SPARTAKUSS

Move Over Apple: Sony now moves into commodities

2011-11-21T23:03:00.000-08:00

"Money has no sex...we are all in bed with it. A few with more *somes than others." Davis Musinguzi [Twitter: @Davisthedoc]

The man posted it in his "za twita" and I almost #died. Anyways, more on that later. But one can see the essence. We are all in bed with money, and some people have twosomes, others threesomes, others foursomes. Golola Moses just lets them hang on it, swing, and sing "siporingi". It didn't make sense when he said it at the time, but with all this load shedding and the global economy almost becoming as reliable as an old man's erection (which reminds me of a sweet joke Okonkwo's youngest wife makes about his guns that don't shoot in Things Fall Apart, prompting him to take out his rifle old and shoot), it follows that companies will look to expand production and diversify revenue streams.

When Sleek said here, that the one thing in Uganda that was all the rage was NRM sugar I thought he was joking. But when I learnt that M-7 traveled to Israel and was meeting with Israel top leadership not to discuss arms but economic support I had a change of heart. I knew my man Sleek was onto something. I assumed Rutanyarahansi had taken his long-waged threat to its ultimate conclusion: He had decided to export a finished product from Uganda. No its not a joke, the electricity we send to Kenya and Rwanda is not complete - it lacks load-shedding [for finished product ask Ugandans]

Anyway, I was quite proud of the man. But I was soon to discover that we had been played. You see when Sevo met with the Israelis, there was a Mossad ex-chief there who attended the meetings. I suspect this man took Sevo's finished product which was most delicately prepared at the high altar of Ugandan agriculture; our country's collective farm (dear old Rwakitura (which has a wiki page BTW)) and sold us out to the damn Japanese. Whilst I suspected this, I had never expected for them to hit us with such force so soon. Which leads me to conclude they outsourced to the China.So imagine my shock when I came face to face with this horror:

I mean, I know Apple decided to go into Lions, Leopards and the rest of the Feline Family, the New Vision moved from a crappy website to an even crappier website, MTN Mobile Money became like a campus chic whose phone number is never on after you buy her chips and chicken twice, Umeme... &*$#@%%^&*(&I^$^#$^**!#@#@.(That's wing dings, so no one gets arrested). I get it we are all trying to make a buck, but really?!!

OK, wait for our retaliation.

Have a nice day!

The Urban Legend Party and Bad Black's Dollars

2011-11-19T11:54:00.001-08:00

For those of you who weren't there at the ULK celebrating one year party a lot of things went down.

Well for starters me and the Good Doctor walked down there after judging the 3rd Annual National Inter-University Female Public Speaking Contest. A mouthful you think? Well, I wish the contestants had a mouthful to say. They didn't, which made the task a chore in tedium. But which had its redeeming moments of laughter, conviction, and eloquence. We had been tasked to deliver 20 out 87 students appearing from 17 universities across the country. Last year's winner was from MUBS (I don't know why they don't just build annex dormitories down there already). Makerere oyeee!!! But I digress.

So we got there and they had this beautiful TV slideshow rolling at the chic Boda Boda restaurant. They had cordoned it off for the VIPs and so we just stood in the "kirasha": the place where the general happiness crowd hangs out. And we stood there waiting for it to begin. And we stood. Polite smiles to old enemies. Annnnnddddd we stood. At some point in the evening, we were joined by more amenable company, a lady who is making her first appearance on this blog and will hopefully be making many others in the course of this blog (OK Carol, now you have appeared on the Spartan's blog). The evening lit up as friends started to show up and also make polite gestures. I had to wonder whether they too were making polite smiles at old enemies. But I learned a long time ago never to live without enemies, makes you soft. Ask Bad Black or Gilbo Mahogs.

The party began and the emcees took it away; I don't know who the male emcee was (and frankly I'm fresh out of rats, so...) but the female emcee, Marie just rocked the daylights off the party. It was really good. I can still visualize Streetsider trying to take on IamEnyma in Runya-flow; and almost conking out like a badly-serviced P.S.V. It was hilarious. As we stood around chatting, talking, and sharing the delight of being among good company came to me. It fell on me like the morning dew that always fell on my face in secondary school on Monday mornings because that was when I always read the news for the whole school. I had to be at school early. That's why the dew always fell on my face as I walked in.

But my absolute favourite part of that night was when the legends started making it rain on us with Black dollars. OK, the money was black on one side, But the front had Bad Black. The one and only Shanifa Nalukenge.

One Black Dollar from Bad Bank

Yes, that was the highlight of my evening. I am easy to amuse and that's proobably because there things about me that are impossible to change. Its the ying and yang that balances me out. Those of you who don't know Bad Black and all the acrimony she has caused read her life story here.

I eventually walked home that night when my ride was unceremoniously hijacked by a wily and sharp witted damsel. I'm quite sure he had his reasons. And besides, who needed a ride anyway? Right?

So Thank you ULK for a glamorous party. Incidentally, I noticed while taking a long stroll with a fellow writer friend of mine recently that of the 5 legends, 4 went to the same school. hhmm... But my theories on that later.

Till next time.

Gratitude

2011-11-18T06:20:00.001-08:00

noun

the quality or feeling of being grateful or thankful: He expressed his gratitude to everyone on the staff.

Origin:
1400–50; late Middle English < Medieval Latin grātitūdin- (stem of grātitūdō ) thankfulness, equivalent to grāt ( us ) pleasing + -i- -i- + -tūdin- -tude

And just like sand through the hourglass, so are the days or our lives. I remember when i first heard those words. There were very foreign to me, I found them quite touching. Till I found out there were taken from "Days of our Lives". Apparently a great show as well.

Its coming to the close of the year and I have so much to be thankful for. Its been a year of discovery, testing boundaries, exploring, recovering, and motion. And when it was all done, just do it all over again. I've had my moments this year, good moments of almost sheer brilliance and the not so clever - no wait, moments of just being dumb.

But I want to talk a little bit about gratitude. Just a little. I quit my job a while ago to do start consulting. As a result, I spend a lot more time at home. Part of that time is designated as cooking time. I love to cook. It brings a darkness inside me to the fore. I guess that's why i love food: because its sweet and keeps my mouth shut from saying things that I will regret.

Never before in my life have I had the experience the last few months have given me. Spending time to look up a nice recipe, takign the time to go through it and then preparing mentally to execute. The feeling was like an Ad Campaign on juice! And tehn cooking it. But I have found that no matter how good a chef you ae, its a long time u til you strat to understand what it takes to eat and ppreciate your own food.

its not like just about your locus of identity being external, its also linked to being able to say, no one has to see how good my cooking is. I just know its good. So it is. And that right there comes from a long way off. It came from a place of accepting taht I can't draw and well the other things my hands are good at would not fit in the spirit of this post. (adult material just)

Anyway, this is a thank you note, because as I was going through Twitter i realised that the 5th trending topic was #WomenWhoDontCook. iIts quite easy to ignore but as i thought about it and all the things that were being said, i realized, that I never cared about women who couldn't cook until I met a woman who could (No, you bastard, it wasn't my mom.)

Its not big till you realize not a single girl who you have gone out with this year has stood in your kitchen and cooked or made something to eat. Was i wrong? Was i capturing it out of context? Had I created a slanted view by discounting the fact they all almost came at night and left 24 hours after that?

I have nothing against women who cant cook as i am sure they have nothing against men who give them orgasms because still they stay, and so will I. I just think they have missed an opportunity to strike at the heart of something special. But I also know that they then hold no allure for me. Nothing.

So thank you for teaching me how to appreciate the value of the time that goes into making a meal for a loved one, or anyone really. I always could cook, i just never had seen as a form of self expression. Thank you for the patience. And thank you for, without any of us both knowing it, raising the bar.

If presentation is everything then Soho Cafe and Grill got it right with this all day breakfast

I Was Terrorized

2011-08-18T02:34:00.000-07:00

Well have been terrorized for a long time now. Every time I open the newspaper there is some sort of new direction in editorial policy that the newspaper has taken without informing myself or any of its over 30,000 readers. One almost feels like they are attempting to just test how far we will go before they finally recant their bad manners.

1. Take for example what appeared in the New Vision yesterday when the president joined deputy speaker of parliament Jacob Oulanyah and family to cute the caking during the thanksgiving ceremony at Bobi County. Really?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!!!! It is hopeless even despondent to even try and say that this news on page three is worth the paper it was printed on. I was not surprised by the New Vision’s murderous ways with the English language. But then again it might be the result of having charlatans at the head of an organization that requires experience, brains, and dedication. I might be a clichéd out twat but I know that news editors never go to bed before the paper goes to sleep. They don’t go down to UMI or 2^nd street and order goat balls and millet bread if the paper looks like this the next day!

But one might perhaps think I am being too harsh for a slight error that could just as easily be on any newspaper in the world. I do not disagree. I just think if you are slowly trying to turn the nation’s lead newspaper into some sort of child porn front, you need to be more discreet than that what the New Vision did a few weeks ago. So what are we telling the Red Pepper? That they should just up the ante?

Till later

Orbis non Sufficit

THE REASON WHY EVERY GIRL SHOULD ASK HER MAN FOR A SOUNDTRACK

2011-08-08T08:47:00.000-07:00

I was going about my weekend when a track started playing incessantly in my head. It brought an idea: every man has a soundtrack in his head when he is taking his woman. It may be an obscure, poor quality scratched CD version but somewhere you have your lashing soundtrack; the one that plays when you lash your woman.

I also got to thinking about when I didn’t have a soundtrack how it went. It was alright. However every time I had a soundtrack it had been a more than stellar performance. You gotta think about it. Certain music makes you a god.

There are things that make the music die, like bad head, like smelly armpits, like grime on the neck… there are other things but I will let you fill in the blanks. I found it frustrating every single time my music went out. It gave me that sense that a guy gets when a woman accidentally flicks her tongue around his crack – fear and instant blood flow to the muscles to feed the sudden adrenaline rush in preparation for flight. The problem with that is that it gives you a flaccid dead fish right in the middle of a nice hot romp (NOT COOL).

I also found that my soundtracks even though auditory were photo chromic. They were affected by light. For enduring performance, light had to be largely dimmed and ambience enhanced. I thought I was getting insecure about what I looked like or what my woman (or women, whatever) looked like. Then I set up a control which involved doing it in the daytime with the curtains drawn and with the curtains open. The latter proved to be almost impossible (damn the landlord’s dog!). Dim works for me.

Knowing this, I then delved into the investigation of what I really thought was my soundtrack. I particularly like Klaus Badelt’s soundtrack to “Pirates of the Caribbean” even though I found it a bit fast to lash your woman to. Then my mind moved over to another track that’s actually an old favourite – Ekikere kirikumbaata (the frog is mounting the duck) which is a nursery rhyme of questionable repute ; too funny but unfortunately not applicable as well.

As the search for the soundtrack continued, I remembered that one time I heard a long piping tune, from somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind. Brandy’s “Come a little bit closer” called out to me and whispered to me like a siren only to get closer and find the mind had tricked me and was actually playing Julianna or Grace Nakimera (this especially sucks because Grace Nakimera has no Wikipedia page) or some such local Ugandan diva music. Eeewww!

I have arrived at my conclusions for this lesson:

The soundtrack is defined at certain critical points when definitive sexual and sensual moments are afoot. Women, ensure your man knows your soundtrack.
Some will how do I do this? Well, when you guys are getting freaky, play it off the stereo or your phone, in the post-coital afterglow (while he naps), make sure eth songs you like are on repeat, that way it subconsciously seeps into his mind. He will never feel right humping another woman with that music on. It short circuits his cheating mechanism.
Assuming this is hogwash is the kind of foolishness is what will get your guy getting freaky to any type of trash music because he has no soundtrack. Listen. Get a freaking soundtrack.
My advice is don’t play it off the radio especially Capital FM because of all the bubble gum music they play. You don’t want the guy stuck on Alex Ndawula’s or Jimmy Jones’ soundtrack (both of whom have no Wikipedia pages). You’re trying to improve the bastard, not main his psyche for life.
Invest in a quality, distinctive, unique soundtrack. Remember that soundtracks are a series of songs often with a similar theme and a strong undercurrent that should be able to deliver the same feeling every time. So one song will just not do. Buy a memory card, an iPod, a stereo or start eating bananas to sharpen your voice. You need at least a whole album.
Whenever people tell you “that’s the song we danced to the first time we met”. They are lying. Curse them to hell because really what they are saying is that it was the song they first “did the deed” to.
This is a warning to all player boys out there – stay away from other people’s soundtracks. It may seem smooth to be soulless by being able to relate to some random guy’s soundtrack while you do his woman. But it isn’t. These days you hear girls talking about how “shallow guys are”. It’s because of you twats. You guys give us a bad name. You have to be able to enter a woman’s universe and she can feel how palpable your soundtrack is. All of a sudden the music in her life seems to have twang of you in it. Hence when you are gone, so is your music, your soundtrack and your essence. Even though you remain in her subconscious (*snigger snigger*)
Movie soundtracks are cool, you know Hans Zimmer on Megamind but you don’t want to mess with Gladiator, The Dark Knight or even Inception; the darkness might be too much. I just recently graduated from the Mission Impossible soundtrack because it wasn’t working – face it, no one will let you hump them to Tom Cruise’s pattering feet. Feel free to experiment with a variety mix but I would generally steer clear of entire movie soundtracks. Sit down and compile something that’s you.
Even though when we are growing up we are inevitably exposed to our parent’s music and influences, you should, as you grow, strive to veer away from this acidic leverage. Or else you end up…

Well let’s just say it won’t end well.

My thoughts end here.

Have a nice week.

Orbis non Sufficit

Failure: An Open Letter to My Yet Unborn Son - Choose To Be Worthy

2011-07-19T08:31:00.000-07:00

Failure is a way of life for a lot of people. But it is a path that we all like to deny, even though we all take it. I was telling some friends a couple of weeks ago that as an African man you are born with so many disadvantages against the guy born in Europe, Asia, south America or even north Africa that often you have to work twice as hard to even get at par.

