Thursday, December 10, 2009

The Pearl’s Unsung Heroes.

Recently, following first the death of General Kazini, Cadet Brian Bukenya, Dr. Gray Turyakira, I was talking to a friend and as we talked about the carnage and how the nation was in mourning at the loss of some would-be great talent the nation had lost. My mind was transported to a project I have been working on for a while now. An investigative project that looks at some rather unusual things happening right under our noses. It started as a pet project when in college I decided that the shortest route to stardom was to find my own “Watergate”, an investigative piece to end them all:

Mujaasi Rosemary graduated with a Diploma and was, in a year, married to the love of her life. She was pregnant within a year and her first son was born a year after. He didn’t have much but he was a deft and adept worker. Operating a small shop in a peri-urban area, Martin was a man with a big dream. Over the years, Rosemary helped out in the shop while he started small side businesses and watched as they consequently collapsed. The lessons hurt but he always came back to the shop. Always back to where it all begun.

Two sons later, and a home built out of the proceeds from the small shop, Martin had secured a future for his sons. He had built his bride a house and had a small car to do some business for him. He often went out of town to Nairobi where he bought stock for his shop.

It was on one of these fateful trips that he met the man who would change his life. The army man told him of the glory and promise of being in the army and the super powers of working with intelligence. Like most men, he was drawn. He flirted with the idea. Once, he ran it by Rosemary who sat up in bed and told him that she had worked alongside him all this while and wouldn’t watch him leave her so wantonly for his “James Bond” fantasies. A short spell of illness of one of his sons seemed to remind him of his priorities. And he discarded the idea.

The phone calls with the new family friend would continue; discussions of business, possibilities, and opportunities.

As I listened to this woman tell me her story my heart froze and thawed at every turn in the tale. Her eyes are frozen over with a film of moisture. She has cried all her tears, she will cry no more. Her body is turned away from me but her eyes and face are turned to me; she looks at my hair constantly, almost like it reminds her of something. She often stops in the middle of her tale to sob, or to just be quiet. As a journalism student, you are told to be still and watch; to observe and never interfere with the story. I stoically hold my pen, and with an iron clad will hold my eyes firmly glued to the notebook on my lap. I notice how clean my pants are. They are out of place in her humble, dirt –ingrained sitting room. She sighs again.

One night at about 11:30PM Martin got a call. He asked why the caller had taken so long to inform him. He cursed as he left the house but made sure to tell Rosemary that his friend had called and that he was going out to meet him but would be back soon.

Martin never came back. His body was found decapitated and dumped in a swamp and his little car was discovered burnt beyond recognition. The money he had gone to collect was never found. The friend he had gone to see never ever called the family. He purchased his first piece of land after that.

As Rosemary relates this tale, the film across her eyes which fills in a wink breaks its banks and two long solitary tears roll down her face. They roll. And roll. Her body is wracked by sobs which she doesn’t bother to stop. She doesn’t touch her face at all. Looking at this woman who has lost her soul mate is bad enough but what about her two sons? And who will ensure her uncertain times are calmed? My own eyes fill with fear and horror at the thought that we are surrounded by such hideous monsters living amongst us.

His body was never found. The car was found in a swamp a few miles out of town, disserted and run down. In the minds of close family members there is no doubt

She has raised her boys as God – fearing, respectful, and sportsmen-like boys. When they are back from school, she can barely feed them. One is a Rugby player and the other likes to play Cricket. Energetic, tall and handsome with their father’s features, they are the light of her life. She lives for them, and they for her.

As I move out of the reverie I have an answer to this person, it doesn’t matter how many soldiers are killed, Martin, is a granite – solid reminder of the many, many fallen citizens whose stories are not being told because they are not army men.

This post is a salutation to all the women and families in this pearl of Africa that have been left without husbands, brothers, fathers because of a greedy, arrogant, pseudo-despotic leadership that tolerates the cold – blooded murder of its own citizens. Feeding on it’s own young. But Beware, there shall soon be a time of reckoning.

I did find out the army man’s name. Another post for another time.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

THE HOUSE OF WALKER EXPERIENCE | Johnnie Walker Tasting in Uganda

The crowd gathered around at 7 O’clock and with just a few minutes to spare till the evening begun it was an experience to remember. I was here to attend the Launch of the House of Walker experience in Uganda and it promised to be an evening to remember. The invite had been sent out by email and even though it seemed like a general invite the feel had the aura of a specially selected individual written on it.

The pyramids restaurant was resplendently adorned in light strings that gave the room the air of a far away place. You could have been anywhere in the world, learning about Johnnie walker. Every table seat had five glasses placed in front of it for the five House of Walker brands: Red, Black, Green, Gold and Blue labels. The feel of ambient music transformed the venue to a surreal place.

When Christopher Othieno, House of Walker ambassador, and one of only two men in the region, started to speak the room fell to a silent glowing space with people dressed in all shades of formal and semi formal dress. All eyes were fixed on him. He began by telling of the rich history of Johnnie Walker and the inspirations of the House of Walker brands. What were the differences between a single malt whisky and a grain whisky? Why blends like Johnnie Walker exist.

Basically a grain whisky is a whisky made from maize or wheat. And a single malt whisky is whisky made purely from malted barley that comes from a single distillery.

The idea of blended whisky was made famous by John ‘Johnnie’ Walker who started brewing at the tender age of 15 in his grocery store in Kilmarnorck in Ayreshire Scotland. When he died in 1857 his son Alexander I took over the brewery and, combined with the good teaching his father had given him, the passion he had for the business, the skills and the vigour of youth, he set about brewing a whisky: “Of such a quality that nothing in the market shall come before it”

In 1909, Alexander II released the Red Label whisky. A blend of 35 whiskeys, transforming the original Extra Special Old Highland Whisky into a world class brand that was both sweet and smoky with a dash of spice on the palette. As he sampled the Red Label, Christopher spoke about this drink that is the world’s No.1 selling whisky in over 200 countries worldwide. A drink that introduces the discerning man from other drinks to a league where he can savour his days. In my mouth, unseasoned as it is, the drink left a harsh brash feeling on my tongue and almost a manly sense about it. The feeling you get when you have just been slapped by a man stronger than you and you can still tell he was merciful while he did it.

It takes 40 different whiskies or Scotches (the term is used interchangeably) and 12 years of brewing and ageing to produce Johnnie Walker Black label. The notes that guide the making of this deep amber drink today were made by Alexander I. Each scotch, a unique creation of its climate, region and distiller. Each of these whiskeys must at least be 12 years old. It is deep. I take a sip and I feel my neurons tell my fingers to put the glass down and roll my eyes. My nose catches the whiffs of smoke Christopher is talking about. The earthy peaty undertone is something I guess I will discover as the night goes on, or not because the only peat I will taste will be at the bottom of the pit into which I will fall if I don’t stop drinking this smooth, indecipherable, rich, dark whisky. The roof of my mouth, called in this complex business a palette, manages to grasp onto some fruit and the slightest dash of vanilla.

