Travel

So!

'Go for it Skz!' my mind says to me.

I do travel a bit, but when i do, i don't get the 'stomach' to chronicle my trips. Pity indeed-for my mind says "Skz, you are letting yourself down quite some'
But you know when the lid is blown off, when you are feeling liberated enough, liberated from your paranoia, your fear, you blow the lid off!

Wanted to do an East-Africa, and from this, i wanted to observe, from a critical perspective, what makes East Africa tick.

Nairobi: The beautiful hotels in Nairobi. The witty yet terrifyingly carnal shop maid on Thika road, hands over the tube of Colgate with a knowing smile, a shameless look that says it all. The beautiful hotel called Safari park, old, full of character, (there used to be animals milling with the people back then, when it was built) with a buffet so full of high protein it would make Dr. Atkins proud.
The night life, bustling, liberated, incredible. The people, full of vim! The city, a huge construction site, it screams DEVELOPING, and the new constitution weeding out corrupt ministers, making life for every one better, together we move forward, and the entire city nods in tandem.

Dar-es-salaam: sweltering HOT, the city.
The people, extremely polite. (We no speaka English) but it's ok, because they say mambo with so much meaning, it's not just perfunctory.
The beaches! Bars are to Kampala as beaches are to dar. Everyone takes out their briefest swimsuit and bolts to the salty water of the Indian Ocean. They run, fleeing from the dizzying heat of the city. finding relief in the gentle waters.
Boats and ships waiting to dock off the coast. (Most beautiful view off 'coco beach' where i fondly remember drinking so much 'konyagi' an equivalent to Uganda waragi.)
The live bands, the congolese invasion leaves a foot print in dar with their jiggy sounds. (I swear if i had a gun....)

Trip to Zanzibar: A look at the ferry. Oh my LORD, Can someone say First class?? These folks know how to run a tight, neat operation here. Clean, freakishly on time.
The most terrifyingly beautiful view as you head to the Zanzibar island. (God, do you hear me GOD? thank you for beauty)
The old, charismatic, island of Zanzibar! Stone town: the narrow streets, charmingly narrow streets (Alice in wonderland, following the yellow brick road)
The food market is amazing.



Merlin, kingfish, SHARK, octopus, shrimp, barracuda e.t.c. One enjoys the enthusiasm of the fish vendor as he displays his smoked delicacies. It's rural, it's simple, it's caught in time, safely tucked away from the bustle of civilization. it's picturesque, it's simply divine!
Mercury Bar (if they'd allowed, i would have chalked on one of their walls 'SKZ was here' I mean Freddie Mercury anyone?? The guy with the amazing voice from the quirky yet avant-garde rock group Queen from way back when?

The clubs: Interesting! This guy was told 'please, stack all your speakers together, all fifteen of them, on either side, making them thirty, and was he right or what?! I couldn't hear a thing the day after, because the music was so loud!
Off to the North: On either side of this medieval road are fruit trees. The entire island is full of fruit trees. Palms, jack fruit, mango, guava.
It's a quiet island road, and as island roads leading out of the town go, you won't feel like you are heading 'out of town' i mean, no huge expanses of dried out grass, nothing like that, only fruit trees on either side of the road, and quaint little houses with moslem women in their burkas off to the well.

The North of the island: Oh Lord! Beauty at her most show-offish
The beach called Kendwa - such a beauty to behold! Terrifyingly white beach, the whiteness of which will blind you, will make you want to run for it. The heat and the breeze. The shimmer. Let's take a dip in the cool waters of the coast, shall we?
Had so much fun in the water, almost threw my back out, had to cut my evening short.

Back to Uganda. The pot-holes are such a burner-downer, but the weather, the weather, the state of kampala! i have hope...

It's a fixer-upper!

Aye Africa!

Our expectations

When we meet new people. Yes!

We have made many mistakes from relationships past (or many mistakes have been made to us) We have learned, we have grown, we have ran the gauntlet of guilt, remorse, pain, and we have come out the other side smelling shit.

And now here we are, revving, raring to go - on to the next one, BUT WAIT!!
Our past follies and mistakes have made us tough, our hides are tough, cynical and tentative.
We scowl hard, we examine and counter examine, we dip a finger, we decide its tepid, and we pull out, we dip a toe, then we take a reluctant plunge.
When they say "i love you", we answer "and i like you too."
We lock all our doors, we lock them in, we hide the key under our pillows, we do not want to get robbed again, of our dignity, our grace.
In fact, our cynicism, like a cloud, has surrounded us, its gray pallor won't let us dig in - into ourselves, into the people who say they love us.

Our expectations have dipped to a whole new low, ergo prompting disregard of our 'lovers' gestures of love and fondness. "Too predictable" we pine, "too cliche" we whinge.

We form little impervious groups-of friends. 'The cynics' we call ourselves. We look at each other with knowing looks after sharing - with each other - the little things (we call them) that our new lovers have done, contemptuously disregarding as we dissect them, a census.

If only we would give our new lovers a chance! A chance to love us fervidly.
If only we would make the much needed disconnect, love, lose THEN love again, blank slate.
If only we would love in series, and not parallel!
If only we would fall in love, real love, once and for all!

Jetpack!

I like the end of this story... Please check it out!

"It does seem like gravity, that cruel and fickle mistress that has been keeping us down for years, might finally get its comeuppance as we break free of our earthly restraints and finally take to the skies."

Martin Aircraft Company in New-Zealand has made the first 'jet-pack' A strap-on sort of vehicle that allows you to take to the skies, at 63mph max. It will soon be commercially available to the very-rich, but wait till we get a chinese, or Japanese version, then i will surely fly!

R-Kelly was not kidding when he said 'I believe i can fly' as i am sure he will be one of the first customers!

What we write

It takes tenacity, determination and complete focus to put word on paper. It becomes even harder if you don't want to focus on world issues (world peace, going green, the Japan vs china tiff) You also don't want to focus on your own life as a person, it feels like you are opening your life's door to criticism and ridicule, however stellar a life you have led, exemplary in-fact. It is human nature. Someone will see the tack in your eye - and pick it!

And so you write about wayward issues, about the completely rude taxi tout your friend told you about, or perhaps, about the pump attendant who wanted to rob you silly, thinking you were still in a state of doze, (given it's morning) but the way you jumped out of the car and shrieked at him when you realized you were being robbed surprised not only you, but the attendant as well, and so you blog...

The randomness with which you blog will surely, and slowly, lead to it's (your blog) death. At a certain time, after a number of posts have been written, and the deep satisfaction has spread like coffee in your system in the morning, the word tap will dry out. Taxi tout won't be worth blogging about anymore. You won't feel the inspiration to do so. You just won't!

Like they say, pointless meanderings akin to most blogs end up no where.

How much higher can you hike the skirt of your life? Afraid they will see something and judge? So you stop.

Once you delve into writing, you feel that your followers expectations are heightened. Their awareness of your prose skills will influence your next blog entry, so like an antelope caught in the headlights of a car, you freeze, more because you feel their eyes boring into you (into your blog)

Of course it's easier to have a mini-series-a following of stories with a protagonist featuring, his/her life played out, but this will happen only if you can follow a lead properly, if you can finish what you started. So because you don't want to bite into something you may not chew properly and effectively have your shallowness displayed for all and sundry, you freeze.
Of course you want to spice up your story, let the protagonist be a heart-breaker, perhaps a serial dater or have some riveting character or proclivity that will have your reader hooked, but you don't want your reader to super-impose this onto your real life, which may or may not be....

And so your tap dries out.

I once asked a pal why he doesn't blog anymore; he said he realized mid-sentence after a year of blogging that he was actually not good at writing about himself, and so he abandoned ship. I challenged him to write about issues far removed from his personal life, all he could think of was 'the going green campaign' and of course he wouldn't be bothered...

Facebook = Shallow

It's addictive. It's catching, it's wrong.
It makes you wanna log on in the middle of the night, just to see what is going on. That is Face book, ladies and gentlemen.
There is something exhibitionist about it, makes one pour out their day for everyone to know, maybe to chide a counter parry, match and counter-match. Who happens more, Who is having more fun?

There are these two young'uns who live on Facebook.
One goes "I am at Mr Price at Nakumatt, this shirt looks stunning"
the other goes "Nakumatt, Mr. Price, i love, love, the clothes"
Needless to say, had you been tasked with profiling them, you would gather information right up to when they fart, exact time.

The exhibitionism that face book encourages is shameless. It makes you wonder if we actually live private lives, or if, at all, we want to live private lives.
You would know when your mere acquaintances fall in love, what kind of love thereof, segue, when the heartbreak (that will follow, as sure as day follows night) happens.
The frivolous existence that FB (acronyms now, please) has created reminds of some semi-living thing swimming on the surface of the water, too lethargic to dive to the bottom, to get it's hands dirty, to get to the deep of things...