I am serious. The American kid has a strong education culture and a functional education system should he so choose to ever attend or focus on that. The opportunities to excel in sport abound, the remuneration of which is staggering.

The girl from Asia might not have these abundant privileges, but she does have a culture, an ethic, a family support structure that allows her to work harder, want more and, be assisted to achieve higher than other people she competes with. Her culture’s history is written and dated for the last 8 centuries, in china its 30 centuries! She is grounded on where she is from and is not confused about who she is.

The same boy from Schengen will have arguably some of the best and free education on the planet. With resources and amenities that allow him to travel abroad on summer immersions and the drive to expand global influence through aid, he will probably work for his government, oppose his government or simply live on unemployment benefits and still be fine.

Now let me talk about the boy from Uganda or sub-Saharan Africa. He is born as a statistic where 1 child dies every 4 seconds. If he makes it to the first year, he will have survived being among the other 10% who don’t make it out. If he make sit out of the age 5 category, he will have almost have escaped the infant mortality. Then he will struggle with the education process, rote memorization, and the possibility of never making it beyond primary school, because if he does, he will again be part of a statistic that climbed one more rung up the ladder (with 121 million children out of education). His ascent into secondary school will be plagued by the glaring absence of critical thinking technique, the presence of biology teachers who failed to become doctors or physics teachers who did not make it into engineering.

As he climbs higher into A level or tertiary education, he becomes parts of the thin air constituted by the small numbers where spots are few; the funds even fewer. With no scholarships, he will likely go into vocational school, or go into a teacher training college or hopefully make it into a university where he will study a Bachelor of Arts degree in Arts or in Sciences or Social Sciences.

With no infrastructure for him to get gainfully employed, he moves from his rural home to the city, when he lives in a slum. With drainage, water, sanitation, hygiene, resource, ventilation, rule of law and societal challenges, the hope of making it out wanes.

His girlfriend mothers his first son before he can plan to properly take care of them both. He has to do a side job to make ends meet. Take a bribe. ”Do a deal”. Cheat a little here and there.

Why?

So he can give Martin his son the chances he never got. Get him the toys he never had. Pay the bribe for martin to go to the school his father never had the ability to do. Pay for the university course that Martin wants so he can really excel. So Martin can take care of him. So that Martin can live the dream.

He will make some money in his middle years as he gets the hang of things. Eat red meat every day. Drink a beer with his friends. Drive everywhere goes. Drink full cream milk every day.

At 45, he will have ulcers, hypertension, cardiovascular disease, gout, chronic back ache, visual impairment, loss of hearing, or all these. He will probably die at 60 of these or related ailments.

This is unfortunately the story for a lot of our generation. Has the boy from sub Saharan Africa failed? Could he have done better?

He might have done better. He could have worked harder and slept less in school and gotten better grades. And then a become doctor or lawyer, an engineer. He would then have migrated from this profession into politics and then maybe he wouldn’t have had to toil tirelessly to give Martin a fighting chance.

I am not this man. But I have failed. I was looking at my life and I thought about all the things I could have done better and why I might see my life as Martin’s father. The chance to make a difference lost to expedience and the practicalities of survival in the African environment.

I have failed so much in my life that when this recent failure came, it did not come as a surprise. It just hit me so hard that I couldn’t imagine that everything I had lost in my life had come down to and could be surmised up into this one rejection. Below are 20 colossal failures that I want to share:

1. I thought about the shoes I lost in P.1 – which I never forgot because my father talked about them until I was 20!

2. I thought about that incident in P.5 when I betrayed my best friend to a girl we both liked. We both never got the girl. He was never my friend again. And what that taught about loyalty.

3. I thought about everything that happened when my family left me alone in a new school with no friends and left the country. And how that affected my take on education, authority, and being the new person.

4. I thought about losing the vote for assistant head boy by 3 votes to a guy who today is a senior network engineer with a telecom company. Maybe that would now be me.

5. I thought about failing my primary exams and how for the next 6 years I dealt with my father nagging and nailing it home. It was a 6 for Chrissakes! Not a 12!! And why my definition of success is my own.

6. I thought about my first day in secondary school and listening to a young man who would later become a pastor (albeit disgraced) at a church I would try to attend. Reading the schedule, and life at the great college, talking about tradition, and self reliance. I remember him picking me out and saying I was the paragon of what a “St. Mary’s boy” wasn’t. Him pointing to my shorts and saying they were what not to wear. And what that did to my opinions on appearance and presentation before people.

7. I thought about my first pair of glasses that didn’t work and why for the first two terms I couldn’t see what was taught in the great lecture halls at the college, or the messed up sleep schedule I kept which meant I literally slept throughout my whole first year. And why I was not surprised when I was asked to repeat a class with an average of 58.7% with a 60% pass mark. And the lesson of exacting standards which followed.

8. I thought about coming back to school the next year, when my parents thought it was too much work to bring me to school, so they sent me off with my foster parents to report because they couldn’t be ashamed. And what that informed me on shame and togetherness.

9. I thought about where I was standing when the van of buns was robbed. I remember 2 boys who would later become lawyers whispering the plan and the flurry of activity as the van was raided. I remember the punishment and the “superman” in the school compound. And how I learnt that no matter where you are, you will stand alone, you must always be responsible for your actions.

10. I thought about an acronym that I carry seared into my left wrist. Burnt in there by a young, nice man who would die in our fourth year of school after an accident because the ambulance couldn’t pick him up. Because he had no insurance. He would bleed to death on the tarmac. The acronym reads CAT. The first two are my given names. The third a name I took from a young man who would go on to join law school and a fantastic practitioner with enormous peer reverence. Back then when I took his name he had saved my life – as in literally carried me off the edge of death thrice. He didn’t know me. He knew nothing about me. He was simply being friendly to a guy who looked like he needed someone to talk to. He would never know I took his name and owned it to forever remind me that no matter how tough it got, life would always prevail – and because of him I would never give up. The name means “we are beloved”. And whether I had failed him in giving up along the way.

11. I thought about the day I walked out of school and knew I would never come back as a student. With an indefinite suspension and no knowledge of where to turn. The bleakness of the future and how the resilience of the human spirit is amazing.

12. I thought about the Adventist school where nothing was what it seemed. The teachers who married their students, the drug and alcohol abuse that abounded, and how I was not able to resist the peer pressure. And when, as I walked out of the school, I thought about short appearances, life choices and why I would choose differently next time.

13. The thought process then led me the conversation I had when I was being told that I would not be going to school anymore. I was being shipped off to the village to stay with my grandmother. My failure to resist and beg for another chance, my inability to see that education was the key to being successful – at least back then. I remember what this taught me about humility and courage.

14. I thought about the two weeks I stayed on the streets. The prostitute who fed me, the boy who shared his cardboard box with me even though I had invaded his street. I thought about working in Owino in the day and coming sleeping at the foot of the independence monument at night. And the irony of that situation, and life in general.

15. I thought about how ironic it was to be a new student in school in the village. From wearing blazers with emblazoned “Duc in Altum” to wearing pale fifty-count thread-bare black cotton shorts in a little known school as the last bastion of learning for me. The lessons, the courage it took to show up for my classmates. Often in bare feet. Not slippers or sandals; just their feet. I remembered the energy, passion, effort we all, as a class, put into our classes. It didn’t matter where we were from, where we were headed. It was a class of 96. 40 of us were offering physics and chemistry at O’ level. Our science lab had only 15 pipettes and burettes with a little fewer than 50 test tubes. I remember the look in our faces as we learnt something new. The rancour in my gut when I thought another boy in another school had electricity and a backup generator where I had a pressure lamp that sometimes didn’t have kerosene. Selling bananas to eke a living, to get by, pay dues. I have an underdog mentality. It stays with me everywhere, allows me to challenge establishments, to go against the grain, to want it more than the next guy, to will things I want into existence. And why I think revenge, in any form should be slow in coming. Very slow.

16. I thought about our very first physics practical exam. As the leading student, the onus was on me to hold it down. The other students would be watching me for guidance, for fortitude. I remember Didas looking at me from across the room. Without the shoulders or the mental strength to bear, the levees burst. And the consternation in Didas’ eyes as he saw the invigilators bring a basin for me to stand in and finish the exam. Walking out of the exam, knowing I had nailed it but failed to hold my piss and making a promise to myself. And what I learnt about presence of mind, mental fortitude, and excellence.

17. I thought about the first time I kissed a girl. The awkwardness, the trauma, the clashing of teeth. The strange nervousness after and the shiftiness that had enveloped that affair since. And how I never know when it’s time to let go.

18. I thought about Namilyango days and the bogus literature teacher who had tried to hoodwink the class. Telling her to never step into our class again. Being the rebel, the inciter, the instigator. And what that taught me about peer leadership.

19. I thought about university. How far I had come to get here, where I had had to dig myself out of. Every day. Every fight. Every scrape. Standing at the university grounds on graduation day two years late because of lascivious exchanges that didn’t happen and as a result, stuck in a placement that neither allowed growth, rewarded excellence nor recognized effort. Two jobs later, that paid a little over 100 dollars a month for the first and a job that would turn me into a work addict, 7 days a week for the second, I walked away from it all. And what that taught me about pain and loss.

20. I thought about one night when as I walked with my best friend on the university campus the university security patrol truck swung around the corner. We ducked for cover because we had been on the back of that truck before. I remember muffled sounds as the guard shouted, I remember kneeling and shouting “We are students! Please don’t shoot.” My arms raised in the air. I can still hear the bullet whizzing past my head and sharp crack as it exploded through my friend’s leg, with a shattered femur. I remember calling the one friend we both had in common. I can still hear the cackling laughter as he switched off thinking we were joking. I remember holding my friend in my arms, taking off a new t-shirt I had and tearing it to wrap around his bleeding leg. I will never forget Vincent, the cab driver who picked me up. And at the sight of the blood started crying immediately. I would never use another cab driver if I could for the rest of my life. Entering the casualty ward, no attention, shouting voice. “Can I get some help!!? Where the F** are the doctors in this hospital?!!!” I still feel the cold stainless steel table on which they lay him. Me holding his hand as they dressed the wound and as they stitched the 5 inch scar in my skull. And the long wait between 3:20am and 8:00am when families started arriving. The wait, without a bed sheet. Without a blanket. No shirt for me. No trousers for him. Delirium at 6:00am as the biting Katanga breeze rushed into ward 3C. I remember someone saying “it was your fault” and I remember saying “but the guy who shot at us appeared in court and you didn’t even turn up!” “It’s none of my business” And why there are things that should never be forgiven. Ever.

Why do I tell you all this?

Because no matter how much you think you have lost, you never get used to it. No matter how much you think you know failure, you don’t.

I tell you this because my failings are not even half of this list. The things that make me insecure, afraid, and terrified, smile, laugh, stress, bounce or even just stay still. Because for the first time I was faced with a loss that I felt I totally had no control over and no matter what I said, I was just giving an excuse, which wasn’t enough. In a moment of darkness, I reached out to a friend, who incidentally is called Angella, and when I thought I had failed again, extended her hand.

The loss will be a story for another day.

For today my story is that I have failed too often, come from too far, and beat such incredible odds, that on any continent I have done my dues to deserve to be at par with any one man my age. I am the African boy who has the same dreams as the girl in Asia, or the man in the Americas. I am not Martin’s father. I refused that lot a long time ago. I have demanded for more soup. I will have a bigger piece of the cake, not because I am entitled to it, but rather there will be no one to give it to. I stand among the ranks of those who have failed enough and are not ashamed of it. Today I stand before you, all failed out.

I am worthy.

Orbis non Sufficit

The story continues.

2011-07-18T02:22:00.000-07:00

Then there was the scenario when an ex girlfriend of mine sent me a text on one of those Bubbles’ quiz nights. She asked where I was. I said I was at Bubbles. She asked if she could come. I said she could. When she texted me in an hour from that time, I said I was heading home. She asked again if she could join. Somehow in my mind I thought she was asking about whether to come to Bubbles. I said yes. This should have been fine except there was already someone at home waiting for me; which is how it got so dramatic.

I get home hug the bowl as I wretch, and go off to sleep. Imagine what I was like when I woke up a couple of hours later to find that the wench who was waiting for me at home and the ex with an axe were seated on the bed asking me to explain what they were both doing in my house.

In that moment I realized that everyman dreads this moment. You live your whole life dreading it. In the post mortem of the situation my best friend then said to me something that I had never understood before:

“Every man dreads it but deep down, deep where no none but he only can see, he wishes it happens to him so he can say “it happened to me and I lived it down”.

In the heat of the moment, though, you never understand how that moment will define you. So I started debating the choice on who to demonize and who to save. Damn the ex, she would be easily expendable. She was the ex after all. And for causing this drama, she deserved it anyway. Or damn the new girl. She knew nothing of this whole drama and her search for answers was met with consternation and derision from the ex. I then had a “Prince-of-Persia” moment where my body almost shifted out of itself and assessed the situation. Which is how I came to one of those king Solomon-esque ideas.

Damn them both.

So I opened my mouth and what happened next I don’t remember but all I remember was it went something like they both needed to leave my house. I didn’t give a shit and I needed to sleep. My alcohol-addled brain seemed to comply with the request to deliver terse, curt and abrupt life lessons. I then dozed off and woke up at midday the following day.

Both were gone.

Frankly I actually thought it was going to get physical and I was worried whether in a moment of drunkenness a man could ever justify an inexcusable action. When it didn’t, I learnt these lessons:

1. The reason why the greatest lovers are stone cold sober is because they cannot afford to have situations they can’t control happening to them.

2. When in doubt about choices, walk away. Everything is dispensable – so is everyone.

3. Never EVER fool yourself that you know what it feels like to be in that situation until you have been in it. And if you have been, wear your badge with pride.

4. If I didn’t work in the industry in which I work, my phone would religiously go off at 12:00. That way I would be unaccountable for all goings on after this time. But mine doesn’t, so here is a word of advice, don’t ever pick calls from our ex after midnight. It’s a trap. It’s always a trap.

