SNAKE IN A POT

I Miss you even before you leave

2011-04-11T14:45:00.000-07:00

No amount of pre-marriage counseling at Lubaga Cathedral or from the famed and overrated Ssengas could prepare us for it. With hundreds of kilometers between us comes the constant motion chasing planes, uncomfortable bus rides and sometimes trains full of yobs. The arrangement also adds one more item to the list of the things that normal couples argue about – ‘being picked up late from the airport’. I don’t believe in the ‘Mars and Venus’ theory, but if there is one thing I am sure of – the word ‘care’ means two totally different things to both sexes. Since I am sure she reads this blog, I will not make the mistake of explaining why this is so. To this inventory of issues for a couple in a long distance relationship, you add the anxiety, longing, anger at delays and irritation caused by the slightest changes to meeting times or dates. The journeys themselves come full of so much disappointment, drama and frustration that the only reason that one remains sane is the hope to see your loved ones. My bus rides to Nairobi were always full of passengers speaking loudly in their mobile phones - usually detailing the specifics of their businesses or relationships. When you are in a long-distance relationship, you try to accept the conditions of the arrangement. I have become very good at packing, claiming frequent flyer miles, finding the cheapest airline at the time, checking in and printing my boarding pass in advance etc. I have also got used to adapting to new cultures every 2-3 years and got used to driving on the wrong side of the road. Sadly, there is one thing I have never gotten used to, saying goodbye to my wife or kids. “I miss you even before you leave” she usually says. That is when my stomach develops butterflies knowing that departure time is getting closer. People sympathetic to our arrangement are always saying how we must be finding it hard. No body seems to ever mention the kids but I believe they find it harder. A client of mine who has lived in this arrangement suggested that people from broken families are most likely to accept these arrangements. Apparently we are subconsciously passing on pain afflicted to us as kids. I strenuously deny this in the strongest and most passionate words that exist. I don’t think I can pass any pain on to my kids consciously or subconsciously. On the contrary, it is because, we want a better life for them than the one we had that we accept this arrangement. I did not write this blog to argue with psychologists, every one must justify their vocation and the cheque they take home. So I will return the subject.

Nothing on earth prepares a young couple for a long distance relationship and never mind what they all say, no one ever gets used to it. We mostly say ‘we are used’ to stop, listening to those moans of ‘God how do you survive?’, ‘My goodness, don’t you get tempted’, ‘Brother never leave your wife alone’ and the one that I am really tired of ‘you know, kids need both parents in the house to grow up into good responsible citizens’ or ‘kids need a father figure to look up to in the house’. Both of these tired assertions have not been scientifically proven (although they may be true). My problem is that most people who regurgitate those statements seem to be interested in creating a feeling of guilt in me.
While I met the lady that later became my wife about 22 years ago, we both sensed that we could be more than just friends but the moment did not arrive until 1997. We had met at high school in 1989 through a mutual friend, I was joining the school and she was leaving it. For some reason, we immediately connected and became good friends, that friendship growing up into something really close. We became such good friends that even when we met in a hotel in Nairobi 7 years later (entirely on different and uncoordinated trips) we each retreated to our rooms after having a longish conversation following the excitement of bumping into each other. I had gone to Nairobi as a research student for my final year thesis and she had joined Unilever as a management trainee. Although we had both been staying at this hotel for over a week, we had not met before this night and yet it was my last night and I would be leaving the following day. I was very much aware of that fact and I am confident that I relayed this information without clutter, however to this day; she insists that I never said that I would be leaving and she expected to see me the following day at dinner. It was only one evening but short as it was, it turned out to be the most significant meeting that I ever had with her. When I returned to Makerere University and completed my degree later that year, I moved to Mbale for my first job. While there I tried to find out when she would be back in Kampala but was not successful and gave up. In the following year I restarted my project of finding her and little did I know that she had embarked on a similar project. Unfortunately we both kept missing each other for one reason or another, with all the options available, I managed to pick on that one week when she was on leave and throughout the 8 hours of the day, she always managed to squeeze her call in that one or so hour that I would be out of the office on site inspections. There were no mobile phones then. It just did not work out and we did not manage to speak to each other for almost a year. Sometime towards the end of 1997 she managed to get information about my favorite hangout over the weekends in Kampala and she took the bold step of visiting it. To cut the long story short we soon linked up towards the end of December 1997 and the rest as they say is history.
Over the following two years we grew fonder of each other and in 1999, I asked if she would marry me to which she agreed. In line with our culture, I had to go and officially ask for her hand from her parents, which I did towards the end of 1999. The whole process (that started in 1989) was brought to a close in July of 2000. No one could possibly have had a longer courtship than me. It’s common practice in our culture to have pre-marriage counseling from the church, friends and relatives. What I remember vividly then, is that all pre-marriage counseling concentrated on ‘when you start living together’ and that’s how I understood it too. We were supposed to live together. But only after 2 years, an opportunity for her to move to a neighbouring country came up. She asked for my opinion before accepting it and I saw no reason for her not to take it up. After all, it was only Nairobi, a 50min flight or 12 hr bus ride away. The timing could not have been any better I had recently become self employed, and I was fully in-charge of my life. No problem we could see each other as much as we wanted. How wrong I was. Within a few weeks, I was missing her terribly and the loneliness was getting harder to get used to. ‘How long can we keep doing this? What’s the long-term plan?’ we kept asking ourselves. I insisted that we should stick to the only option in a plan we had, keep on doing it until we cannot handle it any longer. There were many times we could not handle it, but somehow we forged ahead. People ask me how we manage it, and I always say I don’t know, the truth is that I don’t know.
When she moved to UK, the distance and corresponding costs for moving that distance got bigger. We immediately decided that the Nairobi arrangement wont work and I moved to UK with the entire family for the period 2007-09. Because of the nature of what I do for a living and the position I hold at that small outfit at the junction of two roads, I still had to shuffle between Entebbe and Heathrow, although this time I spent more time in London and a bit in Kampala. As if the genie for living separately was cast upon us for ever, we soon discovered that her new role required her to travel frequently for periods as short as a week to as long as 4 weeks. So here we were again living separately despite the attempts to bring this under control. Thankfully because we now lived in a country at the top end of the world ranking order, we were introduced to all the new technology of communication and we were able to make calls more cheaply. So at least we could talk and see each other more regularly even if it was looking at her face pasted over a flat screen. I got used to living as a house-hubby, learnt to make appointments for the kids to see the GP, take kids for birthday parties, football and swimming etc. I had problems getting used to the weather and found the occupants of this large island rather anti-social, but we forged on.
Then we had to move again. This time she had been posted to Accra, Ghana. Well, at least she had moved closer to home, I could now go back to the arrangement we had in Nairobi, I thought. Another false assumption. There are only 2 sensible options of flying to Accra from Kampala, each of them takes more than 8 hrs (longer than I took to fly to Heathrow) and both involved using airliners who have no sense of what the words ‘time keeping’ mean. It is especially painful using one of them that always flies over Entebbe only to take you to their drab airport to sit and wait for 3 hrs before you fly back to Entebbe. This airport is everything that an airport should not be. The planes always came to a halt 400-500m away from the entrance to the Terminal Building and as a welcome courtesy; the passengers are expected to walk. It is good for their health – some one must have thought. Inside the airport, the heavy stench from all the unwashed bodies and stuffy air welcomes you - the Air Conditioning system has been dead for sometime. The lack of a proper waiting place means that sometimes you have to crash – as my son would put it - on the floor of a building in an airport that is not very well known for it cleanliness. I got so fed up of this feeling that I recently changed to using the alternative carrier, flying through Addis Ababa. That route can only be summarized in one word ‘comical’
I thought the move to Ghana would be smoother and quicker to adapt to. Wrong. East Africans just not adapt to West African cultures that easily despite the fact people from the Northern hemisphere think we are all the same. Although I only speak 2-3 languages fluently, I usually consider myself a linguist probably a complete misuse of the word, because normally within a few days I am capable of stringing a few sentences of the new language together. I have disastrously failed to learn to speak any of the Ghanaian local languages. I have finally had to admit that I am probably not cut out for the languages from West Africa. I am a man who likes his food, I therefore take things personally if any body adds something to the food that will stop me from enjoying it or eating at all. I hear food in Ghana is laden with pepper so that the person serving can know if he/she is serving real people or ghosts. Apparently ghosts do not eat pepper. No wonder when I announced at a Rotary meeting of a club that meets at Labadi Beach Hotel over lunch that I did not eat pepper, there were curious eyes peeping through the visual pane of the kitchen door. Every one of those little folks at the back wanted to see the ghost that had invaded them.
In my culture they say that if you keep drinking poorly brewed beer, you eventually get used to it and like it. It is close to two years since we moved to Ghana, although I am always in and out, I am finally getting used to the Ghanaian way of life. As a matter of fact, I am finding more similarities between Ghanaians and Ugandans than differences. Men from both countries have no qualms peeing on the roadside, although my brothers from Ghana take it a notch higher. One can easily pull over ahead of you in a Merc or Beamer, only to step out and pee in the nearest shrub by the roadside. Women from both countries take their night out seriously, unlike their counterparts from Kenya and you would be excused for mistaking an entrance to a nightclub for a catwalk.
8 years ago we started living in a separate cities, the only break coming in 2007-09, when we moved to UK. We both did not expect to come this long and we still have the only option we set out with; carry on with it until we cannot handle it anymore. See my friends, life is always a dilemma, a snake in the pot so to say. Those things that you want to do, that would give you pleasure, you may not do because they are considered bad in the eyes of the society and those things that you don't want to do, don't enjoy doing are what is acceptable to society. Go on enjoy your life and do what pleases you and those close to your heart. Do not listen to the experts and those who say this is what it should be. Probably, that is not what it should be in your case and certainly it is not always, no one has a formula for living life.

Kampala, a city for the dynamic

2011-01-06T18:59:00.001-08:00

There is a tired quote attributed to a famous US president that goes ‘Ask what not your country has done for you but rather what you have done for your country’ (please forgive any errors and/or omissions, I am not very good at cramming). I agree with this quote that at least once in a lifetime, it is the duty of a citizen to make a contribution to his motherland. Apart from my humble contribution to the growth of Uganda’s population (I am directly responsible for the existence of 4 Ugandans, as far as I know, ☺), I don’t think I have done anything that can be compared even in the slightest terms to what teachers, service men, doctors do for this country. As the first step in this direction, I am posting this blog about my city, Kampala. I hope there will be someone who decides to visit Kampala after reading this post. This post is in the interest of Public Service.

Call it a city in the sun; city alive or city that never sleeps, Kampala is likely to fit any of those depictions. Located at 00 degrees North and 32 degrees East, Kampala is a city on the equator – assuring you of nice lovely weather all year round. The imaginary line that divides the earth into the north and southern hemispheres is just 80km to the west of Kampala. Situated at about 1200 metres (4000ft) above sea level, Kampala is fondly known as the city of seven hills, by it’s residents. The term ‘city of (on) seven hills’ was coined decades ago when the sprawling metropolis rested over only seven of its 15 hills today. Kampala, the capital city of Uganda is also the capital and location of most of Buganda’s historical sites. Buganda the kingdom is not to be confused with Uganda, which it is merely a part of.

Most of the world’s intrepid travelers that travel to East Africa never go beyond Kenya, but in Kampala which is merely 670km away from Nairobi, the capital of Kenya, you will get a city full of life, both day and night. Easily accessible by bus (10hr) and by plane (45 mins) from Nairobi, once in Kampala you will find plenty to do and enjoy. From a tour of Buganda’s traditional sites to a simple leisurely walk around the city, there will be memorable places to see and live the true Ugandan experience. One in 5 of Kampala’s residents speak and understand English, so if you speak English, you need not worry. If you are in Kampala and you love shaking your body (clubbing), don’t forget to visit what is arguably the best nightclub on the African continent – Angenoir Discotheque. Other popular nightspots include Bubbles (the Irish Pub), Iguana, Silk Night Club and Cayenne. If you love African traditional dances and music, make a date with Ndere Troupe – they have shows every weekend. Depending on your guide in Kampala, you will see almost all the spices included on the famous spice tour of Zanzibar and here is the winner - without paying as much. A ride on the boda boda (motor cycle taxis) is bound to scare the wits out of you but something not to be missed in Kampala’s maddening traffic if you really want to live a true Kampala experience.

Most visitors to Kampala also go to southwestern Uganda, about 5hrs road trip to enjoy Mountain Gorilla tracking and visit the Queen Elizabeth National Park. The tracking permits are restricted to a certain number per month; unless you have had plenty of time to plan your travel, don’t count on walking in and getting one. In the national park you will see most of Africa’s most sought after wild animals. For those in love of nature walks or bird viewing the forest tracks of Ssese islands found in Lake Victoria and only 3 hrs away by a ferry would be ideal.