Quick lust, they call it. Anonymous dates with all the wrong people, morbid looking people with veneers of models on their profile pages. Unabashed alias profile information, creating false liberties for some who have the time, (and the energy) to maintain two profiles. With the second tucked away safely, only to be used on those restless weekends (we all know those)

A friend of mine once got a very controversial message on FB. Perhaps he was adding friends too quickly, or his friend requests were being ignored more than accepted, or that someone had slyly reported his account (could have been a jilted lover) but the FB team proudly sent him a message as he was trying to add someone, it went; "You cannot add anymore friends at this time, this could be due to two reasons
1 - You are adding friends too quickly
2 - Your requests are being ignored at a high rate"

Then the FB team went forward and said, (and this really takes the cake)

"Please observe these rules;
1 - Do not use FB for dating or business!
2 - Do not add friends too quickly"

It is like the FB team went and knocked it's head on the wall of self righteousness and got flashes of sanity. I mean, isn't this the same network that asks you to specify whether you are in a relationship or not? If they don't, then why the hell do they want you to tell the world about your relationship status?!
I wonder.

Face-book is a bad apple, it's indulgences are like those of bad food. Sweet, and yet ultimately dangerous.

Inebriated Pork guy!

Last evening, i was feeling good about myself so i decided to treat myself in part because i was feeling good, and in part because i had spent the day with someone who feels good about themselves.
Guilty pleasures they are called. I went to this pork guy. He sells raw pork - those who know about pork places you will reckon, they are small slithery places where the pork guys slither in and out of their rank pigpens. They (the pork places) do not stand out like the beef places, in the open, street corners, white tiles in the background and smiling butchers gently waving fly-swatters while shrewdly bargaining pricewise with meat lovers.
The pork places are usually in the backwater quarters of townships. Behind the main street of third-rate town centers. The pork man(is that what they call them?) wont be inside like you expect him to be-tending to his hulk of meat. He will be outside easily bantering with listless looking fellows at the side playing 'omweso' a local game.
You will have to holler, squinting inside, for the smoke from the unattended firewood stove in the corner will make your eyes water. The pork man will spring to life when he finally hears your holler, and will quickly point to the streakiest part of the meat, snidely smiling, his smile saying "you know this is not the best deal, but i am going to indulge your guilty pork pleasure, so you will hurriedly pay and leave" The entire experience will scar you with every step.

So this pork man yesterday seemed offbeat when i approached him. He would continually smile, and had this mad tick in his eye, he looked gaunt and obviously drunk. Slurring his words, he said "So how many kilos can i get you?" "Two" i replied immediately, instant discomfort showing on my face, scowling at his poor work ethic-drinking on the job.
I handed him a crisp note and he handed back two greasy change-notes plus my meat, his hands shaking, clearly showing off his levels of inebriation. I quickly took my items. "Webale nnyo" he mustered in his steadiest voice yet to my retreating back.

I left with a cold feeling in my mind, i kept on wondering to myself, wondering if it's true what they say about Uganda and the fact that we love our alcohol that much, that we have made the horrid shift from social drinking to drinking out of necessity. I remembered something a friend of mine said about people from his ancestral home, and how sad he felt when he visited them recently, the abject poverty manifesting in the entire community, land not tilled, livestock not taken care of, all because of the drinking. He said the men looked withered by drink, torpidly moving around, small, potent drinks in hand.

My fears were confirmed true today when i drove by the pork man's hovel on my way home. The shabby door was closed. I couldn't help but feel slightly guilty that my 10,000shs payment last night was slowly killing pork man at the nearest 'malwa' joint, no less, denying him a honest-day's work.

I feel really bad for him.

I am sure you have already read stuff like this before...

Yes, it's true. We love our alcohol, but we cannot eat our cake and have it too, in other words we cannot imbibe all that alcohol and keep our waistlines... Oh!

read this well written elle magazine article about the same...

Thoughts to words

Or can I say, thought convalescence to words… that point, that silent point, your mind *ting* the clarity, the openness, the reality of it all.

I’m talking about those intermittent days, when you decide to come home early on a Friday night, and out of boredom, climb into bed early, say half 8.
Well, you rarely sleep before midnight (talking about those over-active brains that think, think, think) you reckon you can trick the brain, ‘let me close my eyes, let me think of a calm sea, let me close my eyes and smile, stay still, and sleep will come eventually’

And so you sleep, or so you think…

11.30pm – you wake up, or rather, your mind wakes up. The house is silent, your mind is not.
Thought one; I was thinking about marketing, and how having a roadside booth, with a pretty (yet) effective lad or lass (yes, I used the ‘yet’ clause, simply because so many pretty faces feel like the world owes them, they surf through life with disaffected attitudes and permanent sneers of disdain on their faces, and only brighten up when constantly preened “how gorgeous you are, my darling” and like cats that have been slowly but rhythmically stroked, undulate, unfurl their delicate paws, yawn ever so slightly, and purr contentedly.
But I digress. The marketing booth with the efficient clerk behind the desk. Her smile is bright, or too bright, you think, as soon as she sees you, she springs up, as if in reflex, and goes on to say “can I help you sir?”
You smile faintly, you smile more in response to her countenance than to what she is really saying, you reckon her response has not been terribly ruined by vanity, ‘one more, yet!’ you silently say to yourself. Efficiency undergirded by looks.
You regard her silently as she effectively commands her space, you appreciate her concise execution of task, one after the other as she tells you, with a smile, about the products she is promoting. You feel relaxed at this point, you eagerly inquire about different products. You do this just to prod more, to find out if the EFFECTIVE that sprung up to you when you first strode into the booth still carries. To confirm to yourself, or to placate that furtive voice in your head that screams ‘one wrong thing! She is going to say one wrong thing! And the pile of checkers is going to collapse’
But it doesn’t.
Simple booth. Superlative efficiency. Product sold.

Thought two - …


I have always thought to myself that ideas come in ones sleep. This has always been a truth in itself for me. I always get a solution to that complex algorithm in the morning after a good night’s sleep during which I think of various ways to handle the algorithm. Usually at 5am. I smile delightedly to myself that whoever is next to me-in the rare occurrence that they are-or that they are awake at the time and watching me sleep (very rare)… regard me in bewilderment.
I stride into the office, sit on my computer, select all those lines of unnecessary code and neatly type the solution down. And when that happens, my day is done!

I have always believed that it’s good, (healthy practice like that dentist says, about flossing after every meal, wearing his spotless white gown and demonstrating the best flossing technique yet), to sleep with a notepad next to you. You never know, somehow, your mind and your fingers might flow in tandem and you may be able to make that mind- finger connection, that plug into socket connection, energy flowing from one end to the other, synapses transmitting from one to the next.
Yes! That connection. The clarity, the whiteness, the completion of the process, when you write down what has been whirling through your mind, that whirl that woke your mind up long enough to blur the lines between consciousness and sub-consciousness.
You ought to articulate your thoughts immediately because, come morning, the urgency of other thoughts ‘I am going to be late for work’, ‘how will I handle the traffic this morning’, ‘that report is due today’ take precedence.
I believe that at some point in time, our minds give us leverage to think of things that we may have otherwise regarded trite, and it’s these ideas, these mind forms of expression that we need to translate on paper, not so much those we consciously think about.

Neighborhood Fight!!!!

Folks, i write this after having gone through a state of utter bewilderment!

I WAS NOT THERE, regrettably so, as i missed an epic Youtube moment, but i got this sizzling news a few days later. However, this didn't kill the "zing" though i had to settle as a news recepient of this very true story that happened in my neighborhood a few days ago.

I will tell the story as best as i can, and in my amateur writer style, will give you guys a visual of what went down.

Olwatuuka.....


My two neighbors, the first neighbor, mama Carol, and the second neighbor, Linda came to physical combat last week!
I was told that trade in the fittingly called 'trading center' of my Namugongo neighborhood stopped with hordes of people thronging, bee-lining towards my 'kisakaati' Fenced-off bunch of houses.

Now, mama carol is your typical early 20's aged next door lady neighbor, married with two kids, (second kid less than a year old) with a glum-faced husband who doesn't say much, and minds his own business at all times. You reckon his attitude has rubbed off on the wife, who at face value appears as this meek, timid voiced typically short and round bodied woman, the latter of which is a manifestation of her recent birth, as she goes about her business un-hooking dry clothes from the 'wire' just outside my front door, humming to herself, with her doe-eyed daughter firmly seated on her ample mid-section.

