller amount, which she did begrudgingly because she didn’t believe me when I said I had been given too much food (she probably thought I was passing a negative judgement on her culinary skills).

After everybody was sufficiently stuffed with a high carbohydrate lunch, the main business began. The old lady had to be laid to rest after a “few” speeches. This is where things got pretty interesting. It seemed to me that everyone was going to give a short speech. There was the widower, the kids, a brother, a sister, the LC chairman, the head of some village women’s burial cooperative (whose role I couldn’t quite get) and finally the two clergymen (our family is protestant and the old lady had been married to a catholic).

Most of the speeches were short and full of the expected pleasantries but some were not. One of the dearly departed’s siblings gave a speech about how she had taken care of the old lady until her dying day. The other siblings felt that they were being made to look like they had neglected the late sister and they let their displeasure be known. The clergymen also just couldn’t help the urge to participate in a subtle game of one-upmanship- continuously throwing barbs at the “other” group.

Even that ended and the coffin had to be lowered. I figured this would be quite routine and we would soon be on our way. But it was not to be. After the prayers and the hymns had been sung and the coffin was about to be lowered some elderly man said that the head of the coffin was facing the wrong way. A spontaneous and lively debate started over where the head of the coffin should face. Half the mourners soon entered the fray and I kept hoping nobody would throw a punch. The elder lost the debate and the coffin was lowered into the grave as earlier intended. The soil was poured over the coffin and that was that.

Something struck me about the whole experience. I wonder if all the villagers are schooled in what hymns to sing at burials or has everybody attended so many burials that they have all memorised the hymns. Every time the reverend started a song, everybody quickly stepped in to sing along.

We soon made a hasty exit after promising to come by again under more cheerful circumstances.

Some links

2006-03-22T16:46:00.000+08:00

I have added a few more blogs to my Ugandan bloggers links section. Check them out.

Jay's Eye View-Part Trois. Green Kampala

2006-03-17T17:46:00.000+08:00

Happened to be somewhere with my camera and thought i'd take a few snaps.

The primary school I went to is somewhere in one of the snaps. Which school is that?

A kampalan in Nairobi: The Re-run

2006-03-17T17:01:00.001+08:00

I was going through my old posts and I thought I would rerun my maiden post. It is not entirely because I have nothing better to post. I just thought I would share my experience again since none of you was reading this third rate blog at the time.

This is just a once off. I promise not to make reruns a habit.

A Kampalan in Nairobi
The cold, chilly Nairobi dawn air greeted me as I stepped off the bus on my maiden voyage to this city I had heard so much about. I looked around as the city woke up for a new day and I wondered how the next four days would play themselves out. I was in town with some Ugandans to attend a conference but enjoying the evening life was way up on my priorities list.

Everything started off quite well with cocktail party at The Hilton Hotel on the evening of my arrival. I rubbed shoulders with some of the region’s most loaded people and after an evening of mingling and engaging conversations I felt rich by association (or was it the tusker beer giving me ideas?).

However, since these loaded people became loaded by sleeping early, the cocktail ended while the night was young and that all-important Liverpool-AC Milan champions league final was pending so I had to hit a real bar. Luckily some of my hosts were thinking likewise and decide to take me and some other Ugandans to a pub called Tropeez. At Tropeez I guzzled draught Tusker by the pitchers and generally had fun-until the match began.

I am not a traditional Liverpool supporter but I have always had a soft spot for that team. So when the match appeared like it was turning into a one-sided goal-fest I decided that I was not going to risk the wrath of Nairobi’s thugs (and cops who I had been told could be as nasty as the thugs) by moving to the hotel late after losing a match. I quickly sped off to my hotel after the first half, not because I expected much out of the match but because I wanted to chill closer to “home”. I had hardly settled before I started witnessing one of the most amazing comebacks in football history.

The euphoria was only marred by the barman refusing to keep the pints flowing after 11pm. I had to beg his pardon because he was not making any sense to me since this was only 3 or 4 minutes past the hour. The man was adamant and said his licence would be revoked if he sold me anything (apparently there were some city council spies around masquerading as customers). No beer past 11pm, how do these people survive?

I later learnt that there were different licences for different establishments, which dictated how long one could sell alcohol because before long I would be leaving the club straight for the bus as the sun crept up. But I am getting ahead of myself.

The following evening, we visitors were hosted to a dinner at Carnivore. I had heard so much about this place and its exotic roast meat and that I could not wait to partake of what it had to offer. Suffice it to say I did not turn down anything, beef, lamb, ostrich, crocodile, camel- the works. I was also enjoying the share of the Ugandan chick next to me. She said she could not eat that "weird" meat (chicks...hmm, never to adventure).

After the dinner and speeches we were told to board the official bus back to the hotel. Our Kenyan friends had told us that that there was a wicked disco on the premises, which we had not seen since we had been in tents outside. A few like-minded Ugandans and myself decided to let the bus go and chose find our own way home.

First, a crucial point. Two words every linguistically impaired (Swahili-wise, that is) Ugandan beer lover visiting Nairobi has to learn are baridi (cold) and moto (warm/hot). Because I had earlier been taking draught, which was by default cold, I had not realised that the Kenyans actually liked their beer warm. While in Uganda the warm beer is the exception, back in Nairobi one has to specifically ask for baridi.

Anyway, being a Thursday, the disco was not happening so we were relocated to another place called Choices (or choi as those chaps called it). The place is a cross between Fat Boyz and Al's bar; therefore it was happening. After a while in the place, our hosts got tired andthey had to leave us on the dance floor after we assured them that we would be fine as long as we knew the fare for a cab back to the hotel.

Every thing went on fine until some drunk fellow nearly started a fight with us. Probably he was not amused by the fact that the foreigners were outdancing everybody and drinking the bar dry. The issue was sorted before any bottles flew and we saw this as a warning to flee the scene.

With heavy heads, me and my pals woke up to another day whose evening highlight was a home hospitality. Our hosts were some lovely ladies who hosted us to a night of Kenyan cuisine and some fun and games. The githeri, kachumbari and most of the other food was superb except for some mixture of fermented milk and mashed vegetables-that would take some getting used to.

We later ended up in a club called Casablanca, which was full of white, Indian and Arab guys. I felt that this was the place to be and was all geared up to have a blast until I realised from the bill that a beer was 200Kshs, which did not bother me (I might have still been high on that bubbly, hot and flavoured Morrocan steam pipe I had just smoked) until some quick arithmetic told me I was drinking a beer at Ushs 4,600. I then realised two things: why there were hardly any locals in the bar and why I had to get the hell out very fast.

A few calls later, the guys and me were being driven to Klub House 2 (K2), which is a much larger version of Wagadugu in Kamwokya. This was my kind of place. Here was cheap beer, music and pool. The party went on until the very wee hours of the morning of our last day in Nairobi.

By the last day, the body was weak and I felt I could not push it any more. Thankfully the conference closed at mid-day, which left me a few hours to chill before the banquet later in the evening after which I thought I would have my first full night’s sleep since hitting this town.The banquet was a tame affair at the Stanley Hotel, which I later discovered is the oldest hotel in East Africa (103 years old). Being a 5-star hotel one had to be wary about how one dealt with the cash bar. We had been told that the hotel had given a discount and beers would be Kshs150 (UShs3500) as opposed to the usual Kshs200 (prices like this made me rethink my opinion on Rhino Pub). I had to be easy on the beers, which was made hard by the waiters ever hovering above my head asking if I needed a refill (as if they were the ones buying the beer).

As soon as the banquet ended the Kenyans were suggesting a proper send-off at Florida 2000 nightclub. All the plans for an early night immediately disappeared. Since we were all leaving on the same bus early the next morning my Ugandan chaps and I reasoned that we would hang out in the club until late, head straight for the hotel, shower and board the bus.

Having sorted that out, we hit the club. We shook, watched dancers that would have made the former Shadow’s Angel’s appear as tame as Sunday school kids, and generally made merry until the sun was about to come up.

As I settled my sleep deprived body in the bus I could not help thinking how much of a blast I had had. I promised myself to come back next time and get to see what the city looks like outside the bars and nightclubs. I was also feeling a conspicuous lightness in my wallet. But that would be a worry for another day. Right then all I wanted to do was sleep for all the 13 hours to Kampala.