Although most African countries have a reach history of traditions, all their museums have one thing in common: lack of what to see. With the exception of the museum in Cairo, I have not yet been to a museum on the continent that I did not feel like demanding a refund. Unless you have plenty of time, Uganda Museum in Kampala should not be high on your priority.

FORTY THINGS ABOUT ME

2010-12-16T03:17:00.000-08:00

Turning 40 is meant to be a time to assess where you’ve got to in life and to measure your achievements against your youthful dreams. A lot is said about turning 40, some of it scary. I woke up today expecting to experience some of those things. It was like any other day in my life. I looked in the mirror; there were no obvious signs on my face to show that I am 40. My yesteryear memories began flashing before me as I recollected. I thought of how lucky I am today, to have the most amazing wife and be a proud father of four! While I was still contemplating my past, I thought of the 40 things that have come to define my life thus far. Even I found some of them interesting (and surprising):

1. I have no fear of caterpillars, chameleons or lizards but I would not sleep in a house with a snake that has not been killed.

2. And I’m neither superstitious nor religious!

3. My wife and mother are the most important women in my life.

4. I did not celebrate my birthday until I was 15, even then I did not remember the subsequent ones and I never considered them such a big thing until I met Victoria.

5. I never had Luganda lessons until I was 16 but I could read Luganda newspapers fluently at the age of 10 (isn’t that what they call being a genius? ☺

6. I’ve never smoked or tried any drugs!

7. I did not have my first alcoholic drink until I was 20 (a glass of red wine). I still can’t drink more than a glass of wine in a night.

8. I only like flowers growing. I think cut flowers are wasteful and pointless.

9. One of my favourite childhood pastimes was goggolo. My friend and I missed entire lunchtimes doing this and got punished for torn trousers.

10. My other favourite childhood pastimes was following cattle to the grazing field. I learned to milk a cow when I was 9.

11. I have once been involved in a life threatening accident but the only scars I have on my body where not caused by this accident.

12. I have always loved Sports but I am terrible as a player. I was awful at football and I have never tried lawn tennis.

13. I am obsessed with what I wear and how I look but I have never been pre-occupied with the masculinity of having big bulging muscles.

14. I hate to chew gum, it gives me a sore throat, but the fear of my breath being bad at the end of a long movie always sends scampering for one.

15. I cant whistle, I always envy those who let out ear bursting whistles like football managers and cattle keepers.

16. I can play video games but I don’t understand the obsession and I have always joined in involuntarily.

17. My modest success in sports was when I played for the Kyambogo College School reserve Basket Ball Team. We lost the game.

18. I like movies that are realistic or based on true stories. I hate Sci-fi and most Action films.

19. My first job was a taxi conductor filling in for a regular on Sunday (I was in my P7 vacation).

20. I first owned a business when I was 18, it was a video screening business in the areas of Katosi and Kisoga (during the x-mas break)

21. I had my first girl friend when I was 18 and I was a virgin until I was 19.

22. Despite being a last born, I was the only child. My first child was born a few hours before my 20th birthday.

23. I am not obsessed with cars or electrical gadgets/devices, but I am fixated with well-designed houses on large nicely well-tended lawns.

24. I hate gambling. Never understood the fascination with casinos.

25. I find dogmatic religions to be controlling and an insult to human brain.

26. I have always believed in sharing even at a younger age. Giving (especially to those who are not as fortunate as I am) gives me comfort in adult life.

27. I have no tattoo or birthmark any where on my body.

28. I don’t like spicy food and I hate oil-laden foods but I love Indian restaurants (loads of water I guess).

29. I learned English in school. I learned Swahili in life. I regret having cut French classes. I want to learn Spanish when the opportunity comes up.

30. I think I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) but sometimes I let go for peace. Is there anything like occasional OCD?

31. I gave all my children the names starting with R. The surname and middle names have always been a compromise between two or more people.

32. I’m not good with chopsticks and I cannot understand the fuss with sushi (I don’t easily buy into trendy styles).

33. My favourite food is chapatti and beef or Ugali, Nyama choma and Kachumbali. (I have had to cut down on both due to high cholesterol).

34. I can get along with almost everyone, just like I will listen to almost every type of music.

35. The only sport I hate is Boxing (is it a sport?) and only watch rugby, if I have nothing to do.

36. I've had 4 major relationships in my entire life and I've learned something from each one of them.

37. I have 4 lovely kids and 2 exquisite nieces. They make up my immediate family.

38. My friends say I am a good dancer but I have never learnt to do the shuffle.

39. My last physical fight was when I was 10. I have never found a reason to fight or hit some one again. I hate violence.

40. My friends say I’m a typical Sagittarian; active in games, interactions and love to joke. They also mean I am impatient, hasty and talk louder than I think sometimes.

On a lighter note, I think it is time to give the inventor of Sudoku his due respect. Word-search games, crossword puzzles, and every other type of brain-teasing, thought-provoking type of leisure activity are about to become that important. I understand they help to ward off the early-onset of Alzheimer's disease. At 40, not only muscles need to be exercised but also brains!!!! God knows what else will come up at 50.

Diary of a 40 yr old runner

2010-12-08T09:31:00.001-08:00

Right from my primary school days, I was never known to be a long distance runner. In fact, I was never a sportsman of any repute though I tried my hands at basketball and badminton. Nevertheless, I always thought I could perform better at distance running especially after I joined a house team in high school and completed the cross-country race in a respectable time without training at all.

Although I was a skinny boy throughout my school days, I piled on so much weight between 1997 and 2001 that it became a risk. I visited a doc who said that I was in danger of becoming hypertensive unless I reduced my weight. I am always ready for a challenge and I was not about to say ‘I cant’ this time. In 2002, I attempted to play badminton again but it did not seem to work (I now know that it was due to a host of other reasons too). In 2002 I embarked on a serious regime of gym workouts and nutrition and eventually managed to bring my weight down from a whooping 102kg to 78kg. While still in this routine, I registered for 10km (the first road race that I ever participated in) and completed it in 55mins. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that this was a good return for a 33-year old. From then on I combined my gym workouts with outdoor running and eventually run the 10km race in 49min (my PR to date).

After a series of 10km races between 2002 and 2006, I upgraded to the Half Marathon in 2007 and later to the full marathon in 2008. While I managed to complete both races in respectable times, I have since learnt that running more than 30km is punching above my weight. I have therefore abandoned running 42kms and settled for my favourite race of 21km. I have just completed the MTN Kampala Half Marathon 2010. The race came a few days before my 40th birthday, and after running 3 other similar races in the year. I am on a high because I think completing it in 1hr 55min after picking up an injury midway the race is a great feat. It is not better than my PR of 1hr 52min but I achieved that time in very challenging conditions – which makes me happy with myself. Since completing my first half marathon in 2007 at 2hr 17mins, I have managed to bring my time down progressively. This year I tried to get back to my PR of 1 hr 52min or even better but only managed I hr 56 (Nairobi Stan Chart Marathon 2010) and 1hr 55min (MTN Kampala Marathon 2010). Now that I am 40 years old, I may not be able to run faster than that, but I am not giving up yet.

Long distance running is one of my passions. I have competed in well over 20 races around the world and have logged countless kilometers. I have done over 1000km in training and races in the year 2010 alone. For the past 7 years I have remained relatively free from injury and been able to recover from the few that I got quite fast and easily. My work schedule involves a bit of traveling but I usually plan my runs at the start or end of the week and try to stick to my diary. I've a good network of running buddies all at different levels and I often run on my own too. I'm usually pretty disciplined so I try to stick to my training regime. It’s my diet that I struggle with. Once in a while I eat those forbidden foods, but thank God I don’t drink alcohol or smoke. I still have hopes of running 21km in 1hr 50min and I will.

England is Making Noise and they have every right to do so.

2010-12-08T09:28:00.000-08:00

I am one of those who believe that the English press over hype and over-rate their country when it comes to matters pertaining to football. This weekend, all major sections of the British media were at it again, after losing the 2018 world cup bid and this time I think they have every right do so. Last Thursday, FIFA the game’s governing body, decided to award the right to host the 2018 World Cup to Russia in preference to bids by England and some other countries. As was to be expected this has led to recriminations from countries that didn’t get the nod of approval led by England. The politicians, the media and not to mention the country’s long-suffering fans are all bashing FIFA and its 22 man committee and why shouldn’t they.

Those in support of FIFA claim that the reason for rejecting England’s 2018 bid (and that of the US in 2022) was because FIFA wanted to take the game to countries that have never hosted the event. Fair enough. It is a plausible and just principle but the way in which it was executed smirks of favouritism and lends credence to those crying out ‘corruption’. If ‘being first time host’ was criteria to be used in determining the country that would host the world cup, FIFA should have stated it right from the beginning and that they will be doing this in the interest of spreading the game. That way countries like England, USA and others who have hosted before would not have wasted a lot of time and money putting bids together. Indeed competition between countries like Russia, Qatar, Australia etc would have been fair and any decision would most certainly not be questioned.

Trouble is that in FIFA we have the highest form of authoritarianism in the world, everything they do is shrouded in secrecy and chaos and cannot be questioned. Because they wittingly benefit from this chaos, they have refused to heed to any calls for reforms in the game both on and off the pitch. They continue to rule the game with an iron hand like a cartel of mafia, not answerable to any one. They cannot be questioned by players or fans and any government that dares question their actions legally will have its national team banned from all international events. They are simply untouchable. They exported this mentality to our banana republics, which has had a huge influence on the level of the game in most African countries. Almost all African governments withdrew their support from the game because they cannot continue putting money where they have no say.

This status quo cannot continue and for once, I agree with those suggesting secession from this monster called FIFA in its current form unless they are ready to reform. All it takes is three countries, Brazil – the most internationally recognised and supported national team, Spain – the country with the best league in the world and England – the best publicists of the game to break away and rest of us shall follow. There is something entirely wrong if more than a billion people support a game and only 22 people who have no direct mandate make decisions for us yet they are not answerable to any one, not the players, not us the fans and not our governments.

Who isn't annoyed by bad English?

2010-08-09T05:55:00.000-07:00

Reading today’s (9.8.10) Education Guide in The Monitor, I could not hide my delight that there is at least one person who feels like me. Some of the people close to me know how much I have been concerned about the English today’s future leaders speak, write or use to communicate. I was never the best English student at school, but even I find some of the English used inexcusable so much that sometimes I have had to engage the offenders, to their surprise and irritation.
As a person completing my fourth decade on this scenic planet, I am probably from prehistory. I spell the same way in emails, FB, documents, and text messages. It's not that much extra work, as many of today’s indolent young citizens would want us to believe. I hear it is a sign of progress to come up with new words or completely write them in a different way, but I think there is a difference between inventing words and adulterating those that have been in existence for years. The youths especially have mastered the art of butchering the Queen’s language under the guise of sms lingo and being in the modern age. Like the writer in the Monitor article contends, it is not easy to point to one particular cause for this hopeless situation, because everything in this country has changed. From poor schools only intent on seeing students pass to the advent of the Internet, any thing can be responsible. It is fairly acceptable to say that there is a general lack of interest in reading by today’s generation. One of my lads recently told me that he finds it hard to read a book or anything for more than five minutes especially if there is no exam or test to do after reading that material. Where as it is true that there is a deficiency in interest, it has to be mentioned that the quality of what is available to be read is also appalling. I remember being encouraged to read newspapers to improve my English. I lost count of the number of times, I was referred to the Weekly Topic to improve my English and boy it was some form of English inside the pages of that paper. I am not sure I can say the same about the paper associated with it as a remnant.
I don’t know if it is today’s university products that have caused the standard of English by journalists to go down or the other way round – it is a case of the chicken and the egg. Gone are the days of journalists being the fountains of honour when it comes to the English language. You can't tell your children to listen to the radio or read a newspaper to learn how to speak good English anymore. The news on TV, especially from those reporting from the 'field' with no scripts, makes you want to cry. Our poor Ugandan English accent not withstanding, I have been horrified by some of the pronunciations I hear on TV and radio. One very popular daily in this land of matooke makes the same spelling mistakes, arbitrarily truncated stories and regularly misspells names of places that I could spell correctly when I was 8 years old.
Writing and speaking correctly (especially in English) is increasingly becoming optional as evidenced by the rate at which people’s application letters find themselves in my office waste bin. Nothing hurts like reading badly written English, but it hurts even more when the author is a person seeking employment from you.

Top 2010 PR blunders!