Linda on the other hand, appears as this spirited early 20's woman who gave birth young and had to miss her late teens. She figures the clock is ticking and therefore parties wild with her cousins who are a constant presence in her 2 bedroom apartment. She is tall, big-boned and dark, a typical eastern-uganda look.
Her husband works and lives out of town so Linda is left to her own devices most of the time hence the partying till A.M on most nights.
Her constant parties and visitors will leave you wondering whether she gets time to herself, not to mention the noise, but your furrowed brow is soon smoothened when she comes to your front door and softly taps, with a big smile and a slice of cake in hand from her party.

When i came to this 'kisakaati' two years ago, i found both families had moved in, the two women were good friends with one happily camping at the other's house during the day, as both are house-frau's.
A year down the road, i started noticing a certain heaviness in the air between these two women, mostly observed on Linda's face as she would angrily purse her lips as she saw mama carol trudge by.. that and the little jibes she would recite about Mama carol when she(linda) would come to my house for an idle chit-chat.
A few days ago, the animosity came to a dramatic crescendo when these two exchanged blows, in the signature cat-fight way, characterized by hair-twisting, face-clawing, resounding slaps and ripping of dresses meant to humiliate by showing the adversaries nether body parts.
"I was sleeping, after i had pulled an all-nighter for i had a paper the next day", my other neighbor Julian regaled the entire tale to me this morning as we rode to town together.
"I then heard ear-shattering expletives from outside, so i rushed to the window to see what had befallen our serene neighborhood, next thing i saw were these two women, linda and mama-carol locked in combat, wrestling and pulling each other's hair out. I couldn't believe what i was seeing, my first reaction was, Oh my God, what is happening!? i rushed out to break up the fight but hesitated as from my quick assessment, i could be seriously hurt! Linda was pummeling Mama carol with blows so expertly administered, that i felt myself cringe from the sound. Sickening blows kept on coming. Mama carol's feeble attempts to ward them off was not helping at all. Her 5 year old daughter rushed and pulled her sister off mama carol, as she had not bothered to put her in a safe place before engaging. 5 year old seized her sister in her arms and started running in all directions, confused at what was happening to her mother, no less.
As if this was not sufficient drama, two of Linda's female cousins, all tall, dark and big boned like their cousin, also rushed out of the house and started pummeling the object while screaming "leave our sister, you evil bitch!' leave her!

Mama Carol's gangly teenage nephew rushed from the house and started screaming at the wasps who were beating the living day lights out his Aunt, saying 'gwe, mumuleke, ngenda kubawatula!' You, leave her alone, i am going to annihilate you' The angry girl trio killing machine responded as if in tandem; 'you come, we will break your legs, you will face the same fate as your aunt'
It could have been the sureity with which this was said, or what exactly was said that forced the gangly teenager to quickly, like a stoned dog, retreat to the inner recesses of carols house, and close the door firmly.

Meanwhile, the fight continues. Linda, now utterly, utterly incensed pulls out yet another tuft of mama carol's hairs and with a victorious swing of her arm, shows it off to all the neighbors who have gathered from as far as the next trading center. The whole compound had now become a stadium with a mob of people, both young and old, enjoying, in a typical ugandan way, the drama that was unfolding, as if that was not enough, they kept on goading Linda 'Mwongere!' 'give her some more' - (roughly translated)
Sickly images of pools of blood on concrete, or gouged out eyes kept on flashing through my mind. I couldn't take this vulgar display anymore so with a sound, mustered just for this occasion, at the top of my voice and a stern arm swimg to match, barked 'STOP! ALL OF YOU, GET BACK INTO YOUR HOUSES!' In retrospect, i tried to think of that moment, it could have been the authority of my mustered voice or a sudden gust of sanity that could have quickly descended onto these women timing my scream, that, right then and there, did the magic, for the two women reluctantly unlocked from the deadly embrace.
'i quickly ushered Linda and her mercenaries into their house and with purpose, locked the door and turned the key, Meanwhile, mama carol dragged her battered body slowly back into her own house.
Shorthly after, the gangly teenager came out, of course after the coast became clear, and like a bogus, feeble dog that just had to bark one last time, even after the thief has seized the belongings, murdered the master, and jumped the fence, started screaming in his recently broken voice, his acne quivering on his face, "Mwe bakazi mwe, mulina sirimu, muli bi malaya....." (you women, you have HIV, you are sluts!) then added a typically immature one "temukomangawo okutusaba obutungulu" (never come back here begging for onions)
Linda and her troop on the other side of the wall, seized the windows, and like agonized prisoners, rattled them, and screamed back somethings unintelligible.

I turned to the gangly boy and ordered him to retreat to the house to which, feeble dog style, tail between its legs, whimpered off and closed the door safely behind him.
The neighbors, who at this point had become bored by the non-action, slowly started streaming off to go about their daily business, but off course the kids stayed around all evening, waiting for the encore that didn't come, and instead settled for a re-enactment of the earlier days events, word for word, in typical kiddish style.

By the time my neighbor was done with the story, i couldn't believe, i was utterly bewildered, and short of words, but had to, really had to share this story with y'all!

Oh how i missed this youtube moment!!!!!!!

My Yoga Experience...

Last week, one of my colleagues invited me for a Yoga class. We made a date for Tuesday (Yesterday) 'Wear something loose' she said.
And so i did.

I have always loved exercise, generally, though i thought more (as do many people) that Yoga is mostly an 80% of the time, passive trance inciting exercise where one sits and chants some mantra repeatedly till he/she attains (or pretends to attain) a state of euphoria, mind undulation, floating awareness..., as i thought that it's active. The latter state-of-mind clearly stamped out, the constant wincing as i type out on this keyboard maintaining as a rude reminder.

We went to this American club in off Makindye known for its famous flea markets where expats leaving the country regularly sell off their artifacts and other things.
After renting a yoga mat from the fitness center, i was whisked off to this room at the south side of the expansive house/center/club (all in one) and was welcomed by this ugandan instructor, 5.8", slight build, ebony skin, unplacable accent with matching, exaggerated arm (and leg) gesticulations.

Quickly we were told to get onto our knees. Here i am thinking, Kinky!! Unplacable accent starts drawling these commands, '...... put left limb infront of right limb, raise head above and arch your spine, feel the tensing of the muscle (says biologic name of mentioned muscle)...' '....stand on your right leg with your right toes digging into the ground, raise your left leg behind you at a 90degree angle to your right leg, lean forward until your spine lines perfectly with your left leg.... for those who want to go higher, raise your back until you do a U shape..... feel your body align.....your chakra..'
'Did he say chakra?' i mused to myself.
He said Align. Interesting, as i thought that particular word was used more for cars.

The exercises were too strenuous, i thought i tore something in the process. One and a half hour long execution of the most impossible swan shapes and curves i thought i last saw on TV, done by those pint sized Japanese freak acrobats.

At around 7.30pm we were told to lie down and relax our muscles, in a strait-jacket shape with our eyes closed. Unplacable accent then crept around covering our eyes with a cloth filled with crystal-like consistency, lavender scented stones. These had a clean, calming smell that quickly relaxed me. He went ahead and covered the entire length of our bodies with light burka like pieces, and went ahead and sprayed potpourri all around the room.
We were ordered to stay still and meditate.
Now, i have never meditated, my mind is too crazy for that. Yes, i always sit down and think, hell, i do that on a daily basis as the execution of my work tasks needs a lucid mind and well thought out task executiion techniques, BUT i have never really sat down in an ape-like trance, clearing my mind of all thought and try to attain a state of ethereal hypnosis.
I dont know what that is, but i sure want to try out, and this is what was required of me in yesterday's Yoga class.
As the instructor rustled about, unzipping bags and taking out Godknowswhat, i couldn't help but wonder what he was removing, that he was probably retrieving some oriental charm that would take a life, shape, form of its own and bite all of us into next-year! But the African in me was quicky doused by the consciousness that i was in a real studio and was doing real, yoga things, and that if unplacable accent did his job well, that i would probably be back next Tuesday.

'... now slowly regain your consciousness, feel your spirit taking form again, find your center...' the instructor softly droned, his voice sounding like a radio whose volume was being turned up, slowly-slowly.
I quickly, impatiently shook off the covers and darted my eyes around the now darkened room, as if expecting to see the receeding tail of the monster that could have been dancing around the room...
And with an awkward sound to his voice, sounding, not, like we were getting off the Alladin carpet from the flight over Asia, but, that it was time for us to fork out the money and pay up, for the session was complete, he said '...hmm..mmm and that is the end of today's session...' to which we awkwardly cleared our throats in in return, and paid up.

The whole experience left me with an ambivalence, a "what was that?" question, a curiosity that will only be placated by thorough internet research, and perhaps another visit to unplacable accents' domain for some of those indecipherable indian words....

Diets!