Confessions of a lapsed blogger

2006-03-16T16:50:00.000+08:00

Forgive me blog friends for I have sinned. It has been many days since my last post. I accuse myself of suffering from not being interested in anything strongly enough to want to write about it.

I have been suffering a mental blockage for a while now and I have been incapable of thinking straight for more than a few seconds at a time. My brain seems to sever the connection it has with my fingers everytime I get close to a keyboard.

My batteries are being recharged for a comeback.

Now guys you can proceed and do whatever it is the priest does at this point in a real confession booth.

Absolve a brother.

Upgrades. Bloody Upgrades

2006-02-27T16:15:00.001+08:00

I have only barely gotten over the inconvenience of the additional “2” that all mobile phone companies told us to add to our usual 071, 077 and 075 numbers (having to edit every number in the phonebook was not the most enjoyable of tasks) and now I have to suffer with another upgrade at Nile Bank.

Nile bank decided to change all the PIN numbers in use by all ATM cardholders recently. All customers were told to go to their various branches and apply for their new PINs because the old Pin numbers were to become ineffective after 25 February. To effect this change all the bank’s branches (ATM machines included) were closed from Wednesday 22-Saturday 25.

Everybody assumed that the Pin code change was to be easy. Present your name account and card number and there would be a new PIN code waiting. The reality has turned begin out to be totally different.

To begin with, all new PINs are being issued at the main branch on Spear House and the they only started issuing them today yet they have been collecting and turning down applications for nearly two weeks.

I had to stand in line for 3 hours to get my new Pin number after which I stood in line at the ATM for close to 30 minutes. Like myself, everybody must have woken up with the nearest ATM on their minds. Anyway when I get to the ATM I find the same measly minimum balance I had left on Tuesday evening. My money hadn’t been posted because the banks were closed. An right now I am checking on the Online machines in the city centre via their website and they are only four of the furthest from my current location.

Everyone else started the Monday in high spirits, because the ATM checks had produced good news, except yours truly who had the bad luck of being a Nile Bank Customer.

Makes me want to kick something.

5 more years of M7

2006-02-27T16:15:00.000+08:00

I am settling down to the first week of Musevni’s next five years as president. I can’t say I was surprised by the presidential election results but I am still disappointed by the results of the parliamentary elections. The opposition MPs are less than they were previously.

This means the next parliament will be full of the people ready to accept anything Museveni asks them to. The only difference is that now, under the multiparty system, it will be called the party line.

I only hope the great drop in overall support for the movement will act as a wake-up call to Museveni. There might a certain number of people he can always count on for votes but its getting smaller. 40% of the electorate do not feel Museveni and thats telling.

Thats done and we must all move on. Back to everyday problems and hopefully more meaningful involvement in trying to change the status quo if we find it not to our liking instead of only crying ourselves hoarse in the weeks running up to, and just after, the elections.

Time to seat back and listen to The Best of Seal:1991-2004 (currently listening to Fly like an Eagle).

Later y'all. No more politics for a while.

Waiting for a result

2006-02-24T20:45:00.000+08:00

Like I expected elections in Mpigi were very calm and uneventful. I spent the whole of yesterday travelling all over Mawokota and Butambala seeing people vote.One thing I noticed was that this time people were serious about voting and they turned up in large numbers, not even the rain could deter them.

People voted and hang around to watch the counting. Its funny that even when it was raining some people who had voted chose to hang around. They probably didn't want somebody to take advantage of people scampering for shelter to slip in a few ballots.

When I got back to Kampala it was excitement and V signs everywhere (at least in those places which had supported Besigye) as the early results showed that Besigye was sweeping most of Kampala.

I am quite happy that sanity has prevailed and the town is calm. Driving in Kampala has been very easy today considering many people stayed home. I am looking forward to a nice weekend and I don't want anybody to spoilt it.

Some dreamers are talking of a runoff and I feel sorry for them. Somehow I do not see Museveni letting himself be put in a runoff situation. That 51% just has to be realised somehow. In any case no conclusive results have come out of Museveni's strongholds yet.

I am going to have myself a merry old time tonight and wait for the final results at 5pm tomorrow and hopefully later have cause to have a merrier time while toasting to a new President.

Gearing up for Elections

2006-02-21T20:43:00.000+08:00

I have just received accreditation as a local elections observer. Armed with my letter, Observer ID card and a folder of numerous documents I haven’t gone through yet I am ready top to point out anybody up to no good come Thursday.

My being an observer is also a way of atoning for my not registering to vote (considering the flak I got when I let that fact slip). At least now I am taking on some kind of civic responsibility.

Unfortunately I am going to be in boring Mpigi where it’s unlikely that there will be anything interesting to observe. Silly me. I should be lucky if the elections all over Uganda were as unexciting as they are bound to be in Mpigi. No violence, no stuffing of ballot boxes and other malpractices that have been witnessed in previous elections in Uganda. But since I know having a clean election in Uganda now is just about as likely as Museveni growing an Afro, I’d like to be where the nasty stuff is more likely to go down, like Rukungiri.

I should also check my manual and see what it says about cameras because I’d like to take some pictures to put up here.

On a related topic, I wonder why everybody is engaging panic mode like all hell is about to break loose. Some people I know are filling up their fuel tanks and stocking up on groceries as if an apocalypse is nigh.

If 2001 is anything to go by, these elections will go on with minimal violence. In 2001, there were daily reports of election related beatings, shootings, campaign disruptions etc. The elections came round and there was no widescale violence that had been predicted.

This year's election campaigns have been tame (I am not ignoring the deaths that have occured, I'm just comparing with the last two elections) and I don't see any reason why the post election period should be violent.

Radio Katwe takes to the blogosphere

2006-02-17T15:50:00.000+08:00

Radiokatwe.com, a website that has been publishing anti-government gossip, was disabled last week by the government in a move to censor the potentially damaging stories (mostly about Museveni and his family) that could cost the movement government votes in the upcoming elections.

The fact that the Ugandan government has started censoring websites is cause for concern and should be the subject for further analysis. However, the thing that has struck me in all this is how quickly the editors of radiokatwe.com have embraced blogging as a countermeasure to the government's moves. This week the Radio Katwe editors moved all their stories to their new blog and they have been posting new stuff since.

Personally I think most of radio katwe’s stories are untrue and some are simply outrageous. However, content and motive aside, the move by Radio Katwe to the blogosphere shows that blogging is becoming a tool of choice for people with views that might not go down well with their governments.

I wonder if the government is going to pursue the gossip-mongers into the blogosphere

Idle and disorderly?

2006-02-08T14:56:00.000+08:00

Sometimes my fellow Kampalans surprise me with their prudish nature. Yesterday 11 young ladies were arrested by the police and detained for 5 hours.

Their crime: Causing public excitement.

How: By looking hot

The poor girls were part of a publicity campaign for a new FM station in Kampala. The campaign has been authorised by the city authorities and it had been running for one day already.

While talking to the press, the man who ordered their arrest, CID Chief Rashid Obbo, said "...their dressing was improper. They were idle and disorderly. They were dressed in an indecent way that could excite the public..."

I mean come on. Of course they wanted to excite the public. To excite them about the new station. Everybody I know who saw them didnt mind the excitement, least of all my self. They were not idle and certainly not disorderly. They were doing something they had been hired for that had already been approved.

Its not like the girls were passing out brochures while wearing thongs.

Cette Langue Francaise

2006-02-07T17:59:00.000+08:00

Carlo’s comment about the correct way to write my blog's address got me thinking of the whole torturous process of learning to write and speak French.

I started studying French on a whim some years back. I had to attend a wedding meeting at the National Theatre gardens and since I was early I decided to walk around. While I was walking I saw a banner announcing the beginning of a new term at L’Alliance Francaise. I decided to go upstairs and check out this alliance place. I got into a conversation with the cute receptinist and walked out 20 minutes later having signed up for a beginner’s course and a number of headaches.

I soon discovered that English and French were oceans apart. The first headache was learning the gender of everything from a house (female) through to a wall (male) down to a stone (female). I tried to discover a formula to getting these genders and I couldn’t. The whole gender business complicates other issues too. For example, the adjective describing a noun is spelt according to the gender of the noun. Black is either noir or noire depending on the gender of the noun it is describing. None of that one-spelling-fits all for those guys.