2010-07-27T14:17:00.000-07:00

Some PR slip-ups are spur-of-the-moment, while others are planned events gone wrong. A few days after one of their wells in the Gulf of Mexico began spewing crude into the sea, BP started making some PR maneuvers that haven’t exactly been successful. It is my opinion that their handling of the spill worsened by the day through their PR. This PR debacle from BP got me thinking about other PR mistakes that have been made this year. I’ve compiled a list of my worst PR moves this year (so far) and I am sure when the experts finally sit down at the end of the year to take stock, many of these will make the list.
No. 1 - Tony Hayward CEO BP.
It is hardly surprising that he takes this place, especially that this piece was sparked off by his poor handling of the oil disaster in the Gulf of Mexico. This rather smart and nice looking gentleman kept making PR mistakes, one after the other, one would wonder who his PR advisors were. The lowest for me is when he insinuated that the whole ‘oil spill’ affair had taken away too much of his life and he ‘wanted it back’. This was absolutely insensitive to the families and friends of those who had lost loved ones in the disaster, not to mention those whose livelihoods had been affected.
No. 2 – Ladies Man Tiger Woods
I am not a follower of Golf and I don’t really know about what goes on between the holes! For years however, I followed the success of Tiger Woods as one of my own. All I could imagine was Tiger holding a golf club, winning title after title and going down as one of the greatest ever to play the game. Little did I know that when he teed off from the public eye, he went putting on wrong courses. After his car struck a tree as he fled from the family home in Orlando, I was among those who began questioning, “what’s up with Tiger?” My man’s reaction to all the publicity surrounding his very poor effort at re-enacting the stunts of ‘Top Gear’ was to go mute and to be the only one in the world not talking about what had happened. By the time his PR people decided that it was time for the champion to come out, so much reputation and image had been destroyed it will take him ages to rebuild it.
No. 3 – Kag’s AK 47 stunt at Bududa
I was in Accra, when the unfortunate events of Bududa unfolded. Naturally, a disaster in Africa was not a news item to be dismissed by most editors all over the world. While watching TV with a group of friends and trying to feel for the souls that had perished in the mudslides, pictures of my President were beamed over the television, AK 47 slung around his chest. For a moment, I thought I was the only one who had seen this peculiar posture - that was before questions about our security started flying my way. My explanations that my President was a man of the people and he would not normally do such a thing where people are in suffering fell on deaf ears. And I was not to hear the last of it, recently while in Nairobi another friend of mine brought up the subject of Uganda’s No.1 citizen visiting a mudslide hit village with an AK 47. I was not in the country when this happened but I think the President’s PR people owe us an explanation.
N0.4 - John Terry’s attempted mutiny in SA
Any keen FA Premiership follower knows how media savvy JT is. His reaction to the allegations that he had a fling with a teammate’s girl friend was impeccable. In fact many of us who knew about the situation of Tiger Woods, suggested that the Golfer could do with some lessons from the man who turns out for Abramovich’s side. I don’t know if it was us who were wrong, or our man eventually became over confident with the way he deals with media. Using his strengths in this area, he (completely oblivious of the fact that he was no longer team captain) convened a press conference and declared how there was going to be some straight talking between the Manager and the England team. This was in the wake of England’s awful performance against Algeria and his bawl was unsurprisingly picked up and carried by all news outlets. All we know is that ‘the straight talk meeting’ never took place and the next time the England team walked out of the tunnel to play against Slovenia, JT wings had been trimmed. He walked like a dog with a tail between its legs and that’s the last we heard of him.

Definitely open to different opinions and debate, I would love to hear your comments and thoughts.

England lives in an illusion and they have taken us on their slumber with them!

2010-06-28T06:52:00.000-07:00

Last night England was ejected out of the FIFA world cup 2010 in their worst defeat ever at the finals. As is expected, pundits are falling over each other to break down for us laymen the reasons for this latest debacle from the ever chest thumping but good for nothing three lions and their army of fans. As the experts are busy outdoing themselves, this is a layman’s take on things:
There is this tired argument that England is among the world’s football powers, which just needs to be re-examined. I suspect that this fallacy has been mainly perpetuated by the English media and their fans. However, sober minded people need to ask themselves, what has England done in the last 40 years that warrants them to be mentioned in the same breath with countries like Brazil, Germany, Argentina or Italy? As far as I know, all they have done since their controversial win of the 1966 World Cup over the Germans is reach the semi finals of this competition. And before you applaud them for that achievement, please note that other countries like South Korea and Uruguay who are usually referred to as minnows have also gone that far in the last 40 yrs.
The second argument, I have heard being lavishly touted around is that they have the strongest league in the English Premier League. This is another distortion that is being promoted by their media and we have all believed in it. I suppose the best way to determine the strength of the European Leagues is to examine the number of times a club from that league has ended up champions of the European Champions League (ECL). I have reviewed the last 19 seasons (1992-2010) since the English Premier league was established and discovered that a club from that league has only won the ECL 3 times way behind clubs from Spain’s La Liga (6 times) and Italy’s Serie A (4 times).

I am afraid this team does not deserve to be mentioned among the great ‘footbaling nations’. The English are living in an illusion and we should resist the temptation to join them in their slumber.

Help! I have started having serious doubts about my capacity to reason logically.

2010-06-02T04:15:00.000-07:00

I am sure some people (especially my friends) may find it offensive to say that I tend to understand bigots who claim that black people are less intelligent than white although I do not necessarily agree with such chauvinists. In 2007, one of the world’s most eminent scientists caused a stir by asserting that black people were less intelligent than white people. Mr. James Watson’s assertion reopened the explosive debate about race and science and almost all black empowerment movements called for his head. I am one of those who found his statement very insolent, though I chose to hear him out by reading what he had to say in full. Apparently he had given a newspaper interview where he had made these comments. Dr Watson told The Sunday Times that he was "inherently gloomy about the prospect of Africa" because "all our social policies are based on the fact that their intelligence is the same as ours – whereas all the testing says not really". He said there was a natural desire that all human beings should be equal but "people who have to deal with black employees find this not true". He further explained that Western policies towards African countries were wrongly based on an assumption that black people were as clever as their white counterparts when "testing" suggested the contrary. "There is no firm reason to anticipate that the intellectual capacities of peoples geographically separated in their evolution should prove to have evolved identically. Our wanting to reserve equal powers of reason as some universal heritage of humanity will not be enough to make it so." (The Sunday Times). I cannot use the same words like ‘less intelligent’ and that is why I find his statement audacious but there is behaviour amongst us that makes me believe that our level of reason (generally as Africans) is lower than that of white people. On the one hand, I try to justify this by suggesting that it is probably due to our level of exposure and education that sometimes we do things beyond comprehension but then I hold my breath at the same excuse when people who we call leaders (usually educated and much more exposed through their travels) do things that I find inexplicable.

While talking to a friend recently in Accra we mulled over the fact that roads in Accra do not have signs. He explained that the residents of this good city have in the past ‘vandalised the signs’. According to the Concise Oxford English Dictionary, ‘a vandal is a person who deliberately destroys or damages property’, The Collins Easy Learning English Study Dictionary also describes a vandal as ‘someone who deliberately destroys things particularly public properties’ It is therefore likely that by choosing the word ‘vandalise’ my friend was by inference pointing out that the folks who remove these signs do not do it out of need but rather ‘for an interest to destroy public goods’. It is arguable that a brother doing this does not understand the need to have roads named and signposted and to him, to remove that plate and hang it in his house or use it to make a jiko (charcoal stove) makes more sense. To an exposed and educated person like me, it makes more sense to have the sign because firstly, emergency vehicles will find my home easily in case of an emergency, but most importantly when I host a party my friends will not spend a lot of airtime calling me to find out which turns to make and where and for us that would directly translate into more mchomo and bevvies.
Last year, a group of good natured citizens from where I live came together after being let down by our city council and took the initiative to name and signpost all roads in our neighbourhood. After a few months of this well-intentioned exercise, I noticed that the signpost at the beginning of the road to my house was blocked by a small portion of a maize garden that had been cultivated in the road reserve around it. I thought that this was defeating the very aim of the exercise we embarked on and decided to approach the chap who owned the maize shamba to explain to him that the sign had to be left visible for so many good reasons. I told him that all that would be required would be to remove one or two plants to clear the sign. To my surprise, the fellow refused, was unwavering and even suggested that I pay for his two plants if I wanted them moved, or better still he offered an improved solution ‘why don’t you move your sign elsewhere?’ I explained that this was a road reserve, in effect a public good and it was unfair for him to use it for his own benefit (and probably his family) without due regard for the rest of the public. He countered my assertion by explaining that it is exactly for the same reason (that it is a public good) that he was free to do whatever he wanted with it and no one is going to direct him on how to use it. It is then that I conceded the battle and for fear of letting this become a spectacle, I withdrew and left the road sign blocked. However, as I retired to my nest, I pondered over the following:
• How could he not see the importance of having a clear road sign vis-à-vis his two maize plants.
• Is this actually corruption at it lowest level, does this man believe that because it’s a public good, he is free to use it for his benefit as an individual at the detriment of others. Isn’t this the same mentality our political leaders and public servants have?
• And finally, is this generally an African mentality? Would I have had the same trouble explaining the importance of a clear road sign to someone in London, New York or Paris?
I enumerated and compared the so many different things that we do as Africans and came to a conclusion that it is probably our low level of reason. Irrespective of whether one is exposed or not chances are you are most likely to find an African doing unfathomable things. From my little experience around the cities of Europe, I cant recall having seen a man openly dangling his male organ to take a pee by the street side. On the other hand, a drive around most African cities seems to suggest that this is acceptable conduct. Speaking of urinating by the roadside, this is a subject I intend to write about in great detail especially with my experience in Accra, but I will hold off my pen and ink for now. It is true that our leaders come from amidst us and there is no reason why we should expect their capacity to reason logically to be better than ours. I no longer shout my voice hoarse about our leaders who leave poor kids to die of preventable diseases as they fly members of their families abroad on private jets to be treated for the smallest of ailments. We probably all think the same and chances are likely that I will do the same if elected – what an indictment!

iPad?, No thanks!

2010-05-19T09:11:00.000-07:00

Last month, Apple launched its newest toy yet, the iPad. This device comes at a time when I feel that Apple has taken a substantial amount of my hard earned cash over the past 8 years and I am now seriously trying to resist any temptations to send more of my money to 1 Infinite Loop Cupertino, California – an address that sounds as beautiful as the gadgets they produce.

In one of the so many articles about Apple’s success story it is said that ‘since its establishment in 1976, Apple has upheld its philosophy of comprehensive aesthetic design resulting in a unique reputation in the consumer electronics industry and a customer base that is devoted to the company and its brand’ – that customer base includes yours truly. In 1991, I used my first Apple product - a Macintosh desktop, which was also the first computer I ever touched. While it was nice and easy to use, the lack of compatibility of its operating system with the more popular IBMs (Windows operating system) meant that I had to ditch it and adapt to computers with Windows.

Over the following 10 years, I did not have much contact with apple products but enter the iPod and I was willingly and gladly lured back into the Apple world. My first one was a shuffle, which I bought in 2003 (now that sounds like ages ago). I followed it up with the Nano as soon as it became available within my means. At that moment, I was ready to take the leap of faith and move to apple’s Mac Book. In 2009 I became a proud owner of a Mac Book Pro that set me a few thousands of dollars back and to make matters worse I had folk out an extra 150 bucks to buy MS office that is adaptable to apple’s Mac Books. In the same year, I became a proud owner of the iPod touch with it’s very important and extremely useful Nike plus to a workout freak like me. On acquisition of the iPod Touch, I entered stupid challenges and competed for useless causes like running for my birth year. Right now, I am a converted apple user and like one user said ‘even if they made underwear, I would buy them’. To show my commitment and undying love of Apple products, I recently acquired the iPhone which I thought was the pinnacle of Apple products and I vowed not touch any other product from these good gentlemen. However no sooner had I completed the word ‘never’ than apple launched the Ipad. Now, though I am an addicted Apple user, I am almost absolutely sure that I will not need the iPad. From all the reviews I have seen, it looks good for surfing the web and reading digital books nothing more. Both functions, I can ably handle with my Mac Book and if there is a need to do something urgently, I will use the iPhone. Forgive me if I sound like a nerd but I have not found a reason to read books or any other material electronically with mini-laptops, the iPad or similar devices. First and foremost, I need to pay several hundreds of pounds for these devices that need regular software updates, weigh almost a kilogramme and need frequent battery recharges. I do accept that the younger generation has been brought up on these technologies (the e-mails I receive from my kids and nieces written in 'txt spk' is evidence of this) and no doubt paper-based content will be less and less common in the future. However, as long as I continue to spend a significant part of my working day reading emails, writing reports, searching the internet, I will still find it quite relaxing and enjoyable to take a break and read a real book by the pool side, in a café or outside in my garden (when its not raining!). Not to mention how difficult it can be to read text and images on some devices despite the contrast, brightness and magnification facilities - I do wonder what affect looking at an iPad screen for 5 hours a day has on eyesight?   I am having second thoughts about buying everything that Apple forces on us and unless the underwear unzips and removes itself from my rotund body, I am done with apple gadgets.

