All Things Dark and Tasteless

Oh you whining, ungrateful lot. When do you ever appreciate anything? Hmmm? WHEN?? You complain like a woman married to a broke man who seems to pair the term “sauce” with all things leafy and legumes. Does he not understand that cows, chickens and pigs were made to be eaten? Mbu biringanya.  Msssccchhhew. Who tells him you want clear, zit-free skin? There’s also a reason samona was made. Mekako also.

Moving on. You Ugandans have taken this freedom thing too far. Because they allow you to complain about sensible things like unchanging election results, you now think you can sneak in other grievances. Where are your manners? Oh, wait. You must be the lot that went through school minus caning. Sigh. More work for me. But I will try. To teach you. Educate and enlighten. On the saintly virtue that is compromise. When food prices compete with house construction materials, you compromise. And you buy the meat. You can find a free house in Kololo. I swear. One is just about to be vacated.

Sugar is bad-Yes Dr. Phil was right. If you watch TV, you know that Dr. Phil has nothing to do with physical issues. I just needed a popular name. Now, because sugar prices have shot up 5 times the amount in as many months is no reason to pout.  Children, sugar gets you fat. Eventually. Our economy is helping us out. If you cut out sugar for the rest of the year, you can lose 5kgs which will provide more room for gluttony come Christmas. See?

All things foreign- Why o why, do you even rant about this? This is history repeating itself. No, we have not sent Asians packing again. Yet. First we’re sorting out the Somalis. Foreign things are the reason you spoilt kids are suffering at the unseen kick of the economy. We’re throwing them out. Mbu blueband. Just dip your bread in the tea. I know the tea has no sugar. But no blueband+ no sugar= 10kgs weight loss. Smile for auntie?

Veggies are good-Auntie knows you don’t understand how katunkuma has moved from mama’s weed pile to your plate. It’s like this; katunkuma burns cholesterol. And meat has plenty of that. Unnecessary fat. You do want to fit in those barely there dresses, don’t you? And the men? Please. It is time. Bellies are 1999-rated. We prefer tone and muscle. Quit pigging out. Pun intended.

Giving glory-God made the moon for a reason and you foreign-things-loving people have denied them their power for decades. Now, we must repent. And our beloved government is helping out. No power for…well, a long while. Bright side is you get to relive your granny’s childhood and play with battery-run radios. Now, who ever thought they’d have common history with jajja?

You see? Oba you squint? Whichever. The current situation has a dark, tasteless and unsatisfying appeal. But this is the stuff history is made of.

I knew I’d have you all smiling by the end of this post…err, typing session. Good boys and girls.

Mscchhhheeewww.

Yes. That is a jeer. We are ranting and words just won’t do. Ok. Scratch that. I am ranting. But no, scratch that again. Erique spent Friday afternoon roaming the streets of Kololo. I allow that the frown is characteristic. But the fist aimed at the sky is not. Even the askaris on the affluent streets let him be. He looked that dejected. So yes, we are ranting.

For our country.

For the pearl that has become the proverbial gold ring-in-swine’s –nose.  These are hard times, people. If you thought living in a cell phone-less era was hard work, try living in the era where you cannot afford airtime for the damn phone. And no, I cannot do without it. What am I supposed to do? Mail my comment to Face Book?

Maureen Likes This!!

So in lieu of the harsh winds that are blowing across our country, I am venting my frustrations on those I believe are to blame. No, I cannot point to myself. I am well-bred Ugandan who will always find cause for my unhappiness in other peoples’ decisions. I take after my leaders please. IE “Where were you when I and others were fighting in the bush for the "peace and tranquillity" that now prevails?” Putting to question-

·       The parents- Charity begins at home. So does quarrelling. Where were you when other parents were setting up home in serious countries, huh? Dubai, Switzerland…and you chose Uganda. Even Tanzania would have made more sense. They have real beaches (we have shores!!)

The real deal.
Okay. You loved the weather. Couldn't you have found your way to cabinet? Then I’d at least attend book launches while other people’s parents pay taxes for our 4wheel drives. Uganda. Eish.