5. As I found out, sometimes your ex doesn’t even want to have sex with you, she just wants to make your life miserable and assuage their insecurities. In The 48 laws of Power Robert Greene says in law 40 “Despise the free lunch”. Master this law. Never forget it. If it’s cheap, ignore it. If it’s free, run.

After all that drama everything else seems to pale in importance. But I would be foolish if I did not tell you about this new girl. She is wonderful. Nice MILF with great character. I was thinking I will tell her a story with some spiel about what I have been through, my life story yada yada. She will probably buy the story and before I know it, we will be prancing around town in search of the next best thing. You would think I would want more out of life, wouldn’t you, but quite frankly I don’t.

And that is all I have to say about that…

Orbis non Sufficit

A long long story...

2011-07-15T05:24:00.000-07:00

I have been here in a while eeh?? It feels good to be writing again. Well actually I have only written one sentence but that still feels better than what I have written over the last half year.

My life has been dramatic as you might expect. Up and down. Here and there. But mostly in and out. Well, it’s almost half year and I am thinking about things people who would normally read this blog would normally be looking out for.

A new house

I moved out of my house. Well the other one where I lived and again to a new one. Quite nice actually. I was able to get a house with two bathrooms but one toilet bowl. So what the hell does one do with two bathrooms? Wash your feet in one and the rest of your body in the other? Then I discovered that when you host guests over, it serves well for you to use different bathroom coz then you both ruminate on your iniquities of the previous night separately. No shared guilt. Also after one of the guests run away with my special Radox weekend strawberry smoothie, it became wise to split the bounty so as not to inspire larcenous feelings in people.

Then there was the issue with the new account at work that caused a lot of excitement among my colleagues and forced there to be screaming and wailing and tears.

It all started…

So when I was hired as Business Development Manger I was not told that things would be as difficult as they had been over the last few months. I really needed an account. A new paradigm, some salvation, anything! If you are in this business, you know that once you draw two salaries and stuff ain’t working, you know that your pitches need to get better or you need to get going.

I was getting used to the place. I was starting to like this place, as I am oft wont to do. I liked the people, had made some friends. I had gotten attached. Then one day the owner of the money descended upon me in a dark alley at the office that has no CCTV (yes, there is CCTV, and this conversation “never happened”). And there it delivered with a clam, death-defying tone that I would not be tolerated anymore if I was not getting any clients. As I looked into the facts surrounding the lack of clients, it was not because clients were afraid of working with us, it was because they actually had and were happy to stay with whoever they had at the moment. So when I went into “pitch” mode for a beverage company, I was truly frightened that things would go awry since I would inevitably fall at the helm of all pitches for new business… we went in. pitched for the business. And went back home.

They called us two weeks later to say we had won the business. We were called and that is how after almost two years of being out of the business, I was thrown back into the tumultuous and high-octane world of Public Relations. Things like these sap your soul, one thing at a time, one day at a time. This is what we did. And we hope to do more.

(To be continued…)

Orbis non Sufficit

UBL UNVEILS THE NEW LOOK BELL LAGER BOTTLE!

2011-02-10T11:21:00.001-08:00

The new Bell Lager bottle

Uganda Breweries has unveiled a refreshed Bell Lager complete with a slim long neck bottle, in a move brand officials say will reinforce the premium quality attributes that the flagship brand has been
associated with over the years.

Unveiling the refreshed Bell Lager bottle to the Press at Serena Hotel - Kampala, EABL Marketing Director Marion Muyobo said, "Uganda's oldest brew which has been perfected to international standards by the best brewers in Uganda has now reached the height of quality with the new look." She
attributed the innovation to Bell Lager consumers. "As we follow Bell Lager's foot prints over the years, we owe the brand's success story to its loyal consumers. It is you who have made Bell what it is today. It is you who have continued to define the direction the brand will take. As you hold the new Bell Lager bottle in your hands, we can tell you agree that the brand has achieved what it set out to achieve.eight of quality", she said.

The old Bell Lager bottle

Bell Lager has spanned over 60 years in the Ugandan market as a premium quality brand of international repute that epitomizes Ugandan heritage and has won numerous Monde Selection awards. EABL Uganda Managing Director Alasdair Musselwhite said the Brewery found it inevitable to refurbish the packaging to match the ever changing consumer preferences, lifestyles, and trends. He was quick to note that the new look Bell does not in any way compromise on the taste and quality of the brand.

"The premium quality lager is made from only the finest barley, hops and water to produce a world class beer, unrivaled in freshness. All our processes work together to give you a world class beer, now in the new longneck bottle.

These Tears

2011-01-20T15:31:00.000-08:00

These Tears

Its oft said men cry no tears

That like silent cars shift gears

And with the softest thump bears

The greatness of the world on his shoulder bears

Lest the world should at him leer

But these tears I cry?

These tears are for no man

They are not tears of men

They are not tears of pain

These tears are mine

Feel the nacsnt abortion ripped from you

Reel as the words tear each morsel

Keel they spirit as its its crushed afoot

Real people, telling things unreal

Roil in fury at the betrayal of trust

I ask not and I give not

My trust be for me to be

For worse it is to have loved and lost

Than it is to have a love lost

But a job is merely is merely but a job

These tears I cry?

I will never cry them again

Not for her or any woman

Not for it or any job

Not for them any colleagues

And not for Him or any dream.

I am a select first born son

I am a survivor of a gun wound

I have looked poverty in the face and stared her down

Knowing what need is, being needy, hating the neediness and all the while doing the needful

I’m not a weaver of dreams

I’m a catcher of them

Casting out a thin fine mesh

Trapping them, netting them, and

Slowly sorting them with errorless trance

I will take these tears and dry them into crystals

Like the crystals from the tears of a thousand angels

Out of these crystals I will build a diamond jacket that I will vest around my most tender spot.

I will take these tears and replace my aborted heart

Wash it in the healing salt of these tears

Make it untearable, for when the war is done,

The heroes lie on the field while the one-legged coward tell the tale.

BLACK THURSDAY

2010-12-10T02:43:00.000-08:00

The past few days have been a test, a deep inquisistion into the varied tapestry that forms the very fabric on which my existence, not as a man, but as a person, depends.

It is always odd to see myself in this state because everytime i get close calls of this nature, there is about to be a diametric shift in my circumstances. So what happened has moved me from where I was to a point where i never thought i would be.

I stand now as a man without resolution,
a man with elocution

The Next Google Could Be Here

2010-11-19T05:58:00.000-08:00

Idealogue 5.5.5

Come to Idealogue 5.5.5: Synergy of the minds

5 minutes
5 slides
5 questions.

Come watch us change the world!

Sign up here

My Favourite Song of All Time

2010-11-19T05:42:00.000-08:00

Image via Wikipedia

I have been very away. and while i was incarcerated [story for another day] i thought and thought and thought. about my favourite song of all time. the pne track taht makes me stop dead and brings tears to my eyes. and i realised it was a Celine Dion track; the song is "If that what it takes"
below are the words i love to hear most in the world, in this order:

You're the bravest of hearts, you're the strongest of souls
You're my light in the dark, you're the place I call home
You can say it's all right, but I know that you're breaking up inside
I see it in your eyes
Even you face the night afraid and alone
That's why I'll be there

When the storm rises up, when the shadows descend
Ev'ry beat of my heart, ev'ry day without end
Ev'ry second I live, that's the promise I make
Baby, that's what I'll give, if that's what it takes
If that's what it takes

You can sleep in my arms, you don't have to explain
When your heart's crying out, baby, whisper my name
'Cause I've reached out for you when the thunder is crashing up above
You've given me your love
When your smile like the sun that shines through the pain
That's why I'll be there

When the storm rises up, when the shadows descend
Ev'ry beat of my heart, ev'ry day without end
I will stand like a rock, I will bend till I break
Till there's no more to give, if that's what it takes
I will risk everything, I will fight, I will bleed
I will lay down my life, if that's what you need
Ev'ry second I live, that's the promise I make
Baby, that's what I'll give, if that's what it takes

Through the wind and the rain, through the smoke and the fire
When the fear rises up, when the wave's ever higher
I will lay down my heart, my body, my soul
I will hold on all night and never let go
Ev'ry second I live, that's the promise I make
Baby, that's what I'll give, if that's what it takes

If that's what it takes
Every day
If that's what it takes
Every day

Feels nice to be back here. Next post is on cougar town Kampala!

The Bank, Competitions & Awards + My Life = This Post

2010-08-14T06:26:00.000-07:00

What have I been up to? Well, a lot apparently.

On Thursday 12^th I was invited on behalf of Speakers Without Borders to attend a stakeholder workshop hosted by the Bank of Uganda on rolling out a National Financial Literacy and Consumer Protection Education Policy to provide insights gained from working among young people on how to approach “these things”. Basically, the “banks are fucking the consumers” and we need to tell people to avoid getting well, screwed. The discussion ranged from simple things like the cooling off period between loan applications and funds disbursement to the glaring gap in the report on how to actively engage and sustain the financial literacy discussion among the young adults in Uganda despite the sheer weight they exert on the demographic tables. Also there are over 150,000 Ugandans on Face book. Most of those are not my parents’ age. So, why not? Use everything available as long as they are getting the message. I gave my two cents there.

On Friday the 13^th, I was invited by Mambo Guy, an old buddy who I’ve known for forever, President of the The Lantern Meet, connoisseur of fine things, and architect - to attend the Final presentation of Kitenge Spaces. This cat is really smooth. About a year ago he won a grant from The Youth Action Fund under the auspices of the Open Society Institute (EA) to run a competition for architecture students to design Afro-centric spaces. His belief that architecture is culture and therefore a reflection of our common identity is a debate that’s raged on over the years between him and I. Basically because I think that the spiel that spaces define people is academic hogwash but rather that people define the spaces they live in. Anyway over the course of a year he has had the contestants design and submit objects and space designs to a panel of young and rather erudite architects. This competition is Kitenge Spaces.

Mambo Guy

"Just as a noun is only a noun if it possesses a “verbal companion,” a house is not a house unless it has a proper primary function, from which it will derive its spirit. So the house gives, and the house takes, but the house cannot be unless needs qualify it... like a genie that one summons out of a lamp, to answer to ones needs."

Yesterday, as I sat at the National Theatre and listened to a young man talk about the communality of the African meal and why, that, of all spaces, should be the most well lit space in the house, I knew that Guy had done it. He’d come from where 3 of us sat 5 years ago and talked about being “that man” and taken the road. “That man” is the guy who does not take what he is given, but rather will consistently, infect, affect and effect everything around him with change; constantly saying “NO! This isn’t enough” and asking for more soup, re-defining his own boundaries, pushing the horizon a little further and, without knowing it, making the lives of many, many people mean so much more. Now the world has to watch out. He is coming.

Later in the evening I attended the Public Relations Association of Uganda (PRAU) Excellence Awards Dinner where they were awarding the best PR campaigns, practitioners, companies, agencies and organizations. In what was an almost serendipitous occasion, URA swept three awards all in the corporate communications category, The “ONE LOVE” Campaign by ZK Advertising for UHMG (the “sexual network” campaign for those of you who don’t know it yet) was voted the Overall Best Campaign of 2009/2010. I for one was happy because having personally worked on the submissions for and designed the communication materials for two of the winning entries –Best Event PR, The Johnnie Walker Launch in Uganda (covered aptly in this post here but also very well taken care of by Google. Hehe!), and the Best Crisis Management Award for President Lager - a Uganda breweries product that was interdicted right before Christmas last year by Nile Breweries from bottling the product in a long neck bottle.

It’s been very busy but also sexy and exciting; literally sexciting. I drunk texted my ex. She is going to have my head. But who cares. And I lost the keys to my place on Thursday night and so spent the night on the floor outside my place waiting for morning so I could find a locksmith. I’ve been spending a lot of time lately cooking, reading and writing – generally just being alone. It hurts. It hurts so bad. In other news I’ll probably be going away for a while, but that’s news for another day.

Wedding Entrance Dance; My Congolese Brother

2010-08-08T06:39:00.000-07:00

Wedding Entrance Dance from Beavad Video on Vimeo.

Ugandan film industry growing up into hilarious trailers!

2010-08-04T06:15:00.001-07:00

After reading Matooke Nation's post on “Who killed Captain Alex?” purportedly Uganda’s best action movie, I got to thinking; is the Ugandan movie industry really evolving to Nollywood standards? The fact is the concept is great, the execution not so much.

What we really need to be thinking about right now is whether we can be part of the revolution supporting this new creative spurt happening in our little city. As I shared with some of the people in my office we landed on something even more hilarious. This is a movie called Tebatusaasula”. The trailers are very hilarious and I’m very curious to know who is generating this home-grown “ghetto” talent. But there is no denying, the landscape is not going to be the same by the time this year ends.

I keep thinking Golola Moses should have been casted as the special mercenary.

.....and some white people are just off the hook. For your pleasure

I think some things in life are just too white.

Lyrics: "Dream" By the Everly Brothers....and ugandan music

2010-08-03T10:07:00.000-07:00

This is the song in my head at the moment. It reminds me of my radio DJ days when I was mixing it up on a country show. Been going through some really tough stuff lately. I'm working on the post. Coming soon...

Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream

When I want you in my arms

When I want you and all your charms

Whenever I want you, all I have to do is

Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream

When I feel blue in the night

And I need you to hold me tight

Whenever I want you, all I have to do is

Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam

I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine

Anytime night or day

Only trouble is, gee whiz

I'm dreamin' my life away

I need you so that I could die

I love you so and that is why

Whenever I want you, all I have to do is

Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream

Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam

I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine

Anytime night or day

Only trouble is, gee whiz

I'm dreamin' my life away

I need you so that I could die

I love you so and that is why

Whenever I want you, all I have to do is

Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream

FADE

Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream

...But my computer is playing a really great Ugandan song by Grace Nakimera called "Onyambanga Mukama". A prayer by all standards; something I need right now. Listen to it here

Sons and Fathers II: 50 Things Every Father Should Teach His Son.....Part 2

2010-08-01T23:37:00.001-07:00

In this second installment of this series I have been doing some thinking about all the elements that go into making a wonderful , well rounded man. Presenting part 2 of the 50 Things every Father should teach his son:

Father and Son

1. How to taste a good cup of coffee

2. The importance of being groomed

3. The value of being quicker to listen than to speak.

4. Why men should never speak in anger

5. The power of being comfortable in one’s own company

6. White people are not superior to you. That are just people.

7. Why Chinese products are inferior to anything else

8. The Ten point response to when your wife is angry about hanging out with the boys.

9. How to say “It wasn’t me” and mean it.

10. When to never say to a toddler “ you. Who’s your father?”

11. Why buyng airtime and jewelery is not a good indicator of how successful one is with the ladies.

12. How to put razor sharp scuts on your garments.

13. How far public opinion should dissuade a man from what he wants

14. If the man is R. Kelly and what he wants involves a 14 year old girl…

15. The value of saying what you mean and meaning what you say.

16. Why “Sarah Short” is not exactly short

17. Where do babies come from…

18. There isn’t a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow

19. The greatest story ever told is yet to be written…

20. The people you love also have people they love!

21. The word pussy didn’t always mean cat but the word booze has been slang for alcohol since the 1100’s

22. You have to be willing to try everything at least once in your lifetime.

23. Alex Ndawula doesn’t ever wear a suit to work. No radio presenter ever does.

24. The reason why the deodorant industry is a billion dollar industry is because it is actually has a purpose.

25. In the casino, the house always wins.

Bonus advice:

26. How to find a good car!

Sons and Fathers II: 50 Things Every Father Should Teach His Son:

2010-07-30T06:49:00.001-07:00

I have been thinking very much lately about fatherhood, companionship and all the other the nuptial spin-offs. I wondered about what kind of Father I would like to be, t what kind of man I would want him to be, what schools, his favorite expressions, his favorite experiences, his preferred colour, hit "type" of girl.

I thought about whether I should ever teach him how to be a player, or whether my aversion to violence would affect his instinctive drive for speed, gore and violence, whether when its all said and done he will look at me and say "You did a good job, old man", whether I was just feeding my "God" complex [a term coined by an cougar ex who thought I demanded too much from my women because I always demand they worship me], whether the fact that I couldn't hold down a relationship was triggering a nascent memory and hence this overwhelming return to innocence.

But in the end, it was the thought that even if I am right, even if every woman I ever told I loved was jaded because the Spartakuss will do that to you, even if I was just hallucinating because of a temporary lapse in testosterone, I wanted another son. For vanity, for justice, for the chance to prove that I can get it right, to make the woman who would have chosen me as her mate happy, but most of all, because I am not so vain to think, that this awesomeness that i have belongs to me. After all, all the great and truly breathtaking things I know, I was taught by some "father".

So here is the list of 50 Things I would teach my son in no particular order, starting with the first 25.

1. How to find and taste a good beer

Image via Wikipedia

2. How to be respectful to women.

3. The value in honesty and hard work

4. Why its important to be passionate about sport

5. Sampling for good and timeless music

6. Who was Martin Luther King and who was Barack Obama?

7. Driving in hell; Kampala, Uganda

8. How to ride a bicycle

9. How to change a flat tyre

10. How to fix a broken pipe

11. How to change a blown bulb

12. How to shake it after No. 1

13. Why birds are able to fly and men can’t.

14. Who was Lance Armstrong, Michael Schumacher and hopefully if he ever asks, Tiger Woods.

15. Why we pray even though we seem well off.

16. The value of an honest investment

17. The bond of a man’s word.

18. Why Michael Jackson as misunderstood by the world and still thought of as a legend.

19. Who exactly was Delilah and did Samson really just sleep on her lap?

20. The reason we vote even though it brings no change

21. Why women always chase after young men who seem focused on everything not them

22. That brilliance is not being the first in class but giving it your best.

23. That loyalty is more important than love or trust.

24. Why he lets mummy shout at him, sometimes.

25. Why it is not very wise to shoot the neighbours’ cat and dogs sometimes because karma is a bitch!

Be There!!

2010-07-29T02:58:00.000-07:00

The Rules of Being a Player ... Part 3

2010-07-26T06:49:00.000-07:00

In this running series we here at Spartakuss now unload part 3 of an insightful, revealing, and exciting series. I'll keep running this column from time to time as time, experience and pussy permit.

9. Have a Regular Routine: I once saw this one in a movie. The quintessential playboy will have things in his life that “cannot” be moved. They can range from attending 9:00AM mass, to always having Sunday lunch at your parents’, to “I always have my first dates at…”, or “on Mondays I only drink 2 beers”. It has to be a quirk that makes you distinct. Why? Because no matter what happens, when you are “known” to have quirks, breaking them for someone always gives them a sense of “power” over you. Good quirks built wonderful behaviours like being out of bed before sunrise, always opening doors for your dates, seeking to pleasure more than you are pleasured, always buying air time before you got bed, watching half Price Tuesday movies, buying fresh market produce. They build strong character attributes and define the resolve the man needs to build the substance of himself. The Man's biggest challenge today is to be the kind of man he is required to be without the requisite self-reflection. Look inside, built 2 traits. They might even be to always wank off before you get with a chic so your first round takes longer or don't sleep with chic until you have seen what she looks like fresh outta bed. This is a great source of emotional capital which will always be helpful in the future when tackling your “uncompromising behavior”

9. Be uncompromising: Sitting down and thinking about what you want out of life and people is very key to maintaining your position of strength and control. A man who controls what he says/does and is generally very firm with himself and the people around him is considered attractive.

Not only to the women in his life but also to the women who he has kept out of his life by virtue of his firmness. Sure they will cry arrogance and prudish behavior but in the end they will deal with the fact that if he doesn’t know you, he has no obligations to you. His ability to choose who he exposes his person to, his selection of how he spends his time but mostly the rigour that he addresses himself with subconsciously communicates to women that he is "in control", which is also very attarctive.

Under this guise, you can be bigoted, brutal, judgmental and even obnoxious just because you are thinking something about someone and your principal is to call it like you see it. most people will use it o create humoour and enhance social experiences. The shock and horror of meeting an “honest” guy induces an intoxicating feeling of need for “repeated exposure”. Also because you have stated something as something “ you don’t do”, no one will ever force you to do it and on the other hand when you eventually end up doing it, you’ll get credit for doing something you don't do. Now you know why I don’t do weddings.

10.Be Good at Something: It is not just enough to have a penis or a vagina as your life tool of choice. Even though you could, some people argue that it wears thin after use in various positions and insertions. It is good to have a skill; cooking, an extra language, drawing, playing an instrument, your work, figures and numbers, travel, health. Something that people who know you, whether they hate you or like you know as a fact! You only have to do it really well. This makes you a social accessory and whenever you are called on to step up, you choose your strength and exert it ruthlessly. Step on toes if you must but ensure that you are absolutely impeccable. It becomes a touch point; like a blinding white light to which moths get drawn. This will draw lots of trash of course, but it increases your sample space to select the truly fine butterflies. Also it helps you be more than just a pretty face. Naturally it would be more advantageous if you were good at more than one thing!

11. Be Predictably Unpredictable: While most people resonate with the idea of being unpredictable, they often take it as a sign of being dodgy… And it is. Stable, attractive men are predictable.

They have a semblance of routine. The reason why young girls get with older, mature, married men is not only because of the money they get but also because of the fact that they are predictable.
They will not get up one day and run away to Capé Verde with nubile young thing.
They don’t hang out on weekends.
When you bump into them, they will be with their wives and then they will have never seen you. EVER!
They are married men but are seeing you which means they will whine and bitch but that’s predictable because if they were with you and weren’t bitching about their wenches, you’d have a crisis on your hands.

What is more generally recommended is to always make your dates on time, and if your date is late the first time say nothing of the matter. On the second date, be there early and if they are still late, text and say you’re gone, leave and switch off your phone. Have a drink and put it back on two hours later. If they call to say they are sorry, you’re home dry, if not it was good riddance to bad trash you didn’t need in your life anyway. Also, a woman who tolerates your constant lateness doesn't consider the damage she is doing to herself - Leave her. What this does is establish a paradigm frame in which a woman’s mind will perceive you. Trust me. It is a good paradigm, unless you are into flippant, rowdy, dirty, unkempt girls.

12. Never Ever! Discuss Money: No matter how much you feel close to this woman, discussing your money while it is a powerful selling point in the beginning isn’t exactly the stuff “Lock Stock and Barrel” is made of. This is mainly due to the fact that life is capricious and unpredictable. Knowing that there are some people for whom you will go the distance and there are others for whom you will not lift a finger is essential in determining who knows whether your finances are in order or not. Information is power and knowing that about you gives people power. The girl of your dreams will not walk into your life and ask for something you could easily afford if she doesn’t know who or what you are/have. On the other hand once you are pegged, it lowers your game status, since you are considered "decoded", and eventually your general ranking. Not discussing money also enables you to talk unfettered about your dreams and things you would like to accomplish; painting the dream, vision and horizon as, and how you like.

.... T.B.C.

The Rules of Being a Player ... Part 2

2010-07-23T08:16:00.000-07:00

No matter where you go, people of the world behave the same. This is sometimes accredited to their personality types. Nearly every other girl you talk to will tell you are some type of personality type or other. Sometimes they will mix you up and therefore someone will have the balls to say you are melo-sanguine. I maintain that people are the same in the way they deal with normal human relations. Its just the way we interpret their reactions that affects the way we see them.

From the last article dealing with how to spot if your chic is an infidel from a mile away, this week I put forward my thoughts on how to be truly, phenomenally untamed and. Uncaught.

6. Know your food points: Any player worth their salt knows their food points. One, because they have been out on so many dates that by sheer endurance they have moved the turf. I have a friend whose rule is this “If I take a girl out to eat ice-cream, she is going down!” it doesn’t matter how he does it, she has to eat his cream before she eats his ice cone! General prudence will recommend that you know at least Chinese, Thai, Italian, French, and African continental places. In Kampala, that’s basically all of them! Knowing how much these places charge off-head will always avert the dilemma of being caught out without enough cash but more importantly the psychological scarring that comes from those kinds of situations.

7. Know your coffee houses: Unlike my friend above, you don’t want to ever be pinned as a routine fellow. Common practice dictates that a lady never expose herself to a guy for extended periods of time if she doesn’t know him well; even if her friends vouch for him. As a result of this, most first dates will be coffee dates. So knowing your coffee houses and price range estimates will definitely help you direct those awkward situations where she asks you to choose where to go. The main benefit is, for example, a single Mocha at Javas Café is a cool 6,000/= while the same badly made, poorly measured, and not as great cup of Mocha at Café Pap is 8,500/=!! You need to know these subtleties in case she [EVER]wants to eat cake!! If she decides to eat, know the full range of available, easy-to-reach, ambient spaces. Never screw up the coffee date. It helps if you know a waiter’s name.

8. Be absolutely nonchalant about your phone: Being finicky about your cell phone triggers a red flag for women. Passwords, codes, Pins, or other access-restrictive measures to your phone always niggle and eventually set off psychotic behavior like a bitch checking your phone while you’re away. Be generous with your phone, be honest about when it does or does not have airtime. But most importantly, name every person in your phone by their full names. Why? Because if Melanie Ssali checks your phone and she finds Nakigembbe Emilie, she almost automatically assumes an unpretty, lanky, ugly woman, and therefore not too much competition. It also tends to glide over smoothly rather than Sasha or Shaniqua alone! The one thing you absolutely cannot afford to also do is be touchy, excited or even curious about her phone. It will precipitate interest in your phone.

.... (TBC)

The Rules To Being a Player…. Part 1

2010-07-20T05:12:00.001-07:00

1. Sensitivity about your phone: Be wary of the bird that is conscious about your phone. She knows when who calls and is always looking out for excuses for it to ring so she can “give” it to you. Not before looking at who is calling. This will trigger sensibilities and make you nervous but what will probably make anyone really nervous will be if you pretend to get into her phone. Have it in your hand when she walks into the room, when she asks you whether she can have it say you are still using it, when she says she wants to make a call give her you phone and tell her to use your phone.

2. Reference to friends in abstract terms: Anyone who refers to their friends in abstract terms, in generalities, and talks about them in broad strokes is more likely to be lying. This is because people who are close to us are so deeply ingrained in our psyche that often we can’t talk about them generally. When we talk about them, we normally like to set the context and have the story properly understood, so we’ll tell long stories just so the person we are talking about is understood. People who talk in generalities about a lot of people, are not necessarily indifferent, but might actually be withholding information, so you need to be careful what you are saying.

3. The 10 foot rule: I dated this girl who once said to me while at the cinema, “Spartakuss, you are applying the 10 foot rule!” when I asked what she meant, she said “It’s when you put an abnormal distance [10 feet] between yourself and me whenever we are in public”. I looked at her, standing in the elevator, before it closed me on the outside. I walked the rest of the way downstairs and found her waiting. It’s not being paranoid, but if whenever you are in public with someone and they seem to put inordinate spatial distances between you and them, watch it!

4. The friends rule: Contrary to what most people say/think, a salacious partner will introduce you to the core network of their friends. This circle will include “the boys”, “my buddies”, the now famous “so-and-so’s girlfriend” and the “I-know-her-from-somewhere”. The last two are where the demon is. Keep your man’s friends close but his friends’ girlfriends closer. The reverse of this rule is to keep your friends away from whoever you are dating. They can hear about them but there should never be any obligations for the two to be introduced. Why? Because in fact as human beings we are inherently selfish, and a friend of mine once said you’d rather be “wisely selfish” than “selfishly wise”.

5. Your favourite restaurant: I was once seated at my favourite coffee restaurant, talking with the manager, when through the corner of my eye, she appeared. I hesitated, turned, smiled and beckoned that she should come over and be introduced. As she was coming, the manger looked at me and smiled, he was beginning to form the words around his mouth, “She is the new…”. I quickly said bye, left and met her half way across the restaurant where we sat down. I wasn’t going to stand for that whole “There’s a new one?” talk!! Before you share your space [read favourite restaurant] be sure the waiters, waitresses, and managers at the restaurant are on your side. Always.