The demise of University Life

2010-04-26T03:12:00.000-07:00

Recently I had a very interesting conversation with my university going nieces. It turned out to be a very fascinating and revealing chat as I played out times of our lives at Makunika – forget about MUK, ours was always fondly referred to as Makunika probably adopted from the cables address of the university. As I happily relived the memories of those good old days, it was obvious that they did not even come minutely close to what we enjoyed as their marvel at my stories could hardly be suppressed. It is at that moment that I felt a little bit of sympathy for them. Where else will they ever get the opportunity to behave so stupidly and stand up to authorities without being locked up or sacked? I also asked myself what became of the good old university life, as it is known.

In or around the year 1996, a few residents of Northcote Hall got involved in an ugly incident where it is alleged that they sprinkled broken glass in dishes that were being prepared for the Afrostone dinner (a joint celebration of Africa and Livingstone Halls) later that evening. Now, without mincing words what they did (if true) is unacceptable and borders on attempted murder. It was not as comical as the biological attack on the Livingstone main gate or as hilarious as the chemical attack at the Afrostone dance later, this was a vicious act of inconsiderate rascals that had to be punished. Indeed, after that ugly incident there were calls, rightly in my opinion, for the University to take firm action against the perpetrators. What followed was an effort by the University authorities supported by the a few big shots in government to dismantle what was known as the ‘Northcote State Culture’. It would seem that in the heat of the apparent conflict and stand off between the university authorities and ‘Northcote State’ buoyed up by the public sympathy of those who would have been ‘targets ‘ of the broken glass, an idea was mooted to change the name of the hall which would in effect bring the whole concept, philosophy and practice of Northcote state to an end. I started with that little intro because I think it was the very genesis of the end of the various university cultures that were founded on the different halls of residence, although some people have argued that the introduction of private students who now outnumber government students 5 to 1 is responsible for this unfortunate turn of events. A drive through Makunika today and a brief chat with current students reveal a totally different place from the one we knew as home for 3, 4 or 5 years. The silence in each Hall of Residence is deafening making it impossible for a returning alumni to understand how we were able to spend a considerable amount of our time bleating out loud yells and long grunts of Mitchell Oyee, Lumumba Oyee etc.

Having studied for my High School Certificate at Makerere College School, I was at the university before I came to the university – if you get my drift. Therefore what I am about to share with you is an experience of over 7 years (2 for A level and 5 for my undergraduate course in Architecture). I have this terrible conviction that our behaviour at the university – which many people who did not understand campus life preferred to call hooliganism - was a reaction by many of us to what we suddenly found to be an abundance of freedoms; free accommodation, free food, rooms and toilets cleaned by workers and even an entitlement to collect ‘boom’ a government provided cash incentive to students to enable them attend university. Remember many of us at that time had come from fairly restrictive boarding schools where even coughing at an assembly being addressed by the headmaster would earn you a few lashes. These were the times when punishment for almost any trivial offence was rife and bullying by senior students was acceptable conduct in almost all Uganda’s schools. Only the hard-core boys dared to smoke or drink. Screaming or shouting indiscriminately would be punishable and being seen standing with a girl in what is perceived to be a wrong place would earn you a suspension, only to be met by an equally angry and punishing parent. Gaining admission to the university at that time was not only a prestigious triumph but also access to freedom. For many university students of those days, there was a sense of liberation of the mind and body. Some of us found these freedoms an opportunity to pursue those long cherished pleasures like smoking, drinking etc, others abused those freedoms by doing unmentionable things, but many of us just created and enjoyed fun with this newfound freedom. Although our time at the university came to be associated with occasional heckling, profanity, boozing, girl chasing, demonstrations and anti-establishment acts (the 1990 strike comes to mind) little did most people know that we did not live by these principles and that these were only the visible aspects of campus life to an outsider. Key beliefs of our lives were unity and solidarity, tolerance, patriotism and an insatiable desire to excel in whatever we did, sports, academics name it. We believed in working hard and playing hard in all spheres of life probably that is why a few misguided individuals thought that sprinkling broken glass in food that is about to be eaten by fellow students was part of the game. It is also important to note that there were those among us who were hardcore Christians (savedees), people who were so much attached to their books and those who either feared or failed to make a move for a girl (vegetarians) who did not participate (read enjoy) campus life as I explain it here and it would be unfair to bundle them with the rest of us who milked every moment of happiness during university days.

In order to instill discipline, unity and solidarity amongst students, freshers of the different halls (especially boys) were taken on a jogging stretch every morning for the first seven days of their fresher hood. Contrary to the misconceptions, these jogs were not forced although I now consider it risky for any one to have joined these runs willfully or not without having consulted a doctor first. It is during these jogging sessions (along the routes of the university campus) that as a fresher you were taught about the different halls, their culture and what they should be called (which I am afraid was often un pleasant because all other halls were known to be enemies). I participated in these runs throughout the 5 years of my stay at Makerere, they were neither violent nor compulsory but they were a lot of fun. One would probably want to know that as a first year, you were introduced to your culture first hand on the day you reported on campus. Again these were lovely joyous moments that involved you being taught the cries of celebration for the particular hall you were joining. I am afraid this was done at fee – some of you may call it extortion but I can assure you all students and parents paid willingly. This welcome was always followed up by a dance at the famous guild canteen (which is now no more) where people danced from dawn to dusk like they did not care. For many students who enjoyed campus life this was the beginning of freedom – to be able to say or do what you want without a fear of repercussions. Celebration of this freedom, unity and solidarity was concentrated on the respective cultural day, when the consumption of alcohol, singing of profanities, marching to a brass band and verbal attacks (not violent) on other halls of residence were encouraged.

Notwithstanding what may seem to be our questionable moral conduct, we excelled academically and there were never known cases of examinations mal-practices or cheating. If academic excellence and standing up to what we perceived to be unjust and unfair decisions by authorities were among the true values that defined us, another key principle of our lives was the way we went about defending our halls and enthusiasm with which we participated in our ‘cultural days’. I have no single cause that I feel a duty to defend like the ‘culture of a rat’ at Makerere University. I am sure that there are many people Lumumbists and Boxers that will tell you about the need to keep the culture of Gongom and Gongomess. I still find people today, almost 15 years, after leaving the university that impeccably believe in their culture as goats. I know of members of the Northcote State Revolutionary Command Council (NSSRCC) who have gone on to make very valiant contributions in the sectors they are employed and to Uganda at large. I remember one time as student leader in Mitchell Hall, we received a letter on the occasion of one of the Blocks in Complex (I think it was BB) being gutted by fire. The letter from the NSSRCC conveyed the apology of the leaders of Northcote state, apparently ‘one of their junior officers had misfired their guns and shells landed on the wrong target’ such was the fun that we used to enjoy these cultures. I also remember one of the student leaders threatening to wrap himself with the flag of the republic of Uganda and setting himself ablaze to show how angry students were when government abolished ‘boom’ in 1990. Such was the level of unity and solidarity among students of those days.

All over the world, university students seem to have various ways of relieving tension, Makerere is not different. That there would be periodic excesses is to be expected, however when such excesses occur authorities have to be clear if they want to identify a few students (the ring leaders) for punishment or whether the entire hall (in this case University) with its long and rich traditions. Unfortunately due to the policy and limited space then, not every one who applied to join MAKUNIKA could be admitted to the Ivory Tower. Many of our friends who had actually got better marks than those who join this institution today were shunted off to diploma schools like Nakawa, Kyambogo etc. Our use of terms like ‘Michael West’ in reference to our peers who did not make it to the ‘Hill’ and our constant battles and torrent of abuse during sports events did not endear us to many and there will be those who developed a natural antipathy and resentment to everything Makerere stands for. They will claim that I am trying to sanitise the actions of spoilt brats.

March to remember!

2010-04-12T23:14:00.000-07:00

March 2010 will go down as a memorable month for so many reasons, most of them unpleasant I am afraid. At the beginning of February, I took a rest from running and any other workouts that would strain the underside of my right foot because according to the doctor ‘that was enough to ease the searing pain under there’. Come March 8th, the recommended 30 days had elapsed and I hoped by now I would be able to run. Although the pain had subsided a little, it was still there and my attempts to conjure up a run came to a grinding halt just after 1.2 km. I could not afford to run any further and walking back home proved to be such a painful affair that by the time I got home, I needed some ice to soothe the pain that was now raging like a fire underneath my foot. I blamed it on the humid weather in Accra (they call it Anti Cold Climate Running Association) and when I returned to Kampala, I decided to see a ‘Specialist’. They (specialists) come up with professional names for all sort of discomforts - even the simplest ones - and I was not disappointed on this occasion. He called it the ‘Heel Spur’ and informed me that by the time I am done with his treatment it will be well and truly gone. Well, I have news for you Doc, it’s the 8th of April, I can still feel the pain and I am not sure I can run yet. My specialist has now advised that I need an In-sole and I am going to get one. However just to be sure that this is not a life threatening problem, I visited the Internet and to my surprise found that most sites recommended things like stretching exercises, rest, applying ice packs to the affected area, losing weight (this is not going to happen!!!) and wearing shoes that have a cushioned heel that absorbs shock or elevating the heel with the use of a heel cradle or heel cup to deal with the problem. I am wondering if it will be a nice idea to go to the specialist and ask for a ‘refund’ or at least half, now that I can deal with the problem myself and it did not require all those painful injections he took me through.

It was also in this last month (March 2010) that we lost one of Buganda’s (and Uganda’s) known heritage sites to a fire. The cause of the fire is not yet known with absolute certainty but most commentators (analysts or experts and all those names that are given to people who claim to know much more than us mortal beings without proof) argue that the fire was most likely deliberately started. Like in many accidents that happen to loved ones (Diana, Princess of Wales comes to my mind here) rumours of a conspiracy are abound, but the President, H.E Yoweri Kaguta Museveni, moved to quash these rumours and warned that any body caught saying that the central government had something to do with the burning of the Kasubi Tombs will be dealt with. For good measure, he added that he ‘is dying to lay hands on the person who says so publicly’. I am used to the President reminding us about his footballing skills, but this is the first indication that he may have been a boxer in his youthful days and I am sure no one would want to cross his path. As for me, this was a wake up call in many ways, I learnt so much more about Buganda and what some non-Baganda think about us who cherish the kingdom and Kabakaship.

On a lighter note, this month, my mother’s birth year was thrown into further chaos when an uncle she has always claimed to be older than informed me that he was born in 1947. That means my mother could only have been born between 1942-1945, if it is true that he saw uncle Kakembo when he was born and as a baby. In the meantime, we still stick to 1946, the year that we were given by Jjajja Nalumansi.
Finally, at the end of the month I had to trek to the land of the Masai to witness another family friend being swept off the ‘singles’ shelf by a charming and equally radiant young man. Congrats to you, June and Rwenye!

Vagina Monologues, I dare say!

2010-03-21T06:16:00.000-07:00

A few years back a play dubbed “The Vagina Monologues” was scheduled to be staged in one of the theatres of Kampala. The moment the originators of this idea started promoting their thing on the FM stations of this dusty town, hell broke loose. There were people who did not want the play to be staged because it was some form of lewdness unaccustomed to African societies while others just hated it because of the word ‘Vagina’ in its title. ‘These days I have had to stop listening to the radio, because the word vagina is over used’ and ‘what are we teaching our kids, that it is okay to say Vagina whenever you want?’ were statements I heard a number of times as the debate raged on. In no time, one or two cabinet ministers had jumped into the fray and things were getting hotter unnecessarily, I thought. Thankfully for the promoters, the play had now got all the publicity they wanted and some neutrals like me where now seriously considering taking that heavily pot-holed road towards Ntinda/Kisaasi to watch the play. To cut the long story short, a lot was said, people drew daggers gratuitously and eventually the Nays with a lot of political backing carried the day – the play was never staged.

Fast forward to February 2010, yours truly is now a resident of Accra, its now over 6 months and my Ghananisation is well and truly underway. There is not a whole lot to do in Accra especially when your are an ‘expat spouse’ - a term I found extensively in use here – and so often I have found myself driving down to the shopping mall just ‘to look around’. Recently as I was driving along the road that joins the road that joins liberation road – sorry roads have no signs here just like the ones in Kampala - I saw this big banner/banting reading “Vagina Monologues at the National Theatre”. My mind immediately raced back to the acrimonious situation in Kampala and the full battle was replayed in my mind. I started wondering why there was not so much hubbub here, don’t people know that this word is not supposed to be used in public (in Africa!!). First and foremost, the one thing that I have not done so well here, is get used to the local radio stations in Accra (like I did in Nairobi and London) and although I already have a favorite station –Joy FM – it isn’t yet making the mark for me, so I haven’t been such an dedicated listener to radio as I was in the previous two addresses. I therefore have no idea if this play was promoted on the local FM stations like it was done in Kampala. May be the promoters did not use the radio and if they had, the same frenzy would have been whipped up.

