Yes.
I have a day job, the kind of job that you have too. That you wake every morning and sometimes night and then attend to.
Like you i also attend the altar of earning the bread. And like you I worship every day. Well like you I have day offs from the altar. That is badass.
One should not have days off. All days must be days on.
Like they write on radio studios; "On Air." Just imagine having "off air" on your doorstep, or somewhere to brand you at any given time of the day.
Today I have a "Day Off" REALLY, that sounds like a copy edit for a trendy advert post, and then the opposite: "Day on."
Why should one then have a day off, a sort of an "off air day" placed in front the studio room of a radio station.. Imagine being off air. Thats also badass.
Really? I don't need a day off. All my days need to be day on. Not day off, not for me. It is forever 'Day On."
Because I am cool like that.
So I have a day off, really? DAY off on monday? But somedays off are very beautiful like the one for today. Imagine a day off that starts with a live World Cup MATCH on my bed. First thing in the morning. At 5 am. North America does things to you. Thats also badass.
watching a Live World Cup game at 5 am on a Monday morning taking place in Johannesburg is nice and right. But somting is wrong somewhere. It is geography I know, wait where is the map?
Yes, I see it is 10.00 PM here in Calgary, the sun is out and shining brightly. Seriously? the sun is out and shining brightly at 10.00 pm? In fact children are playing football in local school pitch. three boys, they are playing kick about, they exchange stints in goal posts.
The forth one runs, he makes very fast start and stop short sprints
10.00 pm? the sun is out?
There is a God. He is somewhere there. He is watching over everything at his time. Time to him is a trick. Seriously? sun is shining at 10.00 pm?
The of the kids doing said sprints is a good kid. He is 16 and plays football for Chinook United FC. He is training for a tournament in Seattle US. His origins are as far back as Ottomans, you know those badass people from sometime century. They were apparently great people according to wikipedia.
Now they pass off their days as China Turk. Otherwise how really will you remember some province that is controlled by China but somehow they are Turkish. Turkmen, Shinza men or whatever.
I think they are some country or province somewhere who are fighting for liberation and struggling for this spin or that. Are we not doing that our selves. Everyone of you that will ever get to read here are that place with a weird name. Having days off and days on.
When one gets their days on and off right in Rwanda they earn the title of "Msirie.: which it is much more fluent in its English translation; the serious one.
So If you don't get your days and hours right you don't get to qualify being be "the serious one" by Rwandan standards leave alone Calgary.
that is also badass.
Day offs must be abolished and the sun must shine until 10.00 pm everyday. That way God can look at us all he wants. Not checking upon on us his time as he does now. Johannesburg+5 am+World Cup+Vuvuzela+LA Lakers+sun+10.00 pm=
badass.
We must have day ON all the time.
Downtown, the train, the university, the library, the bus, the football pitch, The World Cup, the Ottoman. I saw a Vuvuzela live on TV today, it was being blown by fans of LA Lakers who were cheering their team in the victory parade of their 2010 NBA Championship in los angeles where they defeated the Boston Celtics.
Talk about patents!!!!!
Monday, 21 June 2010
Sunday, 20 June 2010
A Vuvuzela inspired space programme for Africa
From the Hammock : Africa and our Vuvuzela inspired space programme
BY GEORGE KAGAME
With the World Cup in South Africa spinned as Africa’s time to showcase whatever we have here; the talking season is in frenzy.
Pundits, serious people, important people, people of note and even our fellow Citizens are talking. Albeit in drink filled mouthfuls and typical Third Street foul mouths; you can call it ranting.
Captured below are some of the things that concern our three favourite Citizens transcribed from a discourse taking place in that favourite of watering holes; The Ship&Anchor in downtown Citi.
Naturally this is a good time to be in Africa or to be African, it is the World Cup for Christ’s sake on our doorstep. A global feast of joy and happiness.
Don’t you reckon?
Africa is now welcome to the cheer party of the world. But like the script goes; if you come late to the party you try to make up for lost time. (Ask UN representatives of their opinions regarding Muamar Gadafi’s UN summit speech in New York recently.)
South Africans are late comers even to an African party but in a very short time they have successfully upset the established cheer party by their Vuvuzelas and this has many Citizens talking in space.
Bwana Mdogo: “It was a laughable idea a year ago when it was announced that the DR Congo government was planning on launching a space programme. And no; we are not talking about the space as in political space, media space, personal space, democracy space and space in whatever fashion it comes in but the space of mars, the sun, rockets and scientists.
DR Congo and a space programme really? You must be joking.
The project is still in incubation but not many people take it serious. This is due to the fact that despite many countries in Africa being more developed and more stable than DRC, we have not yet embraced the space thing.
The industry of satellites, rockets, and general space has simply not yet blossomed around here. Predictably, it is said that South Africa has nuclear technology, but not even they have space.
As such there’s a very limited presence of Africa(ns) in space, the only known African who ever made it there was Michael Shuttleworth, a young and wealthy white South African investor. And even he had to pay 20 million dollars to go there as a tourist.
While other people have been talking space, computers and satellites we are still stuck with the pre cold war technology of those poor miserable Russians and their notorious arms dealers.
So when DR Congo announced their space programme we remarked; “seriously Congo?” we knew that a solution to our space conundrum would have to come from South Africa. And indeed our answers were answered recently in Africa’s creative hub; Johannesburg.
Our first encounter with space was not ideal. It comes across as irritating; like someone you cannot stand in a staring contest. See? We have been left behind in the space race for so long yet we also need a presence there and if noble means won’t take us there we have no choice but to creep upon space with our noise.
Episode one started on 11 June 2010 with a plastic horn. The now famous Vuvuzela, blown by South African crowds thronging football stadiums to watch The World Cup, apparently the sound produced by these horns has reached the science space.
Never mind that many visitors have complained about its noise; upon which FIFA President Sepp Blatter has responded; “Seriously, this is Africa!”
Maama nani: Perhaps they brought the World Cup to a wrong place, somewhere really bad, a place with a lot of crime and violence, rape, muggings, and HIV/Aids.
And since it will take a little bit longer to see those other things, the poor Vuvuzela has been catapulted into a serious talking point of Africa’s World Cup. It might as well be the everlasting image and memory of the 2010 World Cup.