Christopher says this drink is a statement of elegance, style, mystery. I look at my neighbour whose grin clearly says he is not mystified, he has hit a jackpot high! And he is not coming down! The man next to Mark, as I discover later he is called, has already downed all his drinks and looks at the ambassador with a blank look as he talks about mystery; because his dilemma of tastes just grew bigger. I was beginning to see black.

Then there was a water break at which point Christopher took the opportunity to announce quite smugly that a whisky drinker never gets sloshed. “That’s why you don’t swig it. Those guys who drink beer can get high, you must always have one finger on the ground” I curse under my breath because I sense that he is about to plunge us into another sensory assault. You see, the way to take whisky is not to just put your mouth to the glass, create a tunnel between your lips, and suck. Thats for primordial homo sapiens [read pedestrians]. Apparently, you have to Nose it (use your nose to sense its aroma; the verb smell is vile in whisky tasting), let it hit the palate (taste it; *rolling my eyes at this one) and then as if swallowing is not enough, you have to wait for the finish (the length of time the flavour of the whisky remains. The longer the finish, the older richer and smokier the whisky)

Christopher resumes his ambassadorial stance; stern, unflinching like a man about the training of the planet’s next set of frontier defenders. It is with a deep somber voice that he starts to talk about Green Label. Defined as the “definitive malt whisky”, it is taken from the best malt whiskies from the Scottish Hihglands. With over 500 years of malt history to draw on, the House of Walker produced this 15 year old blend for both deluxe and malt drinkers. After swishing my mouth with water at the break my tongue feels relieved and so this drink hits it with the full floral sensation. I later learn that it is actually the fruits: fir, oranges, sherrywood that give it this zing and freshness. My mind is talking to my hands. I should put my finger in my neighbor’s ear and feel his temperature because I feel like the things about me are all of a sudden in a different world. Everyone looks excited and they are chattering. We are 10 at each table and people who initially sat as strangers have thawed and are talking about why the journalist in the back row has no drinks in his glass, or why Christopher all of a sudden appears like James Bond sharing state secrets.

In 1805, John “Johnnie” Walker was born. In 1995 to celebrate a century of his life the House of Walker released a special blend: Gold Label. A creamy rich blend, this rich gold-hued drink tastes soft, or is it my tongue, am not sure but it slips on my tongue like it is tumbling into my belly with a final mushroom of warmth splashing throughout my stomach when it lands. And almost explodes in my mouth like a gentle splash of raisins, toffee and a light cream. What is interesting to see is how it is served. The gold Label is brewed for 18 years. The perfect serve for Gold Label is to freeze the bottle for 24 hours prior to drinking. Then serve in a frozen glass with the finest bitter chocolate. There is about to be a mutiny of my senses as the chocolate hits my mouth because it feels so rich, like I am indulging and, like my mouth wasn’t built big enough for this job.

Mark has by now started talking; asking about what I do for a living, and golf. I am not going to tell him that this drinking business is for people well out of my league. I am thinking about who on earth deserves to drink this kind of liquid sunshine. Yes, liquid sunshine is what George Bernard Shaw called it.

Then a white man in a kilt appears. I am impressed at the ambassador’s transformation. I lean to my neighbour and ask, “Does Johnnie Walker make you do that?”, I ask almost mutedly. The Johnnie Walker Blue Label is unwrapped complete with its certificate of authenticity. The age of this blend is undisclosed, and the satin lined box in which it lies speaks of a peerless pedigree. Made from the rarest whiskies in the world, it has 16 whiskies and looks dark; fully gold.

“This is it. It is the crème de la crème. It’s what separates the chicken from the peacock. It’s what separates the lizard from the crocodile. This is the ultimate drink,” says Christopher right before he asks us all to rinse our mouths with fresh cold water.

As the gorgeous waitresses clad in gold pass around pouring this most expensive whisky into everyone’s glass, he introduces a man I later learn is called Ivo Buratovich, the Managing Director, Uganda Breweries, to talk. He is in a kilt! Oh now I can see why the ambassador had become the Scotsman. He is a “Keeper of the Quaich”; such a highly respected position among whiskey drinkers because it is the equivalent of the tribal council in that Mel Gibson movie based out of Latin America.

“The Blue” as I fancy it being called by enthusiasts, is taken neat. The experience, sublime.

As I walk away from the grande silhouette of the Pyramids Casino, I have two thoughts in my head, how do you create a legend? And how do I become the man who deserves to drink Johnnie Walker?

The first one I was in no state of mind to contemplate unless I perhaps asked that man in a kilt. The second thought though tickled me. By the time I got home that evening after the 10 minute walk from the taxi stop I knew the answer. If Johnnie Walker was a drink for men who had a passion for excellence, men in pursuit of excellence, men who saw the drink in themselves and not the themselves in the drink, then I would do as thousands of men had done over the years: I would keep walking.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Poetry And Why You Should Keep Your Saturday Evening Free

I remember when a Mr. Ochieng once walked into class on the first class day of Senior 5 (HSC) and told us that Poetry was “the best words in the best order”

He went on to tell the class how it was also the most condensed form of speech expressing the most sublime precepts.

There were eight of us in that class… aahhhh the good old college. There were 33 boys in the Arts Class and there only 8 of us offering Literature in English. It was a time when shining was something you did without trying.

Amongst those eight boys was one, notorious for being extraordinarily talkative. I talked a lot and in fairness, I still do but this brother could talk. So much the class called him ‘Mbuzi’. I always wondered whether it was because of his ability to ruminate of old grudges or it was the result of the over developed jaw muscles as a result of over practice [read talking too much].

Mbuzi and I are going to co-author this post with me; because he was awesome and also because he is new to blogger.

Ladies and gentlemen, give Drew a round of applause.

That class moulded us into most of what we are because we scraped for every bit of self worth we have. We owned that turf, we ruled that place.

Anyways, in the goings and coming of our time there, there emerged some people with a gift for poetry par excellence. And one thing led to another and the Lantern Meet of Poets was born. Today, a small group of three characters has achieved three recitals and is on the cusp of a bigger more creative recital than ever before. And the poetry that will define our age will come from these young lanterns.

I now ask you keep your Saturday 29/08/’09 evening free.

Monday, August 17, 2009

When The Fat Lady Sang...