Anyway, after this incident a few things came to my mind about Ugandans and our level of tolerance. Despite the fact that Kenya seems to have more Muslims than Uganda, beef is sold along side pork in Nairobi’s City Market (although I must point out that it is not at the same stalls). In Kampala selling pork in Nakasero or in any one of the big markets, would cause so much uproar, that no body is willing to disturb the existing situation. In Tanzania the use of the white round cup is not exclusive to the Muslim brothers and it would be okay for a Robert to use one as a hat. In Uganda most Muslim brothers will condemn me for doing so and the overzealous ones may find it necessary to confiscate it forcefully. As I write someone in a position of responsibility is trying work up the community to support the hanging and locking away of Gays – utter nonsense, I think. Someone should try to work up the population into rising up against all those politicians and public servants who still public funds. I think Ugandans are a very intolerant lot but we are channeling our intolerance to the wrong issues. Unfortunately, the play was to be staged on a date when I would be out of Accra, so I still don’t know if it is licentious to stage the play or even watch it.

Africans and Queuing

2010-02-02T00:28:00.000-08:00

I have meant to write about this for a long time and for some reasons, I kept finding better and more interesting topics. However with my latest argument about queuing, I find myself urgently compelled to put my thoughts on paper about this subject. I have travelled a bit here and there, but I have not found any other place where people have no respect for a queue like it is on the beautiful continent. Not only at the market, but also in bars, banks, airports and traffic, Africans find it very hard to line up and patiently wait for their turn. I have seen this and some times, I have been the direct victim of queue jumpers in Kampala, Nairobi, Accra, Lagos and Lusaka. To the contrary I have not seen any body jumping a queue in all the other countries I have visited outside Africa. So my question is; what is it that makes Africans so antipathetic to queuing? Is it simply the way we are brought up or just a desire to have commotion and mayhem in every thing we do. I come from a very humble ground, but I do remember that we used to line up patiently and in an orderly manner for us to be able to fill our containers from the village water well. I don’t recall specifically being taught to line up at the village well (I must have learnt through observation) but I remember vividly that our teachers used to ask us to line up in an orderly manner every morning and there after walk to our classrooms in single file. We were also expected to line up for all services in school. Therefore I derisively dismiss any body that claims that ‘Africans do not queue up because they were brought up like that’. It is my contention that we are genetically chaotic and although we are trained and brought up to be orderly, we will try and be anarchic at the slightest opportunity. I am not the person that usually likes being trampled, so I have a had a few altercations with queue jumpers, but the most recent one at one of the numerous supermarkets on my way home turned out to be the most bizarre I have ever been involved in:

I (to a lady queue jumper - lets call her Miss x): Excuse me; there is a queue here
X: What (in the heaviest of one of Uganda’s English accents)
Yours truly (YT): I said there is a line here, you found me waiting for that gentleman ahead of me to get served, so that I could get served. So if it is not too much for you, I would appreciate if you stepped back (behind me).
X: Ah, stop that lugezilugezi, if you want to be served first you go, me I am standing here, I have not stopped you from being served.
She was clearly one of those in things (and wide enough), so the only way I was going to be served while she stood at that point was either by taking my basket over her head or by physically shoving her out of the way.
YT: But you are clearly in the way and unless you observe a proper queue there is no way, I am going to be served.
X: You people who are slightly educated want to bring lugezigezi by copying everything you see on TV, now what is the queue for here with only 3 people being served. Stop copying everything you see.

While being educated has nothing to do with standing in a queue, she was clearly behaving as the one who had been slightly educated (and I told her as much). After about 30 seconds of exchange, my senses got the better of me and I thought it would be in the best interest of everybody in the store, including the lady at the till (whose time we were clearly wasting with our continued exchange) if I left her to be served first. To my surprise after she was served, she had energy to fight for something that is clearly wrong. “If you want to have queues, why don’t you go and live in Europe”. At that moment I prayed that our country Motto should be changed from ‘For God and My Country’ to ‘God Save My Country’.

Fashion Police

2010-01-26T00:16:00.000-08:00

I am a very liberal but old-fashioned guy in many ways. I still believe in the institution of marriage and what it stands for, I attend church in the old traditional churches (split along the Anglican/Catholic/Orthodox lines) rather than the infinitely hyper and hugely entertaining Pentecostal churches. I also consider myself largely tolerant of views and practices other than mine. In this vein, I am very tolerant of people who choose to adopt new cultures and values like guys piercing their ears, gals with pierced noses and/or people with a different sexual orientation other than mine.

After that small intro I hope that when you read the next few lines, you will agree that I am not an old geek or intolerant conservative trying to be negative about a new style or culture. ‘Pants dropping’, ‘underpants expose’ or ‘balance’ (as is commonly known by young people) is a craze that has mystified me. A few years back all the little gals around town were busy dropping their pants and skirts so that we could see their underwear; a number of people cried their voices hoarse about this until it eventually tapered off. There is particular moment I remember seeing a young lady who looked like she was in her early 20s going through great effort to ensure that her pair of jeans dropped as below as they could so she could expose her pink underwear – myopic.

Now the pendulum seems to have swung from one end of the gender balance to the other. While I now see a lot of young ladies struggling to keep their under wear covered below their pants or blouses, young blokes are engaging in this abysmal act of ‘dropping their pants’. Trouble is while most of the under wear exposed by the ladies was a tolerable scene, I am increasingly getting troubled by the unwashed or over worn Tommy Hilfiger under wear that is being exposed by these young men.

I have been reliably informed that this fashion or culture (or whatever you may wish to call it) originated from US jails. Young black men who had been to jail and had been dressed in loosely fitting uniforms (thus the ‘dropping pants’) continued to dress in big pants on return to their ghettos. And before long this was adopted as style that found its way in our living rooms through the R n B videos of MTV and Channel O. Do any of our young men emulating this style know it’s origins and do they care?

Out of London

2009-12-31T11:22:00.000-08:00

When my family changed that last line of our home address from Nairobi to London, I knew that there was a lot to learn and adjust to. I have spent the last 3 years of my residence in UK much as a student but now I get the opportunity to assess the people and city that have served as my hosts. Here below, I rate some of the aspects of life on a scale of 1 to 10, one being rubbish and 10 excellent.
The City - 6
First of all there is nothing to see in London and there is this sense of being insecure (with all the stabbings reported). The shopping is brilliant and contrary to the sentiments of the locals, I have no problem with the transport system.
Media/TV and Radio - 9
I have learnt in the past that as a new resident in a country, the best way to get acquainted and learn about your hosts is through the print and broadcast media. I immediately started buying the papers and flipping through the FM channels and Television channels. It was not long before I discovered that ‘The Mail’ and ‘The Sun’ would be my favorite papers. I did not know much about their reputations or political leanings at the time, but even when I did, I still stack with them because I did not find any other paper that can tell me a lot about life in UK and London in particular. An occasional Evening Standard would fill up the gaps for me. This is the first country that I have lived where newspapers are officially (not through claims, allegations and innuendos) associated with partisan politics. I don’t know if by consistently buying The Mail, I was identified as a Tory (which would be absurd) or a Labour supporter. By the time I was done with the Radio stations, LBC 97.3 and Magic 105.4 seemed unmatchable in providing commentary on current events (for the former) and entertainment (for the latter). Despite his critics, I found James O’Brien the most articulate and interesting presenter on LBC. It was also his show that I found most relevant to me because it seemed to touch on a very aspect of life in the UK from the lowest of classes to the highest, from politics to sports, you never know what you will get from those three hours. I disagreed with Nick Ferrari’s opinions as much as I agreed with him. Most of the time he sounded to me, like one of those British men and women still stuck in the past and feeling great about the empire and its superiority – very condescending. He is either like that school kid who is always interested in causing trouble between people, so that he can enjoy the fight from the sidelines or he is actually anti immigration, anti racial interaction and anti globalization. Whichever he is, he always managed to kick up a storm even on the calmest of mornings and there are times I felt like scampering for my phone to give him a piece of my mind. TV in this country is beyond anything, I have seen before. There are very few times I have not found anything to watch from the hundreds of channels provided via Sky Box. While in this country I have been introduced to things like HD ready, Free View and Digital. That not withstanding I was surprised that I could be so close to the action and yet not be part of it. I have been a fan of the English League since the early 80s and I have followed my beloved Liverpool FC from my years as a teenager in Kampala. Unlike back, where I could watch literally every game on TV, there are many times I was not able to watch my favorite team or let alone anything from the premier league because of ‘rights’. Why are people sold rights only to take them away from those who need them? MOTD always filled in well for that deficiency although it is never the same thing as watching live. Thank God for the Beeb ….and oh yes and all of you whiners, stop grumbling and carry on paying your licenses.
Public Transport - 8
By far the most likeable aspect of my life in London. So many times, I have heard people moaning about public transport in London, ‘its awful, its expensive, its crowded’. Coming from where I do, this is next best thing that happened after the treadmill. Yes the trains and buses are sometimes late but only just, I have been to some cities where a schedule is printed without buses and trains. Yes they are crowded but only because every body is trying to get to work or home at the same time, if you all staggered your travel by a few minutes that will be solved. I always used the trains after 9 am and after 7 pm and they were never as crowded as the occasional times I have had to use them during the peak hours.
Race Relations - 8
Much as it is controversial, I have an opinion about the subject of racism. As a tourist in London twice before I lived here, I never understood what it was that black sisters and brothers were honking about whenever they complained about racism. I must admit that in the over 3 years that I have lived in the UK, I still don’t understand it. Neither I nor a member of my family has been a victim of or exposed to racism in any form, way or manner. I may be wrong but I have come to the conclusion that most white folks in UK are not racist. I have experienced much more worse racism in Asia and North Africa.
Social Life - 3
There is nothing to write about. There is no social life and that is what I missed most about home. I am astounded that most people’s understanding of social life on this great island is drinking, more drinking and over drinking of alcohol.
Weather - 1
One of my visiting friends said ‘there is no weather here’ and I could not agree more. In addition to an almost inexistent social life, one had to contend with the horrible weather of the island.
On the whole, I will miss the UK and will certainly be back whenever the opportunity arises.

Things I find Strange - Only in the UK

2009-09-05T12:32:00.000-07:00

Strange (or would I call them unusual) things happen on this great island. As early as their arrival at Heathrow Airport, my wife’s party that included our daughter Renee – 18 months, our son Ryan -3 years and a nanny got to know that things are going to be different and that this was not going to be the joy easy ride that we had in Nairobi. My 3 year old son had clearly been distressed by the 8 hour flight and this was made worse by the extra necessary immigration check to ensure that this African family was not travelling on a fake visa/work permit or carrying some despicable disease that is capable of wiping out the whole civilized population. After holding up pretty well for the entire flight and an hour into immigration procedure, Ryan cracked (understandably) and started throwing tantrums including the wildest of wails ever heard from him. Attempts were made to soothe and calm him down to no avail. It was at this time, that his mother remembered that he really feared visiting doctors (the likely reason why he was probably throwing tantrums in the first place) and he reminded him that a doctor will come to give him an injection if he did not stop crying. Although this seemingly harmless threat worked and he stopped crying immediately, one of the ladies from the good UK Border Agency came pouncing on the mother for threatening a kid. She launched into a tirade on how such behavior of intimidating kids would not be tolerated in the UK, at one time threatening to call in Social Services to take the kids away from their mother. My wife was not only bemused by this but also cowed into submission, for she profusely apologized to the lady. With all the notices about verbal abuse and threats to staff at immigration counters, Victoria could not bring herself around into explaining that this was not in any way meant to be violent to her son (despite being a valiant fighter for her own turf in such situations) lest the officer argues that she has been verbally abused or insulted. Evidently this lady was not happy with something about this family and if it were up to her she would have denied them entry. We both knew that visiting a country on business or as a tourist was not the same as having to live there, but nothing could have prepared Victoria and her toddlers for this welcome. From then on, we knew that there is a whole lot of things to adjust to as residents, including what you say to your own kids lest some one interprets it as inappropriate.
Recently, I had a very interesting exchange with a friend of mine. I put her on the spot to explain why instead of working for her own money, she chose to live off state benefits. She explained that as a ‘not so highly educated single mother’, she would end up spending more if she chose to work. She elucidated how this works. If she chooses to work, she will pay for all her bills including day care for her child and this means that she will either have nothing left or just about 100 quid. ‘It is not worth the bother’ she quipped, ‘I would rather sit home and bring up my kid,’ she added. Oh what a system I thought to myself, no wonder the councils wheedle out every penny from us who can afford to pay penalties and taxes so that other people can live a comfortable life. Only in UK!