The Rules To Being a Player

2010-07-19T05:18:00.001-07:00

Last week I listened to Rick Dee’s countdown of the greatest hits of the decade on Touch 95‘N’9. I couldn’t believe some of the music he had on there. Some really cool stuff. Anyway somewhere between hit number 12 and hit number 11, Ashley calls in form somewhere in California and this is how the conversation goes

Ashley: “Hi Rick, I think my boyfriend is cheating on me. I was wondering if you can tell me how I can confirm this.”

RD: “Well, Ashley, these are absolutely 5 ways to know if your boyfriend is cheating on you.

1. There is no longer any intimacy between you and him, either emotionally or physically.

2. He never answers his phone when you are with him.

3. He doesn’t communicate with you as often as he used to.

4. He is suddenly irritable and easily offended.

5. He is suddenly less predicatble.

Well, Ashley, I hope we were able to answer your question right there. What made you think your boyfriend was cheating on you?

Ashley: “Thanks, Rick. …ahhh nothing I just found him in the shower with my sister”

I got to thinking, what it is about a cheating guy that does give him away. In a recent relationship, she came back from a night out with her friends in the middle of the night. While I snored away she checked my phone, and in there saw material that was the cause of a fractious discussion.

She asked closed ended questions like “Are you seeing someone else?” in classic Spartakuss style, I replied, “I don’t answer close ended questions”. She felt this was too arrogant. She figured because she and checked my phone and found “evidence” she’d got it right, and I should cower in utter despondence.

She then proceeded to pack all my things all the while muttering under her breath how she had had enough and that she wouldn’t stand to this anymore. With pride and sense of deep admonition I dressed up asked, “Do you expect me to leave now”?

“You can take your things whenever you want. I’m done with you.”

As I left, I thought about it, what truly are the hallmarks of a player?

Ladies and Gentlemen, from Spartakuss Media we present: The Top 15 Signs/Symptoms:

...coming soon...

Image not related to above story

For The Crane and The Stripes

2010-07-14T06:45:00.000-07:00

Summer Sandals from the Amazing One Mango tree

2010-07-09T01:19:00.000-07:00

My friend Halle has been up to so much! The people at One mango Tree have been innovating and thinking, resulting in some pretty incredible partnerships and now from the hand made 100% organic fabrics, they now bring you the Sseko sandals.

WHAT ARE SSEKOS?
Ssekos are sandals produced by a group of beautiful, intelligent young women in central Uganda that have graduated secondary school and want to continue their education into college/university. When you purchase this sandal, you're directly helping to fund and empower these ladies to become successful lawyers, doctors, and professionals. You are planting a seed. The sandals themselves are incredibly easy and the best part is that you're fully capable of creating your own, unique sandal by tying, twisting, and looping the fabric in different ways. Don't worry! We'll feature some upcoming posts with cute, creative ways to tie your Ssekos.

Find the rest of the article here...

To order in Uganda,email here and they can tell you where to buy these amazing sandals from or where they can deliver to you: info@onemangotree.com

Hive Colab Announced in Uganda!: Re-Posted

2010-07-04T07:14:00.000-07:00

Earlier in the day we announced Apps < 4> Africa, a competition for app developers across Africa. Also, today in Uganda, Appfrica Labs in partnership with Project Diaspora, UConnect, and Node Six are also announcing the Hive collaborative workspace in Uganda!

"Hive Colab is a collaborative, community owned, open work environment for young tech entrepreneurs looking to focus on projects, to access the computing resources and bandwidth, have a quiet professional environment to develop their ideas in, and to generally collaborate with each other. Something very similar to what our friends are doing with the outstanding iHub in Nairobi.

It will be a space for nascent application developers to register as freelancers, if they are looking for paying projects..."

Read the rest of it here at Appfrica.net

Invite to Bloggers!

2010-06-21T07:34:00.000-07:00

Hullo All Bloggers!

I hope you are all well! Below is an invite to attend the Nokia launch of their new OVI suite launch in Kampala tomorrow. If you would like to attend or know someone who would, kindly write to Mary Namatovu at Mary.Namatovu@scanad.co.ug for your confirmation and invitation by 12:00PM tomorrow.

Great opportunity to network, meet and chat with some exciting peeps!

See you at my cocktail table!

Uganda Vs Zimbabwe

2010-06-19T04:42:00.000-07:00

Today Uganda plays Zimbabwe in a match that will turn a lot of things upside down. I remember when a rugby match was Bell LAGER rugby match!

When heroes were more than just men; they were legends!

And when victory tasted so sooo sweet!!!

Good Luck Cranes!! Keep the wire tight!!!

LET'S GO CRANES!!!

Relaxed Out Jokes...

2010-06-17T00:48:00.000-07:00

Liar:
A man is dying of Cancer.
His son asked him, "Dad, why do u keep telling people u're dying of AIDS?"
Answer: "So when I'm dead no one will dare touch ur mom!"

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Three Feelings:
What's the difference between stress, tension and panic?
Stress is when wife is pregnant.
Tension is when girlfriend is pregnant.
Panic is when both are pregnant.

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Chinese Adam & Eve:
If Adam and Eve were Chinese, we
would still be in paradise
because they would have ignored the apple and eaten the SNAKE
--------------------------------------


Three pastors were discussing, one said his problem is stealing, he can not stop stealing from the church’s money and if his church members find out, it would be disastrous. The second pastor said his own problem is adultery, he had slept with almost every woman in the church both married and unmarried. His church members must not find out. The third pastor said his problem is that he can not do without gossiping, and everybody must know what he just found out. He then excused himself and immediately the other two pastors fainted.

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2.       To surprise her husband an executive’s wife decided to stop by his office. On entering the office, she saw the secretary on her husband’s laps. In order to defend himself the husband said “budget cut or no budget cut management must do something. I and my secretary cannot be sharing this office with just a single seat
--------------------------------------

3.        Dad asked his son: whenever I beat you how do you stop your anger?
          Son replies: I start cleaning the toilet.
          Dad asked: How does that help you?
          Son: I clean it with your tooth brush.
--------------------------------------


4.        Three guys were gisting at a beer parlour. The first guy said when my wife was pregnant she was reading a book; a tale of two cities and she gave birth to twins. The second said his wife was reading the three musketeers and she gave birth to triplets. The third guy dropped his beer bottle and started running home. When they got to his house they saw him burning a book and they asked why. He said his wife was reading Ali Baba and the forty thieves and she is pregnant……not in this house ……it can not happen!

--------------------------------------

5          One day, a man was sitting in his office on the 19th floor of a building when a man came running in to his office and shouted, “John, your daughter, Anna just died in an accident right opposite this building”. The gentleman was in panic. Not knowing what to do, he jumped out through his office window. While coming down, when he was near the 14th floor, he remembered he does not have a daughter named Anna. When he was near the 7th floor, he remembered he was not married yet. When he was about to hit the ground, he remembered he was not John!

This is what stress does. Take things easy and relax as much as you can. It is not all about work! Work! Work! Work.

--------------------------------------

Difference
A man went to face an interviewer. Board of Directors asked him, “Tell the difference between
“COMPLETE” and “FINISH”.
The man replied, I am clarifying with the example, “When u marry a right person you are “Complete”
and when you marry the wrong one you are “Finish (ed)”.
--------------------------------------

Why is the driver scared?
A taxi passenger tapped the driver on the shoulder to ask him a question.
The driver screamed, lost control of the car, nearly hit a bus, went up on the
footpath, and stopped centimeters from a shop window.
For a second everything went quiet in the cab, then the driver said: “Look
mate, don’t ever do that again. You scared the daylights out of me!”
The passenger apologized and said, “I didn’t realize that a little tap would
scare you so much.”
The driver replied, “Sorry, it’s not really your fault. Today is my first day as a
cab driver - I’ve been driving a van carrying dead Bodies for the last 25
years…..

Golola Moses: The Hitler Video

2010-06-10T04:52:00.000-07:00

This is the story of Golola Moses, Uganda's next viral sensation. this video shows how Adolf reacted when he heard about Golola Moses being unleashed on every super hero known to man.

Golola Moses has a fight on 13th June. Can we please as Ugandans all support him?

Thought Leadership: The Game is changing.

2010-05-26T01:05:00.001-07:00

Uganda, the land of milk and honey, corruption and money. A beautiful kaleidoscopic picture of zen view sunsets and the gory dod-eat-dog world of modern-day capitalism. To the naked eye, the country is preparing for elections in 2011 but to the trained eye the powers that be are in anarchy.
Over the past few weeks there have been relatively few ads in the newspapers. Well this is what has been going on…

A couple of months ago all the media houses in Uganda got together and decided that agencies who book, sell, and plan media buying for the corporate machine owed them too much money and therefore they were going to stop running all adverts. They called a meeting to talk about this and they were right; agencies and clients together owed the media houses a whopping [Red Pepper style] UGX 5.9 Billion! They gave the agencies, who foolishly agreed, 90 days in which to address the delicate matter with their respective clients and get back to them.

90 days later.

A couple of weeks ago Robert “KaBush” (from here on known as Bush), summoned the mother of all meetings, he and his Nation Media Group counterpart Dr. Githinji (did you know he was a gynecologist?) had amassed all their smaller and diverse media cronies and, seated at the head of the table, announced that all advertising was going to stop running. They had done what scholars and industry watchers had thought was unthinkable, let alone undoable. They had blacklisted all media agencies; a blanket ban.
The review meeting following this announcement showed that the agencies had managed to bring down their debt to about UGX 2.9 Billion claiming that some of their clients were adamant to pay or had stricter payment procedures and therefore had not been able to remit the balance in the 90 days pending. So all advertising was going off air.

He shouldn’t have

One, been positioned as the leader of the fight against the corporate machine because that evening nearly all MDs, CEOs, and CFOs of the corporate machine met separately to discuss this new turn of events while simultaneously the agencies also met to digest this new twist to things.

Two, put a blanket ban on the all the agencies because not all agencies had failed to pay. Therefore the whole industry being victimized for one agency’s lack of fiduciary wisdom was not perceived as just or bright.

Three, stood together with his competition to try and “Enforce” a measure that he felt was for the “greater good” because in the end he will still be standing alone to his shareholders to account for what’s happening to their investments.

The results of the meetings.

The Bush meeting ended up with an alliance signed in blood committing all the media houses to a cooperation where if you owe any single media house money e.g. Observer, you will not get be able to run your advertisement in any other newspaper. Of course this would mean increased cooperation amongst the media houses but it also posed the precarious question of commitment and solidarity. In a time when the market is shrinking and print media budgets are quickly being replaced you don’t want to be caught biting the advertisers’ hand. 45 extra days were given and ZK Advertising, the second largest spender of advertising in East Africa 2009 and Ignition were blacklisted. All their advertising was blocked and no work would be coming through them from anyone. Instead, the media houses circumvented the agencies and went directly to the clients and got the adverts directly.
The MDs and CEO meeting resulted in reimbursement bills to their secretaries for coffees and networking time spent discussing “industry re-formation”. They all however agreed that what Bush had done was undesirable and they would have to find a way of punishing the bad boy for his behaviour. “Let’s pull all our advertising from him”, someone whispered, but just like the whisper, he was asked to speak quietly because they all needed Bush.

The agency meeting yielded slightly more than the above because they ended up forming something called the Agencies’ Association of Uganda. (AAU? Kind of funny considering how much weed and alcohol those guys consume no?) They, on the other hand decided to coalesce and give a united position to the Media Owner’s Association, which had triggered all of this. Some radicals said they should get together with their clients and force the media houses to apologize and come to more amenable terms of payment and relationships.
What does this mean for the future?

The Bush and the Gynecologist are definitely not being loved in a lot of client circles and if you are keen there will noticeably be reduced invitations to them to attend corporate functions in the period ahead.

A certain guerilla caucus has come together to find all the ways in which the Vision conglomerate and the Nation behemoth are replaceable starting with the newspapers. Starting at the top, they are re-doing the research, figures, rationales, and psychographics to justify why all the FMCG companies and the corporatocracy should shift from mainstream media and now invest in more audience-driven forms of media. Perhaps new media even; blogs, Facebook, websites, twitter, You Tube, mobile phone ads, etc. We know that Fireworks has a team dedicated to online/new media; surveying, analyzing, studying, experimenting. Are they about to propose a radical shift to their clientele that will extend the advertising frontier, once again?

The smaller players in this convoluted power play have failed to get their erections up to speak up for their rights and so they are doing what they know to do best; going behind the big boys and saying ”Those guys are doing their own thing, you just give me my thing.” The disconnect this has created is not to be ignored. The agencies have not and will not. What they do next with this crack will probably shake the media industry like we have never seen. Perhaps a total advertising blacklist of New Vision, or the Nation Group?

Let’s wait and see.

The agencies have become galvanized under one umbrella body. Whether this is a good thing or not can only be seen with the passing of time. The Scangroup behemoth (East Africa’s largest spender and biggest marketing services provider) is in search of a Ugandan Telco to bolster its ranks. They already have the East African Breweries and the regional Lafarge business to cater to. When I spoke with CEO to one of the agencies that handle one of the Telcos, she said, “What I think we should do is organize as the big agencies and squeeze these small motherfuckers out of business. Because if we dare try and stand against the media houses, they will go behind our backs and confuse our clients and next thing you know we will be royally shafted here. They can do it.” What she meant was squeeze the agencies without big clients out of business by negotiating better commissions from the media houses through bulk buying. What this would do in essence would be to force the industry to re-align reporting, billing and fiscal control procedures. So one uniform billing document recognizable across the industry, one process. A clear signal of progress in the industry but what does it truly mean for the clients? In a world of organized and unionized advertising, there are no surprises, no game-changers, and definitely no lowered costs. The client looking for clear, distinctive and outstanding advertising and market presence will have to literally go rogue, but which agency will, or can? The argument can be made that a lot of agencies will think out of the box and go rogue. That is until they become isolated by fellow agencies, over charged by the media houses and soon rejected by the corporate machine; killing creativity, and dulling the sharp, incisive edge that it takes to cut through today’s’ advertising clutter. What is dizzyingly clear though is that the industry will never be same after this.