There are so many silent letters in French that I believe the french pronounce only a third of what they write. The pronounciation is not helped by having to learn the meaning of all those frilly thingies that are balancing on top of letters or hanging on for dear life below them with names like accent circonflexe, cedille etc

Then there are all those tenses, some of which you will readily be told are not used in real life but you have to learn them anyway (passé simple, being an example). You either speak perfect French or none at all. There is also all that dilemma of when to use vous or tu while addressing somebody (tutoyer ou ne pas tutoyer, c'est la question). They are both the same as “you” in English, but usage differs depending on how you relate to the person you are talking to.

The lessons I really enjoyed were the ones on civilisation (never became comfortable with the word though), which were mostly about French culture. You can’t learn French without having a healthy dollop of culture and history thrown into the lessons. Although I just didn’t see how the heroics of Vercengentorix and his brave Gauls would help me when I wanted to ask for directions.

In all fairness, I must say I was learning French as a hobby and I dedicated only 1 hour a day to classes. I did eventually become OK at reading, but writing and speaking (especially speaking) just seemed to elude me. I hardly ever practiced speech outside class but I tried and gave up on listening to RFI or watching TV5 (those guys spoke to damn fast). The odd thing is that when I would meet frech speaking Rwandese or Congolese guys here in Kampala, I found it easier to understand them.

I hang in there long enough to get my Certificat d’Etudes de Français Pratique. This basically means I can read signposts, order in restaurants and do simple haggling in a flea market, but I can’t blog in French or engage in a discourse on the discontent of the French youth in the banlieues (suburbs).

Having said all that, I developed interest in the language and I do always try to read articles and listen to news in French when I can. I will go back to class soon, I just don't know when.

Thinking alike

2006-02-03T16:09:00.000+08:00

Somebody who has my back on the whole cinema thing.

Yap Yap Yap........

2006-02-01T18:34:00.000+08:00

Why do some people feel they always have to be talking. Why do some people feel that being in close proximity to somebody calls for engaging them in conversation.

Cases in point

In a waiting room, bus, etc..say hi, comment about the weather or anything, after that you will have fulfilled your friendly duty and if I want to engage in more conversation I will let you know. Do not go on and on because you feel you have to. Do not worry about me I can stay quiet for 3 hours quite comfortably.

At work, do not give me a running commentary on everything that goes through your office (or head). You are in accounts and I am in communications, my job does not require me to know every anomaly you have discovered (I don’t understand most of it anyway). When we entered office in the morning you asked me if I had watched last evening’s African Nations cup match and I said yes, why then take me through the entire match again.

When I am engaged in any of these 2, reading and watching movies, the less verbal interaction I have with other people the better.

I pay money to watch a movie in the cinema because I really want to experience it intensely, otherwise I will wait for the DVD (thanks to our Asian friends, this might be before the movie comes to the cinema) so please let me be; we shall discuss it over drinks later. I don’t know about you, but I can’t read and talk at the same time.

Yes I have seen you on TV and yes your show is off the hook (so i've heard) but I really don’t care if the bad roads are messing up the shocks of your new sports car, or how nobody seems to know how to mix a martini and especially how you just can’t seem to keep all those adoring bimbettes away from you. I came to the club to have a drink, dance a bit and unwind, and you are getting on my nerves.

Enough said. Ranting wears me out.

Uganda heading towards dark days.

2006-01-31T21:33:00.000+08:00

Has anyone seen the latest loadshedding schedules effective February 1st. They are crazy. Some of us can expect not to see a lit bulb in our houses for days on end. The schedule is alternating between daylight (6am-6pm) and peak hours (6pm- 2am) rationing. What this means is that for one month or so, your area will be under the evening schedule and for the next month it will be under the daytime schedule. Absolute madness.

The thing that really pisses me off with all this is that the justification for the privatisation of the generation and distribution arms of what was then the Uganda Electricity Board was that the services would improve. Given the state of affairs at the time people assumed that privatisation could only make things better. Who could image worse loadshedding.

Eskom (going under the name of Umeme) has since raised the tariffs, saying more competitive tariffs would lead to better service. In true Ugandan style, the public made the obligatory noise for all of a week and gave themselves up to paying these tariffs.

Do we have better electricity supply. Hell no.

In their defence, Umeme claims that the water levels in lake Victoria have gone down so drastically that they cannot supply enough power for everybody. There is also talk of shutting down the Kiira hydropower dam. Hopefully it won't get to that because the consequences are tremendous.

In my pedestrian thinking, here is how it ought to be right now. If five years ago we had terrible infrastructure and inefficient mangement, but we had loadshedding a lot less than we do now (considering that this is not the lowest the lake waters have been). Then we should be having at least the same amount of loadshedding now (given the lakes levels and all) as we did back then considering all the improvements that privatisation has brought (efficient supply, getting rid of illegal connections, better service due to competitive tariffs etc).

I need somebody out there to soothe me with an explanation that makes sense to a simpleton like myself before I lose it and go medieval on those Umeme chaps at Rwenzori Courts.

The whining class

2006-01-23T22:07:00.000+08:00

I have just read an article on how middle class Ugandans love nothing better than whine about how messed up everything is and yet they can't be bothered to do something to change the situation. The author, Martin Lwanga, says

"One of the favourite past times of the African middle class in general, and Uganda in particular, is the love to sit down and whine and moan about the plight of their nation. Many of us in the middle class love nothing more than lambasting politicians and distancing ourselves from the evil circle. "

This article article made a lot of sense because I have noticed, over the years, that the people that make the most noise about Uganda's problems, corruption, bad roads, lousy education system, etc are also the least proactive lot. I leave in a housing estate and everytime I am whiling the evening away at the neighbourhood pub, somebody is bound to be complaining that something or the other is not right in the estate. Yet when the regular weekend tenants or LC meetings are held, to discuss some of the complaints, the attendance is so poor they are often called off. Everybody is either indoors nursing a hangover, digesting that fine Sunday lunch, waiting for the rerun of Smallville that they missed earlier in the week or out somewhere.
At the national level it is the same, as Mr. Lwanga put it,

"Right now Uganda is going through an election exercise but a great many of us in the educated class are not registered voters and on election day will casually sit back to watch CNN and wait for the results late in the evening to filter in from shamba boys. "

We (alas, truth be told I belong to this group) are mostly the same chaps who complain no end about how the current government is killing us with taxes, high fuel prices.... You'd think we would be the most eager to change things. And some of us have the audacity to complain about Museveni being kept in power by votes from "ignorant" peasants that have no knowledge of the country's "real" problems.

I found this rather interesting too

"Somehow many of our friends in the diaspora, having taken their skills to the developed world, expect to visit and find things miraculously running just as well in the nation which they robbed of their talent and skills."

It reminded me of this post , which would be just as meaningful if it were about Ugandans in the diaspora.

Enough said, I am going to vote for Ssematimba as Mayor.

..ooops.. I didn't register to vote.

Damn!!!!!

Musings on online banking

2006-01-23T20:29:00.000+08:00

I have been expecting some money to be wired to my Nile Bank account since Friday and today I decided to go and find out if I was rich. I made the way to the bank with the sun beating down on me mercilessly, only to find my account balance was as meagre as it was thje last time I had checked.

I got to thinking and I remembered I had seen an ad that said I could get a pin number from the bank, which could enable me to access my bank credit from my mobile phone., I figured it was about time I got one of those so as to avoid useless journeys to the bank like the one I had just taken. Anyway, I entered the bank, filled in a brief application form and I had a pin number in no time. The young lady then went on to ask if I needed a pin number to enable me to do my banking from my computer. I figured why not and like that I had joined the online banking community. I can now check my account balance, pay a few bills and buy airtime from any computer with internet access.

However, after trying out the process I started thinking about a few things.

The first one is the access bank people have to our banking information. I say this because I gave the young lady only my account number and account type and when she was giving me the pin numbers she addressed me by my name. I figured that she was probably checking out the state of my account. I was reminded of how a while back a friend of mine had jokingly said that the easiest way of having all the female yuppies in Kampala know how much money you had was by opening an account with Standard Chartered Bank. For some reason most bank tellers and customer service people in Uganda’s major banks are 20-something females.