Is calling 'Mzungu' being Racist

2009-08-23T13:21:00.000-07:00

My answer is No and this is why.

I recently returned home for the summer holidays and literally walked into this row (some white friend is complaining about being called ‘Mzungu’) by kids and adults alike. Coincidentally, I had just returned form Accra in Ghana where I had spotted a letter to the press complaining about the same thing, - apparently someone was unhappy about being called Oburoni (the equivalent of Mzungu in East Africa).

Anyone who has been to this dusty town of ours knows what this term means. The children will cry out ‘Mzungu how are you’, the vendors will call ‘Mzungu come and buy’ and some naughty men will propose to white women by calling them Mzungu (you must have heard of the local hit ‘Omwana w’omuzungu by the late Paul Kafeero’. Now, I do understand when white folks complain about a title that classifies them by race, especially when they come from the politically correct communities of UK that think that calling me black is being racist. I have been in the company of friends who have found it hard to order for black tea because they think that I will consider that racist – bonkers. I would like to put the record straight that unless one has chosen to address me by the colour of my skin in a derogatory manner, I absolutely have no problem being called black.

And to my friends in Africa, it is incredibly barmy to think that the use of the terms ‘Mzungu’ or ‘Oburoni’ is being racist. This word is not used in a derogatory manner and it is not meant to humiliate and as most of you will testify it will most likely come from a glowing face of the people you have come to love and whose company you enjoy. I come from Central Uganda and there are plenty of names that would be used to refer to a white person in derogatory manner and ‘Mzungu’ is not one of them. To all the white folks in Africa, be easy and enjoy the sun.

So Chelsea is out – You bet my flipping nails I care!

2009-05-08T14:08:00.000-07:00

It's rare that I feel such indignation for another team but last night I somehow felt for Chelsea and that was long before I considered the two legged tie in its entirety.
Chelsea got exactly what they deserved, for two entire games they parked 10 men in and around their penalty area. It was like watching Stoke City against Liverpool in the FA Premier League. Surely we can do with better football at this level. Did they deserve to be in the final – for the only reason that they were the only opponents worth of a name to MANURE. Barca is a such a let-down to all footballers lovers that it is hard to fathom what sustains talk ‘of the best football club in the world’- that is for later though. Chelsea may have been on form but have zero class and you know what they say about form it is temporary (hoping to enjoy it over 180 minutes was stretching the luck a little too far). Should a side with only 33% possession really deserve to win? Hell no! Chelsea were not worth of a slot in the final of ECL.
But neither are their sloppy opponents Barca!! For all their worth going forward they are simply shocking at the back. The so called ‘best football team in the world’ could not manage a single shot on goal in 90 minutes. What a mind-blowing stupid performance players like Dani Alves put in? They say the definition of stupidity is trying the same thing again and again and expecting different results . . . every time he got the ball on the right you knew what was going to happen, and every time, it happened. I still read papers this morning applauding his performance, what do some sports scribes feed on? None of the Barca players can dare or attempt to take a shot outside 18 yards- the only time they did they scored – and you still call them the best players in the world? Can't believe the bookies have made Barcelona favourites to win the final! Talk of a great attacking final is absolutely misplaced. It won't be. Just look at the Semi last year between the two. Manures will sit back, soak up pressure and hope to catch them on the counter. Is there no law that can forbid such matches from taking place – why do we have to be treated to this dour performance in the name of a final?
As for the referee, he was truly awful, especially for Piqué’s decision and that disgraceful sending off of Abidal but that is bad as they come. To say that ‘it is the most surreally incompetent refereeing performance ever seen’ is being overboard. Chelski would want anybody who cares to listen believe that they were robbed, this could have happened to them on any other night with another referee. Talk of conspiracy and instructions to the referee to ensure that there is not another English final is absolute knackers.
Final word for Drogba. That lunatic is a disgrace, he is always trying to win free kicks and feigning injuries wasting crucial time on the turf. Of the 4 additional minutes, 3 were due to Drogba’s never ending antics – and do you know what the goal was scored in the 93rd minute - some poetic justice indeed. His clowning around came back to haunt him. Drogba does not deserve to reach a final, so while I have sympathy with a lot of Chelsea lads like Lamps and JT, I can't say I feel the same for him. He tries to get the referee to make so many wrong decisions in his favour in every game he plays, without feeling any trace of guilt. I hope he gets a lengthy ban in Europe and good riddance from the European stage for one of the worst examples of the modern player.

Showy Giving

2009-03-16T18:01:00.000-07:00

It is already March and this is only my second article for the blog, despite the fact that I promised myself to write one every month. Thanks to the ‘Spirit of Giving’, I got a subject so irresistible to write about – not that there haven’t been any subjects worth writing about in the last two months.
Two week ago, my son brought a fundraising ticket from his school in support of the Red Nose Day. I did not know what this was about, so I asked a friend who has lived here for almost a decade. He explained that this was an ‘annual fundraising by Comic Relief’. More trouble, what the flipping nail was ‘Comic Relief’. I decided not expose any more of my ignorance and chose head for the internet – this has been the main source of information for me since I moved to this country and 99% of the time, it has been useful. As I was driving home, I realized that my friend had used the word annual - how come I did not hear about this in the previous 2 years. This meant that even after living on this island for close to three years, I still hadn’t got hold of all the major dates, jeez they must be many. Armed with my ever obedient laptop, I set on a mission to find out about Red Nose Day.
Red Nose Day, is ‘one of those great national events’ one site that I cant remember proclaimed and ‘it is the main way in which Comic Relief raises money’ Wikipedia attempted to put me out of my misery. After a few minutes of browsing through a couple of other sites, I had got all the information that I wanted about Red Nose Day (RND) and Comic Relief (CR). Red Nose Day is like one of those new names that you hear for the first time and soon after meeting the person with that name, it seems as if every other new person you meet goes by that name. In the last two weeks all media has been full of Red Nose Day and Comic Relief that I am wondering how I could have missed this hullaballoo in the spring of each of the last 2 years. Every celebrity known and unknown (to me) seems to be hell bent on separating us from our hard-earned cash. I did not have much beef with this until yesterday when someone came up with an appropriately sounding catchy phrase ‘showy giving’.
Those who know me will testify that, for long I have been against this giving motivated by ostentation. On the other hand supporters argue that money is money, whether you get it because someone wants to show off or not, it will still help a cause. Well, yeah… may be. I have both secular and revered objections to this kind of giving. First of all, most of the time, the people (celebrities) who pretend to give or encourage us to give come from the same crop of people that have been caught evading or avoiding taxes. Back to Uganda, where I come from, they are not normally celebrities but the high and mighty in society (who comprise of public servants and businessmen) that put on a show to appear to give generously, yet they are the same corrupt people that are usually responsible for creating the mess that they are contributing to. Listen to this; a senior public official will steal money meant for the entire budget to construct a primary school and then show up at a fundraising event and give an amount that will cover the costs for the roof. In the process they dupe us law abiding citizens into a form of voluntary tax because we feel obliged to give and find it difficult refuse to give when the sponsorship form or basket is thrust towards our rotund and well-fed bellies. You may say this is alright, given that it is the unfortunates that benefit. But it is the worst sort of brazenness when you learn that 90% of the people who pledge during these fundraising events never fulfill their pledges. It's all very showy and meant for the public to know how much money we have - if we can afford to part with some of it, usually for a cause that we are not beneficiaries. I am part of a membership group where each of the members who contributes a certain amount is given a badge to identify him. Seeing how successful this group has been in raising that minimum amount from every member, I suggested to a fundraising campaign that I was part of that coming up with something that identifies those who give may be a good way to raise funds and trust me the response was much better.
This brings me to my next point. In churches were members of the congregation are invited to tithe their incomes and give privately, quietly and with humility, those churches don’t get as much as were the figures are publicly announced and members encouraged to compete against each other. I have certainly neglected and will continue to refuse to respond to fundraising events that seem to encourage showiness (even mawkish as it may be). How can 50 members of an elite group fail to complete a school project of US$ 20,000, yet about half of them can easily raise US$1,000 each that is recognized with a given identification?

Why do we know more about the world?

2008-11-08T16:26:00.001-08:00

While reading Dr. Clarke’s column in this week’s Sunday vision (The Sunday Vision, 9th October, 2008) there were a couple of arguments that I found rather blemished – which is quite curious, considering that he is one of the most balanced columnists (and my favourite) that still remains in the Ugandan print media.

Firstly, Dr. Clarke opined that people in a sub-Saharan African country would have not voted a person of mixed race like Obama into office if he were to stand for presidency. To put it in his own words ‘chances are that he would not even have been considered’. While I don’t agree with his view, I found it interesting. For once, here is a white person living among black people insinuating that black people (the biggest victims of racism in Europe and America) may actually be the biggest racists living on planet earth. Whether he is correct or not, is another story which I am not ready to delve into without statistical data.

The second argument I found strange was when Dr. Clarke suggested that thinking that Africa is one country is ‘an easy mistake to make’. This is one of those statements that I don’t know how to react to – the kind that you don’t know if you should cry or laugh. If you are a frequent traveller to the western world you may probably have encountered those questions. I have had opportunity to travel and live in Europe and USA, but I must admit that I have been immensely amazed by the level of ignorance by the good citizens of these lands. Very few Americans (including those that are highly educated) and a modest number of Europeans know about Africa. . On my travels, I have been asked if Uganda is in the Caribbean and if we ride elephants to go to school. Recently when I told my friends that I was traveling back to Uganda, one of my English friends asked why I would consider going back to such a dangerous country with all the trouble going on, apparently in reference to the troubles in South Africa (during the peak of the xenophobic attacks).

On the contrary an average Ugandan who has about 5-8 years of formal education knows a lot more about Europe, US and the world at large. Why is this so? Could it be our education system and curriculum that with all due respect was created by the Europeans and thus made it imperative for us to learn about their cultures and geography or just our interest in their affairs. Whatever the case may be, I don’t agree with Dr. Ian Clarke that thinking that Africa is one country is an easy and thus an acceptable mistake to make especially for a person who was running to be Vice President of the USA – if there is any truth in that allegation. To me it is that condescending attitude that many people from Europe and the USA have towards Africa, its peoples and their affairs.

London Marathon Time Again

2008-11-02T08:59:00.000-08:00

It is totally a different experience and I did not regret a single minute for having signed on to the London Marathon. Before 2003 I had never run any thing longer than 5km although I remember that in my early school days, long distance running was my favourite of all the different disciplines of athletics. In 2004, armed with enthusiasm and a fully bloated man’s ego, I registered for the 10 km race of the Nairobi Marathon. 2 months earlier I had been dared by my wife to run the race and beat her finishing time of the previous year’s race. I run the race and completed it in 45 minutes, which of course was far better than her 1hr 20min of 2003.
It is only after then that I realized that despite being in my fourth decade on planet earth I probably still had a knack to run long distances. I immediately promised my self to run the 2005 marathon and even raised the bar to half marathon. Unfortunately I did not run the Nairobi Marathon in 2005 (instead ran the 10km race of the MTN Kampala Marathon) and returned to run the half marathon of 2006 Nairobi Marathon. In 2007 I ran a series of 10km races but due to time commitments I never had a chance to run any of the marathons yet my eyes were now set on a full marathon. Having completed a half marathon in 2 hours 15 minutes after a few months of sketch training, I was convinced that I would be able to run the marathon in 4 hours or less if I trained hard enough for it.
In 2008, I was lucky enough to get a place on the London Marathon and come race day, it was a dream come true. I finished the marathon in 4 hours and 41 minutes. Not a bad effort since it was my first full marathon, but I was rather disappointed considering that the conditions were much better than what I normally contend with in Nairobi and Kampala. Even then, it was the most excruciating experience of my life and by the end of it all I swore not to do it again. I had been advised not to run the full marathon before D-Day, and to this date I still think that this was the most rubbish advice I received during my preparations. I had only run 35 km and it was no surprise that I hit the wall just after the 39km mark. I literally had to haul my body through the last 3 km not wanting to disappoint those who had generously contributed money to the Nnabagereka Development Foundation, a charity I ran for.
When I completed the marathon, there was one dominant thought in my mind of never again. But now that I have forgotten all the pain and looked back on my achievement, I have decided to do it again. I am, ready to do it and run the London Marathon again, only this time I will have proper training. My target is to complete the Marathon in less than 4 hours.
My training begins in October with preparations for the half marathon race of the MTN Kampala Marathon in November 2008. I am a little busier now than I was last year but that will not stop me. There are plenty of people who have busier lives than mine and still run marathons...so why can't I?