Bush promised the powers that be a platform on which he would deliver the 2011 election. He gave them Bukedde TV, has opened a radio in every mainstream local dialect and is on a roll to revamp the local language papers. This happens amidst an environment where all media houses are trying to acquire more media houses. KFM, currently the most listened to station in inner and greater Kampala, is shopping for upcountry stations to bolster its arsenal of listenership and footprint, while Dembe FM recently acquired the rural based Rwenzori FM. So as the media landscape’s tectonic plates continue to shift and change one thing is for sure; we are on the cusp of something that has happened in very few other countries: Uganda is preparing to leap frog – Again!

One Mango Tree: Mothers' Day Sale

2010-05-04T06:53:00.000-07:00

One day soon I'm writing a story about a very good friend of mine called Halle but for now;

Rugby, Fallen Stars and Great Advertising!

2010-05-03T09:18:00.000-07:00

I remember when I first saw this billboard of Allan Musoke. The Ugandan team had just stormed the Dubai Sevens and the picture was taken when Allan Musoke was racing to Ugandan glory. It brought the idea of Ugandan heroes very close to mind. It is possible for Ugandans excel, to shine and to truly live an unforgettable experience!

Uganda won this game to become the CAF African Champions; the best rugby playing nation outside of South Africa - well those guys don't really count.

some of the highlights from that wonderful game

This chap is probably the best kicker we have in the country.

Some of these guys went to the sidelines and never came back! hey became part of the furniture. Same spot every weekend. Time after time. Etuket, Chonga, Tinka, Kasana.

Champions!!

Surviving my gut, weight and Mrs. Spartakuss

2010-04-21T06:55:00.001-07:00

"Your tummy is growing fat and I don't like it" she said as I lay in bed trying to muster the energy to get up and rush off to work. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her standing over me looking like a mother tells her son he should get up and take his wet bed sheets and wash them up. As a guy who used ti bed wet, I don't like this tone of voice. So I keep quiet. I listen on as the rant goes on for seemingly ages. As I realize I'm running out of time, I get up and move towards the bathroom.

I stand in front of the mirror. I look for a long moment at the image looking back at me. He is roguish, unshaved and his hair has curled up on his head like that of a starved, kwashiorkor infected boy. My gut seems to support this theory. So the long look wasn't reminiscing the times when I was ripped and a monster threading through college on a great body, wit and unlimited energy. Those days were awesome, fun and definitely will most likely never be again. Those days looked like this:

My mind was going back much further back in time and place. As I stood before that mirror I sort of melted into the glass in an almost "Alice-and-the-looking-glass" fashion. To a time when things were harsh, I was short and dirty, and life was almost unbearable.

"Sebbutto!!," taunted Kenneth. Kenneth was my class mate and was in Primary class 7. We were primary level finalist candidates. We rocked the school. I was a Prefect and so was he. We weren't close, Spartakuss never has been, but we had a functional friendship where we shared the little Blue Band either one of us had to put in our Beans and Posho evening meal. It was boarding school, and my parents lived abroad. He was from close to the border of Uganda and Kenya. My parents came once a term and his mum came whenever she stopped in town to shop supplies for her store. We nearly shared everything. We were on average at the same level in class only he was better at Maths and I ruled the English class. The only things that weren't similar about us was this: he was clean and lean. I was dirty and had a distended belly because I suffered from Kwashiorkor.

Sebutto translated from Luganda, the popular vernacular at school into "King of stomachs". It was an insult. It stung. It hurt. And in primary school one would not know why people would be so mean but now as an adult, it is because everyone as something to hide. The more they have something to hide, the more they will taunt you with your insecurities. So I got teased. It had started as a joke and I was young so I didn't know that "fighting it" doesn't make it stop. I bribed, I paid, I played dool, I did everything I was dared to do, I cheated in class tests, and I talked to girls, anything to earn some street cred. But it would all soon to be futile and I resigned myself to being called Sebutto. Around the time, Central Broadcasting Station (CBS) had just opened and it was on everyone's lips, and in my little community in Seeta Boarding, it was bastardized to "Conrad's Big Stomach"[Conrad was my name]. That humiliation would live with me for years to come. Whenever I did anything, whenever I said anything, whenever I was in an argument, whenever someone felt I was getting fresh and flossing any knowledge that I had that they didn't it devolved and was attributed to my stomach. Long were the nights spent wondering, pondering, and fantasizing as a way of getting away from that hell hole. I blamed everyone from my parents, to my teachers, to my friends for not looking out for me.

I read hard and played hard. It was a tough time and I was very angry at my family for failing to find me a school abroad. It was the kind of anger that makes you fail every exam in the middle of the term and still be in the top 3 at the end just so I could prove that it made no difference, I was a bright kid. And as I stood with classmates taking our finalist pictures before our final exams, I remember thinking "I will never want to see any of these people again. Ever."

I joined a secondary school, and before the end of my first year I had attracted another name similar to the first. The boys in secondary school were ruthless and unforgiving. They taunted, they stung and they were even brighter than I was. Still carrying my gut; taut, distended, and disproportionately big compared to my tiny, short frame, it stood out like a sore thumb. I was in my adolescent years and the pressures of growing, the release of hormones and the failure of the gut to go just drove me to depression. The anxiety punished me and my family suffered, and my friends suffered. Everything suffered. Those were dark days in my life. Dark dark days. Thrice I broached the idea of suicide, and thrice I was called from the edge – by one guy, a classmate. I would later go on to take his name as my own to remind me that nothing was worth my life. Nothing. I went to many schools after that initial high school and in each school I carried a nick name for that tummy.

Until I found a place free of judgment where I blossomed, fell in love with life and love again. I stood tall, re-discovered the blind side, learnt martial arts, herded cows and goats, courted village belles, ate bitter herbs, climbed a mountain, and worked the land. Those nights were cold in the hilly, cold, dimly lit nights of the countryside. The hunger bit deep on some nights, and I lay awake battling thoughts of larceny from the neighbour's plantation, just as I lay awake on nights in harvest season after being engorged with sweet bananas, herbs and banana juice to wash it down. I never got a lot of sleep in those days but it was worth it. I had one pair of shorts, two pairs of socks, one vest and a school uniform shirt. My tummy still showed but I had something to show for my time. I had respect, I had belief in who Spartakuss and what he stood for. I had vision. I had a goal. As I sat before a lamp, wearing a 5 year old lens subscription and an even older frame in which they sat, I knew it has to count for something. I had come to believe, just like the village folks around me that it couldn't all count for naught, God was just, he was fair, and the universe rewarded hard work. That period remains the golden period of my life, when I had nothing, and yet I had everything. Not once did anyone ever refer to my gut in this whole period.

My high school days passed with equal tranquility, introducing me to the years that "Spartakuss" was actually born. Accepting me. Being me. Living me.

Almost with similar ease I seem to dissolve out of the mirror s the reverie comes to an end. I splash some water on my face as I hear her continue to nag through the door. All I can hear is "blah, blah, blah, your tummy, blah, blah, your gut, blah, blah, your blah."

As I rinse the toothpaste form out of my mouth, I catch a quick glance of Spartakuss smiling devilishly. This is familiar territory, he can out run this one. Then a calming thought descends: "Per Adua ad Astra" - "Through hardship to the stars" motto to the Royal Marine Corps, and creed of my soul.

I get out of the bathroom, drape on my shirt, don my suit jacket and kiss her nice day. I have fought too long and so hard to bring Spartakuss to life – and I will keep it that way; Live and Let Live. I will get into shape when Spartakuss wants, not a moment before then.

PS:/ And this business of denying me food has to stop!

what network are you on?

2010-04-10T06:15:00.000-07:00

Two years ago I met up with Jesse "Tuks" as his friends know him and we shared ideas on how the youth and the future were the key to changing Uganda and its direction. he introduced me to the most debate and conversational conundrum i had faced to date. I still use this discussion in my talks with young people and as mind nibbler.

Jesse's passion about a righteous nation did not stem entirely from a religious stand point, but also from a deeply human place. He argued that a society's leaders were elected because they were the best that society had to offer; they were its torch bearers, they were the society's benchmark of morality, goodness, kindness, honesty, generousity, hospitality, diligence and passion! He was riled by the stories that were in the papers everyday where politicians, leaders, teachers, parents and icons just got caught up morally compromising situations. It angered him. Not because it prevented him from progressing but because he felt that with role models like this, the future was not protected - our children were not safe, and hence the nation stood on a precipice.A dangerous place where if we were not careful we would plunge into the abyss!

His friend Moses on the other hand believed that leaders were a reflection of what a society was. They had no moral right, or authority or right to be better than the people they led; they were after-all a selection from among the people. Hence in his arguement, leaders were society's moral compass, telling of the society's decadence or its depravities.

However both these gentlemen agreed that something had to be done to heal a broken nation.they believed that today's generation had to do something to heal the divide otherwise it was only;y a matter of time until something catastrophic happened.Until the "Have-nots" rose up against the "Haves"and forced them to "return" what was theirs. It is a scenario that has played out across the world for millenia.

Enter Character.Inc, an organization formed to encourage young people to do the right thing, despite all the competing communication around them; don't litter, be honest, work diligently, never cheat, have integrity, have Character - because its "Worth the Price"

This is how they express their call to all Ugandans, if you get this forward it on to someone, maybe we can build our community, one choice at a time.

And so when they went to Bududa district to take relief to the landslide victims this is what they had to show: Check out the BUDUDA.PDF REPORT.

Enough said.

GO UGANDA!!!

IT'S FINALLY HERE! THE 12TH MAKERERE UNIVERSITY PUBLIC SPEAKING CONTEST

2010-04-07T09:28:00.000-07:00

The 12 the Makerere University Public speaking contest is finally here! Check it out here: speakerswithoutborders.biz

and register on FaceBook here:

The winner will walk away with a Million and half that night!

Uganda Lays wrong ICT cable - Experts

2010-04-06T10:29:00.000-07:00

Some days its just too much. Too much hustle, too much bullshit.

Things we know, remember and love...

2010-04-02T06:47:00.000-07:00

I remember when Blue Band was only eaten when you had visitors and it was treasured and cherished.Those moments are the highlights of any kid who grew up in in 'revolution years" Yeah. We are the children of teh revolution.
The best though was always when you got some much cherished red plum jam Zesta from Kenya.

A Short Love Story: Expendable Tears

2010-03-27T10:15:00.001-07:00

Today I was talking to a friend I have known for years. Serious Stone stone lives in New York and we were talking about friendships, relationships and stuff. As we talk and mull over old stuff and new acquaintances, he says to me: "I hate the way you are someone's friend only when they are in shit, and going through drama" I pause and I wonder whether Sam lost his mind but I remember that Sam always did have a way of looking at things; in a way all his own.

He thought it was cool to put himself through hell for a girl he really liked but when it didn't work, he still thought it was cool. He said some mumbo Jambo about being a stronger man. Anyway, I talk to Sam once a week. We talk about everything that's happening in Kampala to New York. He represents his world so graphically that conversations with him have a whole different feel to them. He makes the mundane sound sublime. We get to talking about life and friendships. He asks how my friend Mr. Spartakuss and Mrs. Spartakuss are doing. I tell him she went to hell to collect her soul.

He chuckles and says "Well, at least she had one!" I proceed to tell him about how she had, despite his remonstrations, gone ahead to hell.

Now don't get me wrong. I don't think it is right to hate a woman's exes. I think actually its cool to rub her in his face most times. But you shoulda known this nigga. This was the ex from purgatory. He was BAD!!! He did things that made Spartakuss shudder.

When Spartakuss had first hooked up with the Mrs. he had told her that man "had to go". It was either him or the dude. I knew Spartakuss did not have a lot of standards but that guy just ticked you the wrong way; I always wondered whether it was because of the incoherent way he introduced himself as "LOBAT" instead of "Robert" or, when he said he could go not to Christian Cell Fellowship because he was a "CASOLIK".

This had always been amusing to Spartakuss, but he also found it verbally lazy on his part not to improve his speech pattern or make an effort to lessen the mother tongue influence and inflections in his speech. Despite all these though, this man had money. Lots of it. He was childless and married so he spent most of his disposable cash on young, impressionable nubiles in and around the city. Imagine this chap's horror when Spartakuss swept in one fine day and made off literally with his nubile. He swore, threatened to shoot him in a parking lot (by the way, whenever you can, avoid having any sort of confrontation outside Steak Out – that parking lot is blood thirsty), intimidated him, belittled him, attempted to bribe him, the list is endless. Well you know Spartakuss, the more it goes on and the more you pine for something, the more he knows it's something of value, so he goes ahead and takes it. He shouldn't have.

He tells the Mrs. "Look here, you can have as many pals and companions and patrons and stalkers as you like, just keep that guy out of this circle. I don't have to give permission but I should know if you are going to meet with someone who might antagonize this here what we got going. I might be furious, I might be mad but at least I'll know. It is mutual respect", I don't know why he said this but I think it was because somewhere deep inside he sensed that a man doesn't let go of his 6 year nubile to a younger, more virile male just like that. There would be a fight, but first there would be a silence before the reprisal.

Spartakuss is my friend so I asked the Mrs. whether she was really over the "Lob". She confirms she was.

…Fast forward to the present.

The Mrs. ain't doing anything for the Spartakuss. He is working long hours, slaving, slogging, hogging and dogging to earn his piece of bread. Unfortunately, and this is very true in a lot of our communities today; when anyone is starting out, the curve is so steep that there is often no time to do anything (or anyone) else. Literally. So Spartakuss hogged and dogged but the Mrs. didn't think he was slaving it out for her, so she accused him of neglect and abandon. She said he emotionally abused her and that he was a user. The problem with this position, was that Spartakuss actually had not abused the Mrs. He'd just been caught up in the mayhem that was his work life and literally lost touch with a lot of things; with her among them. He'd wanted to grow quickly at his job so he too could splash a few shillings around her; make her feel like she belonged, pick her up, take her out, stop taking bodas or cabs everywhere. He knew what she’d had before, and she was not ashamed to say her expectations of a man.