No offense to the fat ones...
anyways, i went to this thing over the weekend where they were launching Tusker Project Fame; the anachronistic mixture between Big Brother and Idols. To get the show underway I found they were looking for talent to sing Karaoke and so.....

According to one blogger of note, I was not the worst but I will have you know [Heyrer] that no matter what "I will survive' which is what I wish I had sung but no, I ended up singing a beautiful rendition of The Everly Bothers' Crying in The Rain.

And to a paked house did those that are inherently in me but I never seem to know where the guts or the absence of sense to do them comes from.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Find the Angel

Is this Photoshopped or not?


How many types of issues do you think there are?

I was thinking recently and I pounced upon the idea that there might actually be an infinite number of issues. I mean 'issues' to refer to the deeply or mildly disturbing psychoses that people will almost inevitably possess. Presenting my list of 15 most disturbing issues:

1. Daddy Issues
2. Mummy Issues
3. Abandonment Issues
4. Sexual abuse issues
5. Intelligence issues
6. I-can't-keep-my-mouth-shut Issues
7. My-daddy-was-too-awesome-when-i-was-growing-up-so-now-I-cant-relate-to-any-man Issues
8. Am-broke-so-I-need-to-borrow-some-cash Issues
9. You-gotta-get-me-that-chic's-number Issues
10.Dude!!-you-gatta-hook-a-brother-up Issues
11.Control Issues[read as:Am-always-on-top issues]
12.Am-jealously-protective-of-my-friends Issues
13.Passive aggressive Issues [read as: you-came-late-to-work-so-amma-send you-an-email-with-the-boss-copied-in]
14.Who-could-possibly-be-calling-you-at-this-time Issues
And finally, my favorite
15.Am-sensitive-about-my-issues Issues

If you have any other "issue" suggestions please feel free to add them here. We'll see if we can find solutions and i will hang myself in order to escape some. However solutions are also welcome!

Have a nice week


*PS Tumwi reminded me: I-write-so-I-can-get-comments- Issues

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Johnnie Walker Ambassador

The Spartan with Christopher

I recently found myself standing next to and talking to Christopher Othieno. One of only two men in the region known as Johnnie Walker Ambassadors. A peerless connoisseur, and a teacher by training, Othieno is a fine speaker. Kenyan-born. Standing in his presence feels like a lot of the things I know matter little to the man I wanted to become. He has class, is irreverent, takes no hostages, and does what he does ruthlessly.

As we talked about how he was selected to become an ambassador, from his stay in Scotland, to his endeavours to teach a timeless tradition of exclusivity, passion, pursuit of excellence and desire for recognition, I see in this man a lot of the things I want to be, or at least , i hope to become.

As the end of the evening draws nigh, I see him gleam like a pastor preaching to new converts; like a mentor to a fresh batch of proteges. He is steady, firm, unflinching and a damn good speaker!

I think about mentors and proteges and how possibly the greatest mentor I have ever admired might leave me soon. The idea that the one person for whom you would move half the world will just up and go - creating panic, insecurity, heartache and disrepute looms over me. Like an axe over Antoinette.

I muse on the preponderance that if nothing else I will learn to be the best if nothing at all. But its not enough. Its not enough that they teach you to be the best. The movies lie to us when they say mentors hate their proteges outwardly but secretly love them. Mentors should be your friends, care about you enough to try and avoid breaking your heart. This is betrayal, of a high calibre, and there will be recriminations.

I look again at Christopher and I understand his dilemma. Tomorrow he will be on a flight back home and he might never remeber any of what happened here tonight. But for this chance I will to speak with him and ask him why he is the Ambassador for the Johnnie Walker Striding Man Society.

What drives him to be part of something so exclusive that even the people who should be part of it don't even know it exists? It is a society of men who appreciate that life is not easy but they have done their due diligence and paid their dues. Now they sit and 'exhale' [is what my mentor called it] and say

"I might not have achieved all my goals and targets but for today I will rest here and start tomorrow." They are driven by the idea that through perseverance any dream


can be realised.

We love our mentors. We are loyal. We are diligent because we believe in them; sometimes more than in ourselves. They have found their light and we hope that maybe, just maybe, we can borrow their light too; just a glimmer. But alas, we never can.

No We Can't

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

The New Job:

I am at a new job. Yes a new job, new colleagues, new beauties, new competition. The thing you enjoy about an old job is the competition is kinda taken care of. You have accepted the guy who has more game and you have completely trampled on the guys whose game isn’t even close to you.

I walk in every morning and think about how work will be so much fun and when I leave in the evening I want to drink a human’s spinal fluid coz it’s the only thing that will assuage my ravaged spirit. I feel violated. I feel like everything I believe in is sapped out everyday. So now to find a bitch whose spinal fluid to suck out. For those of you who are spineless, don’t worry, I won’t even come close.

But while on the subject of a new job I have wanted to post this SMS a friend of mine sent me a couple of weeks ago when she joined a foreign mission of one of the North African countries stationed here in Uganda. It read:

“Hi Buddy, meant to call you but no % (MTN ZONE) so it was not worthwhile. The new place is depressing, have to carry my own food, water TP!, no internet allowed, no flash disks, loo for Ugandans’ DIRRTY. No prospects for future development, no challenging work, just faxing, filing, photocopying and answering phone. Need another job.”

I looked at that text for so long that I begun to examine why the hell I had a job and was not just at home eating food and waiting for the big break where my creativity would earn me a million bucks. Then I think about how the Mrs. would throw me out faster than a used ******* (those of you who know my gutter mind can complete that but just in case you don’t, it completes as “douche bag”)

Anyways to all of you who are looking to change jobs, just think twice before your new boss wears the condom to screw you over.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Hostile Take - Overs

I went to attend some church thing recently. Now bro starts talking to me about God and how I view my life. Now to those of you who don't know the Spartakuss very well, I don't do church. Haven't been in a long time. I had made this trip to check out a certain beauty who had floored my wingman.

I walk in, do the tour and then they say 'one-on-one' time.

I look at this guy and say

"So……….." he smiles perches himself on a stool and peers at me through a rimless set of glasses. Looks mindless too.

"What do you want to do with your life?" he asks, seemingly amused. I tell him. I am working on a good master plan, to be the best Spartakuss can ever be and thus shatter the Spartakuss mould; which is based on the premise that i will live a valiant life and die an unrecognized death or be an unsung hero.

"I'll do whatever it is that will make me the best I can be," comes the clipped reply.

Dude looks at me. Perplexed. Yeah right nigger looks like he just got a bolt of lightning running through his trousers. It's so funny. I smile and I decide to tell him my theory on God and why for the time-being he and I are on the back burner.