Every citizen of the World should vote in the US elections

2008-10-08T15:43:00.000-07:00

I cannot claim to know much about the economic mess that the whole world is now entangled in. Words like credit crunch, sub prime lending, toxic loans do not make much sense to me. However, I am intelligent enough to understand from my reading that the global slowdown that has affected economies of the different countries is to a large extent the fault of the collapse of the housing bubble in the US. Elsewhere people have argued that there are other factors such as the “Iraq War” and the desire to achieve the "American Dream" by any means necessary. The latter is what some people have referred to as GREED. The greed factor in this crisis is that the salaried chief executive officers and the middle rung bosses of Wall Street were being paid huge salaries and bonuses even as they were meeting their targets through dishing out the toxic loans. I'm neither an economist nor a politician; however it occurs to me that if one country is to bring the brink of financial devastation across the world through the mismanagement of its affairs, then it is only fair that the entire world has a say in who actually manages that country. The people who we have previously entrusted with the role of selecting the “Super President” haven’t done a good job lately.

Time to abandon Killer Coke

2008-09-27T11:09:00.001-07:00

I have read a lot about Coca-Cola’s involvement with anti people practices and in the past I have dismissed them as a media campaign to discredit a successful company that has served the world with a drink for generations. However, my latest discovery is the final blow to that inner part of me that has so much clung on to coke even with stories of unethical practices. You see I love coke so much that even when the doctor advised that I should take less sugar and specifically pointed out that I should not take more 300ml of coke every week, I still drank Diet Coke after convincing myself that it contained less sugar. The truth is that I could not fathom the idea of being separated from my favourite drink of years. We have all read about Coke’s alleged unethical practices in the past. Their continued stay in South Africa during its apartheid era (even when its competitors left out of morality) made Coca Cola effectively an accomplice to human rights abuses and I know of friends who have boycotted the drink since then. Despite their claims of being a good corporate citizen, the Coca-Cola company has chosen to continue its operations, knowingly contributing to the misery of thousands of people by depleting groundwater and causing undue hardships to the community even after it has been told to stop by a study funded by the company itself (http://www.indiaresource.org/campaigns/coke/2008/kaladeraunethical.html). However the most recent revelation by Mark Thomas that Coca Cola is a willing participant in the elimination of trade unionists in Colombia sent a chill down my spine and has hit the last cord in my undying love for Coke. For once I am inclined to believe that what is being said about coke is true, because when I visited their site (http://www.gettherealfacts.co.uk)
– that is meant to counter Mark’s claims; there was nothing substantial to convince me that they have not been involved. I have there fore made a decision to stop buying/taking coca cola products and I am going to convince members of my household to do like wise. Unfortunately, it is not always possible to entirely boycott a brand in Africa because, there are times when you don’t have a choice. I remember when I and my friends resolved not to buy Shell products because of their involvement in the Nigerian fiasco that eventually led to the death of Ken Saro-Wiwa (http://archive.greenpeace.org/comms/ken/murder.html). However much I would want to hold out, I would find myself involuntarily buying Shell products like petrol and cooking gas because I could not find alternatives. It is very difficult to fight a brand that managed to convince the whole world the Santas have always been dressed in red where as the truth is otherwise. I do not want to claim to take on a brand that has a logo that is probably as recognizable as the crucifix (apparently 94% of the world’s population recognise the Coca Cola trademark) but I will do my best in my in own small way.

The Burden of being an African

2008-08-10T01:53:00.000-07:00

On 1st Aug 2008, we were in party of 4 (2 Ugandans and 2 Egyptians) travelling to Bali on Valuair. The manager on duty at the check-in counters barred the Egyptians from checking in because ‘they did not have a visa to Indonesia’. Despite repeated attempts to explain that Egyptians could obtain a visa on arrival Indonesia, the manager could not let them check in. Even when we managed to log on to the Indonesian Embassy website (thanks to good internet connectivity in Changi Airport) and showed her that Egyptians could get a visa on arrival, she did not let us check-in. After 30 minutes of embarrassment and repeatedly taunting us with ‘go and get visa first’, she came back and merely said you can check-in. There was no apology of any sort, not even an attempt to explain that there had been a misunderstanding.

On the 3rd of August 2008, we were scheduled to fly out of Bali back to Singapore and little did we know that we had another episode of embarrassment by Valuair waiting for us. My wife and I (the 2 Ugandans) were barred from checking in because we did not have a Visa to Singapore. Ugandans travelling to Singapore for less than 30 days do not need a visa and this has been like that for ages. Despite repeated explanations with evidence in the Ugandans’ passports that we had actually been to Singapore without having a Visa prior to travelling, the good manager did not let us check in. She asked us how she would tell that we were going to Singapore for less than 30 days. In one of the exchanges, we explained that we were British residents and we will be returning to Britain after the3 day break in Singapore. The manager then demanded to see our British visas and tickets to London Heathrow. She clearly had never had of an e-ticket or did not know how it works because despite our pleas that we did not have the ticket printed out, she said she will not let us check in until we showed her a ticket. Thankfully we still had a laptop and opened up our e-mails which contained the e-ticket. It appears to me that Valuair staff have no idea about Visa restrictions of all the nationalities flying to Singapore and Indonesia and it is therefore wrong for them to subjugate their customers to embarrassing situations.

This is the second time I am being subjected to unfair restrictions and incompetent service just because I am coming from Africa. One time in South Africa, I was refused service because the shop keeper was not sure that the credit card I carried was mine and he had no way of proving. Other than being Africans, the Valuair ground staff had no reason to doubt what we were telling them. It must have come as surprise that we as Africans had even thought of going to these popular tourist destinations – and yes as tourists. This is a case of prejudiced racism, where whatever we say or submit as Africans is doubted and has to be cross-checked. To apply for Visas at some embassies and consulates, we have to take evidence of all property we have ever owned, bank slips, marriage certificates and whatever else is necessary to prove that we can pay for our travel.

That is called the burden of being an African.

The Old Lady Comes to London

2008-07-30T15:41:00.000-07:00

July 2008 has been a month of firsts. It is the first time that my mother visits London or travels by plane for over an hour. A few years back, she was not feeling well when she came to visit us in Nairobi and instead of making her travel by bus to Kampala from Nairobi, we booked her on to KQ for one way back into Kampala. It was her first time, but the strong and confident woman she is, it did not show on her face or in the way she acted. On this occasion when she travelled all the way here, she was not with me but I made sure that she was in the competent hands of another relative who was coming to UK on official business. Victoria keeps insisting that I am offering unsolicited help, because she (Victoria) knows that despite her limited education, her mother in law is confident enough to travel anywhere in the world. My reaction to that is that Victoria overrates the old lady’s confidence but I must admit that her confidence and perseverance sometimes baffles and inspires me. She now is her late 60s (her age cannot be determined with certainty although she is known to have been born a few years before an uncle of mine whose age is known). While the pace of London seems daunting even to us younger folks, she seems to have taken this in her stride often running after trains like we do. Her engrossment into the rigours of X-Factor despite her limited comprehension of the white man’s language makes me even prouder of her.

In addition to her, later this month we got three friends visiting from Kampala. That makes us a lot of Ugandans sleeping in this house situated in the quieter parts of Surrey. This in addition to the fact that we are the only black people living in this street may cause a little consternation and suspicion. I just hope our neighbours do not call the police due to increased activity/commotion. I suspect some of you are laughing but this is no laughing matter. A few months back a good friend of mine from Malawi whose assignments take him to different parts of the globe experienced something very bizarre. His wife called him in South Africa where he was at the time and told him that the police were at their home looking for him because there has been a case of domestic violence reported. The officers who had shown up at the front door insisted that his wife was probably protecting him from the long arm of the law because ‘the neighbour who had called couldn’t possibly have lied’. Them like us lived in a neighbourhood full of white folks and although they could not point a finger to any one of them, they thought this was a good sign that not all their neighbours are happy that they lived amongst them. Fortunately for us, we have had no such incident yet, but as I said I hope this big number in the house does not bring about such a sad moment.

Later on in the month, it was another first. I joined Victoria as she worked for a short holiday in the Far East – it was my first visit to this part of the world. Our travels took us to Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia and boy was I impressed or what? Malaysia is very impressive; I wonder why it is still classified as a third world country. Indonesia (esp Bali) was a treasure and Singapore was very inspiring. I have had intentions to put a few lines about travelling and tourism and how we Ugandans are letting ourselves down. I think I have enough information to do so now but that will be for later.

Women like Cherie Blair

2008-05-24T09:49:00.000-07:00

So the former First Lady of the United Kingdom (I wonder where this leaves HM) has released her memoirs “Speaking for Myself”. There is nothing surprising about an autobiography from a famous and modern woman like her who has been praised by fans for maintaining an independent life as a barrister and refusing to live in the shadow of her husband. I haven’t read the book and though I have an undying fondness for memoirs and biographies, I cannot promise that I will read hers in the near future (I haven’t been able to dispose off her husband’s which I read in between other books). However I have been intrigued by some of the reviews I have read in the press. Apparently Mrs. Blair reveals that when she hooked up with Tony, she was already running two boyfriends.
"Tony and I took the bus. It was a double-decker and we went upstairs. It was completely empty and by the time we got off we knew each other better than when we'd got on. And even better the next morning." -The Mail
“She has revealed in her autobiography, Speaking for Myself, how she cheated on two boyfriends before marrying Tony Blair - David Attwood and another identified only as John. She cheated on John with her future husband” – The Telegraph
In another article she admitted that: “Now I look back and the way I behaved to my old boyfriend David or John is not really the way I would like to say to my children they should behave. I’m certainly not Little Miss Perfect” she added. Naturally the vilification from her critics - and they are many is proliferating and interestingly the bulk of it is coming from women. She has been called "a greedy, self-serving opportunist" whose "greatest betrayal is to her own sex”, another called her “a vain, self regarding, shallow thinking viper" who tells us that she's "a good Catholic girl" while detailing her premarital as well as post-marital sex life” I can see no way Mrs Blair has betrayed her sex apart from admitting that she had run three men at the same time – something that most women would want us to believe that it is exclusively done by the opposite sex. Her detractors now want to use these memoirs to pull her down and prevent her from becoming a judge – “it raises the question of what we might expect from a judge and whether she should become one” Minette Marrin of The Times asks. Give me a break I say.

Violent Destinations

2008-04-04T20:20:00.000-07:00

In February 2008, my wife and I were supposed to travel to Nairobi for a friend’s wedding. You see a wedding is not like a funeral, months (sometimes years) of preparation and planning go into the whole affair like the life of those involved (especially the bride) depended on that one day. We had planned long before the now infamous elections of 2007 and post election violence that followed that we will both be in Kenya for Irene’s wedding. My presence in particular was important because it was supposed to be kept a secret and was supposed to be a pleasant surprise (hopefully) to the lovely couple, who are both great friends of ours. As the wedding day approached, news of the killings and violence in Kenya continued to stream through our tube much to our disappointment. For once Victoria became a regular follower of the newscasts. D-day was fast approaching as more and more scenes of violence continued to be played out in front of our eyes. Every after News at Ten, we looked at each other and discussed the risk that would be faced if we were to go to Nairobi. We continued to receive reports from our friends in Nairobi indicating that all was well, which was a direct contradiction of what was being portrayed on the International News Channels. At the back of our mind we knew that what was being reported is the security situation in the less affluent parts of Nairobi which would not be much of a problem if we went to Nairobi since we were sure that none of the day’s events would go to any of those areas.
Yet even with our knowledge of Nairobi, we still could not make a firm and positive call to go, often drifting off in thoughts like ‘what if anything happens, the whole world will be saying how stupid we were with all this information available’. I continued to scan around for information and it was during this scavenging for information that I stumbled on this site 'Forbes list of the world's most dangerous destinations for 2007'. The list included Somalia, Iraq, Afghanistan, Burundi, Pakistan, Sudan, Democratic Republic of Congo, Lebanon, Zimbabwe, Palestine, Côte d’Ivoire. Hmmm, interesting list I thought before I read this;
‘Other countries make our list mainly because of crime. Neither Liberia nor Haiti is technically at war, but rampant criminality can make parts of these countries feel like war zones……. Though Nigeria doesn’t make our most dangerous places list (there’s a lot of competition), it is a hot spot in danger of worsening this year’
With information like this, I thought, one does not need a travel advisor.
Now, to be sincere, with the exception of Somalia, Iraq, Afghanistan, Palestine and probably Haiti, I would have jumped on a plane to any of the remaining destinations (more than half) without even flinching. And yet here I was worried about Kenya, that did not even appear on the list. I was interested in learning more about who decides about the most dangerous countries to travel to and how these decisions are arrived at. The Forbes magazine explains that it uses statistics including crime and civil unrest, and assigns each country a rating of one to five, with five being the most severe.
While I agree with some of the destinations, there is an obvious contradiction to me, for some of them. It seems to me that what might be called a dangerous destination by a Westerner is not necessarily dangerous to me. Similarly, a dangerous country might have a high murder rate, but as a tourist this might not necessarily be a dangerous place to visit. Some countries may very well have some areas that might as well be in a war zone but for the average traveller, these places are very small and easily avoidable (take the case of Uganda in the last 20 years yet Uganda occasionally appeared on this list if you look at the ranking of the previous years). I've seen Jamaica, Brazil and South Africa listed as some of the most dangerous countries in the world and like one reviewer said “It is a bit silly, since all are popular tourist destinations and out of the millions that visit few come home with any life threatening problems”. I have been to South Africa countless times and I have not witnessed or been a victim of any incident, yet I was in Barcelona for 3 nights and witnessed a mugging in a street in full view of every one.
It is after situations like these that I pitied, the Western travellers who rely on this information for travel and business, a good bit of it is useless. That notwithstanding, I think it would be a nice idea to stay away from countries that end with ‘stan’ in their names for now. Just look at the list and see how many they are.