Ok, i know there are as many diet plans as there are spam emails in my inbox, and believe me, those are MANY. However, i cannot help but wonder about some of the success stories i have read about on the internet and the efficacies of the diets thereof.
To start off, i do not have a weight problem, i am as fit as should be, with no pouring midsections or God forbid, double chins...
That said, i do miss my body as it were at 21. Lean and spry. (You know the typical 21 year old body) I am 100% sure there is a medical acronym for my 'condition' (missing the 21 year old body), though i don't care to find out.
Just like the man who is scared of heights, or the girl who shreiks when she sees a grass-hopper.
I know, when you turn 25 or thereabouts, your body fills out. Suddenly the attractively gaunt cheekbones get rounded, the rack as it were gets a little softer, you know...

Forget about those freaks of nature, those abberations, the skinny ones who eat and dont gain a single kilo. We all know life has its variations, and those are natures' ways of showing off her versatility!

I have gone through a couple of phases, when i was 26, i used to run the marathon like the wind, with stamina on track that would so badly be envied by a 65yr old man in the bedroom.
I recently turned 28 and all i can think about is diets!
Yes, i know the adage, the horror stories, 'He(or she) dieted all his life, and instead became a compulsive overeater, gained 10 stone and was unhappy for the rest of his life'
The nutritionists who crow menacingly, 'You have to eat healthy, the body needs this, and that....'
Where do i draw the much needed line separating healthy from fattening?
I have friends who have all sorts of ridiculous information about food 'If you cut down on your carbohydrates, your teeth will fall out!' That is lame as it is incredulous!

I and have read lots of literature about the body, and what it needs. Put simply, give the body more than it needs and it will store up for the winter! If you give your body more carbohydrates than it needs, it will convert them into fat and store them in your midsection!
This sustains the efficacy of the low-carb diet. It is splashed all over the internet. Pros and cons, sensationalists and cynics alike all sing the same song.
I am a recent convert.
Shoot me someone, please!!

I am intently studying 'The Atkins diet.'
Major Pro - I absolutely dont snack between meals because i eat mostly proteins. As they get digested slower, cravings for sugar are not as frequent.

Major Pro - I enjoy all my steak and vegetables, my favorite anyway, i dont cringe when i see fatty meat or chicken.... and ignore most of the complex carbohydrates like processed foods (flour, etc)

Major Con - The ketones (these are generated as a result of breakdown of stored fat into ready energy for the body, in absence of carb energy) cause a slight bad breath odor in the first days of the restrictive diet stage, but this clears if you drink lots of water.

Major Con - In the first two weeks, no ALCOHOL! now why did they have to go and do that! Well, Atkins says alcohol can cause erratic blood sugar levels, cravings etc, and as we all know, beer has lots of carbs, spirits don't help either cause the mixers usually have sugar in them, and these will knock you straight out of ketosis.

It always gets difficult to stick to one diet, i know, but it is healthy to adopt a certain way of living (WOL), eating what your body needs, and not what it wants NOW.
I have always challenged my body to do things, since it is MINE, (i am stressing the possessive) I want to be able to lose 5 Kilos to fit into something for the weekend, and gain 5 kilos again when i want to. Isn't that amazing?

So i should say, hello 21!

Over? Or under 25? That is the Question!!

When does one say it's cross generation?
A friend once posted something on facebook that said, "you know it's cross-generation when you are 40, and you and your partners cumulative age is not over 55.
As funny as this sounds, it sets me thinking.
A fellow blogger posted something about "if over 25, date over 25" (not in those exact words, but that's the crux)
I will argue for and against, for personally, i have been (and still are) confused by this whole dating over or under.

Over 25 has its cons, one; you can 'get' each other, you have both trudged the road, have your experiences tucked under, forgetten all about milk time and gotten down to business.
Thats good in itself, with the right 25 and above.

Everyone longs for another (mature person) who tunes the same wave-length like they do, speaks as well as they do, and gives as well as they take. Not a tick at the side or a moocher who takes selfishly, like some of the younger ones, someone with a JOB, (and i cannot even begin to stress how important that is) can take care of themselves and won't ask for airtime.

If one is mature enough, confident about themselves, goes about their business purposefully, calls you (does not beep) at the right time, looks good enough and swells you up with pride when you introduce him(or her) to your friends, that is good stuff, all good stuff.


However, when they are over 25, alright, but still ask for airtime, drink too much, speak rudely to your friends to a point where you would rather not introduce them, it all becomes an itchy, sob story.
Lately, i have come across 25 and older guys (or girls) who behave like kids, Throwing childish tantrums, farting openly (though that may be attributed to poor upbringing), condescendingly obstinate or plain lazy, i get 'daylights out of me' BORED!

We all get a chance to be young once, but age pulls us in as naturally as it was designed to do. The more we protest, (stay out till late, dress less conservatively, lace our syllables with heavy jargon), the more age manifests, brilliantly, bitterly! The more it shines its torch on us, quietly scorning us, like a harsh, white dentists' light glaring down on mangled teeth, examining, showing lines of festering gums and plaque caught with a coral reef consistency.
The realization that this is a one way traffic route, we reach out for those younger than us to vicariously live through them, experience through them what we missed while we were younger...
We look at their perfect bodies and get pulled back into time when we had perfect bodies, everything in place, not consciously tucked in(or sucked in), unbroken skin, clear open smiles not tainted by life and its cynicisms, exuberance and huge draughts of youthful optimism and determination. We throw all caution to the wind and we take the plunge.

For some, it works out, those who are lucky to get young'uns who, despite the obviously young countenance, think older than they look, will to learn, hold their own in an intellectual fete, and are not GOD FORBID, under 21 years of age!
For others, all hell breaks loose, belongings get stolen, lives robbed, dignities get soiled and blackmail takes its only acceptable direction; young lout meets older, cushier romantic.

Its as old as time itself, this thing, we are only having our go!

Whew! My password

"I think i have forgotten my password!" I thought despairingly to myself as i typed into my blogs' password box for five times straight and the screen returned the same dull message "Wrong password or email combination"
I looked unbelievingly at the screen, and my thoughts flew straight to the night before, steak-out where i had, out of pure merriment and happiness, imbibed two quarters of Uganda Waragi, a gin famous for causing memory loss, where your brain, out of defiance, decides to wipe itself out, getting an eraser and with a deliberate rejoinder to the alcohol contents making it uneasy, wipes, slowly by slowly, everything, there goes your mother's name. There goes the coordinates to your house. And with it all, goes the password to your blog.
Keeling from the night before, it's decadence and alcoholic marathon, i banged my head against the screen as if to jump-start my brains memory. Brain jams. I bang, brain instead fires back synapses causing a blinding headache.

I thought of the google account i opened when i started the blog, and the same email/password combination to said account matches with blog email/password entry combo, this meant that i could'nt use the helpful line below on the blogger screen that says, with a tinge of amusement "Forgotten your password? click here!"

I decide to wait it out (only option left).

I called a friend who regaled stories of bloggers who frequently complain about their pages getting burgled by hackers, forgodknowswhatreason! Blogger.com does the obvious, locks the account. When the hapless blog owner types in the password the next day, (fresh with ideas and stories to share with the world) blogger.com displays dull page, like a heavy tongue hanging out of a cows mouth, immobile, greyed, useless.
Horrific images flashed through my mind (thats the bargain my brain could give me, horrific images! bad brain!!) upward journey, trudging through blogger with a new account, carefully, painstakingly reconstructing my followers lists, and the fan-base i have been growing steadily (yes! i have a fan-base) and all other things that made my pace quicken out of anticipation of the worst!!
...

After two hours of bated trepidation, i typed the password into the beckoning box again, and same blank screen countered, winking at me, as if mocking me. I decided to give up and resignedly went away for the weekend.
This morning, HALLELUJAH!!! (Jumping, banshee-screaming, mixture of belief and disbelief in equal prop) typed in the same password and there! I GOT IN!
I wondered to myself, why was blogger.com acting up the other time? Have the website administrators lost their edge? Why did they lock me out of my own bloody account!!! However, the furor in itself was dulled by the sheer happiness that i could, once agin, post normally into my OWN blog!

YES!!

Kamunye's deplorable picture.

Before i go there, let me indulge you a little in todays new vision hint:

Olara Otunnu (UPC Flag-bearer) is set to walk down the aisle with a one 'Jocelyn Bafokugamba'
New vision says Joyce and Olara met about three years ago in France... 'but their romance has only assumed a new sense of urgency in recent weeks.' Hmmmm...
'His impending marriage should improve his political fortunes in a country which puts a high premium on the family man.' They add.

Either its April Fools day and they mean to mock Olara, grating salt into the rabid insinuations that have been plaguing the poor man since he made an appearance on the Uganda political scene, or it may actually have a hint of truth in it, but i remain skeptical.

