There I am, the village lumpen, just being there. It is great to be me, I think. I feel like I have discovered the secret to life and yet everyone calls me that useless boy. See, I wake up when I want, I eat from wherever I want, I drink from wherever I want, and I sleep wherever I want. The only price I have to pay for this is not to shave my hair and have complete disregard for my hygiene. And this isn’t that bad considering some well-meaning villagers drag me to the river when they feel it’s getting out of control and scrub me.
I’m also infamous for saying stupid things every once in a while. The things I say are not even that stupid. Most times, it’s the truth laced with humor or acid depending on how much I like the person. Sometimes, scratch that, most times, people do not like the truth so I’ve gotten the occasional beating or two. Another price I have to pay to maintain this lifestyle.
That’s me basically, and I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself this morning. Heck, I’m even whistling and kicking stones on the path with my overdeveloped big toe. Breakfast was heavy, and free, and I’m now headed to the riverside to take a nap in the guava tree while all the other able-bodied men head to the gardens to dig. Idiots.
I see a figure ahead. It’s Ayobima going to fetch water. Ayobima has huge buttocks and they jiggle heavily with every step she takes. AYOBIMA, I shout and then do a hop-run to catch up with her as she turns to see who is calling her. Ayobima, I breathlessly continue as I catch up with her, your buttocks, they jiggle violently when you walk. I want to take a closer look and admire so let me walk behind you, eh? I flash her my biggest smile that shows off the 2 teeth gap from previous beatings and she giggles back at me. You are such an idiot, she playfully admonishes me before resuming her walk with an extra swing in her hips. Wonderful…wonderful, I say as I hop-walk behind here, swinging left and right to the rhythm of her jiggling. She glances back, the naughty smile still on her face, and asks, Ye, when did you last take a bath? I just flash her another toothless smile as I think to myself, this one is not surviving.
Dude has my name. And he can write. But he just there playing kwemola with his talent. Guys like this are the ones that piss me off. Others are there struggling to put together a text that makes sense yet for you you are just there dodging dodging your God given talents. Let’s see what you’ll tell the Good Lord above what you did with the gifts he gave you. Be there. Anyway, kasita you’ve decided to give it a go. Me as me, I’ll be checking for a post every day for 500 days and you’d better have a good explanation should you miss any one of those days. Something as important as creating peace in Kasese. You ‘ear me?
This one is going to be a heavy bit of knowledge to consume so, here, sit down on this stool. Have a glass of juice. Now, I just wanted to let you know something you already know but probably don’t want to think about. We are all going to die! Worst part of it, none of us knows how we’ll go out. That’s probably a lot to take in so let me lighten the mood with an ironic joke. There’s a chance you’ll even die from doing something that’s supposed to make you live longer. Hehe! Oh, not funny. I can see why you’d think that. Alrighty then, great chat, eh? The lesson from all this is that Sheeba probably knows what she digs about farmers.
THIS IS UGANDA!! *Van Damme kicks someone into a pit latrine*. You know how they say you can be your own worst enemy sometimes. Yeah, it’s probably the Chinese who came up with that one. The Chinese have such cool sayings. And it’s always those cool dudes with the overflowing beards that come up with this stuff. Beards have wisdom, guys. Especially if you rub them continuously and rhythmically. It’s like there is a genie in there that appears only to you the beard-stroker and whispers intelligent stuff in your ears that you can then say to the world and have them scratch their heads as they attempt to comprehend. PS: I have a beard. Also the Chinese give some pretty epic Van Damme round horse kicks. I wonder why he was always beating them in the movies, though. Maybe the chaps he used to beat hadn’t taken the time to grow their beards. This is definitely food for thought as I stroke my beard.
There is that movie, The Mask, where Jim Carrey played…ah ah. You go and watch it. I’m not going to break down the plotline for your lazy ass. Anyway, his Mask form has these pockets out of which he can pull out whatever his mind dreams up. Why hasn’t anyone manufactured pockets like that? I think the closest I’ve come to that is the Green Lantern Power Ring, but that’s also just fantasy, for now. Wait, I’m…I’m having an eureka moment here. Mother of revelation. Katondest! It’s been done people…they’ve made the endless pocket and it comes in the form of, wait for it, those humongous ladies bags. The weekend-wife handbags. The jumping-the-fence-from-school handbags. The ones that contain 3 clothes changes, 5 pairs of shoes, groceries for a week, the titanic, 5 bottles of wine, a makeup factory, a first aid kit and planet Jupiter. Well, well, well, who would have thought? But the whole me can’t be seen carrying around one of those. What’s the male equivalent of these super inventions?