But his late nights at the office and long weekend absences had taken their toll on the Mrs. In a moment and flash of anger she rationalized that Spartakuss was no different from Lob and to prove it she would have coffee with the "Lob". It turned out they were different; Spartakuss was worse, even though he had never hurt, abused, beaten, lied to, cheated on the Mrs., she came back from that “coffee” with this belief. One day in a moment of anger she lashed out at Spartakuss. She said these thoughts out loud; dealing a definitive blow. Spartakuss had known. He wasn't sure how, but he had known and it had niggled him to no end how he knew. Now as he stood reading that text message "I went to see my ex today and we had coffee," smack right in the middle of an unrelated argument. He knew it was calculated to hurt. And it had.

It struck deep. So deep. The initial numbing shock, and then the ensuing seeping in of pain. The pain of betrayal. The memories of tapped phone calls (he was a powerful man), the humiliation of that Mercedes passing by as Spartakuss walked to his favourite restaurant, the fear of the threat of being shot. All these emotions rose and welled up. How could she do this to him? They had both fought so hard to come this far! In the middle of that torrent of thoughts and feelings, a maxim he'd once held true and dear came to him "Never get attached to anything that you can't walk away from; Everyone is dispensable." The momentary battle that ensued with his feelings was soon decided; maxim over feelings. Calm was restored. The decision was swift and decisive. She had to go.

As the ebb and flow of time are often wont to do, it showed Spartakuss his error in a hurried dismissal, because the absence of a planned withdrawal from the Mrs. meant they both continued to meet in the same places, kept the same friends, and hang out at the same clubs. He did, with the flow of time, relapse into the company of the Mrs.; her gentle goading, her stubborn insistence, her irreverent but yet delightful banter. Things looked like the past might just be painted over by a new mural; bigger, better, brighter, complete introspective lessons. But alas fate would not have it.

I don't think fate is evil, it is just fate: neutral and impersonal. But in this new blow fate would deal him a hand too hot for even his seasoned and calloused hands to handle. One night as he lay down from a long day and night's work the Mrs. drew up close and said: "I have something to say to you."

"What is it?"

"Well its, one of those things that will make you mad"

"….."

"Ok…"

"….."

"I recently reconnected with my ex and we've been meeting…"

"…"

"… He wanted to come over tonight but I refused him. I told him I was expecting company and that he shouldn't come"

"…", my eyes were still closed.

"He insisted and told me he wanted to talk, and he was having a bad day. He said we really needed to talk but when I refused the conversation devolved into an abusive phone call. And just before you came in, he called and said that he'd seen you outside the gate"

"Explain this to me slowly. You have been seeing him again? Are you friends? He knows where you live? Has he been here?!"

"Yeah, two nights ago. Butwedidn'tdoanything. I promise"

"Why was he in the house?" at this point Spartakuss was beginning to bristle.

"He just came by to sit down and he remained in the living room. I swear I didn't do anything"

"…"

"You need to believe me; I was just showing him my house, where I live. He asked me and there was no reason to refuse after all we've been on such good terms lately." The bile rose in Spartakuss' mouth, slowly from the pit of his gut. She had reminded him not too long ago that when she first met him, he had nothing more than a little fat as she now rubbed his filled out form and gut to match. The bile rose from deep within. It came from a place where revulsion and darkness abide; the place where you hide the instincts to eat your own faecal matter out of hunger, or curiosity; a place inside a man's soul where no one dare ever look. And it rose. And it boiled. And it rose.

"So what do I do now? It's after the fact, I can't change anything now. I can't help the fact that you've had him at the house. What was wrong with a little decency or a common courtesy that said "I'll give him a heads up"" he said as he thought about all those times he had thought of surprising her and just showing up at her place. He imagined the shame, the humiliation, the horror, but also the pain, the hurt, the emotions he would have gone through if he had shown up and found the Lob at the house. Maybe he would have lobbed a grenade or something.

Still the bile rose.

He imagined if he had walked in on them, as it happens in the movies. What would he have done? What would he do now? The confusion was debilitating and the path ahead was hazy. Spartakuss grabbed at his chest as a palpitation struck again. He was never meant to be this. This was not him. He would not take it anymore than anyone else had to.

The riot inside his head raged on. Emotions, feelings, hopes, disappointment, blood, fears, his depravities mixing with his insecurities to render his formal constructs of reason and logic impotent. Flashes of every other incident where he had looked down the mouth of a gun and survived whizzed past him, the recent amorous killings that had flooded the nations' newspapers just crept up behind him like a tome, landing heavily and solidly on his mangled mind to create a sense of mental asphyxiation. Chocking, pain, the sensation that his mind would mutiny and be overwhelmed as it has once before, was dangerously imminent. He drew closer to the edge; he felt his feet dance on that precipice…

"I think we should end this until you can sort out this brokenness", was what he said as he put on his shirt, and grabbed his socks. As he stood at the door, he did not look back. He did not say goodbye, he did not wince. The decision had been swift and decisive. Maxim wins again. Checkmate.

I was sure as I related this story to Sam he would find a way of trivializing it but somehow somewhere I could not get over how Spartakuss has escaped death, or committing it, once again.

A New Thing

2010-03-23T07:51:00.001-07:00

New post at my pix blog.

Also welcome my buddy who recently opened her first blog recently at:

www.tashmate.blogspot.com/

How Much Smarter? IBM’s Strategy for a Smarter Planet?

2010-03-15T06:23:00.001-07:00

“What is the sound of the planet talking? A century ago, the answer was simple: people conversing in person or over wired networks. Today, it’s not just everyone, but also everything talking to every other thing, in constant motion.”

Last year, at the Digital Africa Summit, I sat down with the Chief Technical Officer at IBM Sub-Sahara, Clifford Forster and in what would be an eye-opening conversation; he explained what IBM was thinking.

A smarter planet; something he called “the internet of things.” The idea behind what was thought to be the next stage in innovation and technological advancement. The idea that all the main areas of our lives were connected and that at no time in history than today were we able to allow all these things to “talk”. Energy, infrastructure, traffic, food, banking, telecommunications, intelligence, cities, etc; all these functions and elements today are connected and monitored and IBM is looking at ways of making a smart planet: enabling sustainable businesses and systems for a sustainable planet.

This year in his presentation, Walter Mhlongo, took this conversation to the next level with “Smarter Telecommunications”. Africa has only about 1% of its information online and so has to download about 99% of its information from the rest of the world. Challenged by language barriers despite inter-connectivity and facing similar problems, he explained that IBM’s commitment to a smarter planet had led it to develop “spokenweb” (IBM’s leading automated translation technologies) in areas like health care, trade and travel bringing to life real-time automated translation solutions all available on the internet.

It is estimated 2 billion people will be on the Web by 2011 – and they’ll be doing more than talking. Video on demand, IP television and internet TV will account for nearly 90% of consumer IP traffic by 2012. When people talk, it will be to many more people – via social networking sites, whose memberships will top 500 million in the next three years. Figures that are not only indicative of the future, but also of the countless opportunities that will arise for companies to innovate, collaborate and to feed into and re-define their world in order to continue delivering top notch services to their clients.

As I wandered across the conference corridors, I ran into Walter’s colleague, Dr. Shiyghan Narti, IBM’s Strategy and Marketing Executive. He reaffirmed IBM’s commitment to the continent, indicating that the company was investing over $100 million in expanding its presence in Sub-Saharan Africa. With this investment, IBM is better placed to enable its’ clients to take advantage of the opportunities presented by gaining new insights in ways previously not possible.

“Over the next few years, you will see IBM playing a critical role as an innovator, providing inspired solutions to local issues and creating high valued products that matter to the communities and clients it serves”, he confidently states. “We will continue to leverage industry leading forums like the Digital Africa Summit to engage in meaningful conversation with our clients and partners across Africa.”

In just three years, IP traffic is expected to total more than half a Zettabyte (a Zettabyte is a trillion gigabytes or – 1 followed by 21 zeros). The need for this information to reach the last half of Africa, triggering access to massive amounts of information and thus allowing informed decision making, better sustainable practices and an interconnected system of performance to deliver our planet to the next level has never been greater.

Digital Convergence & Innovation Driving Positive Change

2010-03-04T11:16:00.000-08:00

In the digital era, access to information and the sharing of knowledge have created a new global currency that is transforming the fundamental economic, educational and social constructs of society, creating unprecedented opportunities for positive change.

Africa’s ICT sector is the fastest growing globally with mobile and broadband penetration rates set to continue to rise with lower cost high speed broadband now a reality companies must prepare and build solid foundations allowing them to take advantage of the opportunities, that this exciting industry and continent has to offer.

The region’s need to capitalize on convergent services and innovations is evident with IPTV, Triple Play and VoIP offerings growing, lower cost of access has created an increasing demand from the customer base. Service providers are locked in a battle to increase ARPU and boost customer loyalty, while maintaining lean and efficient operations. The demand on their networks and ability to deliver value to their customers is constantly growing.

Thus, the challenges to win in this new and dynamic environment are enormous making focus, speed, cooperation and ongoing innovation imperative to its many members.

The Digital Africa Summit aims to assist African operators by providing information that will aid them in developing a focused, practical strategy moving forward. This will be achieved by orchestrating a debate between:

Leading regulatory authorities from Africa and the World
Operators from Africa and the World
Governments from Africa
Industry Associations
Financial Institutions and Investors
Solution providers
System integrators

We expect participating executives to leave this debate with greater clarity and understanding about the challenges they will face in developing their networks increasing connectivity efficiency and driving positive social and economical growth.

Find the Summit website at: Digital Africa Summit

The summit blog is at: www.digitalafricasummit.wordpress.com

Follow us on Twitter @ http://twitter.com/DASummit2010

Find and discuss up to the minute summit updates on our Face book page

Sunrises

2010-03-01T03:40:00.001-08:00

Sunrise 1, originally uploaded by jnape.

I woke up this morning to a cloudy shadow cast over my city. Its been rainy the past few days. this after weeks of disastrous blood-caking sunshine. I swear you could feel the blood congealing in your capillaries the moment you hit the sun.

As a result people used more fuel on air conditioning in their cars and Uganda despite being one of the few countries that western countries are using to settle their carbon debts through Carbon trading quickly lost all the points we had made. That in itself is not entirely a bad thing, but one has to think of what is lost. the failure to ponder on the consequences of our actions is the highest cause of stupid, human-defining actions and moments. The one thing (action or moment) that interminably alters the nature, development, course and ideas of human history; like Hiroshima, Sharpville, 1968, Obama, 9/11, the very first Easter, Katrina, Declaration of Independence, July 14th 1789, the word 'Cunt', or even the birth of Sarah Palin.

Each of these actions diametrically changed human history as it will be told for centuries to come. they are curved in stone for us to pass on: for we do not inherit the earth from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children.

Some readers here will argue that Sarah Palin doesn't deserve to be on the list given that she is a monumental cunt but I put it to you that surely those of you that have never wanted a cunt (to own one or be grateful for one) should cast the first stone. I propound that without the really shitty writers (read Robert Kalumba), the luminaries like Tumwi, Baz, Liz, Streetsider are just writers. Its only when you see how much power is given to this inept and mediocre stock that you are able to compare how good you've got it.

And so I celebrate the rain and the sun, the guns and the roses, the bitch who broke my heart and the one who is the shinning new star in my firmament. It is the sunrise that gives us hope to take away the grieving of the night.

Have a nice week

Daily Monitor! OK I give up!

2010-02-16T01:03:00.000-08:00

The story below was in today's Daily Monitor: My concerns are just how I think story might not have been written.

Search for a magazine model:

In partnership with African Woman, sherry V&A, at a cocktail last Friday held at Serena Hotel in Katongole Hall, unveiled plans to have a countrywide search for a cover girl, V&A Covergal, that will be glammed up to appear on the cover of the magazine of May.{First of all Serena has no Katongole Hall, its Katonga Hall! And how about a girl who "will be glammed up to appear on the cover of the magazine of May"? Who taught this motherf****r English?} Roberty Kalumba, you are an idiot!

They need an ordinary girl to grace the cover the May edition of African Woman. “She doesn’t have to be a model, celebrity, a known personality or socialite,” was the criteria as laid down by the head honcho of the magazine Sylvia Owori.

According to the UBL Brand Manger, Spirits Phoebe Nakabazzi, the search for the cover girl will be country-wide and the successful lady will embody the qualities of V&A “that are independence, confidence and elegance,” she said. What one needs to do should they want to participate is to purchase V&A at the participating stores; Uchumi and Capital Shoppers and fill out a necktie coupon to enter the draw which will take place each week until 200 girls are selected to proceed to the next stage where the contest will begin. {Ok does the Brand have a manger in which is it is kept until it grows up? or did they mean to say Brand Manager? }

The 200 will later be reduced to 30 girls who will face a public vote through the different forms of media- radio, TV and print, where the public will do the sieving. There will be a final event that will end the whole process. “It will be a big production that will give us who the final girl will be,” said Owori.

Apart from being the Cover Girl, the winner will stand to win goodies from Sylvia Owori’s wardrobe and a Shs2m shopping voucher from one of the best boutiques in the country. {Like her personal wardrobe? Really? and the best boutique in the country? isn't that Sylvia's too? So they'll walk away with her personal clothing as well as items from her shop?!}

Consumers of V&A will also stand a chance to win various instant prizes at participating stores through the lucky-dip promotions that will include a dinner for two at a top hotel, spa treatments, salon and tickets to the cinema. The search has began.{The lucky dip promotions will include a dinner for two? or the lucky dip prizes will include dinner for two, salon treatments, etc?}

Find a GIRL…

2010-02-13T02:05:00.000-08:00

Who calls you HANDSOME instead of hot.

Who calls you back when you hang up on HER.

Who will stay awake just to watch you sleep.

Wait for the GIRL who… kisses your forehead.