On to the next one!
A few days ago, a friend showed me an article in a Luganda version of the Red Pepper infamy called "Kamunye"
Kamunye follows hot on the heels of red-pepper, brandishing cack to all Luganda reading Ugandans willing to 'wag their dogs', Kamunye generously follows routine to indulge the land with images and stories of astoundingly repugnating proportions. A bare breast here, a dirty look up the skirt there, and all sorts of sex-talk that even your garden-variety loud-mouthed self-appointed sex braggadocio will grimace at when his eyes get confronted by rag-tag.
I digress;
Back to the story;
It's about a pastor who was caught in Jinja, flagrante delicto with two guys and,... hold your breath... a GOAT!
Kamunye, the frivolous daily (or weekly) doesn't stop there. It prints a picture!
A picture that is not worthy of a news daily, a picture so sordid i felt compelled to write about it on this blog, a picture that makes you bite your tongue, spill your wine, and choke on your hors d'oeuvres all in rapid succession.
Let me give you a mind visual. Two guys, buck naked, kissing in the background of the picture, holding hands and rubbing nethers against each other, eyes scrunched closed in utter euphoria. Pastor in the foreground, naked as well, looking down at a GOAT! Yes, a goat, giving him head. The pastor looks completely taken in the moment, his eyes are brimming with desire, and the goat! the goat looks like it's expertly sucking him off! Like it has been trained to do this sort of thing, and the picture in question just goes to show that it's another day in the goats' sucking (or suckling) days.

The picture first repulsed me to the core, and then i burst out in raucous laughter, and then something hit me, and i rapidly went solemn. This could be just a prank by this cheap daily, making a statement, equating homosexuality = beastiality. Therefore it's not a big deal that both repulsive acts take place in the same dingy room in Bugembe, Jinja.
Bugembe, famous for its tarty prostitutes, rampant witchcraft with men and women cursing each other in a movemental frenzy, resulting into children born with no eyes or something dark like that, snakes born in the place of one of a twin pair, et al.

My second reaction after peeking at the picture was disbelief, and i made known my reservations to my friend. My skepticism has it that this could be a super-imposed picture, that the goat could have been expertly photo-shopped (inset in place of another person performing fellatio?)
That beastiality and homosexuality are swimming tandem (in that picture) justifies some of Uganda's homophobes who argue, to my chagrin, that homosexuality acts are on the same rung of the ladder with beastiality, and that both deserve the same hot skin-charring coals in the 9th hell.

The story in it's self made little meaning to me, but i did snatch a few sentences that alluded to homosexuality being a western thing. (As if the picture was not damning enough!)

Please, by all means, pick up that copy of Kamunye, issue is a few days gone i know, gasp at lewd picture, read story surreptitiously and subsequently burn page.
This thing should burn out of our heads sooner rather than later, as unbelievingly as it was presented, hot and fast.
I shudder!

Hope in Uganda afterall...

Well, this wont be political diatribe. This infact will be far from that, its about the spirit of (some) Ugandans, and the beacon of hope that we hope will spread throughout and sundry, the verve that it should be.

This is about a taxi conductor who defied all known habit and did what's right, it is about, in part, lady luck and how she smiled down on me.

Thursday morning, i leave home, hitch a ride with a neighbor because my car had problems. Thursday evening, i arrive to town at around half 6pm from Entebbe and subsequently jump into a taxi to Wandegeya for that much needed haircut.

7.00pm, contentedly seat on the barbers chair, his fingers and clippers precariously going through my hair. I sigh contentedly as i hear the familiar buzz of the clippers next to my ear. Five minutes into the appointment, i go through the familiar habit of absentmindedly checking my pockets to make sure everything is intact, especially when i have moved from crowded places to quieter ones. I do this out of habit, really, for i dont expect anything to have gone awry, but as they say, good habits, good benefits.
This particular time, i do the necessary and immediately notice there is something wrong, i jerk up with a start, eyes popping out of sockets, i barely whisper 'My phone!' I frantically search through my pockets and man-bag for the phone, but as the panic goes and the realization sets in that one of my phones is gone, i smile sadly and think to myself, 'Oh that Taxi', 'Oh all my phone contacts!'
That taxi i awkwardly entered, that banged up taxi with the loud music, that stupid taxi stuck in jam for 20 minutes, the same taxi with this big haired neighbor, a lanky fellow who couldn't stop peering at my phone screen to look at my sordid text messages. Ha!

The barber offered helpfully, 'Try calling the phone, someone just might pick it up, you never know!' I pursed my lips and my memory took me to a time when the same thing happened. About 8 years ago, i left my phone in a taxi and when i tried to ring it a few minutes after i realised it was lost, some one picked it up and exclaimed in luganda to his friend i assumed 'Heh! this one has left his phone in the car, hmmm.' Not entirely believing his luck, and trying to trap same luck before it flew out of the window, ended the call immediately and subsequently switched the phone off! It doesn't suffice to mention that i tried to call the phone desperately, again and again, but as they say... alas!

Getting back to Thursday night, i jerked out of my reverie and took charge, called my phone, and after a few rings, some one picked it up and to my amazement said, again in Luganda. 'I am the conductor of this taxi, (gave me the number plate) We are bound for Kawempe. 'You left your phone in our taxi!' he added. Then, with an urgency in his voice, offered 'Take a Boda, we are still stuck in the jam, i am sure you will get us before we cross the nothern bypass. 'Hurry because we are already late!' he unecessarily added. 'Call when you see the car' he then spelled out the number plate again!

I did as ordered, head half done, looking ridiculous with what can only be described as a "lopsided mohawk" clipped hairs on my sleeve and collar, also half believing my luck, quickly paid the barber and firmy said 'nkomawo!'(i am coming back!), jumped on a boda and sped off. Bwaise bound jam this time worked in my favor, and we quickly, almost acrobatically, sped past the cars lined up in a long jam snaking, winding, and inching its way slowly towards the nothern bypass. I would call the taxi tout every two minutes to half confirm that he was still into the deal!, and also that i was not being 'punk'd!'
We caught up with the car just as it crossed under the bypass bridge and the boda screeched to a halt. I urgently run to the conductors side, and breathlessly, profusely thanked him as he handed me the phone. I duly, quickly forked a 5,000 shs note out of my wallet and offered it to him. He took it from me and smiled gently.

As we headed back to wandegeya, i started thinking to myself. Uganda has a number of good hearted people whose little acts of honesty really make a big difference. They do make a big difference to ugandans and foreigners alike.
Imagine a tourist walking down kampala road, drops a 50,000shs note and a stranger quickly walks up to him, taps him on the shoulder and says 'You dropped this Mr!' and with an apologetic smile on the tourist's behalf, hands him the dropped 50k!
Personally i would wallow in my own rapidly blurted out 'Thank you's.' This tourist would do too, plus he would leave Uganda with a good feeling in his heart, i think!.
These little acts of honorableness are like little dots, coordinates on different parts of a map, scattered around, and with goodness and a general will of ugandan people, can soon spread out like a "good rash!" Hopefully.

My silent musings, wishful thinking was suddenly, interrupted by my boda boda man who screeched, yet again to a halt, avoiding an accident, a boda infront of us had crashed into the ground and three people down with it, a bicycle suddenly joined the pile up and there was a mass of bodies on the floor. The passengers, confused by what had struck them so suddenly, jumped up and started for all directions. Oncoming cars, bicycles and boda-bodas swerved to avoid hitting them, as i looked on fearfully, scrunching my eyes shut as one limping passenger almost got run-over by a sturdy SUV. After my Boda-boda man regained composure, (quickly as we were at a fast moving round-about area), he slowly navigated his bike past the boda man infront who was quickly picking himself and his boda off the tarmac, starting and revving it even before seating astride and speeding off, of course to avoid the wrath of ugly mobs who quickly but inordinately steal from hapless passengers involved in accidents.

As we reached Wandegeya, i shook my head part in disbelief of how fast the last 15 minutes of my life had gone by, and partly, how much adrenaline was coursing through my veins at that very moment. I paid off the boda, and on shaky, jelly-like legs, walked back to "La salon" the real name of the salon i had previously half done my head, plopped down on the barbers seat, closed my eyes and offered up a silent Prayer of Thanks.

'Whoa, What a Thursday evening!' i exclaimed to no one in particular.

On the Flip Side - What i am reading...

Zadie Smith's first novel, 'White Teeth' is like no other. The then 24 British satirist wunderkind spun a tale so enthralling, a multigenerational span depicting the zeitgeist of different epochs, this book will leave you with a happy frolicky feel. And no, i am not done with it yet.


A number of you might have read it for it was done at the turn of the millenium, 2000. This novel miscegenates characters of different races, and creates a mongrel of Jamaican, Bengali, British..