·       GOD- I get that you have a sense of humour. You created Miley out of a rock star dad. Lolest. But this joke has been unfunny for a while now. Do you not get that its time for Jesus to come back? And save our cowardly selves? We have beds so no manger business. And UPE.

·       Gavumenti- I cannot even spell you properly. You’ve lost the plot so bad, you earned yourselves a new word. It translates to”way, way beneath the lowest level of incompetence” I mean...when the youth of the country turn to singing as occupation and WBS airs their videos minus any shame, then you know. It is time to find your shame. Tuswaale ko.

·       U$D- How a foreign currency can wreck this much havoc is beyond my frustrated mind. The country didn’t even colonise us. We are not related in any way. 

Sketch your baddez
They sent back the first man that tried his hand at figuring this out. I believe Seya’s forgeries were patriotic efforts gone wrong. We need to find the visible connection with our Shs. And then break it. We refuse to affiliate with anything that further takes down our country’s value. We’re not left with much.

Striking a bargain.

Because God is a no-bargainer.
He doesn't kusaala ko.
Endless prayers, novenas, litanies and threats later, she's still in the same place. Ranting doesn't scare God. She has sent grown men to near-madness with her tantrums. God just looks on and goes,
"Gabriel, come watch. She's learned some new cuss words and stinging phrases."
And then He goes on doing the business of perfecting other people's lives while she falls into a deep, dreamless slumber. Listening to The Script. Danny O'Donoghue. She's thinking of ways to let him know that she'll have his babies, listen to him sing all day and feature in his videos at no cost and tattoo his name onto every available space on her body without sounding too desperate.
Or obsessed.

Smitten

She wishes God would make His mind up. That He would find another brilliant hottie to mess around with. But then, how many of those are in existence? Un-roll your eyes, Liz Kobusinge.
The curve balls He's throwing are not good news for her hotness. They kill her smile and dull her witty self.
How can she start being full-time melancholic when the world is used to bubbly and vivacious her? Sigh...

God does things His way. God is not moved by tears or  her threats to pile a ladder onto the highest chair possible just to get to heaven, part the skies and shake her fist at Him and tell Him to QUIT trippin'. Enough already.

First, that chair.

Why won't you give straight answers? Why are you allocating the not-bright-at-all grey colour to theme her life?
Because while she has sinned-greatly, while she has allowed sloth to get in the way of getting to the very top and while the lusty-thing for Clooney will not go away, she's tried. Real hard.
To believe. And trust. And hope. And be nice to people who write "I am" as "am".
Who knew God did things by the half? That he does something, you thank Him and walk away believing it was divine will at play. Sad maybe, but smug. And comfortable in the knowledge that you just obeyed God.
Then, WHAAAM!!
MAJOR FREAKING WHAAAM.
She was not meant to apologise for walking. She wasn't meant to look into his eyes and see the pain she had caused.
No, she was not meant to kick her strapped ankle and want to die. Because she asked you, God. She did.
The doubts that she might have let go a  good thing-albeit all its complexities is not a nice thing to carry around.
She was not supposed to think the dreaded "What if???" at any one point. She was not meant to feel styupeed. But she does. Extremely styupeed.
She should be in self-righteous and its-all-your-fault mode right now. Because it was his fault. He screwed up. Botched the job. Slept on duty. Tripped. He messed up.
Except it turns out, she messed up.
And is blaming it on the Almighty.

That's just to emphasize the point. Not going to happen.

But He just goes on going on. Sending cloudy skies on a Friday evening. Because threatening to write bad things about God doesn't shake Him one bit. Mbu, He's been through worse.
So she kulamuzaas.
This drama just cannot go on. Her heart is out of whole pieces to be plucked out and chewed up then given back to her. To try and erase the damage. She is a writer. Not a magician.
She needs clarity. And pain erasing balm. And direction.
She needs to stop getting past him and then having him come back, if only to show her what a mess her mind is.
She needs him around forever. Or gone for good.
In return, she promises to let him go for good. Or try and love him the way a woman should love a man.
She will even make his evening dose of what-it-takes-to-close-a-particularly-bad-day;

She needs closure.
And a gin and tonic.

Ni Furahiide.