I have an idea for a Vuvuzela moment; I suggest we build a statue in memory of this horn and how it made us heard in space. Caption it with a statement like; “we made contact with space minus the drama and the cold war.”
We are good at this kind of thing, we build statues everywhere in Africa, and in fact recently we just got a cathedral of statues, the mother of them statues across the world.
This one was even a prophesy of Kenya’s Ngugi Wa Thiongo in his book; “The Wizard of the Crow.” The cathedral of African statues built by Senegal’s Abdoulaye Wade in Dakar cost more than 28 million dollars.
But in fairness to Wade, the statue is that of a guy with abs, a marvellous woman by his side and they are even carrying a cute child. The African Renaissance project as it is known could have been worse, just imagine it being the face of Wade himself while at the same time he earns a fortune from it from tourists.
Indeed Africa, space and sports are good topics for future generations to interest themselves.
Mtu Mzima: Take away your craze!
Take away your Africa and its World Cup spin. I will watch football even if the World Cup was held in Tonga, Fiji or Samoa.
Please don’t tell me about apartheid, crime, violence, HIV/Aids, spin this spin that. I have known about these issues for a very long time; very eloquently told through the lives of Lucky Dube and Brenda Fasie. And don’t even tell me about your Vuvuzela. This is sport.
South Africa is not different from Germany or Bhutan. I don’t care who hosts the thing. It is not the place I feel attached to. It is the play, the competition and the story of those countries that are competing. Save me the drama not connected to the sport.
BY GEORGE KAGAME
With the World Cup in South Africa spinned as Africa’s time to showcase whatever we have here; the talking season is in frenzy.
Pundits, serious people, important people, people of note and even our fellow Citizens are talking. Albeit in drink filled mouthfuls and typical Third Street foul mouths; you can call it ranting.
Captured below are some of the things that concern our three favourite Citizens transcribed from a discourse taking place in that favourite of watering holes; The Ship&Anchor in downtown Citi.
Naturally this is a good time to be in Africa or to be African, it is the World Cup for Christ’s sake on our doorstep. A global feast of joy and happiness.
Don’t you reckon?
Africa is now welcome to the cheer party of the world. But like the script goes; if you come late to the party you try to make up for lost time. (Ask UN representatives of their opinions regarding Muamar Gadafi’s UN summit speech in New York recently.)
South Africans are late comers even to an African party but in a very short time they have successfully upset the established cheer party by their Vuvuzelas and this has many Citizens talking in space.
Bwana Mdogo: “It was a laughable idea a year ago when it was announced that the DR Congo government was planning on launching a space programme. And no; we are not talking about the space as in political space, media space, personal space, democracy space and space in whatever fashion it comes in but the space of mars, the sun, rockets and scientists.
DR Congo and a space programme really? You must be joking.
The project is still in incubation but not many people take it serious. This is due to the fact that despite many countries in Africa being more developed and more stable than DRC, we have not yet embraced the space thing.
The industry of satellites, rockets, and general space has simply not yet blossomed around here. Predictably, it is said that South Africa has nuclear technology, but not even they have space.
As such there’s a very limited presence of Africa(ns) in space, the only known African who ever made it there was Michael Shuttleworth, a young and wealthy white South African investor. And even he had to pay 20 million dollars to go there as a tourist.
While other people have been talking space, computers and satellites we are still stuck with the pre cold war technology of those poor miserable Russians and their notorious arms dealers.
So when DR Congo announced their space programme we remarked; “seriously Congo?” we knew that a solution to our space conundrum would have to come from South Africa. And indeed our answers were answered recently in Africa’s creative hub; Johannesburg.
Our first encounter with space was not ideal. It comes across as irritating; like someone you cannot stand in a staring contest. See? We have been left behind in the space race for so long yet we also need a presence there and if noble means won’t take us there we have no choice but to creep upon space with our noise.
Episode one started on 11 June 2010 with a plastic horn. The now famous Vuvuzela, blown by South African crowds thronging football stadiums to watch The World Cup, apparently the sound produced by these horns has reached the science space.
Never mind that many visitors have complained about its noise; upon which FIFA President Sepp Blatter has responded; “Seriously, this is Africa!”
Maama nani: Perhaps they brought the World Cup to a wrong place, somewhere really bad, a place with a lot of crime and violence, rape, muggings, and HIV/Aids.
And since it will take a little bit longer to see those other things, the poor Vuvuzela has been catapulted into a serious talking point of Africa’s World Cup. It might as well be the everlasting image and memory of the 2010 World Cup.
I have an idea for a Vuvuzela moment; I suggest we build a statue in memory of this horn and how it made us heard in space. Caption it with a statement like; “we made contact with space minus the drama and the cold war.”
We are good at this kind of thing, we build statues everywhere in Africa, and in fact recently we just got a cathedral of statues, the mother of them statues across the world.
This one was even a prophesy of Kenya’s Ngugi Wa Thiongo in his book; “The Wizard of the Crow.” The cathedral of African statues built by Senegal’s Abdoulaye Wade in Dakar cost more than 28 million dollars.
But in fairness to Wade, the statue is that of a guy with abs, a marvellous woman by his side and they are even carrying a cute child. The African Renaissance project as it is known could have been worse, just imagine it being the face of Wade himself while at the same time he earns a fortune from it from tourists.
Indeed Africa, space and sports are good topics for future generations to interest themselves.
Mtu Mzima: Take away your craze!
Take away your Africa and its World Cup spin. I will watch football even if the World Cup was held in Tonga, Fiji or Samoa.
Please don’t tell me about apartheid, crime, violence, HIV/Aids, spin this spin that. I have known about these issues for a very long time; very eloquently told through the lives of Lucky Dube and Brenda Fasie. And don’t even tell me about your Vuvuzela. This is sport.
South Africa is not different from Germany or Bhutan. I don’t care who hosts the thing. It is not the place I feel attached to. It is the play, the competition and the story of those countries that are competing. Save me the drama not connected to the sport.
Tuesday, 8 June 2010
The 2010 Marathon
I have no particular reason why I entered the thing in the first place. Oh I remember, I read that the winner would be rewarded with 1000 dollars. I calculated that At an investment of 90 dollars as the sign on fee I’d make a profit of 900 dollars. Yes, I’m that dumb.
This was Feb 2010 and I had just paid membership fees at the downtown Eau Claire YMCA gym at a subsidized fee for people with low incomes. All they required was a bank statement and a pay stub to show that one worked and that they earned below the average pay check in the province that is 21 dollars per hour.