I am the CEO of a company called 'My Life Ltd. '. I hire and fire. I promote and demote. In this company, I am the only one who molests the secretaries and gets away with it. I am also default head of all committees. However, I currently don't have a planning and budget control committee for the explicit reason that I fired them all. We work as a team, we shine together, numskulls wanted to show me up. The only committee I don't chair by default is the Pleasure and Satisfaction committee.That's handled by visiting experts. When Ceremonies committee meets or is receiving awards, the team effort is shared all around. Very synergy-driven, motivated, and one a man fighting arsenal. This company is built to last.

Let me tell you about this God guy on the other had.

He is the CEO of a large conglomerate called 'The Universe' Intergalactic. He runs his business on a nearly tyrannical business model. He, like me can hire and fire. Where I make small talk with the long-legged interns at the water cooler, dude makes chit chat to raven haired women by the spring, asking them to fetch him water and whatnot. He uses extreme manipulation to get his things sorted out.

Like the one guy he sent on a mission to retrieve a posse of his stock. Agent M gets the flock out of the enemy's territory and then instead of the express pick up train, the CEO decides on another 40 years of wondering while had the mail service deliver pittances in the form of sweet manna. My suspicion is that he didn't have enough remunerations so he wanted to cut down on numbers. Cut-throat I tell you.

And you can't judge me for feeling up young nubile things; ask him what happened with the Nazarene debacle. Dude felt up one intern with NO protection!! ! ! Who does that? And then coz the company threatened to fall apart he pulled the plug on a military plan he was working on to promote the aforesaid intern to be the mother of all mothers. Needless to say the Russian woman who has given birth to 59 kids isn't in the running.

And he is a bully. Its one thing to be insecure, it is another to say "I am a jealous CEO," or God, whatever you guys wanna call it. Did no one tell this guy that guys with small "things" buy big cars and failed fathers announce their arrival at home? He watched as, in middle management the David kid, a mere rookie rocked an age-old stalwart. I think finance failed to process Goliath's pension because of such a quick dispatch. And nobody said a thing.

And because of these and so many more reasons I am not interested in any stock this guy's company has to offer. He will begin talking of kneeling, begging and accountability books. He might even demand I subscribe to the nearest stock broker, who, going by current news might attempt to pulveroize my sphincter. My company is in good shape on any stock market, ask my Auditor. He, on the other hand needs to get his Climate Change, Middle East, Bahima legs, Basoga and PMS departments in shape, damn sectors are bleeding too fucking much.[no pun intended]

But more importantly why I won't even show up to those talks is because he is not interested in talking. He does not talk. He does not do mergers. He does not do splits or reverse-end engineering. He's in the business of hostile take-overs.

*PS: I gotta give the guy kudos for finally growing a pair and taking care of that Michael scenario. That shit could have harmed the worship market.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Fashion Tips

I was reading The Seductress Within and she wrote an article where she said 'women dress for other women and not men.' In giving advice to women who are just dressing to attract men, she put out a couple of pointers on what men really think about "too much clutter".

The line below caught my eye and made laugh very hard.

 If there are too many zippers, ties, buttons, straps…'s distracting and he will be intimidated thinking of how to get it off of you. Even if you don't want to sleep with him, you want him to imagine it.

I keep thinking about our Kampala fashionistas; all looking skunky and anorexic hanging around Mateos' attempting the hip look.

Friday, June 5, 2009

strong women

It is rumored that Bakiga women are of phenomenal strength. That they can do amazing things; one such tale goes that while tilling the land on the cold windy slopes of Kabale, the angles are so steep sometimes they are almost at 45 degrees.

On these hills they toil, sweat and work to feed their children, and in the end feed the country.

They are my quiet guardians, our silents she-roes.

For God and My country

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

The StreetSider…

I am currently reading this guy who is so totally hilarious I am lifting the best quotes from his posts and forming a whole post into them...

In no particular order, I love this guy's adjectival biceps. He flexes them and I have moments...
He reminds of what I want to become, a prolific asshole.

No. 1. As he talks of his Conscience in Pamella

"But the wind never sighs but I feel her gentle eyes turned on me questioning
And the eagle never cries but I hear her spirit in the sky turned to me beckoning
And the moon never beams but I am wafted away on dreams
To a far off land where we walk hand in hand
Talking about the things she never did see,
Talking, murmuring, laughing, talking
Talking till we tire the fire-colored sun back into the sea."

No. 2. His description of his first sighting of the antipop
"Teeth that are pearly gems of glowing exquisiteness, a skin so smooth and delicate when rain drops see themselves sliding off they weep and gnash their teeth, dimples that are bewitching pools of sooty darkness, eyes that turn your knees to toothpaste, curves that make virtual reality look like its not happening."

No. 3. What he thinks of the 27th comrade "When he walks it looks as if 27 hundred gangster leeches are fornicating furiously with his head."

No. 4. His acceptance speech for the Honest Scraps Award given him "
If you could roll this award into a joint and smoke it, you would be guaranteed a front seat at the Holy Ghost Concert with God Almighty shredding guitar and Jesus Christ on drums."

No. 5. "..
. I cannot begin to come close to being in the same constituency as describing the urge to maim and kill that engulfs me when some one mouths such garbage in my direction. It's an urge to do horrible and grossly disfiguring bodily harm. To gash and slash your chest open, rip your filthy heart out and stand over your warm corpse, face and arms covered in gore, cackling insanely at the night sky.

Basically never ask me if I am sure, I don't like it."

No. 6. The way he describes his domain; the Streetside: "... that harsh friendly land of far way-where angels and demons together play-where children are born old and grow young-where the sun is mist and rocks melt on your tongue-where idiots are wise-where philosophers are idiots in disguise and sallow faced regrets stand in line to stare in your eyes

Where the streets are paved with mirrors, and your past is reflected, life is resurrected, reconnected, respected, the journey re-begun, the race re-run, the thread re-spun…

For a child stands on the corner and whispers and if you listen very very carefully you will hear her say, "seek ye the truth and the truth shall set you free, for truth is a pathless land and you cannot reach it if you do not embrace your true self. So follow your instincts, find you inner light and let it be the one to guide you out of the darkness.""

No. 7. Then the guy who messed with him and told him he couldn't take criticism, or was it that he tried too hard: "Fine, let us assume for argument's sake that I am a narcissistic and immature so and so. So what, so was Oscar Wilde and I'd rather be an Oscar Wilde than an emotionally stable socially respectable accountant with a paunchy middle, a house in kitintale and 2.3 kids. Let us also assume, that I am preaching, that I want attention, who doesn't, in fact I don't know why I am even bothering to rationalize this guy's crap, and while I must say I have some measure of respect for a person who can come up with "gigantic self absorbed, self loathing baby", I am still pissed, I didn't even know how pissed I was till a few sentences ago, and when I get pissed, resolutions leap out of my way with amazing alacrity. You better sit tight punk coz the way ama feelin', yo bout to git served.