The language is very fluent even for the then Smith, and the characters and situations are described in painstaking detail...

"You had to admire it and admire the man, who sat now like a benign locust, his slender insectile body swamped in a black leather chair, leaning over the desk, all smiles, a parasite disguised as a philanthropist"

And of course the drama....

'Who are they?' She slammed her little fist on to the kitchen table, sending the salt and pepper flying, to collide spectacularly with each other in the air. 'I don't know them!........ 'But tell me,' she shouted, returning to her favored topic, 'Where is our food?' Theatrically, she threw open every cupboard in the kitchen. 'Where is it? Can we eat china?' Two plates smashed to the floor. She patted her stomach to indicate her unborn child and pointed to the pieces. 'Hungry?'

This well woven piece of fiction was an instant bestseller that propelled her to the light early. She has written two books since then 'Autograph Man'(2003) and 'On Beauty'(2005), both which became instant bestsellers.

Too sad, too sad to blog today!

Kasubi Tombs burned.

Monitor and Vision ran the story this Morning.

I listened to the radio this morning, Men and women howled amidst desperate attempts to put out the raging flames. A man having taken charge, pleaded with the enraged crowd; 'stay calm' and 'don't riot' and 'Enough Buganda blood shed already'

I am sad, i am so sad..

I know the media is going to step gingerly over this one, what with CBS that has never reopened since last years chapter!!

Not that i am an alcoholic... Not really...

Vision's Leading Story says "All bars to close by 10pm'

Hmmm, i can't help but wonder 'Will this work?'
Not so long ago, a few years past, maybe two, our bored parliamentarians hinted on something slightly similar to this, no? i wonder what happened to it....

The bill sets to reduce the quantities that Uganda imbibes, this following the 2004 survey by World Health Organization ranking Uganda as 'the' leading consumer of booze in the world!'
Again, i can't help but wonder, 'Do they really care, really?
Or is this just another day in the life of a suddenly lively assembly?


These are my reasons that this won't be practical.

1) As we all know, ladies and gentlemen, closing bars early is code for less money going to URA, the revenue people, that, code for less money going to government from alcohol revenue (which government really, really enjoys), which in turn is code for increasing taxes on other cash camels... it's a chain reaction that hurts that big venous government revenue organ, and i am sure the government is going to sit back and first compute the losses it will make before going on an all good and divine intervention.
Agreed, there are other sectors from which the government can make money, but a big dent in alcohol? Come on now! We know Uganda loves her alcohol, but we also know that the Ugandan government really, really loves her revenue from taxes!!

2) It's like stepping on the dogs tail, the tail is just a part of its body like any other appendage, the dog will yelp and probably bite. That is a good analogy for the fact that many big guys in the government also have shares in some of these bars. They will hurt, just like the deprived government.

3) It will probably be like in some country i know, where they passed the 'no peep show' bill (something like that) or it could have been the 'No pornography bill.'
The country in question is known for its peep bars or renownedly - 'go-go bars' where young girls and boys dance and perform olympic winning acts using body parts not to be mentioned on this blog, the police of said country know the bill was passed, but hey, one will learn how to survive in lean times.... The known S.O.P is the police will drive by and clandestinely collect undisclosed amounts of dime leaving the bar owners to bring on the performance, this leaves the police, bar owners, and of course, the patrons happy! I see a similar grind in kampala should this bill be passed.

4) Its called the 'Enguli(liquor) act!

A bill with the word 'enguli' in it should just not pass, just not!

Surely!

Of Wayward Evenings!

.... And so i pinballed out of the house even after i had made plans to plop onto my favorite couch, remote in hand, surfing through the channels and yawning in turn. (My every evening S.O.P)

I huffed off to meet my friend in the neighborhood, and we got to vastly talk about a number of issues.
My phone buzzed, i picked up and this friend of mine, Mike, on the other side of town said he would like to meet me. 'Sure!' i replied since i obviously enjoy his company. I drove to town, called him as i reached the metropolis. 'Come down to William Street, at a bar called Top Pub' he beckoned, i duly agreed.

As i slowed the car down , the first thing that hit me was so many people standing outside an obviously dingy bar, the likes you would find in the red-light district.
"Oh my God!" i said to myself as it finally dawned on me that this particular bar is quite infamous for a not so long ago episode where a deranged presidential detail army man went all hook, line and sinker and decided to annihilate everyone nearby when a "working girl" not only decided to "relieve him" of his wallet and its contents, but also wouldn't let him cop a feel. Said Army guy shreiked at all who cared to listen that he would be back, and true to his word, came back with a pistol fifteen minutes later and unloaded on all, starting with the door bouncer! Story hit the papers the next day, body count approximately 15, "gone the way of the dodo!"

I couldn't help but remember the saying someone once told me "Bakuseredde mu katale, oyomba n'ekubbo" roughly translated from my modest luganda into "You have been short-changed at the market, but are directing your fury to the road..."

Outside the bar, a bevy of prostitutes mulled freely with a number of rough looking youths swigging cheap hard liquor out of plastic bottles, bleary eyed cats and dogs warily crept by underneath.

...And so i entered the bar, trepidation, heart palpitating, beads of sweat coursing down my cheeks in prescience of another macabre episode.
Mike was waiting for me at the entrance, wide grin on his face.
'Do i really know this guy?' i asked myself. 'What with the places he hangs out in!' i further thought.
Mike had invited his other pal Jason. Jason turned out to be as snotty as i was, with his nose permanently upturned.
The place was jammed with patrons packed like sardines in a tin, dingy red lights everywhere, slipshod looking people with their empty eyes, brash waitresses charging through the crowd, expertly balancing bottles on old trays, local music blaring out of every corner interluded by the resident DJ's smarmy whimsies. Further ahead, a well worn pool table with a bunch of guys expertly sinking the balls.
'Its not safe to stay here, i thought to myself. I turned and Jason was looking at me, nodding silently as if in concordance with my inner thoughts.
Wait, did i just see a group of ladies strut out, clad in Gomesi? (Local Kiganda wear) 'Hmmmm' i mused to myself. Turned this time to comment to Jason, his cursory glance at the women said it all, so i didn't bother commenting.

'Where is Mike?' I asked Jason. He pointed me to the direction where Mike was, talking intently to a pint sized girl whose face i couldn't quite make out for she was far off and the lights were way too dingy.
Mike ambled over with the girl in tow, twisted expression on his face.
He leaned in and whispered 'This girl is my neighbour in Ntinda, she says she has to fuck me tonight.'
I turned to see the girl he was talking about and instantly understood her determination.
Short, about 4ft 8" with the tartiest looking dress i had ever seen, a dirty brown mini dress with an unkempt look, a smutty bra peeking out of the mini, a less than desirable hair style, short cropped hair with little oily frills coming down her beady forehead, to top it all up, she had the most dogged expression of someone firmly assuming "I am gonna fuck you, you know it, and so does the Universe!"
Sweat was rolling off her forehead, and she had a drunk pallor about her, in one fist, she was clutching a club beer that once belonged to Mike, and in the other calloused little fist, clutching at Mike's shirt like her life depended on it.
Jason was staring at her in utter morbid bewilderment, mouth agape, i had to sharply nudge him to stop staring.

Jason: 'Now we really have to leave this place!'
Me: 'Yes, no better time like the present!'
Mike: 'Can we wait a little while, i need to get rid of this bird'
Me:(Kampala speak) "You obviously want to chow her, otherwise you wouldn't have talked to her in the first place.'
Mike (in protest) 'No, she came onto me!' His eyes widened, while jabbing at his chest with his thumb to drive the point home.
Jason: 'Whatever man, lets move'
We ambled out.
Never happier!
Jason, Me, Mike, and unfortunately, the apparition in hot pursuit.
We got to the car, i opened the doors and slid in quickly, Jason in tow, so that Mikes "chow de Jour" wouldn't even think of entering the car. I pressed the central lock button and only did i breathe a sigh of relief, only for a short while at least.

Mike was still outside the car with the shroud, and she was making herself clear 'Where are you going?' 'You are not going anywhere without me!' Stubborn expression on her face, jaw set in a determined line, Jason and i groaning collectively inside the car. She had her hand firmly clamped down on the door, as if trying to bar his entry into the car. I heard Mike say, obviously after mustering all the courage he could, 'Are you bullying me?' half imploring, half shouting. At that point i was ready for a spectacle, probably someone was going to end up on the recieving end of a resounding slap. Girl said something inaudible, and Mike opened the car door, timing my central unlock. The girls gall blew on as she strode to my side of the car and screamed 'Open the door!' Mike and Jason half sung in unison 'Drive!' and off i sped!