So after paying for three months the question arose as to what would motivate me to come everyday to the gym, normally payment was enough motivation as the fee I had paid even after subsidizing is still disturbing in itself.
So I listed for the marathon such that I’d use the membership to the gym productively. The 1000 dollars prize therefore became secondary incentive for I knew to win the thing I needed to be without a job and concentrate exclusively on training.
I started training in Feb, running on average 25 km four times a week and by the start of May the body had got sick. The knees were hurting and I walked about with a rattle and a wobble. I irritated even myself a lot.
From Feb through to April I run in along the riverbanks of the Bow river in downtown Calgary starting at Eau Claire and running all the way to Canada Olympic park in the northwest and back to Eau Claire. This would take an average of three hours and 30 k. In the gym I stretched out, looked/ stared at the belles doing their work outs and chatted with Jesus Fikr a friend I met there who originally came from Eriteria.
He worked in the gym and occasionally gave me hints on developing strength in the hips and legs such that I could build endurance in the run. Fikr is also an ardent soccer fan and he supports Chelsea. We talked a lot about sport and women. Most times I looked forward going to the gym just to chat with Fikr.
But the marathon was too overwhelming. The thought of running 42.2km in two hours and a half-which was my initial target made my stomach cringe.
I used to be an athlete in Kako Secondary School from 1997 to 1998 and even qualified for the All Africa post-primary Championships in Abuja Nigeria 1997. I had also competed and won in the Buganda King’s birthday athletics meet held in MAsaka in 1997 in the 10000 metres slot as well as running in the Uganda national athletics championships held in Jinja in 1997.
Come marathon race day with the right knee in pain but generally feeling fit I went to bed at 1 am after drinking two beers, a late night walk and general procrastination involving mostly reading soccernet.com stories.
These are absolutely wrong things to do while preparing for the longest run of your life. First according to the greatest runner of all time Haile Gabre Selassie one needs to train for a maximum of three hours, run on average 30 k and then eat healthy foods. On race one need to get to bed early, say if you are running on Sunday, Saturday must be set aside for rest and if possible massage. And the meal prior to the race must be eaten two hours before the race starts.
I was up at 4am took a shower and Mike my housemate drove me to the starting line at Bridgeland and Memorial just next to the city train stop. For my breakfast I drank a bottle of powerade cake, banana and two sausages. It was bad as I had to endure four toilet stops during the race and it reduced my time almost 15 minutes.
At the start line I met Doug Driedger a fellow with whom I go Bethel Baptist Church. Driedger is 52 and a graphics designer in some big company in the city, we had not spoken with him before that meeting other than the usual after service chit chats. But He is a seasoned runner. He has already done three marathons on top of the mother of them all, the Boston marathon. I think he was diagnosed with some disease a few years back and as a result he decided to dedicate his body and free time in raising awareness to the disease.
Doug was to be indeed helpful.
He set the starting pace early in the race and gave me some insights on strategy, all I knew was that I was going to need to run 2hours non stop at a pace of four minutes per kilometer and after I’d need some divine intervention to complete the remaining time and distance to reach the finish line.
We started out with Doug and when he stopped for water a sped past and never run with him again. He over took me towards the end of the race when I had outrun my body, my wits and perseverance. I was at the time relying on divine power. Doug beat me by 6 minutes.
I had on my Nokia phone working as an mp3 player. The music paying on it was what I had used during training. A 2005 collection of reggae as well as a 1990s hip hop mixtape. Those two would lift me up for two hours and twenty minutes. After that I had some songs of Damien Marley, Israel Vibration, Rex Mundi, Tupac, Sizzla, Eagles, Cocoa T, Richie Spice, Wyclef Jean and Bob Marley.
I started powerfully and kept to the four minute pace up to the one and a half hours mark by which time I had run almost 26 kilometres.
But that is even going to far.
This was Feb 2010 and I had just paid membership fees at the downtown Eau Claire YMCA gym at a subsidized fee for people with low incomes. All they required was a bank statement and a pay stub to show that one worked and that they earned below the average pay check in the province that is 21 dollars per hour.
So after paying for three months the question arose as to what would motivate me to come everyday to the gym, normally payment was enough motivation as the fee I had paid even after subsidizing is still disturbing in itself.
So I listed for the marathon such that I’d use the membership to the gym productively. The 1000 dollars prize therefore became secondary incentive for I knew to win the thing I needed to be without a job and concentrate exclusively on training.
I started training in Feb, running on average 25 km four times a week and by the start of May the body had got sick. The knees were hurting and I walked about with a rattle and a wobble. I irritated even myself a lot.
From Feb through to April I run in along the riverbanks of the Bow river in downtown Calgary starting at Eau Claire and running all the way to Canada Olympic park in the northwest and back to Eau Claire. This would take an average of three hours and 30 k. In the gym I stretched out, looked/ stared at the belles doing their work outs and chatted with Jesus Fikr a friend I met there who originally came from Eriteria.
He worked in the gym and occasionally gave me hints on developing strength in the hips and legs such that I could build endurance in the run. Fikr is also an ardent soccer fan and he supports Chelsea. We talked a lot about sport and women. Most times I looked forward going to the gym just to chat with Fikr.
But the marathon was too overwhelming. The thought of running 42.2km in two hours and a half-which was my initial target made my stomach cringe.
I used to be an athlete in Kako Secondary School from 1997 to 1998 and even qualified for the All Africa post-primary Championships in Abuja Nigeria 1997. I had also competed and won in the Buganda King’s birthday athletics meet held in MAsaka in 1997 in the 10000 metres slot as well as running in the Uganda national athletics championships held in Jinja in 1997.
Come marathon race day with the right knee in pain but generally feeling fit I went to bed at 1 am after drinking two beers, a late night walk and general procrastination involving mostly reading soccernet.com stories.
These are absolutely wrong things to do while preparing for the longest run of your life. First according to the greatest runner of all time Haile Gabre Selassie one needs to train for a maximum of three hours, run on average 30 k and then eat healthy foods. On race one need to get to bed early, say if you are running on Sunday, Saturday must be set aside for rest and if possible massage. And the meal prior to the race must be eaten two hours before the race starts.