Now, listen to me carefully Mr. Unctuous Motherfucker With an Axe to Grind. Are you listening? You said you read this blog so I assume you are. You have messed with the wrong nigger, as my uncle Eliah would say, don't take a shit in the path of red ants and then start complaining when at night you feel them biting your scrotum."

No. 8. This whole post: Excerpt III; ON GAYS, FAGGOTS AND HOMO-SHE-XUALS.

No. 9. And somewhere near his very first post; an old classic: The Confused Confuser;... "If I may be so bold sir, I do not think the phrase "confused confuser" accurately captures this dynamic. Even if one could completely disregard the blatant grammatical absurdity of the term, one must admit that at any rate, it is a statement without reasonable paradigms. To confuse, one cannot be confused in oneself, one has to assume that the confusion is a deliberate effort on the part of the confuser and ergo the possibility of her also being confused as she successfully conducts this maliciousness is highly unlikely. On the other hand if it were possible that the confusion sprung out of a prima facie confusion on the part of the confuser, you still could not in all fairness lay any culpability at her door. If anything the resultant confusion on your part (and I say this with the greatest regret) reflects more your unfortunate susceptibility to confusion than it does her predilection to confuse. Either way sir, I am sorry. (Sits)"

Streetsider, I have mad respect for you. Just keep at it, you are hilarious.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Who Is This Man?

His Motto:

Give me where to stand, and I will move the earth. Archimedes (287-212 B.C.)

His Profile:

He is a Professor of Computer Science and holds a Ph.D. in Computer Science, and is currently serving as Dean, Faculty of Computing and Information Technology, (CIT) Makerere University. He is a member of Makerere University Senate and Council. Continuously demonstrating competence as a leader driven by the need to serve, respect and strengthen those he serves. He believes in building and strengthening institutions.

Under his leadership, the Institute of Computer Science at Makerere University transformed from a small unit with one academic programme, 28 students and an annual budget of USD $15,000 to a Faculty of Computing and Information Technology with 22 academic programmes, over 5,000 students undertaking degree programmes and an annual budget of over USD $7 million by September 2005 (within a period of four years only). Today the Faculty of Computing and IT budget is over USD $10 million.

At the national and regional level, he coordinates (multi- million dollar) projects and research programs aimed at building specialized computing and ICT Human Resource Capacity in Africa; its universities and other tertiary institutions plus the private and public sectors

He is a consultant in ICT research, training, advisory services and policy and a recognised expert on e-governance.

He is the Chairman and Managing Director of ICT Consults Ltd, a prestigious ICT consultancy firm.

He is currently the Executive President of Connect Uganda Foundation, a non profit making organization incorporated in Uganda in 2003 with the overall objective of stimulating new firms and creating jobs in the knowledge-intensive sector, by linking entrepreneurs and innovators with research and development, service providers, venture capitalists and partners.

He is the Executive President of Uganda National Academy of Computing and Internet Technologies, an association that brings together all computing/ ICT faculties/ institutes in all public and private universities to address common objectives and challenges.

A member of the Presidential Investors Roundtable- B.P.O. working group and was also a member of the ICT working committee of the 1st Presidential Investors Roundtable.

His Education:

  • Ph.D. in Computer Science, University of Bergen, Norway 2000
  • Post Graduate Certificate in Public Relations, University of Minnesota, Minnesota 1999
  • Post Graduate Certificate in Administration, University of Bergen, Norway 1999
  • Post Graduate Certificate in Business Management, Sofia University, Bulgaria 1998
  • Postgraduate Diploma in Mathematical Modelling, University of Trondheim, Norway 1998
  • Post Graduate Diploma in Economic Modelling, University of Trondheim, Norway 1997
  • M.Sc. in Computer Science, University of Bergen, Norway 1996
  • M.Sc. (Mathematics)-Coursework, Makerere University, Uganda 1995
  • B.Sc. (Mathematics), Makerere University, Uganda 1994

His Expertise:

A distinguished academic, researcher, leader and manager, he lectures courses in Computer Science, Networks, Information Systems and Software Engineering at all levels including Doctoral levels.

He has supervised over 50 masters' students and over 80 postgraduate diploma students to completion and is currently supervising several graduate students both at Masters and PhD level. His plan is to have 100 PhD holders in Computing & IT related courses by 2012.

As Dean, CIT he has accumulated experience in staff training and retention in an African University setting. He manages today over 200 staff and a student population of over 5000 on degree programmes in Computing and ICT disciplines.

With over sixteen years of teaching experience under his belt, a peerless educator and in many ways the man of his time.

His Awards:

Between Himself, His Company - ICT Consults Ltd., and CIT his most prestigious awards are:

  1. In January 2009, Prof. Baryamureeba was considered for inclusion in the ''2000 Outstanding Intellectuals of the 21st Century'' by the International Biographical Centre, which is scheduled for publication in early 2010.
  2. The '2008 HP Technology for Teaching Higher Education Grant'' was awarded to CIT the 'in appreciation for its commitment for student success and for seeking innovative ways to transform teaching and learning through the effective use of technology.
  3. Appointed an honorary member of the International Association of IT Governance Standards (ITGOVS), in November 2008. Honorary Membership to ITGOVS is by invitation only and is extended to the top professionals in this area, both from the corporate world as well as the academic world.
  4. 2nd Runner-up, Presidential Science Awards, Science and Technology Excellence Award in September 2008, in recognition of his innovative approach to institutional and human capacity development in computer science by the President of the Republic of Uganda.
  5. ICT Consults Ltd received 10th Platinum Technology Award for Quality and Best Trade Name, July 2008.
  6. 'Top ICT Educator/ Academic' Award in Africa for 2007 under the theme "Making the African Century a Reality", at the 9th Annual African ICT Achievers Awards.
  7. IBM made a gift in his honor to the United Nations (UN) Foundation in support of Nothing but Nets, a grassroots campaign to save lives by preventing malaria in December 2007.
  8. "The International Star Award for Quality in the Diamond category" - April 2006 in Paris, France. ( in recognition of Excellence in Leadership and Business Management; Quality and Excellence; and Technological Innovations and Expansion.
  9. Professional of the Year 2005 – British Council Award. An award mainly for achievers, mentors and inspirational managers who have contributed immensely to the management of their organizations as well as International communities.
  10. The 2005 Presidential Science Award Cycle: He was also recognized for his efforts in spearheading ICT training, research and consultancy services in sub-Saharan Africa.
  11. International Arch of Europe Award for Quality and Technology in the Diamond Category- February 2005, Frankfurt, Germany.
  12. The ICT Quality Summit International Award- New York, USA on 21st June 2004.
  13. The 2003-Century International Quality Era Award- May 2003, Geneva, Switzerland.
    1. The Key Milestones of his career:

  • In 1996 he finished a two year M.Sc. in Computer Science in a record time of 8 months;
  • In 2000 he graduated with a PhD and had the best PhD dissertation that year at the University of Bergen;
  • In 2000 discovered the Barya function;
  • In 2000 at the age of 30 he was the youngest PhD holder at Makerere University;
  • In 2000 he became the 1st Ugandan to obtain a PhD in Computer Science;
  • In 2001 at the age of 31 he was appointed Director of the Institute of Computer Science and became the youngest Director in the History of Makerere University;
  • In 2005 at the age of 36 he was appointed Dean of the Faculty of Computing and IT and became the youngest Dean in the history of Makerere University;
  • In 2005, he spearheaded the construction of the largest computing building in Africa with 12,500 sq metres of space worth over USD$ 20 million and was funded from internally generated funds in the Faculty of Computing and IT. Previously he had spearheaded the construction of the Faculty of Computing and IT Building (Block A) worth 2500 sq metres.
  • In 2006 he was appointed a full Professor at the age of 37 making him the 1st Professor of Computer Science in Uganda and the youngest Professor in sub-Saharan Africa;
  • In 2006 he raised from the rank of Associate Professor to Professor in a record time of less than three (3) months;
  • In 2007 he received the 'Top ICT Educator/ Academic' Award in Africa for 2007;
  • In November 2008 he was included in the 2009 Edition of Who's Who in the World; a global distribution relied upon by business leaders, journalists, academics, and other professionals for its accuracy and currency of information.

The Man:

Professor Venansius Baryamureeba.

Dean, Faculty of Computing and IT, Makerere University.


Truly a look at the future.


Friday, May 8, 2009

Facebook On My Kabiriti!

Only in Kampala, the city of cool, do these things happen.


You can now update your facebook status from your mobile phone. Not your high end programmable phone with a camera and I don't know whatever; I mean a low down and dirty kabiriti that has fallen in the pit a couple of times!

Jon Gosier, a business entrepreneur extraordinaire founded has been busy! And so today he went live with developed by Mr. Felix Kitaka, a young brilliant incubator at Appfrica and student at Makerere University' Faculty of Computing & IT

" facilitates, mentors and incubates entrepreneurs in software in East Africa and Uganda. It offers a physical space with a solid internet connection, servers, software and computers that allows students and recent graduates a place to develop their ideas in a constructive environment…"

Dig this, the place is complete with mentors!!

"… student projects are refined and prepped to help them secure funding and launch sustainable, profitable businesses. This project, loosely modeled after Paul Graham's Y Combinator, is better known as Appfrica Labs."

And I just lifted this off their site because its not so easy to paraphrase what they were saying.

"Appfrica Labs is a for-profit incubator and software development firm currently based out of Kampala, Uganda. The mission is to offer opportunities and work experience for East African software entrepreneurs so that they can then use their talents to bolster the growing local markets by offering products and services. Appfrica picks up where East African colleges leave off by offering hands-on experience in programming languages like Java, C++, C#,…."

You should check them out. And my life will never be the same again. Ever!

Oh I had forgotten you wanna register, right?

Ok you have to sign up at:

… Till then …

Thursday, May 7, 2009




Revenge Of The Mrs.

I love hair and I adore women with great hair because it allows me near their necks. Allows me to breathe them in, kiss them tenderly; to run my tongue ever so lightly along the nape of their neck and watch them purr, shiver and shudder. At some point in my life I ran a women's hair salon and I did learn pretty much everything about women's hair. I could do everything right through from washing to setting, and styling. Out of courtesy and as matter of private appeal I never did the "retouch". As the only guy in a salon in our little trading centre of Seguku, I was the main attraction. But it was, against what I believed to go into my customers' private business which is what retouching women's hair is all about.

You can tell an awful lot by what hides in there; the night she slept without bed sheets and her amour cajoled her into love play, there's sponge layers for that; the night she frolicked in the sand on the beach left seaweed or sand, [not to be confused with the building sand pile up from the roof; different textures, coarseness and weight] and more recently her experimenting with hair products melted all the above into an impenetrable maze, even fleas and lice cant get it, but neither can the dandruff get out.

The only thing I love more than hair is making love to beautiful 'IT'. 'IT' = Hair.

The most amazing feeling of all is when you run your hand through her hair; or for our kinky-haired sisters, when your hand passes on top of her hair. What? No, it can't pass. It won't go through unless your fingers are as straight as rods. Say what? Yes finger hardening is what I said. That is what you have to go through. For emphasis, the first statement of this paragraph was referring to women of a non-African extraction. Now that that's cleared…

But I digress, so before the Mrs. {I am kicking the bitch out} went on rampage and decided to infect me with something from South America, I must, in fairness say, I triggered it off.

You know those moments when you are so heated in passion. I hadn't seen her in a few days, had texted back and forth furiously, and had promised each other long passionate kisses and yes, a firm "chao." In the goings and comings of life, as in all sad movies, we kept missing each other; by minutes, by hours and then by days. To put an end to this drama I decided I was going over to hers. Just to see her. Like a man should.

The drama begins.

She was in the house when I got there, and immediately hot things were afoot. Kissing passionately, rubbing and grinding, her nearly ripping my buttons off (No, unlike you guys, I like my buttons on my shirt, where they came on) and me quickly and blindly untying the wrapper around her body. No underwear. Yay!

So we twist and turn and play cat and mouse until finally we are both exhausted and we settle in our mutual favorite position. Me in my socks, kneeling behind, she up against the wall with legs slightly apart. At first it was a slow motion; tender, loving, spice and everything nice. As the Mrs. got closer to nirvana she bent more and more towards the wall. Basically to allow for deeper reach.

In my excitement I grabbed onto the only thing I could find/ hold onto coz if you have been back there, fact is your stomach has to do a lot of work to keep your torso from keeling over; and my abs are not what they used to be.

So I reached, and I grabbed. I tugged to make sure it was firm, and it felt fine. Her head bucked and her back arched, in my view, in pleasure.

It snapped.

I froze. The moans went dead silent in her throat. I know a Ferrari can accelerate from 0-100 Km/ph in under 10 seconds but there should be a measure for the fastest erection decelerator. Seriously!


Am kneeling behind her in my socks, with her weave in my hand and my mouth open, so open it's falling by gravity. Am in shock! I didn't know she had extensions!!!