It is also advisable to immediately change the password/Pin number that the bank gives you to one you are more comfortable with ( this option is available on the site) because the person who gives you the details knows your account number and the pin number you have just been given.

I am in no way saying that it is common practice for bank employees to go digging about other people’s finances or secretly cataloguing customers bank accounts and pin numbers, but we have to wary of the bad apples.

I also thought about somebody hacking into my account. I have a personal (purely academic) interest in hacking and over the years I have come to learn how easy it can be to get hacking tools like password grabbers and keyloggers from the internet. If hackers installed any of these programmes on a computer in a café it would be easy for them to get a list of Usernames and Passwords of all the people that would have used a specific computer. If that computer had been used for online banking then the dangers become obvious.

In my experience Ugandans can sometimes be careless with their passwords and usernames. I don’t how many times I have tried to log onto a password-protected site only be immediately taken to the account of somebody who had carelessly accepted the option of having his/her username and password memorised by the computer for direct future access. I have had cheeky fun chatting under some other person’s Yahoo ID, for example.

I am hoping that the banks that have introduced online banking do take the necessary precautions to protect their clients from the dangers above.

Of a friend's wedding and matchmaking aunties

2006-01-16T22:18:00.000+08:00

Over the weekend I attended a wedding of an old friend, with whom I had suffered the terrors of high school. He has been in “outside countries” for a while and he decided to come back for a bit and do the needful via his sweetheart.

The wedding was alright and I got to meet a number of friends I hadn’t seen in a while. In the process of exchanging war stories, the conversation steered to the topic of marriage.

It all started when the groom dropped by briefly and started waxing on endlessly about how it was such a great feeling to finally get married, joining the ranks of men…. etc etc. Then everybody got to agreeing fully with him and generally picked up on the whole topic when he had left. All of a sudden everybody wanted to show just how soon they would be inviting us to their receptions. I got the feeling that everybody wanted to outdo each other on how soon they would make honest women of their girlfriends.

Somebody soon realised one Jay was not contributing as enthusiastically as the rest and the attention soon turned to me. When asked why the disinterest, I answered that marriage was something that I just didn’t think about at the moment. Soon I was being told that I was just lying to myself, still holding on unrealistically to past years of youthful abandon (this I thought was a load of bollocks) and that at our ages (most of people present were just over 25) marriage ought to be somewhere up there among the priorities.

For a while I failed to recognise these guys because they started to sound a lot like a certain auntie of mine. Most of the time she is good company except when she is matchmaking. These days it happens more often because many of my slightly older cousins (and a few younger ones, all female) are getting married with such frequency it appears there must be some inheritance from some unknown rich relative for whoever throws down the most grandkids before a certain date.

Anyway my auntie prides herself with being responsible for hooking up a number of these guys and bringing in line one or two that were beginning to have doubts. Since the older guys are all but done she has me in her matchmaking crosshairs. No visit or phone call goes without the lunch invitation for me and my girlfriend (an invitation I wouldn’t want to inflict on anyone I happen to be going out with).

I have unfortunately not been a good candidate and she doesn’t tire of lecturing me on my lifestyle, and on the fact that I don’t seem to take anything seriously or plan ahead. I do not know how many times I have been told how important it is to “settle” and start developing myself etcetera. Most of the advise makes sense, what I resent is that she sometimes gives the impression that I am wastrel who is heading for nowhere unless I get hitched.

I gave up on telling her that, like most things in my life, it will happen when it does. I am not one of those people who have a five-year plan at all times where certain things have to be achieved by year X. I am mostly a here and now kind of person and right now certain things just haven’t crossed my mind. But she will probably keep at it hoping to wear me down.

I now why I don’t like weddings, but I will be watching my friends' progress towards the matrimonial altar with interest. Who knows cupid might do a major number on me and before you know I could beat them there.....naaaaah.

Its an anniversary

2006-01-10T18:07:00.000+08:00

High School Hell II

2006-01-10T16:02:00.000+08:00

Nobody bothered me again that night. The next morning I started on what was to become my routine for a while. I would wake up early, go off to where my suitcase was, get everything I needed for the day and then move on to class. I wouldn't come back to the dormitory until the junior prep had ended, which was 1 hour before the seniors. I would pray that by the time the older guys came from prep they wouldn't feel like bugging me.

Of course this routine was not very effective. For one, almost every after prep the older guys would descend on us as a means of stress relief. Sometimes it was just lighthearted foolery-like when they would play a song and ask each of us to slowdance our pillows as if they were our girlfriends. Other times it could get quite nasty.

There was what was called "going to New York"and believe you me that was one trip to the Big Apple you didn't want to take. It involved a hapless S1 getting under a low bed with springs so loose that even without anybody on the bed, anybody under it would still be making contact with the springs. Then 2 or 3 boys would start jumping all over the bed. This meant the bed springs and wires would dig into the guy under the bed assisted by 80-100 kgs pressure exerted from above.

It was not rare to earn yourself a slap simply for looking straight (read menacingly) into the eyes of an older student. I was once sent by one of the guys in my room to collect a kettle from another dormitory. After being shown the bed of the person I was to get the kettle from I approached slowly and, in my gentlest voice, stated my business. The reply I got from the chap was a shove and an inquiry as to how I could venture into his space and demand for things he knew nothing about. I tried to explain that I was just carrying a message from someone. I was shoved into a locker kicked in the sides and told to get the f**k out of the room if I valued my life. Since I obviously valued my life, I made for the door with haste. But I wasn't hasty enough because a Reebok sneaker hit me in the back as I was making the last turn.

I later learnt that the fellow had messed the kettle up and he was still thinking of how he was going to get it fixed. At this time in comes Jay, perfect candidate for displaced aggression.

Once I was told to drink 3 litres of water at once for refusing to do something I had been told to do. My stomach has never bulged so much. I thought I would never drink water again after that. I threw it all up as soon as I had finished. It was actually more like someone tipping a jerry can that is full to the brim, because there were none of the typical heaves that characterise throwing up.

It was always better to have "punishment" dispensed immediately after "offending" because, if it was wasn't, it was likely something quite terrible was being cooked up for you. It was likely that the culprit didnt want to be identified lest he is reported to the authorities. This meant he was more likely to pay a midnight visit. These visits usually included around 5 guys, each with a role to play. One had to ensure that the lights were off and act as a look out. 2 guys would cover you with the blanket and make sure you were held down. The other 2 would go at you like military police on a Besigye supporter. The operations were meant to be short but intense, after which the culprits would scatter in different directions while the dazed victim figured out what had just happaned.

I could go on endlessly about the nightmare most of my S1 was, but there is simply to much to say. Thankfully I hear the school has changed and there is none of what we went through nowadays. On the flip side though, I have interacted with some of my younger Old Boys and I can't help feeling that they are not quite made of the same mettle as those that went through the school 10+ years ago.

The one thing I learnt was that bullies are usually weaklings hiding behind their mean acts, usually knowing that they have backup in case of anything. Seldom does a bully operate solo. The backup might be his friends or a position of authority he has. I despise them all.

I also got to speak my mother tongue fluently. Its ironic that I only learnt it as a means of preventing future asswhoopings.

High School Hell

2006-01-05T22:13:00.000+08:00

On one of my recent blogosphere tours I came across a post of somebody talking about his hellish high school experiences and it got me thinking about my own S1 days all those years back and how nasty they were.

I went to what was then one of the best primary schools in Kampala, and Uganda, (before UPE came in and changed the whole school) and as was the norm for people in schools like that I fancied myself going to Buddo, SMACK and such. Personally I put my first choice in Buddo, which gracefully turned me down (they stopped admissions at 5, I got 6) and I was selected by my 2nd choice (a school somewhere in western Uganda). I hadn't thought much about my 2nd, 3rd and 4th choices because I knew I had to go to Buddo. So, when I got selected for my 2nd choice I threw a hell of a tantrum about how I couldn't go to a school so far and how mum had to do everything she could to ensure I got into Buddo. The old woman wasn't impressed and she emphatically assured me that if I had wanted Buddo that much I should have concetrated more on schoolwork than I did on the Hardy Boys, Famous Five, Tintin, Asterix ...etc.

