A
story is told of a man who played a prank on some lady. At night, the lady sure
that the man was dead asleep, took all the man’s money from his pockets and
stashed the money into her handbag. But later in the night, the man woke up and
took all the money from the lady’s handbag including that of the woman and hid
it under the carpet. The woman made off in the morning thinking she had made a
killing but the man had had “the last laugh”. Such and many others are the kind
of humorous tales that Tumusiime Rushedge also known as Old Fox told in his
weekly column in the Sunday Vision back in the day. I never grew up reading his
column. I actually started reading his column after his death when the most
interesting of his stories were being re-run in honour of the contributions he
had always made to the paper.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
Monday, October 6, 2014
Stuck in an intricate web of Bakiga girls
Recently I fell in love with a Mukiga Girl
(Hereinafter referred to as Mukiga Girl 1). After falling in love with Mukiga
Girl 1, another Mukiga girl fell in love with me (Hereinafter referred to as
Mukiga Girl 2).
Perhaps Mukiga Girl 2 had always had a
crush on me but it’s just a couple of months ago or so that I learnt of her
predicament. I call it a predicament because the worst thing that can happen to
a daughter of Eve is for her to have a crush on a son of Adam as cantankerous
as Musumba Zak. Honestly I feel sorry for that girl.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Every graduate should start a chicken farm instead of looking for a job
It is a year
after I graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in Law and just for the record, I
don’t have a job, I don’t have a car, I don’t have a house and guess what? Oh
yes, you guessed right, I don’t have a girl friend. Do I have an excuse? Of
Course, I do. For the past one year I have been hustling with this Diploma in
Legal Practice here at Law Development Centre and I believe that is a good
enough excuse.
But we all
know I’m just encouraging myself. And some dim-witted nincompoop is about to
suggest that I should go sit in some hapless law firm and start slaving for a
three hundred thousand shilling salary. I can’t. I swear! I would rather go
back to Kikara, my home village and start looking after my grandfather’s cows or
at least use that time to look after my small chicken farm here at home.
In fact,
thank God, that at least within one year of my graduation, I’ve managed to
start my own chicken farm and by the way I intend to be the biggest supplier of
Kuroiler Chicken and eggs in this country in the next couple of years. So, take
note.
Friday, September 26, 2014
Why my Christian friends should stop forcing me to eat pork
Many friends have tried convincing me to
eat pork but to no avail. Unfortunately every time I am about to heed to their
pleas and give the damn thing a taste, I get terribly scared and I back off. I
just fear what will happen the day I get a taste of that delicacy. Off course
my concerned brothers and sisters in Christ have attributed my fears to my Islam
background and rebuked me for not getting “saved completely”.
Monday, September 22, 2014
When I grow old, I will say I was there at Uganda's Bayimba Festival of the Arts, 2014
Was it captivating? No, immense. I was there.
Oh yes, I was there to behold the beauty of Uganda’s artistry. For the three
stages that I had to attend to at the Uganda National Cultural Centre or the
National Theatre as most Ugandan know it, a big chunk of my time was spent
watching the performances in the Auditorium.
It was the Bayimba Festival of the Arts, 2014, an annual platform that
is organized every September to give Ugandans an opportunity to showcase their
artistry. This year’s was the seventh edition.
Friday, September 5, 2014
An open letter to that girl who promised “to tell me something”
I have no time to waste. So I will jump
straight into the fray and take the bull by its horns. First, this letter is
not just directed to you but to every girl out there that thinks they can make
the first move on a guy and get away with it.
So, please share this with that assemblage of busy bodies you call
friends and tell them that we can’t keep up with the speed at which they are
running after our souls. Call us slow brothers if you want but we need some
breathing space. Honestly, we need it.
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