I was up at 4am took a shower and Mike my housemate drove me to the starting line at Bridgeland and Memorial just next to the city train stop. For my breakfast I drank a bottle of powerade cake, banana and two sausages. It was bad as I had to endure four toilet stops during the race and it reduced my time almost 15 minutes.
At the start line I met Doug Driedger a fellow with whom I go Bethel Baptist Church. Driedger is 52 and a graphics designer in some big company in the city, we had not spoken with him before that meeting other than the usual after service chit chats. But He is a seasoned runner. He has already done three marathons on top of the mother of them all, the Boston marathon. I think he was diagnosed with some disease a few years back and as a result he decided to dedicate his body and free time in raising awareness to the disease.
Doug was to be indeed helpful.
He set the starting pace early in the race and gave me some insights on strategy, all I knew was that I was going to need to run 2hours non stop at a pace of four minutes per kilometer and after I’d need some divine intervention to complete the remaining time and distance to reach the finish line.
We started out with Doug and when he stopped for water a sped past and never run with him again. He over took me towards the end of the race when I had outrun my body, my wits and perseverance. I was at the time relying on divine power. Doug beat me by 6 minutes.
I had on my Nokia phone working as an mp3 player. The music paying on it was what I had used during training. A 2005 collection of reggae as well as a 1990s hip hop mixtape. Those two would lift me up for two hours and twenty minutes. After that I had some songs of Damien Marley, Israel Vibration, Rex Mundi, Tupac, Sizzla, Eagles, Cocoa T, Richie Spice, Wyclef Jean and Bob Marley.
I started powerfully and kept to the four minute pace up to the one and a half hours mark by which time I had run almost 26 kilometres.
But that is even going to far.
The HIV/Aids wagon in Africa follows economic growth
1996 Uganda was a boom. It was boom boom time everywhere, or so it seemed.
The economy was doing very well; international coffee prices were still favourable to Ugandans who grew some of the best coffee in the world at the time.
fish exports from Lake Victoria were also beginning to grow. Most importantly, the Indians, and their expulsion from Uganda earlier , remember them? The ones that brought you the Last King of Scotland!
By the mid 1990s they were returning back after being invited by the Ugandan reigning president Yoweri Kaguta Museveni. The president also ordered for the Indians property and land that had been confiscated by Idd Amin Dada to be returned to the rightful owners. The returning Indians, and their cousins from Pakistan. It did not matter, they were the Indians.
The Indians had come to Uganda upon the invitation of the British to construct the famous Uganda Railway.
When the Indians initially known as the Coolies had finished building the railroad and the British Empire long gone after the collapse of colonialism, the Indians refused to go back to their country. They stayed forever.
The British left the economy of Uganda in Indians hands and the politics to the Ugandans, the relationship between the Indians and the Ugandans after the departure of the British was well captured in the movie; The Last King of Scotland
Museveni came as the ultimate good character against in the said movie. He stabilized Uganda.
By 1996 Uganda was indeed a pearl.
The Ugandan shilling was exchanging fairly well against the US dollar. As a result many Ugandans were able to go Dubai to trade, many even went to Japan and started motor vehicle import businesses across East Africa. Dubai was the first adventure for many hustling Africans to achieve success.
When Museveni invited back the Indians the economy went BOOM. Ugandan seriously challenged Kenya’s position as the economic powerhouse of the region, most of the Indians that fuelled this new birth of Uganda had settled in Kenya earlier when Amin expelled them.
They fired up Uganda.
Along With the economic success of Uganda came other less fortunate things. First among them was HIV/Aids. Long before the disease made serious headlines elsewhere in the world; Uganda was suffering the worst of the disease. Major commercial lines and corridors were at the centre of an epidemic, which nobody at the time was even able to comprehend.
In the simple analysis of many Ugandans it was a curse from the witchcrafts, wizards and magicians.
The witchdoctors, traditional healers smelled a rat. They increased their services. Sometimes advertising their services in their neighbourhoods. Listing the number of curses, diseases, demons and punishments the magicians were capable of commanding.
It became normal to see roadside adverts for traditional healers, yet in contrast, witchcrafts were a of particular interest amongst Ugandans. Many suspected people of witchcraft were burnt in public in some places.
Buyikwe and Bukunja in Mukono district were highly respected in matters witchcraft.
Aids was simply a matter of witchcraft.
One of the first public victims of HIV/Aids in Uganda was a superstar musician known as Philly Bongole Lutaya. Lutaya had done a first for his generation on the continent. He had successfully created himself a career in the music industry of Sweden. Of all places, seriously?
He also became the first person to serious start a discussion about the stigma of the disease. The prevalence rates of HIV/Aids in the country was as high as 17 percent of the population.
Jinja on the shores of Lake Victoria, Rakai district on the trade corridor linking Rwanda, DR Congo and Burundi, Kampala the capital and also on the shores of lake Victoria as well as Busia on the boarder with Kenya were all battling with a disease which left disaster and desert in those communities. They were also the trade hubs in the region.
Museveni was the first leader whose face became synonymous with the fight against HIV/Aids in the world and success or strategy stories the face told. The coinage of a new breed of African leaders was fully inscribed on his image. Ugandan became the go to place for all the world do gooders. Museveni then cemented his place as a statesman.
Rwakitura and the triangle that it created from Lyantonde to Masaka was the Mecca for all the visitors and people of note in the country as well as many who had an interest in fighting HIV/Aids. Yet the place was also among the most severely attacked b the disease. The soldiers guarding the presidential home as well as the intelligence network they held were the chief medium through which the entire trade hub was spread with the deadly disease.
There was also a contradiction of a president fighting a strange disease everywhere and his soldiers spreading the same disease amongst the local people.
In 1997 my Mother Jane Mbabazi was working for President Museveni and his wife Janet at the headquarters of the above-mentioned hub of HIV/Aids and trade. Museveni’s home in Rwakitura unlike others spread across the country was a mini commercial and social centre in itself. It covered the triangle of Lyantonde, Rushere and Mbarara. Rwakitura with the soldiers guarding the presidential compound, the large household staff and other supporting agencies was a hub. My mother headed this hub which had its own school known as Karo Karungi a Runyankore name appropriately loosely translated as ‘a good village’.
This school never had an examination centre because it was populated by privileged kids in the neighbourhood of Museveni's country home, they were not academically disciplined and they were racists. I attended the school for only three weeks.
