SNAKE IN A POT

Towards the end of this year, we lost one of the most intelligent young men I have ever known and had opportunity to sit with in Class. Duncan Kasozi was my classmate and we sat technically next to each other for most of the time during our days at Makerere University. Just like me, he was not legendary for his extreme design abilities but he was very fundamental to the Class of 96. He was a gentle person and soft spoken. Very good at especially mathematics and structures, he was always willing to help a few of us who may have lagged behind or were not good enough. He was very reserved and yet full of humor. He was always a good friend. We always studied and joked together. DK always had a smile. I cant remember any time he was cross with any one. He had a very laid back attitude, always minding his own business but when you managed to break through that veneer around him, you found a very warm person full of jokes for every situation. It was hard to get sad or feel depre...

Going for a hash outside the boundaries of Kampala is a ridiculously a big affair for some of us folks. We have to plan what to wear, who to tap a lift from and whether to use that dreaded bus or not. It requires meticulous planning. One can only imagine the amount of time put into planning for a hash event that is taking place in ‘outside countries’. Word around town immediately after the Ghana contingent returned was that some of them missed their flights while others found out at Kotoka International airport –apparently all ready to depart for Kampala – that they were not scheduled to fly till after 24 hrs. Clueless travel agents or inability to interpret the 24-hr clock? Your guess is as good as mine. Plans to make the best of it were drawn as soon as it was announced that the Pan Africa Hash was to be hosted by the Anti Cold Climate Running Association (ACCRA) H3. I volunteered to host as many hashers as possible risking the wrath of Mrs K. Not giving room to the notio...

I am one of those who regularly used to do their evening runs at Kololo airstrip. First, I used to park my car there, run around the hills of Kololo and return later to drive away. Then one evening, we returned and found that one of my colleague’s cars had been broken into, despite the fact that there is a police post and armed policemen with a full view of the airstrip. We wisely refrained ourselves from bringing up the matter with the policemen, most especially that we had not asked them to guard our cars. I specifically argued that it was wrong for us to assume that the police will involuntarily be interested in looking after our property. From then on a few of my colleagues disappeared never to run in Kololo again, while I decided to design my run in such a way that it always ended at the airstrip for me to stretch on that lawn. That is when I got to know that what I always thought to be a public space is not public after all. Some two police men armed with AK47s like they w...

While traveling in Europe recently, I stumbled upon an article about ‘Hugging’. I was happy to learn that I am not the only one that is bothered with this form of greeting that does not seem to respect any rules about personal space. I come from central Uganda and hugging is generally not part of the greeting etiquette. A firm handshake between men and ‘some members of different sex’ was (or is) good enough. I use some members, because in some situations it is not acceptable for a woman to shake hands with a man. In our culture you cannot shake hands with your father/mother in-law. As a young man growing up, I do not remember a lot of hugging going around our village although, yes, it was occasionally done (especially on seeing a long lost friend or relative). Even then no body would frown upon completing the greeting without one. For me this is very much acceptable. I would probably be even happier in Japan where a bow is all that is required to say hello. I am extremely ...

My father passed away On 18th August 2013. I am neither the oldest nor the youngest in our family but somehow I found myself thrust in the limelight on the passing of our father and ended up leading in the arrangements for his funeral. It may have something to do with my level of education or the trust my siblings had in me. I recently learnt that I am the 9th born out of the 17 surviving siblings – which means that I occupy the middle spot in terms of age. I did not know much of my father while growing up despite the fact we lived less than a kilometer apart. I grew up with my mother and she paid for everything for me from food, clothes to school fees. When I was about 20 yrs old, soon after joining the university, my father came and visited me at the university; it was the first and only visit I ever got from him while I was in school. I don’t remember talking a lot to him but he congratulated me and gave me a blanket. Despite the gap that existed between us, I was touched b...

In my early encounters with Rotary, I primarily perceived the organization as a bunch of supercilious and showy people who meet regularly to wine and dine, occasionally sparing a moment for those who are not as fortunate as they are. I first came into contact with Rotary at Makerere University through a friend who was a Rotaractor at the time. I considered the organization that used to meet at the University Guild canteen a group of rich children whose parents had residences in the plush and pristine neighborhoods of Nakasero, Kololo, and possibly Muyenga. I did not consider myself – with humble origins from Nakafumu - worthy of being a member. I firmly but politely turned down many attempts to be enticed into joining this brood. More than a decade later, I was approached again and this time, I decided to join. After 11 years of my life as a Rotarian, I must say I am proud to be associated with Rotary, and what it does, to the extent that I have managed to convince three ot...