She came, she wrote, she hoorayed. She overcame challenges, she made sacrifices, she had to become antisocial,neglect her child, but, at the end of it all, she hoorayed. She felt things, thought things, imagined things, dreamt things, witnessed things, wrote about it all and hoorayed. Koona dance!
Joel and Beverley are awesome poets. They are also awesome people. And awesome people attend festivals. So Joel and Beverly attended the Kampala International Theatre Festival. And wrote things about it. Beautiful things. Such cool people these two. And the way they write *swoons. I also attended this festival by the way so, hopefully, their awesomeness rubbed off on me. Let’s do an evaluation at the end of this week and see.
There’s that dude in the Bible called Job. The one God tortured to test his love for him. That’s how my young mind interpreted it anyway. Weekends leave me feeling like Job. But Jobs problems ended once the Lord decided that his love was real. Truly madly deeply real. Our love test continues, though. In the form of fleeting weekends. It’s our ‘reward’ for adulthood. As if we didn’t have enough problems to deal with, we have to deal with this too. Sigh. They already had the 7 day week in the Job days, right? Coz the world was created in 7 days. But I wonder how long their weekends were? Doesn’t matter…that’s the past and we are in the present. And the present day weekends suck because of how short they are. Like, what is humanity paying for with these short weekends? Guys who have read the Bible from page to page, first educate a brother on when the weekends became so short and what humanity had done to piss off the Most-High to deserve this…
For the longest time, I thought Phatfest was a festival for fat people. That’s before I knew how it was sspelled. But even after knowing how it was spelled, I still thought it was a politically correct festival for fat people. The same way you’d call a festival for potbellied people a Singular-pack festival. The question then was what PHAT was full for. Physically Hot and Thick? Progress Hovering Around Thickness? Someone give me another word for T that isn’t thickness. My mind has refused to present alternatives. Pondering Health After Tea?
Anyway, in summary, it’s not a festival for fat people and I still don’t know what PHAT is in full.
The torturer. What does he go through to become what he is? Is it ingrained in his DNA? That total disregard for humanity. That ability to derive pleasure from inflicting pain on people. To do the worst to them and get turned on by it all. Does the torturer have a family? Do they have children? How do they reconcile what they do with the seemingly normal life they leave on the outside? Is it a case of do what needs to be done to put food on the table? What do they think of religion? Do they quote religion to justify their horrid cats? I’ve seen some bad guys in the movies quote religious texts as they commit the most inhumane acts. And there are the terrorists? Is it a sickness? Is it in all of us? Have you ever thought really grim things about what you’d like to do to someone that has wronged you or someone you care about? That darkness….does it take a certain set of circumstances to bring out the grim reaper in us all.
The M8 Curating Crew look around the panic room table and nod their heads in joint appreciation of the task they have completed. Seven days scouring the massive lands of the internets and gathering the different assorted works for the rest of the world and future generations to enjoy in an organized manner has not been a simple feat. We’ve all been volunteers willing to put our lives, professions and livelihoods on the line to make sure the job gets done. The heroes the Ugandan internets needed and deserved even. After silently saluting each other it was time to depart back to our lives. Cynthia shapeshifted into a unicorn, charged out of the window, landed on the ground 40 floors down and galloped away into the distance. She’d arrived as a dove. Mercy whispered some spells and disintegrated into minuscule particles that spun around the room and exited via the window in a glorious cloud. Esther, the goddess, shone super bright for a few second and then slowly dimmed into nothingness. Joel stood up, did a quick spin and when he stood still again, he was dressed in full body spandex and a cap. He gave a peace salute, pushed his spectacles up his nose and then zoomed out of the room at supersonic speed leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. Kirabo pulled a device out of her pocket, pressed a button on it that made her flicker, like a television set with poor signal, before the spot where she was turned completely dark and then went back to normal. Olive made a whistling sound that raised all the hairs on our backs. Out of nowhere, a phoenix appeared outside the window nearest to her. She ran towards the window, did a ninja jump and landed on the phoenix’s back and the two of them disappeared into the skies with a goosebump-inducing screech. Patricia‘s afro grew several feet longer, took on the shape of helicopter blades which then started rotating and she floated out of the window. I sat alone in the room and looked at my watch. In the horizon, I saw Nevender leaping across the lands toward me, with each leap covering the size of 50 football fields. Nevender, our Professor X had come to evaluate and tie-up any loose ends we’d left .With the knowledge that he would take care of everything, I stood up and let my wings spread and stretch. I then took a dive out of the window and enjoyed the thrill of watching the ground approaching fast before flapping the wings hard and shooting into the sky.