On holiday from boarding school I visited with my mother and since The nearest and biggest commercial centre to Rwakitura was Lyantonde I made frequent trips there, for family errands as well as ‘a night out on the town.’
Lyantonde was a town besieged with HIV/Aids but since nobody or just a few people at the time knew the disease in the way we know it today everyone called it an invention of witchcraft.
For those of us in our early teenage years we were told that most people in Lyantonde were agents of witchcrafts, magicians and wizards. We were told not to even dare eat the food in the town. We carried everything we needed around us. We were even warned not to go in washrooms in Lyantonde. Any contact with a person from Lyantonde meant contact with the magicians, witches and wizards. We were even warned not to look in their eyes. We were told tales that some men and boys who went with a woman from Lyantonde after a night in the clubs would wake up wrapped around by a snake or the would turn out to have a goats hooves in the morning.
Unfortunately this became the misery of People Living with HIV/Aids in the country, the stigma around patients was so huge. A person that contacted the disease was immediately fired from their jobs, with no income the women resorted to prostitution and the number of victims multiplied.
I996 was just two years after the South Africans had gotten rid of Apartheid, the embargoes and sanctions that had bedeviled the country during the white supremacy rule were loosened and South Africa became the giant of Africa. Their economy was expanding; they started the first mobile telecommunication industry on the continent and spread the industry across Africa. They started with Uganda first in 1998. I had the pleasure to work in the construction company that built the MTN switchboard in Bugolobi at the time. I was aged 16.
South Africans had been under the yoke for so long the end of apartheid granted them freedoms never before dreamed of, they took this freedom with both hands. And that was about the time that HIV/Aids attacked them with vigour. By the end of 2000 prevalence rates in the country were 12 percent.
Unlike in Uganda were the disease concentrated its wings in this landlocked country and mainly never affected neighbours like Rwanda, DR Congo, Tanzania and Kenya; in South Africa the epidemic spread across to Botswana and currently the two leading economies of Africa are threatened with the HIV/Aids.
The economy was doing very well; international coffee prices were still favourable to Ugandans who grew some of the best coffee in the world at the time.
fish exports from Lake Victoria were also beginning to grow. Most importantly, the Indians, and their expulsion from Uganda earlier , remember them? The ones that brought you the Last King of Scotland!
By the mid 1990s they were returning back after being invited by the Ugandan reigning president Yoweri Kaguta Museveni. The president also ordered for the Indians property and land that had been confiscated by Idd Amin Dada to be returned to the rightful owners. The returning Indians, and their cousins from Pakistan. It did not matter, they were the Indians.
The Indians had come to Uganda upon the invitation of the British to construct the famous Uganda Railway.
When the Indians initially known as the Coolies had finished building the railroad and the British Empire long gone after the collapse of colonialism, the Indians refused to go back to their country. They stayed forever.
The British left the economy of Uganda in Indians hands and the politics to the Ugandans, the relationship between the Indians and the Ugandans after the departure of the British was well captured in the movie; The Last King of Scotland
Museveni came as the ultimate good character against in the said movie. He stabilized Uganda.
By 1996 Uganda was indeed a pearl.
The Ugandan shilling was exchanging fairly well against the US dollar. As a result many Ugandans were able to go Dubai to trade, many even went to Japan and started motor vehicle import businesses across East Africa. Dubai was the first adventure for many hustling Africans to achieve success.
When Museveni invited back the Indians the economy went BOOM. Ugandan seriously challenged Kenya’s position as the economic powerhouse of the region, most of the Indians that fuelled this new birth of Uganda had settled in Kenya earlier when Amin expelled them.
They fired up Uganda.
Along With the economic success of Uganda came other less fortunate things. First among them was HIV/Aids. Long before the disease made serious headlines elsewhere in the world; Uganda was suffering the worst of the disease. Major commercial lines and corridors were at the centre of an epidemic, which nobody at the time was even able to comprehend.
In the simple analysis of many Ugandans it was a curse from the witchcrafts, wizards and magicians.
The witchdoctors, traditional healers smelled a rat. They increased their services. Sometimes advertising their services in their neighbourhoods. Listing the number of curses, diseases, demons and punishments the magicians were capable of commanding.
It became normal to see roadside adverts for traditional healers, yet in contrast, witchcrafts were a of particular interest amongst Ugandans. Many suspected people of witchcraft were burnt in public in some places.
Buyikwe and Bukunja in Mukono district were highly respected in matters witchcraft.
Aids was simply a matter of witchcraft.
One of the first public victims of HIV/Aids in Uganda was a superstar musician known as Philly Bongole Lutaya. Lutaya had done a first for his generation on the continent. He had successfully created himself a career in the music industry of Sweden. Of all places, seriously?
He also became the first person to serious start a discussion about the stigma of the disease. The prevalence rates of HIV/Aids in the country was as high as 17 percent of the population.
Jinja on the shores of Lake Victoria, Rakai district on the trade corridor linking Rwanda, DR Congo and Burundi, Kampala the capital and also on the shores of lake Victoria as well as Busia on the boarder with Kenya were all battling with a disease which left disaster and desert in those communities. They were also the trade hubs in the region.
Museveni was the first leader whose face became synonymous with the fight against HIV/Aids in the world and success or strategy stories the face told. The coinage of a new breed of African leaders was fully inscribed on his image. Ugandan became the go to place for all the world do gooders. Museveni then cemented his place as a statesman.
Rwakitura and the triangle that it created from Lyantonde to Masaka was the Mecca for all the visitors and people of note in the country as well as many who had an interest in fighting HIV/Aids. Yet the place was also among the most severely attacked b the disease. The soldiers guarding the presidential home as well as the intelligence network they held were the chief medium through which the entire trade hub was spread with the deadly disease.
There was also a contradiction of a president fighting a strange disease everywhere and his soldiers spreading the same disease amongst the local people.
In 1997 my Mother Jane Mbabazi was working for President Museveni and his wife Janet at the headquarters of the above-mentioned hub of HIV/Aids and trade. Museveni’s home in Rwakitura unlike others spread across the country was a mini commercial and social centre in itself. It covered the triangle of Lyantonde, Rushere and Mbarara. Rwakitura with the soldiers guarding the presidential compound, the large household staff and other supporting agencies was a hub. My mother headed this hub which had its own school known as Karo Karungi a Runyankore name appropriately loosely translated as ‘a good village’.