She turns and looks at me slowly. Takes me all in and, with a sigh of amalgamated despair and disgust, slumps onto the bed.


is what I am. Kneeling there, knowing nothing, my arm slowly falling to my side, fist tightly clenching "the IT"

Now you know how you hear of old tales of revenge and fury. I now know where deep-rooted feuding comes from. It's from moments like these. Out of fear I feel my anus release a little 'doti'; the little one that's like a far away steam engine whistle. I am about to faint….


But in my defense she told me she never wore make up and there was nothing unnatural about her body. She never oils, or cleanses or does any of that "girly shit," she said to me. She can't lie to me and get away with it. Not me!

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Infected for Revenge

My girlfriend has infected me with Omusujja Gwe'Mbizzi (Swine Flu)! I am totally going to get her back I mean seriously nobody gives me shit and gets away with it.

Ok yes, I went shopping and I bought a girlfriend. Get over it. So when I visited last weekend, the future Mrs. Spartakuss [such a long name] said "Honey you got no clothes. Do you wanna wear this shirt?" whence she pulled out a tight bright T-shirt.

I pause and look at her, "are you serious?"

"Yes" the big doe eyes widen and she looks up into my eyes.


"Coz it looks nice on your frame babe,"

The narrow slits that are my eyes thin a little more. I have never worn the darn thing, how would she know I look good in it? How?

Anyway I'm not a vindictive bastard so I make to wear it. But as I pull it over my head my eye catches something. I take it off and take a closer look. It has a little brown thing that looks like a little gob. Like someone snooted in the damn thing! I don't bring it up coz I am thinking she did it and doesn't remember.

So anyway two days later i.e. Tuesday morning I wake up to an unfamiliar feeling in my nostrils. They feel clogged. I try my breathe-in-all-the-air-in-your-space technique which normally scares anyone in bed with me. But I cant and nearly die halfway. I have a freaking cold!

I get up, dress, and as I go through the motions I am trying to find the culprit. I am running a background search of all my databases. Bloody long weekend!

Remember I have a girlfriend, so am not straying.

Then as I walked into the office it struck me, that snoot on the shirt.

She had made me wear a shirt SOOO...! infested with Swine Flu germs that they were able to infect me even when it was dry and pressed!

Bitch wants me dead….

Sunday, May 3, 2009


I was tagged by this here woman Sybella and so when it all came down tothe matter I remembered beeeme had tagged me too but I have been negligent about responding to people's needs. But here goes:

  1. I believe the Baganda tribe has the greatest legacy of all the peoples of this country. We [us, non kingdom people] will never see, or know, the glory and the true heritage of having a kingdom dynasty almost 4 centuries old. Or being part of something large, powerful and disorganized.

  2. My most embarrassing moment in my life was during my Senior Four Physics Final Practical Exam. The exam required to measuring sand and finding a balance. Being the best in my class made me panic; and I wet my shorts. Right there. They brought me a basin to stand in for the rest of the exam so the pool wouldn't spread. That shit messed with my head.

  3. I don't talk to or entertain relationships with virgins. Some people think its harsh, I think of it a safeguard against something I will tell you later.

  4. I don't E.V.E.R. let people touch my head or my face. I wear glasses and y'all know how that gets. Unless we are intimate and even they cant touch my head.

  5. I hate football.

  6. The third initial in my tattoo stands for the name of a guy who saved my life - Thrice! When he saved me the last time, I took his name so I would always remember.

  7. I secretly believe my calling is to be a preacher because I'm a gifted speaker but, like Jonah, I am running away from it consciously. We'll talk when he has a better deal!

  8. I find that I can't relate/stand people who can but are too lazy to speak English properly. I begin to secretly resent their laziness, and then eventually cut them out of my company and my life. Damn bad influences!

  9. When I date a woman I fully submit myself to her will, thinking nothing else. When I leave I never look back. My form idea of immortality does not entail salt pillars.

  10. I am a terrific cook and I relate to people a lot depending on how well I perceive they can cook, or appreciate good food.

  11. I love eating- the smells, the aromas, the sound of sizzling butter on the pan, shiny knives in a cabinet, bright silver pans, polished cutlery, and the scent of 6, 7, 8, or 15 different food types served out.

    I would like to tag Mjay, Valentia and the Rogue King.

Monday, April 27, 2009

The Morning After…

Say what you want but there is no denying the fact that the morning after is never what you expected the night before.

Case 1:

While you were having dinner and sipping wine she was looking at you from across the room. And you delayed the inevitable meeting for as long as possible. When eventually you got to talking to her, she asked "Does it always take you this long to act on something you like?" your response; "I am careful about what I want - because I always get what I want." She smiles knowingly and all through the evening seems flawless. The smiles, the laughter, the moment she touches your arm and leans into your ear "I'll be right back, don't go anywhere." You're standing and so the suit you borrowed looks dashing on your frame. She looks up. Into your eyes, and there is no hiding it. She is floored! The final moment of the evening;

Where are do you stay?

Aaaahhh…..At my place?

Where is that?

Why, do you wanna come over?

No, so I can drop you…

We are going to yours, no?

And who can say no to that huh? Who? Anyway I don't know any son of a gun that would.

Resolution: So you get up in the morning and it then that you see that she has brown teeth and yes, she was wearing 4 ½ inch heels last night. But you are only 5'1"?! WTF?!

Case 2:

8:24pm: You are out having coffee with friends, chatting and jazzing[*distasteful word] about the connection between girls, really hot girls and coffee. Well that's another post altogether and all of a sudden the ex walks in. She smiles at you. Wonders where you've been all this time and how you've been! You smile back, do the introductions and tell her she is looking hot. Smiling quietly, she sits down and asks to wait with you. She is waiting for someone. It's fine. She orders. For a Double Mocha. The waiter says "I beg your pardon."

She repeats it "I want a Double Moochaa (read "ch" as in church and "aa" as in butt-'er' )." You bury your head in your cup and avoid eye contact with everyone on the table. You didn't tell her anything about your coffee habits while you were dating. Or how she is now on the cusp of never being accepted.

9:45pm: The restaurant is closing. It's been a great night, good conversation, awesome food. As you head out, "Ok, who am I dropping off and where?!" Everyone piles in and you drop them all off. She is riding shot-gun. After the last drop off she is still in the car, so you ask the million dollar question "And where might I drop you off?"

"You know where to drop me off", she says, looking at you in a sideways glance. At her place, you drop her off and, kiss her….

Resolution: You will be rudely reminded again why she is your ex. It was always the morning breath, and the fact that she couldn't wiggle her damn waist that made you leave her. Now you dun go and be treated to the same experience - AGAIN!