We got to Steak out a few minutes later and after quickly scanning the place, i knew i was home, back to where i belonged, back to my comfort zone, and comfort food as you may add!

After a few hours, the ghoul strode into the bar, drunken haze, one cheek streaked as though she had been slapped, i pointed her out to Mike who recoiled at the sight,
'Who let her in!' but to thank our Heavens, she strode by and a few moments later, ended up on the dancefloor gyrating with some wayward looking boy, i smiled. I couldn't help but agree that her tenacity would get her what she wanted, Sex, with someone, anyone that night!

Mike let out a sigh of relief.

I respected her singlemindedness!

Walkabout Chronicles two part series.

Please check out my dear, dear friends' blog for a two part series following his visit to Butembo, Congo.
Could give you a little insight, from his perspective, about a country so battered.

Walkabout Chronicles, you have done well!

Website Maintenance, anyone??

Can someone on the blogger website maintenance team work out that problem with the comments? Even when you are signed into google, it will first return an error when you try to comment on someones article. Only at the second attempt does it bring that word verification thingy.

A couple of my friends have complained about this problem too. One actually was convinced that he had to be a blogger to comment on anyones article, and that's why his browser always returned an error. I told him he could do so as 'anonymous' as i used to do before i started blogging.

Did he do that? Really?

So you have heard, ok, if you dare mingle in the circles of the elite, or thereof, someone will say (drinking in some ostentatiously designed bar, or living room)

A "you know xx or yy wrote that book"

and at the other end of the conversation another says,

B "Really? where is he from?"

A "Uganda!"

B (With incredulity) "Did he study in Uganda?"

A (Slightly angered by B's lack of faith) "Yes he did! why, you think he didn't?"

B (mantra) "You know ugandans, they are not capable of much.... (goes on)"

Yes, yes, you know what they say about Africans? 'We are not capable of much, we have responded as well as the colonialists wanted us to...'

I will dare to agree to a certain mini extent, however, in the professional, elitist circles in which we mingle, this shouldn't be. The fact that we have studied to certain levels, have read well, have trained professionally and garnered skills, we should, of course SHOULD, be in position to make examples of ourselves, such that all and sundry can follow.

This goes without saying... The dogged mentality that people in this country, the ones who have been blessed with good backgrounds, good education, and a good view of the horizon have about their ilk. They think they are not capable of much, cannot do shit, cannot break out of the mound, and that good writers, musicians, poets, scientists, et al are, well, all from from western countries obviously, or ugandans trained there!

It breeds contempt for some of my ilk who don't see the potential in themselves and the ones around them, who cannot discern and appreciate the abilities and strengths relating to the volitions of their contemporaries.

This mentality, born and bred here, has run rife in schools and also workplaces, where those with qualifications from, say a third-rate college in New Orleans stand better chance in the workplace than a person who has graduated summa cum laude here from a local university. The sweeping mind-thoughts that some HR professionals have about capabilities even without trying people on for size is pathetic and it's throwing this country to the back of the line.

Yes, there are third rate colleges even out there in the developed world.

Yes, people here can, and in some cases, do have superior skills garnered from the local universities.

Yes, i know what you are thinking, Local universities, especially veteran ones here, and their peccancies, read gross misconduct of lecturers, blatant raising of fees structures, laissez-faire attitudes of lectures and students alike, yes, there is that and it has to be worked on, BUT, in all this noise, there still remains some potential, especially by students who purposefully stride in there, read, ace exams, research, research!

But i digress, We have good people in this country, good people who are capable of A LOT, you can call them 'the ones who stray from the stupid herd of bison' Yes, they make a difference, they inspire us, they inspire others, they need to be applauded. Bravo!

What they say about the lesser educated is true, they tend to swing it where they are told, (pun not intended) The sensational local music, and the idolisation (i grimace when i use that word) of local musicians, sets to show that there is a general trend by 'the people' to applaud our local musicians, and their catchy music (if i may say so myself) and that is something the so called 'elitists' can learn.

Bravo! 'common people' Boooo bourgeoisie!!!

Wonder!

What grounds does the straight man have to sign off on the fate of a gay man? Does the straight man think the gay man is sub-human, deranged and mentally inconsistent so he needs to be decided for?

I Know this has been debated about for ages and ages but i just wanted to get your views, people!

Uganda, as is!

Have you heard of the expression 'Ntwaala nga bwendi'?
That is where our Uganda has come to, my friends.
This morning i was driving past Banda on my way from home, and at two different spots, huge deluges of floods gushed angrily across the road post the early morning downpour. Traffic was heavy, and at the first spot, a big bus was wedged in a huge water filled crater by the side of the road. Water rushed from the opposite side of the road, and on the other side, outside a row of houses stood grief stricken men and women, you could see the pain on their faces as they futilely scooped water with tin cooking pans from their open houses, as if trying to ward off the angry brown water coming at them, stymying them.

I regarded this sight, and silently wondered how long Ugandans will have to deal with situations like these! It had only rained for three hours, a heavy downpour i know, but with the roads in the situation they are in, disaster preparedness has been defeated, hands down. Poor drainage, poor engineering, poor workmanship and a lackluster attitude by the government is what is driving this nation to the backwaters.

I remarked to a friend i was driving with 'there is no significant change in the Uganda today than that of 1993' he nodded in agreement.

This road, (Jinja road) had for a long time been a killer like no other, as a number of people perished in accidents as a result of potholes, rugged road shoulders and poor lighting. Last year when the Ministry of Roads et al decided to have mercy and put one little flimsy layer of tar on the road, which, of course, did not last given quack workmanship, deluges continue to run freely across the 'new' roads and of course more people perish!
Had the bus this morning had passengers, we would be reading about the death toll off the news tomorrow, of course it would end up as another forgotten statistic!

I wonder if common folk in this country know that all these debacles and dramas in the news about the anti-homosexuality bill etc are just meant to steer our attention away from the despair happening in our back-yards!

Floating!

So is this writers block? When you start, pause, start, refrain, cursor blinking at you, muster the courage to write a few words, mumble words as you type them feverishly before your mind goes blank again?
you stare stupidly at the screen, and then your gaze wanders, you descend in a stupor, looking like an irish milking cow.
You then listen to this jazz-rock band, and the guy, in pure American jazz style intones some gibberish: "i just watched Pink Panther last night so i am trying desperately to be funny...."
You visit the New Vision or monitor websites to find something remotely interesting to comment on in your blog, and all you stumble across is this story about 'National Medical Stores and how they plan to start doing a delivery of drugs to districts without prior orders from respective health units', and then further down come across the part where they talk about 'this working towards avoiding expiry of drugs in NMS stores' you guffaw and wonder then why hospitals and health centers across the country cry of drug scarcity problems and here the drugs are rotting in NMS stores!

You drift on and look at other bloggers work (by the way, is wordpress.com the new bloggers haven?) if so i am going. You hear about BHH an acronym that stands for Bloggers Happy Hour and wonder when the next meet will be, here in Kampala...
Some of the bloggers whose blog sites you have visited like Afrogay give you a lesson in humility as you observe how beautifully they weave their words, you are then jostled back to reality when your Outlook reminder goes off "Your next meeting starts in 5 minutes" Fleeting gratitude that this is not an editorial meet, and that writing doesn't pay your rent floods through your bloodstream, and you happily trot off to your next 'Health Unit Mapping exercise meeting" Whew! lucky i am a techie!

A good write-up by James Onen a.k.a Fat Boy of Sanyu FM For those who didn't see it.

The Anti-Homosexuality Bill and the Triumph of Pseudoscience
February 1, 2010 in Anti-Homosexuality Bill | by James Onen | 3 comments

During his speech at the start of the Uganda Conference for Science Communication in November 2008, President Museveni said, “There is need to develop enough science communication capacity of our own which can easily explain new concepts early enough to make sense to our needs.”

I have decided to heed his call.

The claims we often hear from our legislators, government officials, and our religious leaders, pertaining to the nature of homosexuality (and the purported ‘gay agenda’) come not from actual peer reviewed scientific literature – but straight out of conservative and fundamentalist Christian anti-gay propaganda books, and claims of practitioners of scientifically discredited “reparative” or “conversion” therapy.

Ever since the ‘anti-homosexuality’ conference which took place in Kampala in March 2009, the works of authors such as Richard Cohen (‘Coming Out Straight’) have been brandished as ‘evidence from authoritative sources’ that homosexuality is a disorder, and that homosexuals can become straight if they choose to. Don Schmierer of Exodus international, Scott Lively of Abiding Truth Ministries, and Caleb Brundidge of the International Healing Foundation met with Ugandan legislators and other leaders during this same period and made presentations in which they reiterated their various theories on homosexuality – and our MPs uncritically accepted their claims as facts. Their views were heralded as views of ‘experts’, and today their words can be heard coming out of the mouths of nearly all the proponents of the Anti-homosexuality bill. Especially the words of Lively.