Soon enough, the 1st day of S1 arrived and I found myself at school. As soon as the car entered the compound I knew I was in for a hard time, because all the faces seemed hostile and at least 3 boys we passed passed their index fingers across their throats in a slitting motion.

Luckily for me (at least that was what I thought at the time) there was a distant relative who was a teacher at the school and he escorted me to my dormitory after the administration issues had been sorted out. When we entered everybody was nice and welcoming, they even laid my bed. I thought maybe I had been worrying for nothing. Soon the teacher and my mum left the room, and there the nightmare begun.

Immediately the 'friendly' guys set upon me and told me to open my case, which I did. They helped the selves to the grab like it was a mad rush for santa's sweets at a kid's christmas party. The grab was saved from complete dessimation for two reasons. It was still classtime so only those with free periods were around and the teacher had told his nephew to go and check on me since we were in the same house.

When this senior relative came over, he didnt have to be told what had happened. He quickly told me to lock up my case and take it to his room. He was in one of the exclusive S6 rooms. He then told me that from then on I was to come to him whenever I needed anything. This sounded very OK with me. I later decided to take a tour of the compound with other newbies.

On arrival from the walk, I entered the dormitory to a welcome of the most hostile faces I had encountered in all 13 years of my life. I was immediately asked, in the local lingua, if I was the Kampala boy who thought he was too good for the rest of the dormitory. I replied, in English, that I didn't think myself too good for anybody. Big mistake. The right side of my face immediately made the brief but intense aquaintance of the back of my inquisitor's right hand. With my cheek still on fire I was told to explain why somebody with a name like mine,which suggested I should be able to understand the language I had been addressed in, would choose to reply in English. To them it only proved that I thought myself above them.

Slight digression. At that time I could not construct more than two consecutive sentences in my mother tongue because I had never really had to use it. I only heard it at home when my parents where talking or when they were really pissed off with any of us kids. They had since conceded that they were fighting a losing battle against English because we spent most of our days in schools that prohibited the use of any language other than English or with friends who didn't speak our language.

Where was I? Oh yes, the slap. By the time I recovered hearing in my right ear, it had been decided that I had no business spending the night in the room since I "didn't feel my roomates were worthy of my company" and I also had no belongings there. Someone was ordered to carry my beddings out and have them thrown in the drainage trench just outside the dormitory. I was in tears by now pleading with the boys not to throw my stuff out. Then mum entered the room.

She had brought me some aerogrammes (I wonder if anyone still uses aerogrammes) to use in case I needed to write home. The room fell immediately silent because right behind her was the teacher. They both asked if I had been crying and I said no. Though it was quite obvious that I had been crying, I wasn't about to do anything that would bring further pain to my person. The teacher then asked the other students what they were doing in the dormitory since it was already prep time. They boys quickly gathered their books and scampered out. My mum asked me again why I was crying and I told her I wasn't crying, just that an eyelash had entered my eye, hence the teary look. She left it at that and bade me fairwell. She said she was going to spend the night in town with relatives relatives before going back to Kampala. She got into the car and drove off. For a splitsecond I conteplated calling her back and asking her to go back home with me and deliver me from this hell. But I just choked on the words and started crying again.

To be continued.........

Happy 2K6

2006-01-05T01:04:00.000+08:00

I see most of us made it into the new year, which is a nice thing. The holidays were quite fine. I'm back at work, well rested and ..er.. quite broke.

Broke already you ask. Yes, I am.

That is the one reason why next festive season I wish I have some kind 13 hour job or something so that I don't spend and I am too exhausted to do anything else after that. The thing is I have been off work for nearly 2 weeks and as much as staying at home is fun, it is also bloody draining.

The thing is that the salary comes earlier than usual and for those people with tendencies like mine, it is not good to have money in the pocket and nothing to do. Everyday tends to be a weekend and this goes with all a weekend comes with.

Staying at home might be fine for one or two days, but after a while the legs get itchy and they beg to move. That is also the time of year all sorts of proggies come about.

Scenario 1
"We go to Jinja this afternoon", says derailing friend. "Why not", replies yours truly. And off the merry pair goes for an afternoon at Bujagali and and evening at Sombreros and some other place whose name I forget.

Scenario 2
10pm on a certain Super Tuesday at Steak Out
"Its late, we had better get going", says yours truly. "I think you are right, can't be late for jobo tomorrow", replies trusty partner-in-crime. Slowly the pair makes its way to the exit until, as if on cue, they stop and say in unison, "but there is no work tomorrow". Back to the counter they head 'til the embarrassingly wee hours of the morning.

Scenario 3
Ring, ring.
"Hello", answers sleepy Jay cussing those that have no respect for people's early morning sleep. Reaches for watch as he answers phone. Time check, 12:43pm.
"'Sup Jay, I'm having a house party today and i'd like you to come along", says caller. "Starts at 6 and bring your own bottle and by the way come with some chicks", continues caller.

Six hours later Jay is off to party with a bottle of Gilbeys. He tells himself that he is only going because he does not want to disappoint friend. "I will get there say hi to the guys, have a soda and head on home to watch TV", he tells himself, afterall he is still slightly hangover.

12:43am, Jay is dancing rhythmlessly (on account of a number of shots of Gilbey's, Waragi, some Club Pilsner and a wicked punch) to some raggaetone number with Sheila (or was it Stella)-the happiest camper on earth. No intentions of going home to watch TV whatsoever.

2pm, Somebody mentions the disco and Jay is all to eager to further display his lack of rhythm elsewhere. From here on memory becomes hazy.

Two weeks of such and you can imagine why I feel there is too much month at the end of the salary. But it was a blast though. Enough to last me 'til April.

More musing

2005-12-30T01:10:00.000+08:00

Apparently my last post gave some guys the impression that I was 1 step away from jumping off a very high roof. Reading through it again I realise it was a bit bleak but the truth is I always have such thoughts around christmas and then move on to make merry for the next few days.

That said, I usually love the end of the year and the general excitement about. Everybody is partying away, people are in a rush to sort out there nuptials, kids' baptism s etc and it is somehow always sunny and bright.

This year has been great in many ways. I have met many new friends, been to places far and wide and moved on in my life in many ways. I am hoping the trend continues next year in a even better way. I just need to quit some costly habits and I should be ok.

Wishing y'all a very Happy and Prosperous 2006.

Musing over Noel

2005-12-23T15:56:00.000+08:00

The festive season is upon us again. Why then don’t I feel festive?

I remember back in the day Christmas was something you would look forward to for months. It was always the one time of the year when you were assured of new stuff and as much soda as you could have, and the food of course.

However, somewhere along the way Christmas lost its lustre and became just another day when I do not have to work. It follows the same routine, have lunch with the family sleep a bit because I am to full, then call up my friends (those that are in Kampala anyway) and congregate with them somewhere over a few beers. The whole town is usually empty and so are most of the hangouts. The upside is that there is peace and quite.

I feel envious when I see families loading up the 4x4s all set for the journey to the villages. Even those happy faces at the bus parks looking forward to meeting their people after a year of back breaking labour in the capital. I wish I had some of that.

There is not much for me in the village because due to deaths and relocations over the years the reasons most people go to the village do not exist for me, i.e checking out grannies and village relatives etc. My family consists of a little more than me, my mum and my two siblings who all live in Kampala.

This Christmas will be the first one I celebrate while leaving in my own place (I recently realised I was the oldest guy I knew still living with his mum and this scared me into declaring that 2006 would find me living independently even if it meant entering a flat with nothing more than the clothes on my back).

Anyway I wish you all a Merry Christmas, especially those blog friends I have made over the past few months and hope we are all fine and dandy come 2K6.

Jay's Eye View-Part Deux

2005-12-21T15:21:00.000+08:00

A view of sunny Kampala's skyline.

Animal Farm Ugandan style

2005-12-15T20:45:00.000+08:00

Here is an interesting adaptation of George Orwell's Animal Farm from a someone at Pushaz.com.

Inzi wake up and smell the BS

2005-12-14T20:27:00.000+08:00

Poor Dorcus Inzikuru. She has gone and fainted again. This happened while she was at the New Vision to present a letter detailing her frustrations with the government. It seems a combination heavy morning training and mountains of frustration over broken promises did not agree with her and she succumbed.