Case 3

The elegantly dressed lady across the table from you is clearly not from around here. The outfit looks severely planned. METICULOUS. Her hair, her nails, the almost transparent lip gloss, the peep-toe Gucci pumps and the wonder bra - that is now uplifting more than just her cleavage because the uplift has spread across the table into your pantaloons. SEXY. Cell phone ringing. "Mission Impossible" score ringtone. CLASSY. Picks up and starts talking. Beautiful speech, almost British. She is taking a Spanish omlette, black coffee and a glass of carrot juice. TRAVELLED

"Come down and join me for breakfast." Silence. "No its no bother at all. We'll have breakfast and then I can pass by the bank and pick half of the money now. You can collect the rest by end of business today. Aaaahh…wait, let me see…OK, I give you 12 million now and the 60% later? Good. Ok then so hurry up and join me then." RICH "Where? I'm down by the railway station. Opposite Rainbow Arcade, after Club Cascades, and Club Rouge. Yeah just down there you'll see it. There's a billboard saying *ghee TV *Lyve the game." LOCAL

The ambulance siren can be heard in the distance, you lie on floor, eyes rolled to the back of your head with the sausage you were eating lodged in your throat. The doctor says you can go home in the evening. Your sister says she'll come over and say hullo; see how you are doing. She'll come with a friend. She walks in. You pass out…

Resolution: 'The Ghee' is your sister's new found friend. And yes, money can't buy you everything.

Case 4:

You split after a long and drawn out battle. It was painful. The evenings, the mornings, the afternoon. You were in pain. You missed her. You cherished her. You loved her. Fighting everyday the decision to grovel and beg you had overcome the most treacherous period; the death zone. 6 months of hell, a broken heart and wallowing. It took every joule of energy, and cost every self-respecting friend. It was a time to never be forgotten.

But all of it did not hit you till the morning after. The day you woke up and there was no phone call or text, or IM or email. No contact. No her. That night had been the perfect night. Stars, a slight chill wind, the lights of the city in the distance, the trauma within much closer. The dark cloud hang like a guillotine on a fragile tether and when it fell, the fat lady had sung and I felt my soul in the toilet bowl, being flushed.

For the first time in years I woke up that morning without an erection.

No Resolution. Get the damn Erection back!!

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Limp . Dead . Men

So what really is the truth? Is the male libido really not as charged as we all like to believe (and if that’s the case what’s up with all those guys chasing girls all over the place) Or is it just a small group of guys who have evolved into a “not all about sex specie” I’d really like to know." is the final paragraph of the incurable romantic's ruminative post. For many years she held the view that men were vagina-eating, p***y-hunting beasts. Now in her candid discussions with guys, she finds out it’s not at all as it appears.

Excuse me briefly


*{Thundering slap delivered to B2B for smirking his lips and having that satiated grin on his face}

After reading the post I got to thinking, is it really true? has the age of the virile man come to its near end? Are we facing extinction as we know it? Has the end of an era finally come? I knew somewhere lurking in the back of my mind that this is what the dinosaurs must have felt when the ice age started.

Don’t get me wrong I believe men should be chivalrous, caring sensitive and tactful in this age and era of diplomacy

, but I also know that the age-old adage "Power recognizes Power" holds truer today than ever. Aggressiveness, brutishness, guile, sheer force, deception and immediate gratification; all classic male values; all more pronounced and as needed today as they were 200 hundred years ago when Europe was in turmoil. [Hail Napoleon!!]

Here is what worried me, a guy am an avid reader of, a guy who in many ways manages to contextualize my own conundrums in his writing said it too. right here:


I find that the suggestion or the promise of sex is much more of a turn on to me than the actual act. You might even have inferred that from the way I write about sex.

The thing about bachelor's conundrum or scribbles as he prefers to be called, is he has over the years grown to love the art of flirting. The moment you meet a new possibility. The smile. The chit chat. The thrill of the hunt. You, making the decision to take her number, she hoping to God that you'll call back.

And you, never calling back.

I think the Hollywood/Emancipation movement has gentrified the whole essence of 'the chase'. You know what I’m talking about. The chase. Because there is so much advice out there on the number of ways in which men deceive women and how chivalrous overtones often bear mind-blowing realities [no pun intended] has women on the edge being wary, sarcastic, and jaded. So men find themselves tired of the entire "Proving I am not like other guys" syndrome because in the end, women fall for the same old things...they've just learnt how to be politically correct.

They tell you they are looking for X but they are actually looking for Y:

1. Humor and wit = Dude you're broke but you got looks and are a tad funny.

2. Exposed = Wealthy, rich, traveled.

3. Well read= Rich family; powerful enough to have sent him to good schools.

4.Intelligent= Any guy shady or obtuse enough to half quote anything; or a genuinely intelligent guy.

5. Deep= A guy whose insecurities prevent him from being open (like all men) and whose coping mechanism is to be quiet. Hoping that asking no questions means you won’t be asked any.

6. Sexy= ( quiet! We all know they say they want the toned, ripped, six-pack mojo but) A guy who can get it up. Women like to be picky but in reality, they take what they get. Extra points if its visible that in her presence he kind of loses control of his appendage.

And so in the end 1,000 years of evolution and civil order have added nothing to us. Our women still want the boy whose father had more cows, who shrewdly conned the villagers out of their land or who has a reputation and many times , the new guy about whom no one knows a thing. And, if, like in those olden days, your rep won't let any girl in the village marry you, you go to the next village. Often this is explained away as "well, you might be related to everyone here" but really 'no girl in the village will marry your cheating, lying, two-bit, cheap-as-hell, wife-beating, ass'.

But the girl in the next village doesn't know that, so she will marry him.

Yeah we have grown tired of all the shenanigans that women put us through: the tears, the dough, the brain-cell-killing-crappy-music-playing-clubs, the friends[I mean do you have to be the hottest girl in your clique, always?], the forced abstinence. Its a challenge, the chase is good but frankly, after the Critical P***y Point (C.P.P.), we come to the realization that it all just tastes the same.

So we have evolved into an apathetic breed of men who just won't be bothered to hound out anything apart from football, status, money, the adoring look in the eyes of a woman who we know we do not deserve and will do nothing to keep, the promise of sex, and Prison Break {BTW dude, how do you pass up time with your girl to download PB? How?! *Slapping Dante and DK, who are strapped on chairs, repeatedly in righteous angst}

Till then.

PS: Do you know the reason why when you ask a Ugandan whether they eat matooke they just

Apparently Matooke has anti-depressants which kick in when the word "Matooke" is said. So they can't help it.

Explains all that Mzungu anger at the bland, pale looking plantain meal.