This school never had an examination centre because it was populated by privileged kids in the neighbourhood of Museveni's country home, they were not academically disciplined and they were racists. I attended the school for only three weeks.
On holiday from boarding school I visited with my mother and since The nearest and biggest commercial centre to Rwakitura was Lyantonde I made frequent trips there, for family errands as well as ‘a night out on the town.’
Lyantonde was a town besieged with HIV/Aids but since nobody or just a few people at the time knew the disease in the way we know it today everyone called it an invention of witchcraft.
For those of us in our early teenage years we were told that most people in Lyantonde were agents of witchcrafts, magicians and wizards. We were told not to even dare eat the food in the town. We carried everything we needed around us. We were even warned not to go in washrooms in Lyantonde. Any contact with a person from Lyantonde meant contact with the magicians, witches and wizards. We were even warned not to look in their eyes. We were told tales that some men and boys who went with a woman from Lyantonde after a night in the clubs would wake up wrapped around by a snake or the would turn out to have a goats hooves in the morning.
Unfortunately this became the misery of People Living with HIV/Aids in the country, the stigma around patients was so huge. A person that contacted the disease was immediately fired from their jobs, with no income the women resorted to prostitution and the number of victims multiplied.
I996 was just two years after the South Africans had gotten rid of Apartheid, the embargoes and sanctions that had bedeviled the country during the white supremacy rule were loosened and South Africa became the giant of Africa. Their economy was expanding; they started the first mobile telecommunication industry on the continent and spread the industry across Africa. They started with Uganda first in 1998. I had the pleasure to work in the construction company that built the MTN switchboard in Bugolobi at the time. I was aged 16.
South Africans had been under the yoke for so long the end of apartheid granted them freedoms never before dreamed of, they took this freedom with both hands. And that was about the time that HIV/Aids attacked them with vigour. By the end of 2000 prevalence rates in the country were 12 percent.
Unlike in Uganda were the disease concentrated its wings in this landlocked country and mainly never affected neighbours like Rwanda, DR Congo, Tanzania and Kenya; in South Africa the epidemic spread across to Botswana and currently the two leading economies of Africa are threatened with the HIV/Aids.
Thursday, 3 June 2010
Saturday, 29 May 2010
The threesome dance for milk and the movies,
The story of Citimen
Msela thought about the famed cow walk among his people. Armed with a stick normally hanging around their necks, his people had walked about with their cows from one area to another as though God owed them a loan. And God had not paid that loan back for a while now. So they walked about with the arrogance that suggested that God was shy of meeting them in broad day light.
God comes to our place only in the evenings, they talked amongst themselves.
From region to region They chased water, grass and tried to escape the biting sun in the process. There was no license both existing or required , no regulation. There was simply nothing other than the Citimen and their cows. Some people called them Nomads, they called themselves Citimen.
They even formed a virtual triangle, involving the Citimen, cows, water and grass. The Luwero triangle series brought you a memorable man. He was named Forest Whitater. Whittaker won the Oscar academy award for a leading actor in Last King of Scotland. Remember that one? About the events that had befallen the Citimen.
Note:
The thing was acted in my town, right in front of my street, both in real life, in a book and then in a movie.
Right on the street where my uncle owned a bread shop. Across the same street was even the most famous Sax Pub. Sax pub was actually a trick which its owner a certain Citiman known as david Karinda had invented to sell sex. At Sax pub, a woman for a night would cost you a minimum of 10000 shillings, roughly six Canadian dollars.
Sax pub sold sex, but the owners played with the letters. The E was substituted by the A. That way Sax pub escaped being banned under the ambiguous public sex and obscenity law. The law was promoted by a recently born again Christian minister in the new government known as Nsaba Buturo. Before his rebirth, Buturo had been a torturous man in the Last King of Scotland Series. Oiling the machinery of Milton Obote in the 1980s."
Back to the cow walk,
Armed with his stick and the cows ahead of him, the Citiman schemed his way through the Luwero triangle. The beauty of plateaus and valleys in Kiboga and the tropical midnight summer nights Of Mubende.
A nomad, a peasant, he worshiped a cow. A Bihogo! With his cow and baseball bat shaped walking stick, he roamed the triangle. The stick was most times used in starting or settling violence.
During his walks with the cow, the Citiman was in the path of the threesome of the Last king of Scotland. In real life, book and movie. As if that was not enough, Citimen went further and brought you Hotel Rwanda. Have you heard of that one
The triangle dance pointing ever at water, grass and the sun left an indelible trail in the wake of the Citmen.
They figured out the weather seasons,
Without the radio and Internet network. Citimen simply had none.
in their daily tribulations Citimen communicated by howling on the top of their voices to connect day cattle herders with their colleagues searching for water in the valleys during scorching sunny days. If the cows were thirsty there would be no milk early or later in the day.
A world without milk was unimaginable.
Water was necessary but milk was crucial.
It was known as Kuhira.
Citimen did not quite figure out how other tribesmen in the triangle survived without milk. Milk was the oil. The oil of the body and the land. The citimen’s daily search for the water to make the milk was as fascinating as it was interesting.
For example in one instance, once every day, somebody in the family in charge of searching for water would howl from hills away to folks in search of water. They responded to the echo of each others voice. A non word battle of noise and the winds. They were known as Imiyaga.
If one tried to explain this incident to a person who grew up around an ipod, Internet, phone and facebook they would certainly make faces and turn eyes.
Beyond shouting at each other citimen walked.
In their footpaths in the valleys and shadows of Luwero Triangle they were met by even more weird people, as if having the unfortunate fate of living under the era and legacy of Last King of Scotland and Hotel Rwanda, was not enough.
Msela thought about the famed cow walk among his people. Armed with a stick normally hanging around their necks, his people had walked about with their cows from one area to another as though God owed them a loan. And God had not paid that loan back for a while now. So they walked about with the arrogance that suggested that God was shy of meeting them in broad day light.
God comes to our place only in the evenings, they talked amongst themselves.
From region to region They chased water, grass and tried to escape the biting sun in the process. There was no license both existing or required , no regulation. There was simply nothing other than the Citimen and their cows. Some people called them Nomads, they called themselves Citimen.