Inzikuru was the first woman to win a gold medal in the 3000 metres steeplechase. And this of course raised her profile a lot internationally and at home. Before long every politician wanted to be associated with her. She was received with pomp at parliament and everyone wanted to put in a word.

Thus far, all good. However, since politicians are wont to run their mouths endlessly, soon each of these dishonourable fellows was promising poor Dorcus heaven and earth. After a while the jubilation was over and the MPs were back to trashtalking each other, sucking up to Kagu and making complete jackasses of themselves, basically back to parliamentary business as usual. And the rest of us went back to worrying about the usual, making money, doing the happyhour circuit and avoiding teargas.

Nobody put much stock in what the MPs and government people said, these are guys who promise bridges and rivers (to justify the bridges), except poor Inzikuru, who has been running up and down demanding her house, car etc. State Minister for Sports, Bakabulindi, got pissed off because he couldn’t comprehend why this young lady just couldn’t understand that the promises made were for the gallery and the cameras and were never intended to be taken seriously.
Poor girl is properly going to stress herself so much she might not compete soon. I Hope she learns soon enough how her leaders treat sports people. She should start following the media closely. This way she will soon know how her case is hardly unique. She will also learn to thank her stars because she at least bagged $100,000 after winning her gold medal (a member of the Cranes wouldn’t earn that in an entire career).

Work Blues

2005-12-13T16:24:00.000+08:00

Hard work never killed anybody, but why take a chance?
Edgar Bergen (1903 - 1978)

Right now I am in full agreement with Mr. Bergen above. I have never really been one to exert my self at work, but today I really really don’t feel like doing anything. As far as the mind is concerned we are closed for the holidays when it comes to office related stuff. Since I put the one assignment that had been giving me grief behind me, I think I can chill a bit.

Its kind of fun pretending to work when you are not. Right now I am posting this at work but because I am typing away furiously in Word, the bossman doesn’t have any suspicions when he pops his head in. There are no colourful graphics or funny PowerPoint forwards open on the screen. And being the perennial skiver I positioned the PC monitor in a way that it alerts me of whoever is approaching from behind. That way I can always click to that open spreadsheet that is always there for such emergencies.

I can’t wait for the 10 days of full lounging coming my way soon. The joy of waking up on a Monday without having work on one’s mind.

Its time to prowl around for some wicked forwards to send to my friends who are more serious with their work. I have to help them ease up a bit. I wouldn’t want them to die of hardwork.

Dark Wednesday in Portugal

2005-12-08T16:03:00.000+08:00

I am not in a very social mood right now and I think I will be keeping a low profile for a while, until all this blows over. No I am not suffering from a bout of depression, its just that something inconceivable happened last night..Man U is out of Champions League.. at the group stage. Unbelievable.

Its bad enough that my team is out, but its made a whole lot worse by the fact that almost everyone I know, from the boda boda guy at the stage to even the buchicks who have no clue what they are talking about (they have heard that Man U lost and Jay supports the team and they just have to be part of the kaboozi somehow), has it as their mission to rub it in, lest I forget. I have been receiving messages and calls from gleeful bastards telling me how this is the beginning of the end for Man U. May the fleas of 1,000 camels infest their armpits.

Chins up all ye Man U faithfull (especially these chaps to the right), to paraphrase one talentless actor "we'll be back" .

God has sent me, my......rear end

2005-12-06T17:47:00.000+08:00

I have just read the interview in which Janet Museveni claims that she was instructed by God to stand for parliament. What a load of bollocks. What the heck do the first couple think Ugandans are?

Usually I try to stay away from discussing politics but every now and then I get itched to rant and rave and I can’t help scratching the itch. Janet Museveni coming up with a statement like that not long after her husband “reluctantly” and “under duress” decided to offer himself as the movement’s candidate for the 2006 elections, leaves me thinking that the these guys think the rest of us are brainless idiots.

If Janet wants to stand, fine. But for crying out loud let her save us the bloody “God’s chosen one” routine. I am tired enough already of her hubby’s endless complaints about how he would love nothing more than to give everything up to go and tend his cows if only it were not for the fact that he can’t see anybody with a vision to rule Uganda after him and also if the people did not keep forcing him to rule them just a little longer.

Let me end this here I feel my blood pressure rising a few notches. I hope she gets her ..ahemm... kicked in the elections.

Jay's Eye View

2005-12-06T16:13:00.000+08:00

I have had a lot going through my head in the last few days and I have had no idea what to write about (I still don’t). But while looking out my window, I catch a glimpse of this sunny city I love so much and all of a sudden, nothing else really matters. So I stroll on down to my laptop and make up this post.

Some pics of the view I have of kampala right now.

World Aids Day

2005-12-01T21:36:00.000+08:00

In remeberance of those whose lives have been affected by this scourge.

Polite Friday

2005-11-25T21:55:00.000+08:00

The weekend is upon us and it’s about bloody time. Looking forward to spending 48 hours without having to deal with the boss.

However, on a sad note a close relative passed away yesterday. Since I won’t be able to attend his funeral I will have to go for the church service tomorrow.

Speaking of churches, I only seem to enter them when someone has passed away. I cannot remember the last time I went for a regular Sunday church service on my own volition. Weddings are the only other reason I would step in church but I generally avoid them and even then I am more likely to attend only the reception.

There will be no hellraising tonight partly out of respect for the dearly departed and also because I wouldn’t want to be steaming Club Pilsner for the guys in church. It’s going to be a polite Friday, I think.

In need of happy hour soothing

2005-11-22T20:24:00.000+08:00

That proverbial space between the rock and the hard place or the devil and the deep blue sea, is probably a lot more comfy than the situation I am in right, now caught between a client who has every right to be pissed off, his language leaves no doubt as to whether or not he is, and an uncompromising boss (who doesn’t want to talk to the client directly).

Without going into details, both are acting like jerks and I have to be the one in the middle making and receiving the calls, just wasting my ears . I wish they would all stop acting pre-pubescent, especially the boss. Feel like going upside his head with my notebook.

On a day like this a lager wouldn’t be unwelcome (as if it has ever been) unfortunately the month has turned into that nasty home stretch and I am keeping tabs on each dime I spend. Even whole night happy hour at Steakout is out of the question. Somebody somewhere owes me a tenner but the chap is being elusive.

Beyond misery is that fact that its my neighbourhood’s turn to be graced by the darkness courtesy Umeme (Jay lets loose that saliva-through-teeth sound that doesn’t seem to have a name in English).

This state of affairs shall not prevail. Time to conceal ID and give slippery debtor a holler. A chap needs to have his nerves soothed by a happy hour lager.

I thinks I found me some bloggers

2005-11-22T16:34:00.000+08:00

Ok so Uganda is not quite the blogger desert I had earlier said it was. I stumbled across a few other bloggers some of whose links I have added to the page.

My faith thus restored, I keep on roaming the blogosphere for a few more.

Ugandan bloggers where art thou?

2005-11-17T21:38:00.000+08:00

In the past few weeks I have been prowling all over the blogosphere looking for Ugandan bloggers and I must say I have been very disappointed. There are hardly any Ugandan blogs and the few that I have found are not really my cup of tea.

Most Ugandan blogs I have come across are heavily political. They are all about Kony, poverty, democracy (usually the lack of it) e.t.c, you catch my drift. In this group are ugandawatch. These topics are not bad but it all paints a grim picture of Uganda. The funny thing is that many of these bloggers are actually foreigners with a keen interest in Uganda’s politics. The rest are mostly opposition types, and self proclaimed anarchists. The other type are tourists going through Uganda.

I would like to find bloggers that are talking about their ordinary lives, what they get up to everyday. These are the kind of blogs I find interesting. The Kenyans are light-years ahead on this they even have a webring of Kenyan blogs. So far I have found only one Ugandan blogger, called mataachi, I would like to follow.

I hope to find more blogs, because I feel blogging is the latest means of open self expression and a great opportunity for budding writers to practice. Lets not miss out on this fun. My fellow Ugandans where art thou.