I need a lesson about divorces

2008-03-09T13:58:00.000-07:00

I have been following divorce cases in this country with a kin interest. From the much publicised Macca-Mucca divorce (Paul McCartney and his now ex-wife Heather Mills) to the almost unknowns. What is standard and consistent is that women go to courts fighting for their up keep and monthly allowances. One most recent one even asked to be paid a pension.

First and foremost, I appreciate that I come from a typically 'backward and primitive’ African society where we may not know much about issues associated with development, but I need to understand a few things, why is that it is always women that ask to be paid when a marriage comes to an end and not the men? I understand when a woman may have spent all her time at home looking after the kids and thus no time to pursue their personal careers but in cases where both a man and woman professionally work and earn an income why should be the sister and not the bloke to be paid. I would expect everybody to go their way at the end of an unsatisfactory union but alas, in this country every woman seems to be after some money from the guy. C'mon ladies isnt this defeating your case for equality if at the end of a marriage you still expect to be paid by a man. I also need to know since I am not very schooled in these affairs in the event that bloke is not working and is he entitled to a payment? Why have I not heard of men asking to be paid colossal sums of money at the end of these unions even where the woman may be known to earn much more than the bloke.

Africans and Tribalism

2008-01-16T21:15:00.000-08:00

The events in Kenya were a reminder that tribalism is alive and well in Africans. There was a time when it was claimed that introduction of a national language in Uganda would help stifle any tribal sentiments, this position now appears untenable especially that the majority of Kenyans speak Swahili. When I arrived in the UK about a year ago, I went to the Ugandan High Commission in Trafalgar Square to get information about any social groups and/or networks for Ugandans in the UK. I was shocked when the good gentleman sitting behind the counter at Uganda House told me that he only had information about cultural (read tribal) groups like Baganda, Acholi and Banyankore and where they met. Sensing my surprise he added that he could also get me contacts for NRM and FDC members and where they met. At that moment it downed on me that despite the rhetoric, tribe is the most important form of identity to Africans. I have now resigned to the fact that as Africans we will always identify ourselves by tribe and it is the duty of our leaders to provide an environment that promotes leaving together in peace rather create and promote antagonism between the different tribes.

How serious are we about Planning?

2007-11-13T17:26:00.000-08:00

When I started this blog, I had resolved not to write about the injustice, unfairness and politics of either this country or my home country Uganda. But appropriately named “Snake in a Pot” which is from a Luganda proverb meaning being in a dilemma. I am in a dilemma and find myself going full circle to write this piece about our ever interesting and never short of surprises Uganda police. Just before I left Uganda, I was completely stunned when I heard one of the officers of the force that is supposed to serve and protect, declare that they will arrest all people who jog along roads in Kampala because they cause traffic jams. I was wondering if the officers had too much time and too little to do. However with the newest traffic crisis in Kampala, they definitely have too much to do but too little knowledge of how to go about it. In their quest to show the nation how prepared they are, the good old police men closed some roads and abruptly forced traffic in some obscures side roads that are ostensibly supposed to serve as alternative routes during CHOGM. It is hardly surprising that residents of Kampala found themselves in the traffic chaos that engulfed the city on Wednesday. We all know that if you want to do a mock-exercise in a chaotic city like Kampala, the first thing to do is to inform the public, especially motorists through public media while indicating specific routes for them to use, control measures etc. The “mock-exercise” as police chief Maj. Gen. Kale Kayihura called it, was meant to show how people in Kampala can cope with road closures due to the summit but it definitely did not meet the purpose. I think that a mock exercise for Chogm should have been embarked on after full details of alternative routes have been given to the public so that police can asses whether the suggested alternatives can work or not. On that day, I learnt from a friend at Entebbe Airport that his relative had spent the night in jail after they strayed into an area that was initially a public place but which had now been cordoned off in preparation for Chogm. Where people in positions of responsibility cannot plan for just a simple mock exercise and try to figure out proper solutions to the associated problems, it does not surprise me, that someone can decide to cordon off an area without high visibility signs and just expect you to know that you should not be there.

Incorrect Spellings

2007-11-09T10:04:00.000-08:00

I remember from some of my teachers (God Bless them) who took me through the early days of formal education that it was important to spell names and places of people correctly when writing. Whether it was English or Luganda (which were taught simultaneously at the time), the teachers always placed a lot of emphasis on ensuring that the spelling of what we were writing was correct. It is through these lessons that I got to learn the basic rules of spelling Luganda words. I remember that I learnt when to use a double consonant or double vowel in Luganda as early as 8years old and we always strived to write words depending on their pronunciation. That is why it was very confusing to me to read a word that sounds like ‘Entebe’ in the official name of our one and only international airport written as ‘Entebbe’. I have since learnt that this was a mistake made very early on by the colonialists in the official documents and no effort was ever made to correct it. I know that we as a country are not very good at keeping records but I am sure that by misspelling the name of a location, we lose any history and culture that may be associated with that name. It is for this reason that I abhor any continued incorrect spellings in official documents and print media. It is not unusual to see Lubaga spelt as Rubaga, Nateete spelt as Natete or Buddo spelt as Budo. I think that the print media has a duty to inform as much as educate and keep a proper record of our story. I am sure that 100 years down the line, those living will be unable to explain the origins of the word Budo, yet there is a very meaningful story and cultural attachment to the word ‘Buddo'.

Finally, in some cultures it is considered a sign of disrespect to continually misspell someone’s name. In one of the articles in a local newspaper, the name Musaazi is consistently spelt as Musazi just like I have seen Mukiibi spelt as Mukibi. I feel offended when I correctly fill official forms like I did a few years back for a utility service, only for the bill to be sent to me with a wrong spelling of my name.

Keep Smiling and Have a Nice Day

2007-10-21T16:57:00.000-07:00

After about 2 months, I can confirm that I can drive around a bit of London (about 5 miles around our home) and am very pleased with my rate of grasping things. I am deeply disturbed by the description of summer in this country, it is very different from what I expected it to be. I understand it officially begins in June and ends in September and apparently it is the only opportunity for people to have a life of barbeques and beaches (poor things!). If what we have just gone through is the best they can get, the good citizens of Kabale are having a blast. Meanwhile, the lack of human labour in this country is disturbingly irritating. It has finally brought me face to face and full speed with the flat parks from IKEA. Surely, IKEA must have been founded by a woman. IKEA is a leaf from a book written by the 21st feminist’s titled – How to decimate a man’s ego. For the past few weekends we have consistently turned up at the IKEA store in Croydon to find furniture and furnishings for our new home. My heart rends as she flips through the pages of the IKEA catalogue for because I know it will be me to suffer with the assembly of our fitting. For some curious reason people in this town of the mighty and most civilised don’t talk to each – not even our neighbours talk to us. I thought it could not get any worse until I started commuting to the University. Yes, I enrolled for a post graduate degree in Construction Management out of boredom. After visiting my ever reliable website when it comes to getting around London (tfl.gov.uk has no equal) I discovered that the quickest way to get to the University of Greenwich would be by train – national rail to be precise – first to London Bridge and then out on the South Eastern to Dartford. While on these trains, I noted that people don’t talk, fear to make eye contact and bury their heads in books and free newspapers. Now that the temperatures have started coming down especially after a miserable summer, I am tempted to blame it on the weather. If indeed it is the weather, then I can only assume that it is going to get worse at the peak of winter – I am not sure I am looking forward to a gloomy weather and even gloomier people for company on a train. Rather than celebrate the noble idea of a free paper on a train, the makers of Metro, Lite and London Paper should be sued for exacerbating an already bad situation. I have a feeling that by doing this, the rich but stressed people of London miss all that is good in life because they continue to live in their small worlds. If one is not reading they are having a pair of earphones plugged in their ears so as to have nothing to do with any body else. I love Africa, even in abject poverty people are smiling and making the best of their day. What an irony, the smiling people are inhabitants of the world’s poorest lands.

Black and Proud

2007-10-14T12:41:00.000-07:00

The big story this month was that of a scientist who has declared that black people are less intelligent than white folks. A celebrated (now infamous) scientist was ridiculed and widely condemned for comments he made about the black man’s intelligence. James Watson who is a winner of the Nobel Prize for his part in the unravelling of DNA claimed that black people were less intelligent than white people and added that the idea that "equal powers of reason" were shared across racial groups was a delusion. Although his claims were dismissed by most, this is not the first time I have heard of such claims. Some people (read white) claim that a black man would not have survived and developed the northern hemisphere with its adverse weather patterns because he does not have the brains to make the best of the situation. There are all kinds of stereotypes about black people and I wonder why this man was vilified, he is just taking the stereotyping to the next level. It is up to us to prove those propagating these stereotypes wrong by shaking off the images that are so associated with us.
I am a 37 year old black man, I live in South London with my wife (who is also a career woman) and 2 kids, I am a qualified architect with a reasonably good job, I am a Rotarian, my kids go to a private school, I don’t smoke, I don’t drink and yes I don’t do drugs. I dress smarter than your average white man on the street and I am average sized. If I were white, I would be your typical middle income earner that is acceptable to every body in society. Yet I am called all sorts of names, I am treated suspiciously, women cross to the other side of the street when they see me walking towards them and some won’t sit next to me on a train. But still I insist on breaking the stereotypical bubble. I refuse to accept that black people are less intelligent, that we cannot be educated and are incapable of bringing up a family.
This is not to say that black people have done nothing wrong, so often black people have been caught on the wrong side of the law, our leaders back in Africa behave like savages, they loot and stash away big amounts of money, as their people are dying. Their children fly first class and study in world renowned schools and universities as the kids of their constituents are fed on substandard education or die from preventable diseases. Yet it is our responsibility to stop the stereotype. It is no longer permissible for us to blame our ills on slavery or the injustices of a system.

Its Damn Boring

2007-09-22T16:27:00.000-07:00

When I arrived in the UK, I had a strategy. In order to beat off the routine and boring way of life here (Home-Train-Work-Train-Home), I needed to get in touch with fell Ugandans who know that a real man from the working class, doesn’t go home straight after work but takes a beer or catches up with old schoolmates as the evening rush subsides. My strategy included visiting the Ugandan High Commission in Trafalgar Square to get information about any social groups and/or networks for Ugandans in the UK. An unbusiness looking like gentleman sitting behind the counter at Uganda House who spoke English in the famous Luganda version told me that he knew about cultural (read tribal) groups like Baganda, Acholi and Banyankore and that even those met seldom. He probably has no idea how much, he has wounded my strategy and thrown my brains into panic gear. I have to come up with new ways of finding Ugandans otherwise I will die of boredom.

Coming to London

2007-08-20T16:24:00.000-07:00

I have spent much of this month trying to sort out my bearing. I never found it necessary to drive during my visits to London before. Now, that I am here and my missus works away from London (she works every where else apart from London and UK – what the hell are we doing in UK then), I need to find my way around South London especially the areas of Sutton, Croydon and Wallington behind the wheel. Apart from the 2 routes, one to Lodge School (to drop and pick Ryan) and the other to the supermarket which I have authoritatively mastered, I have wisely and secretly opted to use the Bus to all other places until I have figured out the treacherous one way system and loads of other things in the London traffic that I am not supposed to do. I love the idea of the Bus lane but I don’t know if this situational love will last once I figure out how to get around behind the wheel. I am sure I will find it harder to cope with the stress of running after buses and terminate my new found relationship with the moving box. I need some clarification. While I was growing up I was told that the double-decker buses (kabandole) Can someone explain to me how UK (of all countries) still finds these big moving boxes fashionable. Finally, I have fulfilled my long cherished opportunity to ride on one of those buses and for good measure I occupied the most advatanged seat – just above the driver – yes on the upper deck (phew!). The expression on my face as the box glides by the stationary vehicles in the other lanes is meant to torment and effectively draw all sorts of nugu from the other drivers.