They even formed a virtual triangle, involving the Citimen, cows, water and grass. The Luwero triangle series brought you a memorable man. He was named Forest Whitater. Whittaker won the Oscar academy award for a leading actor in Last King of Scotland. Remember that one? About the events that had befallen the Citimen.
Note:
The thing was acted in my town, right in front of my street, both in real life, in a book and then in a movie.
Right on the street where my uncle owned a bread shop. Across the same street was even the most famous Sax Pub. Sax pub was actually a trick which its owner a certain Citiman known as david Karinda had invented to sell sex. At Sax pub, a woman for a night would cost you a minimum of 10000 shillings, roughly six Canadian dollars.
Sax pub sold sex, but the owners played with the letters. The E was substituted by the A. That way Sax pub escaped being banned under the ambiguous public sex and obscenity law. The law was promoted by a recently born again Christian minister in the new government known as Nsaba Buturo. Before his rebirth, Buturo had been a torturous man in the Last King of Scotland Series. Oiling the machinery of Milton Obote in the 1980s."
Back to the cow walk,
Armed with his stick and the cows ahead of him, the Citiman schemed his way through the Luwero triangle. The beauty of plateaus and valleys in Kiboga and the tropical midnight summer nights Of Mubende.
A nomad, a peasant, he worshiped a cow. A Bihogo! With his cow and baseball bat shaped walking stick, he roamed the triangle. The stick was most times used in starting or settling violence.
During his walks with the cow, the Citiman was in the path of the threesome of the Last king of Scotland. In real life, book and movie. As if that was not enough, Citimen went further and brought you Hotel Rwanda. Have you heard of that one
The triangle dance pointing ever at water, grass and the sun left an indelible trail in the wake of the Citmen.
They figured out the weather seasons,
Without the radio and Internet network. Citimen simply had none.
in their daily tribulations Citimen communicated by howling on the top of their voices to connect day cattle herders with their colleagues searching for water in the valleys during scorching sunny days. If the cows were thirsty there would be no milk early or later in the day.
A world without milk was unimaginable.
Water was necessary but milk was crucial.
It was known as Kuhira.
Citimen did not quite figure out how other tribesmen in the triangle survived without milk. Milk was the oil. The oil of the body and the land. The citimen’s daily search for the water to make the milk was as fascinating as it was interesting.
For example in one instance, once every day, somebody in the family in charge of searching for water would howl from hills away to folks in search of water. They responded to the echo of each others voice. A non word battle of noise and the winds. They were known as Imiyaga.
If one tried to explain this incident to a person who grew up around an ipod, Internet, phone and facebook they would certainly make faces and turn eyes.
Beyond shouting at each other citimen walked.
In their footpaths in the valleys and shadows of Luwero Triangle they were met by even more weird people, as if having the unfortunate fate of living under the era and legacy of Last King of Scotland and Hotel Rwanda, was not enough.
Thursday, 13 May 2010
When Life Happens to George Kagame. 2002-2006
At university I was a student of journalism, but other than listening to Capital Gang on saturday mornings, I was always behind news and in fact I never considered myself talented in anything. At a time when my age mates knew their careers I was drifting about.
I cared more for my job at HotLoaf bakery as a sales assistant, climbing so high as a manager and other times so low as a tea boy. When I turned up for classes in the mornings I also occupied myself with wooing Anne. Journalism, what? Life was hard.
On top of the HotLoaf hustle I also vended Club Silk Royale complimentary tickets for their Campus Night every Tuesday of the week.
Beer on such days was usually free. Facilitating a bonanza of students and free beer was not a good idea.
Many a day we joined for lunch at a place known as 'Blues' just opposite the famous Flying Rhino in the core of Kansanga. This pub was popular with Tanzanians. Next to Rhino was the even more famous AL's Bar sharing space with Half London.
One time I was having lunch at blues with Roy, Brian, Enoc and Biko in what was known as the problem table. On some days we had the pleasure to host Benice and Nahid on this table.
We called it a problem table. We had problems with our rooms and how poor they looked. We had girl/boy troubles, body image trouble, money troubles and some of us showered from bathrooms that were nicknamed 'passport size'. The length of the bathroom walls covered you up to the belly button.
The rest of the body facewards was in the open, you could have a conversation with somebody on the street while you showered.
It was as if one was posing for a passport size photograph.
At the university newspaper there was such shortage of writers that the editors created a mysterious character named Zorro. Zorro was cool. He simply solved all major problems in the university community, from dating tips to blind dates.
Zorro was the kind of guy you meet in Catcher in the Rye.
He gave advise about dating, and not just any dating. Zorro advised and encouraged all straight male students to date the reigning beauty queen of the university, a Kenyan belle known as Carol Wanza. Carol was also a cool name, Assenga had a girlfriend known as Carol. The Tanzanian Carol was just like a movie plot, even she never quite figured out what was 'next scene'. She had a very beautiful curvy stout body, just like a little gem stone. A sort of World Cup.
Zorro like many other cool people were unanimous in their agreement that Kenyans were a rowdy bunch and they came in all shapes and sizes. There were the Somali Kenyans like Li, the coastal people like Saidah Omar Kaseko's one time girlfriend , Nairobi urbanites like Francis and Brian. They also had the regular Wanjirus and Ougos.
The Ugandans joked that Only a nosy and strong headed woman like Carol would handle their kind. Carol was a beauty in journalism school. She was smitten by Biko and she had Beautiful eyes with some wit. She dated a Kenyan heartthrob that was so organized he was studying Clinical Psychology. How is that for cool!
Assenga had all the vibe. At his hostel one found good music, deliciously home made meals and beer. I smoked my first joint while at University inside Assenga's room. Assenga was blessed with a fortune of excellent hostels, at Kings&Queens he lived with the classy Brian and crew. A group of seemingly privileged guys from Nairobi that included Andrew, Solo, Francis, Marion, Amina and many more.
Nobody however was as smooth as Marion. The Kenyan soft spoken girl was so beautiful one would enjoy her company in all circumstances. With her beauty and elegance she would have even the most powerful men in Kampala answer her whims, but Marion unlike other beautiful girls at the time was humble. She hanged out with the broke guys just as much as she did with the privileged boys.
you could get drunk with marion and be as whipped as anything, yet you could never develop silly ideas with her, she always said in a matter of fact response to all the men that got drunk with her-which was very frequent-"You are a good Friend, you can make a very poor boyfriend and an even uglier one night stand."