Older, yes. Wiser, I don't think so

2005-11-17T18:39:00.000+08:00

Today I grow one year older and as is always the case I only remembered it was my birthday after receiving an sms from an old friend early this morning, the first of many. It is kind of strange that everybody seems to remember my birthday except me. The good thing about it is that it shows that people are thinking about me. I should remember to pay closer attention to other people’s birthdays.

I am 1 year older. Do I feel any different? The unfortunate answer is that I don’t. Today might as well be 17th November 2004. I can’t say much has changed since my last B-day. Still same routine job, same vices, and the same unfulfilled resolutions. But then again its not that there was any reason to change anything. I was beginning to get comfortable with all the routine, which I have been told is dangerous at my age, considering I am nowhere near what you could call successful.

Enough of that. I might start depressing myself and that can’t be good on a day like this. Hopefully one of my caring friends and relatives will be so happy for me and buy me a drink or 2 (or 3) this evening, seeing how the pocket is doing badly.

Uneasy Calm After Kampala Riots

2005-11-15T20:10:00.000+08:00

The city centre is a virtually deserted save for the Red Tops (Military Police) and their less formidable, but quite scary cousins, the anti riot-police. The scenario reminds me of images of Baghdad presently or of Belfast a few years ago. Its like there is an armed person for every five civilians moving about.

Besigye is now at Buganda road court and the whole place around there is a no-go area.

Earlier this morning, I tried to walk down towards Pioneer Mall from the City Square but I soon changed my mind after witnessing a bunch of mean looking Red Tops prodding the ribs of anybody who was stationery or looked to be up to no good (according to them) and urging them to move on. They don't want anybody idling around today. I wonder where all those to whom the city square is a day-time address, office and siesta venue have relocated to.

It’s a pity how these riots have turned Kampala’s CBD from a vibrant, if somewhat chaotic place, into a near ghost town. Everybody is on edge, a backfiring car would probably send everybody diving for cover.

Thankfully there are no riots today-yet. I will only feel safe after Besigye has left the courthouse and he is out of town. I get the feeling that the rioters are just waiting in the shadows for the slightest to wreck further havoc on the city.

And now the whole town is on fire

2005-11-14T21:20:00.000+08:00

The city centre has just turned cloudy on us. No it is not going to rain, its just the good old anti-riot police doing its bit to send people scampering for cover (noses running and eyes tearing) generally keeping the order after yet another riot.

This time it’s Dr. Besigye at the centre of it all. He has gotten himself arrested. There is nothing new in that, I just wish they had taken him to another police station miles away from where I am pretending to be busy at work. He has been thrown in CPS, so the whole area around City Square, Grand Imperial and Rwenzori Courts is just one cloudy mess as the police are lobbing teargas canisters at the good doctor’s supporters quite zealously.

The gas has wafted in to the building and there is general discomfort all over. On any given day I would now be looking forward to bidding this claustrophobic cubical farewell for the evening, but right now I am dreading the streets outside. However, I am not quite sure who I am dreading most- the guys in the flak jackets and helmets or those crazy FDC guys who seem to thrive on inhaling teargas.

Let me wait and see how this unfolds.

Campus is burning

2005-11-11T18:00:00.000+08:00

The campusers are at it again. Torching vehicles, breaking windows, setting up roadblocks all over the place and terrorising hapless motorists- and yes, getting shot at by the riot cops. And what is the problem this time you might ask. Those administrators have gone and raised the examination fees.

It is very unfortunate the way these university officials go about increasing fees all the time. This time they have increased the retake fee (fee paid to redo an exam one has failed) from 6k to 180k. Jesus Christ, a whooping 3,000%. Now I can understand why these lads (and lasses) are pissed off. Apparently this was announced without any warnings given.

This university thing is getting so damn expensive. It seems I was lucky to get out before it became to hot. Tuition going through the roof every year, all manner of extra payments conjured up by the admin whenever they feel like, its terrible.

Having said that why do these chaps have to go and wreck stuff every time they are not amused. This is part of the reason they are always paying more. You torch a building; the university has to rebuild it. Where is the money to rebuild coming from? Your tuition, stupid. The next semester they will need more money to rebuild the students will get pissed off again and its is one needless vicious cycle.

To be fair to the nice boys and girls of Makerere, most of the time these riots start out as peaceful, but loud, demonstrations until some lumpens throw a spanner in the works by hurling projectiles at the Vice-Chancellor’s home, office, the senate building or whatever takes their fancy. Then the riot cops are called in and the party begins in earnest, running battles, teargas canisters and all.

What surprises me is why these riots have become so frequent in the last 5 years. I recall in the 90’s there were only about 3 riots (I may be corrected since I joined Makerere at the tail end of that decade) and I dare say with the exception of the one that resulted in the clearing and renaming of Northcote, they were based on serious grievances. These days a year does not go by without one serious riot.

The upside to all this (fee hike not the riot) is that, hopefully, the campusers are going to get a bit more serious with their studies so as not to retake any exams. You don’t want to piss dad off anymore by demanding for dimes to resit the exam. This should result in less campusers at Steakout on Super Tuesday so that the rest of us can enjoy the night long happy hour in less crowded environs.

Uganda's bit in WW2

2005-11-10T04:20:00.000+08:00

I learn something new everyday. Today I just learned that there was a major warship doing major business all over the world during WWII. The was ship was called.....drumroll please.....HMS Uganda.

Commissioned in 1942, HMS Uganda did its bit for the war effort. It did escort duty for Winston Churchill in '43, participated in the invasion of Sicily and whole lot of other stuff until it was hit by a German bomb.

After repair,Uganda ended being the top Canadian ship for a while, but then it was eventually rechristened HMCS Quebec and finally scrapped in Japan in 1961.

Why the interest in this ship? I Guess I find it somewhat amusing that HM King George (or whoever was the overlord of the British empire at that time) named a ship after the country in which sunny Kampala basks.

Sporadic Postings

2005-11-09T19:23:00.000+08:00

I have just noticed that since I started this blog I have only been posting once a month almost exactly a month after the previous post. I think I should style up.

Though I am sure nobody visits this blog yet, I owe it to myself to make more active- If only only so that the blog can appear lively.

Watch this space. More frequent rambling thoughts from this sunny city.

Flamingos, Hotsprings and a whole lot more

2005-10-14T15:34:00.000+08:00

I have just spent a fun-filled weekend gallivanting all over western Kenya’s rift valley lakes. It has been a weekend of flamingos, hot springs, game drives, camping and all manner of partying.
The camping at lake Elmenteita was lovely and the campfire yielded some interesting conversations. There were flamingos everywhere, making the whole lake shore pink. I got to see the rare white rhino (it is actually an ashy shade of grey) for the first time at the lake Nakuru national park. I had an accidental natural steambath at lake Bogoria's hotsprings which nearly scalded me.

The whole trip was a well deserved break from sunny Kampala which was beginning to get on my nerves.

I thank my Kenyan friends who made the whole trip a memorable and fun experience.

Journey around the blogsphere

2005-09-15T15:24:00.000+08:00

After starting this blog I realised I really didn't know much about blogging so I decided to pack my bags, jump onto my mouse and click my way around what I have since come to know as the blogsphere. And what a journey it has been.
There are blogs on everything, from everywhere and in almost every language I know. After cruising around for some weeks I have come to the conclusion that my idle thoughts will be quite confortable right here and I think its about time people got to know a thing or two about living in sunny Kampala ( or K'la as some of us call it).
Watch this space!!!

Inzikuru's Gold

2005-08-10T20:32:00.001+08:00

On Monday night Dorcus Inzikuru made many Ugandans proud when she won the gold medal in the 3000 metre steeplechase at the world championships in Helsinki Finland. In many countries such a win would not have been such a big deal, but for Ugandans it marked the first time a Ugandan athlete had won a gold medal at a major athletics event since the 1972 Olympics when John Akii-Bua won the gold medal in the 400 metre hurdles.

Although a number of detractors are saying the women’s steeplechase has only recently been introduced and is therefore not very competitive, the fact still remains that Inzikuru has the gold medal. Inzikuru was earlier this year the fastest person in that race and she has made her own history.

Like many Ugandans I am hoping that Inzikuru’s gold will be an encouragement to all budding athletes to break the fourth-place curse that seems to have hung above all Ugandans competitors at international sports events for well over two decades.