Who wants to show you off to the world when you are in your sweats.

Who holds your hand in front of HER friends.

Who is constantly reminding you of how much SHE cares about you and how lucky SHE is to have you.

Who turns to HER friends and says, ' That's HIM!!

I'm not callous or sarcastic, but life is..

2010-02-10T01:16:00.000-08:00

I just saw this and i got to thinking, we think we've got it bad but you've gotta wonder is someone else having it worse.

You find a dead body tied underneath a bus in Uganda and the country is in mourning about how bad times have gotten and how people responsible should be arrested.

Then somewhere else in the world a body is found in the landing gear of a plane.

Both stories were published on the same date. This further drives my theory. no idea occurs to one single individual. evrytime you have an idea, it is simultaneously given to someone else. The difference is in how you execute it and how fast you can produce results to claim the fame for the idea.

I'm not callous, but I believe the world is linked, You fuck up it'll get you.

Can you spot the sweat mark?

2010-02-09T01:33:00.000-08:00

I went through school as a tortured child because of sweaty teachers...

DAILY MONITOR IS A DISGRACE, AGAIN!! OK I Want Someone From the Monitor Fired!!

2010-02-03T23:30:00.000-08:00

... Because You CANNOT be the vanguards of free thinking, independence, and claim and run adverts about "In a world full of lies and spin..." Look for the "Truth Everyday"

This is the second time this is happening:

The review of Invictus; the clown who wrote the story had the audacity to give it a nice big picture, probably a google picture but not enough time to find out that in the movie, the SpringBoks' arch rivals were actually the ALL BLACKS of NEW ZEALAND, not to be confused with the Wallabies of Australia.

Do the Fuckin' research, or keep the amateurs off the job!

Look, the least I expect is the truth, not a lot of fancy stuff, just simply the truth. It is Uganda's biggest problem, marveling over the grandiloquence and being cheated in that single act of "village-ness". Big election slogans like "Quarter pin" and "Senyondo" and the still have the The Daily Monitor give a supplement on 24 years in power!

I'm indidgnant because these are the things that force me to have discussions where people say "..But the Daily Monitor said..!" and in a room full of people who think any alternative to the New Vision must be right, I'm gouged with evil eyes because I'm saying that Jonah Lomu single-handedly lifted te sport of Rugby onto the world stage; its own child, its very first Megastar.

I'm forced to, without compunction, call them idiots and damn the newspaper in the same breath. Like that time NTV was congratulating Obama and they said that world, development ethicist "Jeffrey Sax" had sent his best wishes. This station is revered all over the nation and no one took the time to find out that Jeffrey's other name is "Sachs"?

Th truth, we have a responsibility too the 50,000 pairs of eyes that read these pages. Some are government officials which is why the figure is not exactly twice the circulation figures of 32,000: the government official don't read the papers, they see pictures.

Some others are members of parliament, that decrepit conservative institution that wants to eat its own every time it has a chance. Cannibals they are, I tell you!

Others are parents, teachers, uncles, aunties, idiots, sugar daddies, all who read this information and pose by dropping it like little nuggets of information for young impressionables to pick up. They use it to impress, to show off, to boast, to goad, to bully, to genuinely teach, and, to guide.

But the greatest injustice is to the young minds that are discovering the world around them, hearing , smelling, seeing, reading, learning and taking in all this to be able to make sense of their lives. They are are the worst affected; victims of a negligent, fat, inept editor who failed to Google the damn country! and they have no idea what to look for on the map.

So they grow knowing a lie to be the truth until one day in the Zain Africa Challenge when they stand between themselves, their country's pride, USD $250,000, and the greatest moment of their lives and the question is asked: .......

HB Toxic perform at Tusker Lager Theme Night!

2010-02-01T22:26:00.001-08:00

Been up to some mischief and things!

The finest woman I ever saw...

2010-01-29T10:57:00.000-08:00

There are things I'm against....

2010-01-25T08:35:00.000-08:00

I am not prejudiced or anything against, you know, healthy eating. but isn't there such a thing as unhealthy consumption?

For example when i was in school; tales abounded of girls from St. Joseph's Nsambya having a certain tree in their school which grew "penises." when they were ripe, they fell off the tree and and were promptly harvested by the denizens.

Of course this would have gone on unchecked until one girl's "cooch" had a reaction to the damn things triggering a - well lets say, euphemistically, swelling. But you got to understand where this is coming from. I mean if the boys have holes in there mattresses, then let the girls harvest their pleasure.

Sadly a few years later the tree was cut down, and fortunately before my little kid sis joined the confounded place.

Now I once read somewhere that Carotene, the key benefit in carrots is a pigment and if you ate a small truck of carrots, your skin would turn orange.

No harm in that if you ask me, what i worry about is... isn't there a law against reverse ingesting some of these things? For example consider Exhibit A:

Now you see my point. Ironically also, in my vast Spartan experience I've also found that its always the little, small, petite, midget, anorexic girls who want the bigger carrot!

Well, if you want to know, the big girls are dealing with enough as it is, bigger carrots would just aggravate the whole situation.

No.2 I generally don't consider myself a prude or a profligate but some things should surely remain where they were meant to remain: INSIDE!

This just shows bad taste.

No.3 While we are on the subject:
WTF?!!

Isn't there some sort of rule against FAT women wearing thongs? I was recently talking to an ex and she, rather undisguisedly (like most exes are wont to do), mentioned that she never wore thongs or sexy lingerie when we were dating because I never inspired her to. In my mind I asked her so many questions: What?! How?!
So here was my response:

"Woman, if you don't feel sexy enough to wear the damn thongs, fine, but to blame it on my inability to inspire you is just emotionally crippled. Because in the end great underwear reflects how you feel about yourself on the inside. If you feel constipated, closed off and suffocated then by all means go right ahead and let it reflect in your "grannies". Just don't blame it on a brother who wants some kinky shit! And by the way EVERY guy under the sun wants a woman in thongs. its the reason the leading designers of these things are gay men, not hetero women. Goes to show how much we are into this yahoo.com*ish."

I thought about inserting that snide remark about how much I'd like some bondage but I figured exes don't take that in good light.

PS: I'm not against bondage.Some at least.

Have a blessed day..

2010-01-25T06:12:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I Wonder...

2010-01-23T05:00:00.000-08:00

1. Whether deep down all heroes are jerks looking for a chance to shock us

2. Whether, when we ask for some of these proggressive and liberal pleasures we actually are asking too much, eventually causing the genetic mutation of parts belonging to other members of ours species.

3. whether I ever thought those damn things ever came off! Now I really want to be Batman! I don't even want some from that wicked woman.

4. DJ Benny D cant possible be hiding from the smell that the weasel is emitting, can he?

5. If I would scratch when it itches in public view.

A Home Theatre To Remember

2010-01-13T09:56:00.000-08:00

In the quiet rustic air of Lira town, the birds of the morning chirp gaily to usher in the fresh morning air of the plains.

Filda wakes up, takes a quick shower and heads out in the early morning light to open shop as a retailer in the now buzzing upcountry town. There she sells soda, beer, wine, bread, body oils, little knick knacks that people use often but cannot get to easily, like sugar, soap, and other small utilities. She is also the newspaper agent in the town for a couple of newspapers.

She does this Monday to Saturday everyday without fail. Saving her little earnings and investing the into her shop to turn it into a better stocked shop. On Sunday, Filda goes to church service, has lunch at home and after a short nap in the afternoon she will meet up with some friends to sit and recapture the highlights of the week, to talk about which politician is messing around, who is the new young girl working with the local branch of the bank, the trucks that came in the previous night, and other things. She and her friends will normally catch up at the local watering hole known as “24/7” for being notoriously open all day every day.

Filda’s is a moving and emotive tale; she comes from a little known town called “Anai” on the Apac – Lira border and as soon as two years ago was a farmer in Anai growing and selling grain to earn a living. But she had a dream, to see her little boy; Solomon Ogwang and little Miriam Apiri get an education as well. She gathered 3 bags of Sesame (Sim sim) grain and sold it for UGX600, 000 Shillings and took the proceeds and came to town to start a business.

On one of those Sundays while she was enjoying herself with her friends she ordered for a few drinks and as luck would have it, a woman with a “tictac” sound system ended up with a Sony home theatre system. The excitement on her face when she came to collect it form UBL offices was almost pulpable. Her whole life she had never won anything, never been rewarded apart from her hard work and now here she was with something that would change her life, and Solomon’s, and Miriam’s.

The first born of four has to make enough to send her last sister in Senior four to school; doing what thousands of other people in our country do for their siblings. While she herself did not advance very far in school, she has dreams for her children. Solomon is now in P.1 and Miriam in Baby Class. She wants one of them to be doctor and has taken steps to ensure it happens. It is her waking obsession and driving ambition. It moved her from Ania, made her set up shop in town not her own, has her working 18 hour days six days a week. And now with a little help, she will be able to enjoy her life a little more while spending a little less.

Just Ideas

2010-01-13T08:27:00.000-08:00

I like the way this sport makes chaps feel. The sweat, the vigor, the strength, the color, the energy, the resilience. Its just awesome!But mostly I like the way this ad was done, spot on for a rugby sponsor, and the picture brings it all to life!

The true face of winners, they won every single cup last year. we wait for the league which begins next weekend.

One more way to get her into your bed...

2010-01-12T01:22:00.000-08:00

send her a face book message:

Do you wanna have drinks sometime this week? Just for like 4 minutes after work then goo up to garden city and play video games, then sing some Karaoke before catching the last movie at Cineplex, after which we'll head to a more conventional bar and get more Senator Extra Lager lagerdrinks for another three and half minutes while we wait for the right time to head to Al's Bar where we'll meet transvestites and she-males and probably dance to some nice jams. After the sun comes up we can have coffee at Javas right before we close off the hang-out session and head home.

PS: We could head to mine or yours, at that point it won't really matter.

PPS: This is Option 1. I have Option 2 written in book which is in a box under my bed. you can come check...

Our Nation's Newspapers are a Disgress!

2010-01-07T23:30:00.000-08:00

... and this appeared in the section where you apply for jobs by writing your CV right.

Someone fire the Monitor chap in charge of this article. Its like that NTV news clipat Obama's Nomination where they spelt "Jeffrey Sachs" as "Jeffrey Sax"!

Or

Is the Nation Media Academy a sham?

The Pearl’s Unsung Heroes.

2009-12-10T05:46:00.000-08:00

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.

THE HOUSE OF WALKER EXPERIENCE | Johnnie Walker Tasting in Uganda

2009-10-21T11:51:00.000-07:00

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.

One More Reason To Get Off Face Book

2009-09-07T11:24:00.000-07:00

This appeared in the papers last week.

Poetry And Why You Should Keep Your Saturday Evening Free

2009-08-27T06:46:00.001-07:00

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.

When The Fat Lady Sang...

2009-08-17T02:28:00.000-07:00

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.

Find the Angel

2009-08-10T23:30:00.000-07:00

Is this Photoshopped or not?

Issues

2009-08-10T02:47:00.000-07:00

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

Johnnie Walker Ambassador

2009-07-16T09:17:00.000-07:00

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

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

SPARTAKUSS

Move Over Apple: Sony now moves into commodities

The Urban Legend Party and Bad Black's Dollars

Gratitude

grat·i·tude

[grat-i-tood, -tyood]

I Was Terrorized

THE REASON WHY EVERY GIRL SHOULD ASK HER MAN FOR A SOUNDTRACK

Failure: An Open Letter to My Yet Unborn Son - Choose To Be Worthy

The story continues.

A long long story...

UBL UNVEILS THE NEW LOOK BELL LAGER BOTTLE!

These Tears

BLACK THURSDAY

The Next Google Could Be Here

My Favourite Song of All Time

The Bank, Competitions & Awards + My Life = This Post

Wedding Entrance Dance; My Congolese Brother

Ugandan film industry growing up into hilarious trailers!

Lyrics: "Dream" By the Everly Brothers....and ugandan music

Sons and Fathers II: 50 Things Every Father Should Teach His Son.....Part 2

Sons and Fathers II: 50 Things Every Father Should Teach His Son:

Be There!!

The Rules of Being a Player ... Part 3

The Rules of Being a Player ... Part 2

The Rules To Being a Player…. Part 1

The Rules To Being a Player

For The Crane and The Stripes

Summer Sandals from the Amazing One Mango tree

Hive Colab Announced in Uganda!: Re-Posted

Invite to Bloggers!

Uganda Vs Zimbabwe

Relaxed Out Jokes...

Golola Moses: The Hitler Video

Thought Leadership: The Game is changing.

One Mango Tree: Mothers' Day Sale

Rugby, Fallen Stars and Great Advertising!

Surviving my gut, weight and Mrs. Spartakuss

what network are you on?

IT'S FINALLY HERE! THE 12TH MAKERERE UNIVERSITY PUBLIC SPEAKING CONTEST

Uganda Lays wrong ICT cable ­- Experts

Things we know, remember and love...

A Short Love Story: Expendable Tears

A New Thing

How Much Smarter? IBM’s Strategy for a Smarter Planet?

Digital Convergence & Innovation Driving Positive Change

Sunrises

Daily Monitor! OK I give up!

Search for a magazine model:

Find a GIRL…

I'm not callous or sarcastic, but life is..

Can you spot the sweat mark?

DAILY MONITOR IS A DISGRACE, AGAIN!! OK I Want Someone From the Monitor Fired!!

HB Toxic perform at Tusker Lager Theme Night!

The finest woman I ever saw...

There are things I'm against....

Have a blessed day..

Sometimes I Wonder...

A Home Theatre To Remember

Just Ideas

One more way to get her into your bed...

Our Nation's Newspapers are a Disgress!

The Pearl’s Unsung Heroes.

THE HOUSE OF WALKER EXPERIENCE | Johnnie Walker Tasting in Uganda

One More Reason To Get Off Face Book

Poetry And Why You Should Keep Your Saturday Evening Free

When The Fat Lady Sang...

Find the Angel

Issues

Johnnie Walker Ambassador

Uganda Lays wrong ICT cable - Experts