Marion was simply in your face. You had to like her. She kept you hoping against common sense that you had a chance with her, and yet NEVER gave any hints.
She was so beautiful that one had to be stubborn to ignore her face..and she never took advantage of her beauty as many popular girls of the time. And I write this not because I ever tried to date her but because I observed her just as much as every other guy I knew was watching her. A few made bold moves were never really successful.
Clearly I needed some editing above, Yeah, I will do better next time. Thank you..
ROy WAS so full of surprise that he won a biblical knowledge competition on Power Fm, boasting that he had made his first million in record time. The competition tested participants in their grasp of the bible. Roy would was the authority on promotions and discounts in the city. if one had a crush date the guy to ask for venue ideas was roy.
And yet none of us would ever beat Jackson Biko. other than participating in the religious competition on power fm Somehow, Biko got to meet and know a certain radio presenter on one of the most campus FM stations in Kampala. Their friendship ensured that many a day, friendship with Biko was an insurance policy in fighting poverty. Biko created an industry that involved the use of mobile phones, and got many of us to answer quiz questions where we won cash prizes.
The trick was learning to sound as a different person every other day of the week. and yet this is strange because Biko was not so smart anyway. at least to the level of knowing the answers to all the questions on radio between 9 am to 12pm.
He did not know much about the world really. Politics simply bored him, sport was overrated. I do not remember Biko ever having or talked about sport. He knew his talent was writing about man's less serious things. WE CALLED it Fleecing the audience.
I cared more for my job at HotLoaf bakery as a sales assistant, climbing so high as a manager and other times so low as a tea boy. When I turned up for classes in the mornings I also occupied myself with wooing Anne. Journalism, what? Life was hard.
On top of the HotLoaf hustle I also vended Club Silk Royale complimentary tickets for their Campus Night every Tuesday of the week.
Beer on such days was usually free. Facilitating a bonanza of students and free beer was not a good idea.
Many a day we joined for lunch at a place known as 'Blues' just opposite the famous Flying Rhino in the core of Kansanga. This pub was popular with Tanzanians. Next to Rhino was the even more famous AL's Bar sharing space with Half London.
One time I was having lunch at blues with Roy, Brian, Enoc and Biko in what was known as the problem table. On some days we had the pleasure to host Benice and Nahid on this table.
We called it a problem table. We had problems with our rooms and how poor they looked. We had girl/boy troubles, body image trouble, money troubles and some of us showered from bathrooms that were nicknamed 'passport size'. The length of the bathroom walls covered you up to the belly button.
The rest of the body facewards was in the open, you could have a conversation with somebody on the street while you showered.
It was as if one was posing for a passport size photograph.
At the university newspaper there was such shortage of writers that the editors created a mysterious character named Zorro. Zorro was cool. He simply solved all major problems in the university community, from dating tips to blind dates.
Zorro was the kind of guy you meet in Catcher in the Rye.
He gave advise about dating, and not just any dating. Zorro advised and encouraged all straight male students to date the reigning beauty queen of the university, a Kenyan belle known as Carol Wanza. Carol was also a cool name, Assenga had a girlfriend known as Carol. The Tanzanian Carol was just like a movie plot, even she never quite figured out what was 'next scene'. She had a very beautiful curvy stout body, just like a little gem stone. A sort of World Cup.
Zorro like many other cool people were unanimous in their agreement that Kenyans were a rowdy bunch and they came in all shapes and sizes. There were the Somali Kenyans like Li, the coastal people like Saidah Omar Kaseko's one time girlfriend , Nairobi urbanites like Francis and Brian. They also had the regular Wanjirus and Ougos.
The Ugandans joked that Only a nosy and strong headed woman like Carol would handle their kind. Carol was a beauty in journalism school. She was smitten by Biko and she had Beautiful eyes with some wit. She dated a Kenyan heartthrob that was so organized he was studying Clinical Psychology. How is that for cool!
Assenga had all the vibe. At his hostel one found good music, deliciously home made meals and beer. I smoked my first joint while at University inside Assenga's room. Assenga was blessed with a fortune of excellent hostels, at Kings&Queens he lived with the classy Brian and crew. A group of seemingly privileged guys from Nairobi that included Andrew, Solo, Francis, Marion, Amina and many more.
Nobody however was as smooth as Marion. The Kenyan soft spoken girl was so beautiful one would enjoy her company in all circumstances. With her beauty and elegance she would have even the most powerful men in Kampala answer her whims, but Marion unlike other beautiful girls at the time was humble. She hanged out with the broke guys just as much as she did with the privileged boys.
you could get drunk with marion and be as whipped as anything, yet you could never develop silly ideas with her, she always said in a matter of fact response to all the men that got drunk with her-which was very frequent-"You are a good Friend, you can make a very poor boyfriend and an even uglier one night stand."
Marion was simply in your face. You had to like her. She kept you hoping against common sense that you had a chance with her, and yet NEVER gave any hints.
She was so beautiful that one had to be stubborn to ignore her face..and she never took advantage of her beauty as many popular girls of the time. And I write this not because I ever tried to date her but because I observed her just as much as every other guy I knew was watching her. A few made bold moves were never really successful.
Clearly I needed some editing above, Yeah, I will do better next time. Thank you..
ROy WAS so full of surprise that he won a biblical knowledge competition on Power Fm, boasting that he had made his first million in record time. The competition tested participants in their grasp of the bible. Roy would was the authority on promotions and discounts in the city. if one had a crush date the guy to ask for venue ideas was roy.
And yet none of us would ever beat Jackson Biko. other than participating in the religious competition on power fm Somehow, Biko got to meet and know a certain radio presenter on one of the most campus FM stations in Kampala. Their friendship ensured that many a day, friendship with Biko was an insurance policy in fighting poverty. Biko created an industry that involved the use of mobile phones, and got many of us to answer quiz questions where we won cash prizes.
The trick was learning to sound as a different person every other day of the week. and yet this is strange because Biko was not so smart anyway. at least to the level of knowing the answers to all the questions on radio between 9 am to 12pm.
He did not know much about the world really. Politics simply bored him, sport was overrated. I do not remember Biko ever having or talked about sport. He knew his talent was writing about man's less serious things. WE CALLED it Fleecing the audience.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)