A Kampalan in Nairobi

2005-08-10T19:29:00.000+08:00

The cold, chilly Nairobi dawn air greeted me as I stepped off the bus on my maiden voyage to this city I had heard so much about. I looked around as the city woke up for a new day and I wondered how the next four days would play themselves out. I was in town with some Ugandans to attend a conference but enjoying the evening life was way higher up on my priorities list.

Everything started off quite well with cocktail party at The Hilton Hotel on the evening of my arrival. I rubbed shoulders with some of the region’s most loaded people and after an evening of mingling and engaging conversations I felt rich by association (or was it the tusker beer giving me ideas?).

However, since these loaded people became loaded by sleeping early, the cocktail ended while the night was young and that all-important Liverpool-AC Milan champions league final was pending so I had to hit a real bar. Luckily some of my hosts were thinking likewise and decide to take me and some other Ugandans to a pub called Tropeez. At Tropeez I guzzled draught Tusker by the pitchers and generally had fun-until the match began.

I am not a traditional Liverpool supporter but I have always had a soft spot for that team. So when the match appeared like it was turning into a one-sided goal-fest I decided that I was not going to risk the wrath of Nairobi’s thugs (and cops, who I had heard were probably just as nasty especially if you are a foreigner) by moving to the hotel late after losing a match. I quickly sped off to my hotel after the first half, not because I expected much out of the match but because I wanted to hang out closer to “home”. I had hardly settled down before I started witnessing one of the most amazing comebacks in football history.

The euphoria was only marred by the barman refusing to keep the pints flowing after 11pm. I had to beg his pardon because he was not making any sense to me since this was only 3 or 4 minutes past the hour. The man was adamant and said his licence would be revoked if he sold me anything (apparently there were some city council spies masquerading as customers). No beer past 11pm, how do these people survive?

I later learnt that there were different licences for different establishments, which dictated for how long one could sell alcohol because before long I would be leaving the club straight for the bus as the sun crept up. But I am getting ahead of myself.

The following evening, we visitors were hosted to a dinner at Carnivore. I had heard so much about this place and its exotic roast meat and that I could not wait to partake of what it had to offer. Suffice it to say I did not turn down anything, beef, lamb, ostrich, crocodile, camel- the works. I was also enjoying the share of the Ugandan chick next to me. She said she could not eat that weird meat (chicks...hmm, never to adventure).

After the dinner and speeches we were told to board the official bus back to the hotel. Our Kenyan friends had told us that that there was a wicked disco on the premises, which we had not seen since we had been in tents outside. A few like-minded Ugandans and me decided to let the bus go and chose to find our own way home.

First, a crucial point. Two words every linguistically impaired (Swahili-wise, that is) Ugandan beer lover visiting Nairobi has to learn are baridi (cold) and moto (warm/hot). Because I had earlier been taking draught, which was by default cold, I had not realised that these Kenyans actually liked their beer warm. While in Uganda the warm beer is the exception, back in Nairobi one has to specifically ask for baridi.

Being a Thursday, the disco was not happening so we were relocated to another place called Choices (or choi as these chaps call it). This place is a cross between Fat Boyz and Al's bar; therefore it was happening. Our hosts got tired and left us on the dance floor after we assured them that we would be fine as long as we knew the fare for a cab. Every thing went on fine until some drunk fellow nearly started a fight with us. Probably he was not amused by the fact that the foreigners were outdancing everybody and drinking the bar dry. The issue was sorted out before any bottles flew and we saw this as a warning to flee the scene.

With heavy heads, my pals and me woke up to another day whose evening highlight was a home hospitality. Our hosts were some lovely ladies who treated us to a night of Kenyan cuisine and some fun and games. The githeri, kachumbari, and some other dishes I can't remember were superb except for some mixture of mashed vegetables and fermented milk ( that takes some getting used to).

We later ended up in a club called Casablanca, which was full of white, Indian and Arab guys. I felt that this was the place to be and was all geared up to have a blast until I realised from the bill that a beer was 200Kshs, which did not bother me (I might have still been high on that hot flavoured bubbly Morroccan steam pipe I had just smoked) until some quick arithmetic told me I was drinking a beer at Ushs 4,600. I then realised two things: why there were hardly any locals in the bar and why I had to get the hell out very fast.

A few calls later, the guys and me were being driven to Klub House 2 (K2), which is a much larger version of Wagadugu in Kamwokya. This was my kind of place. Here was cheap beer, music and pool. The party went on until the very wee hours of the morning of our last day in Nairobi.

By the last day, the body was weak and I felt I could not push it any more. Thankfully the conference closed at mid-day, which left me a few hours to chill before the banquet later in the evening after which I thought I would have my first full night’s sleep since hitting this town.

The banquet was a tame affair at the Stanley Hotel, which I later discovered is the oldest hotel in East Africa (103 years old). Being a 5-star hotel one had to be wary about how one dealt with the cash bar. We had been told that the hotel had given a discount and beers would be Kshs150 (UShs3500) as opposed to the usual Kshs200 (prices like this made me rethink my opinion on Rhino Pub at The Kampala Sheraton). I had to be easy on the beers, which was made hard by the waiters ever hovering above my head asking if I needed a refill (as if they were the ones buying the beer).

As soon as the banquet ended the Kenyans were suggesting a proper send-off at Florida 2000 nightclub. All the plans for an early night immediately disappeared. Since we were all leaving on the same bus early the next morning my Ugandan chaps and I reasoned that we would hang out in the club until late, head straight for the hotel, shower and board the bus.

Having sorted that out, we hit the club. We shook, watched dancers that would have made the former Shadow’s Angel’s appear as tame as Sunday school kids, and generally made merry until the sun was about to come up.

As I settled my sleep deprived body in the bus I could not help thinking how much of a blast I had had. I promised myself to come back next time and get to see what the city looks like outside the bars and nightclubs. I was also feeling a conspicuous lightness in my wallet. But that would be a worry for another day. Right then all I wanted to do was sleep for all the 13 hours to Kampala.

Jay's Idle Notes

The Olympics are truly upon us.

The Good, The Bad and The neither here nor there

Sights and sounds

Regards from Beijing

Long time no post

From the boondocks to very sunny Kampala

Happy New year to Y'all

As I move on.

The road not taken?

Lady pays the bills

To fib or not to fib

As you asked

Everyone's Favourite Ugandan Dictator Coming to a Screen Near You

Caught in the middle

Everything you've always wanted to know about Jay, but were afraid to ask.

Of Unstirred Martinis and Beautiful Women

Just for Just

Its an anniversary

Any Stasibasiphobes in the house?

Getting the movie. Then and Now

Kitante Petition

Car trouble: Two words you won't hear from Jay in a long time

Museveni has done it again

Where is this? K'la back in the day

Uganda Oyee. 2 out of 3 aint bad

Its official, Kony is nuts

Better Luck Next time

Finally

More blog problems and other World Cup issues

Blog Problems?

Football Racism?

Friday night with Richard Pryor

I can see where you live

Mombao snaps

Living it up in Mombasa 2

Living it up in Mombasa

Mombasa-bound, hopefully.

Where are the candles at?

ROCK ON

Balkanisation, Ugandan Style

Island Fun

Muganda Man buying lingerie

Anything for the Visa

Up in Smoke

Diplomatic Adultery/Espionage

A village burial

Some links

Jay's Eye View-Part Trois. Green Kampala

A kampalan in Nairobi: The Re-run

Confessions of a lapsed blogger

Upgrades. Bloody Upgrades

5 more years of M7

Waiting for a result

Gearing up for Elections

Radio Katwe takes to the blogosphere

Idle and disorderly?

Cette Langue Francaise

Thinking alike

Yap Yap Yap........

Uganda heading towards dark days.

The whining class

Musings on online banking

Of a friend's wedding and matchmaking aunties

Its an anniversary

High School Hell II

High School Hell

Happy 2K6

More blog problems and other World Cup issues

More musing

Musing over Noel

Jay's Eye View-Part Deux

Animal Farm Ugandan style

Inzi wake up and smell the BS

Work Blues

Dark Wednesday in Portugal

God has sent me, my......rear end

Jay's Eye View

World Aids Day

Polite Friday