But just how authoritative are these individuals and organizations, and are their claims scientifically valid?

Scott Lively, by his own admission is not a medical doctor nor qualified as a psychiatrist, but merely a pastor and a lawyer. His wild, unsubstantiated claims about an imaginary ‘global gay agenda’ have fuelled public hysteria over homosexuality, leading to unjustified vilification of homosexuals all over the world. It is indeed puzzling as to how a person who claims that homosexuals were responsible for the Rwanda genocide can be taken seriously, let alone be considered an authority.

Richard Cohen, founder of the International Healing Foundation, who is often cited as an ‘expert’ by the most vocal promoters of the anti-homosexuality bill, is actually not licensed as a therapist, having been permanently expelled in 2002 from the American Counseling Association for multiple ethical violations. In a statement released on December 11th 2009, the president of the American Counseling Association wrote, regarding Richard Cohen, “.. his writings have been exposed as inflammatory and filled with erroneous facts and suppositions. His writings lack research evidence and should not be used as the basis for any public policy. ACA does not support his position or the use of his work in any way.”

In his book, “Coming Out Straight“, Cohen relies on studies carried out by Paul Cameron to promote the idea that homosexuals, among other things, have a higher propensity for sexual predation of minors. But who is Paul Cameron? Paul Cameron is an American psychologist who was expelled from the American Psychological Association in 1983. In 1984 the Nebraska Psychological Association issued a statement disassociating itself from what they said were “the representations and interpretations of scientific literature offered by Dr. Paul Cameron”. In 1986 the American Sociological Association passed a resolution condemning Cameron for consistent misrepresentation of sociological research. In 1996, the Canadian Psychological Association disassociated itself from Cameron stating that he had “consistently misinterpreted and misrepresented research on sexuality, homosexuality, and lesbianism”. In a revealing interview on December 8th 2009 during MSNBC’s “The Rachel Maddow Show“, Richard Cohen stated he would remove the passage in future editions of his oft-cited book “Coming Out Straight” in which he makes reference to Cameron’s studies linking homosexuality with sexual predation. This same book, containing this same flawed information, can be seen on YouTube being quoted from at the Kampala March 2009 Anti-Homosexuality conference. Paul Cameron is also cited as an expert in an article appearing on the Uganda Media Centre website titled “Homosexuality: We Can Still Avoid Foreign Bad Press.”

It is quite remarkable that these individuals, and their organisations, whose works are being touted as authoritative science – actually lack any credibility in the scientific community of certified professionals in the fields of psychiatry, psychology, sociology, pediatrics and counseling. What is even more remarkable is that Uganda’s scientific community isn’t making this known to our policy makers and the general public, whose views on homosexuality are being shaped by this bad science from individuals devoid of credible expertise.

THE SCIENTIFIC CONSENUS:


Below is a summary of the consensus views of actual certified experts and scientists relevant to the subject of sexual orientation. Their views are based on empirical research whose results are published in respected peer-reviewed scientific journals:

On whether homosexuality is a mental disorder

According to the American Psychological Association (the major professional organisation representing certified psychologists in the United States, with about 150,000 members), “research has found no inherent association between any of these sexual orientations and psychopathology. Both heterosexual behavior and homosexual behavior are normal aspects of human sexuality. Both have been documented in many different cultures and historical eras. Despite the persistence of stereotypes that portray lesbian, gay, and bisexual people as disturbed, several decades of research and clinical experience have led all mainstream medical and mental health organizations in this country to conclude that these orientations represent normal forms of human experience. Lesbian, gay, and bisexual relationships are normal forms of human bonding. Therefore, these mainstream organizations long ago abandoned classifications of homosexuality as a mental disorder.”

On whether sexual orientation is a choice

According to the Royal College of Psychiatrists (the main professional organisation of psychiatrists in the United Kingdom with 15,000 members), “It would appear that sexual orientation is biological in nature, determined by a complex interplay of genetic factors and the early uterine environment. Sexual orientation is therefore not a choice.”

According to the American Academy of Pediatrics (with approximately 60,000 members who include pediatricians, pediatric medical subspecialists, and pediatric surgical specialists. More than 34,000 members are board-certified), “The mechanisms for the development of a particular sexual orientation remain unclear, but the current literature and most scholars in the field state that one’s sexual orientation is not a choice; that is, individuals do not choose to be homosexual or heterosexual. “

On whether homosexuality as an orientation can be ‘unlearned’

The American Psychological Association, American Psychiatric Association (the main professional organization of psychiatrists, in the USA – with 38,000 members), and National Association of Social Workers (a professional organization of social workers in the United States – with 150,000 members) state: “Sexual orientation has proved to be generally impervious to interventions intended to change it, which are sometimes referred to as ‘reparative therapy.’ No scientifically adequate research has shown that such interventions are effective or safe.”

The Royal College of Psychiatrists states that it “There is no sound scientific evidence that sexual orientation can be changed. “The best evidence for efficacy of any treatment comes from randomised clinical trials and no such trial has been carried out in this field.”

The Australian Psychological Society (the professional association established to represent psychologists in Australia – with over 15,000 members) acknowledges “the lack of scientific evidence for the usefulness of conversion therapy.”

The view on the general immutability of sexual orientation was also reiterated by the US Surgeon General David Satcher in a statement released on July 9th 2001 titled, “The Surgeon General’s Call to Action to Promote Sexual Health and Responsible Sexual Behaviour” . In it, he stated: “there is no valid scientific evidence that sexual orientation can be changed.”

It is therefore interesting that one of the adjustments being proposed to the current bill is making “reparative therapy” mandatory for convicted homosexuals. Claims of practitioners of so-called conversion, or reparative, therapy such as Exodus International, NARTH (National Association for Research and Therapy of Homosexuality), and Richard Cohen’s International Healing Foundation have been called into question by mainstream scientists, and are not considered to be validated by peer reviewed research. In fact, it has instead been found that such therapy is detrimental to the individuals that are subjected to them, and is therefore not advised. By endorsing forced “reparative” therapy for Ugandans who are homosexuals, they will go down in history as legislators who endorsed pseudo-science. Incidentally, both Exodus and NARTH, the world’s foremost practitioners of conversion therapy are opposed to forced therapy, so to whom do the advocates of the bill intend to send the homosexuals for ‘rehabilitation’? Even its so-called ‘experts’ want nothing to do with such an idea.

Conclusion


The view that homosexuality is a “mental disorder”, or claims that “homosexuality is learned, and can be unlearned” (as the Bahati bill boldly declares) are thus completely unscientific. The proponents of such fringe views have failed to validate their claims through the scientific peer-review process, as is required by all scientists who intend to have their work taken seriously.

Of course, anti-gay religious groups and gay conversion ministries are usually quick to dismiss the scientific consensus on sexual orientation as biased. Many reading this article will probably try to convince themselves that some kind of sinister “international gay agenda” controls all the scientific research institutions of the world, therefore the view of scientists cannot be trusted. On any other day such a silly conspiracy theory should evoke laughter among those that are sensible, but in today’s Uganda, where such silly conspiracy theories have found a more than receptive audience and led to the tabling of one of the most inhumane pieces of legislation ever drafted, the joke stopped being funny a long time ago.

Homosexuals will always exist, and will always be among us. It is not true that they are all defilers, and we are yet to be presented with any verifiable evidence of organised, systematic recruitment. In Uganda, incidences of defilement of girls are rampant, but no sensible person claims that hetero-sexuality is the crime – the crime is defilement. Likewise, even if there are cases of defilement of boys by men (whose numbers pale in comparison to that of defiled girls), it does not mean homosexuality is the crime. The crime, also, is defilement. Many homosexuals and lesbians are kind, loving people who contribute positively to our society. The sooner we accepted this fact, and learnt to be tolerant of them, the better.

Therefore, not only should the egregious Anti-Homosexuality bill be scrapped -it is also high time homosexuality is decriminalised all together.

Please visit James Onen's blog on http://freethoughtkampala.wordpress.com

Facebook

Finally, grudgingly, ambivalently.. i decided to join Facebook. That's when my worst fears came true.

Internet creeps sending friend requests and then asking the most inappropriate (and grotesque) questions.

Twinks posting semi-nude pictures of themselves, in the lewdest poses ever...!

Wayward posts by responsibility challenged people... ".. i am now in town, just got a haircut, all the men are staring..."

Quotes... and some more, Not inspirational! Not funny!

And of course, the rabid gossip by all and sundry...

And i press on with nothing if not Morbid fascination!

Realization of the new years dreams

OK!

So 31st December gongs in and you gibberishly make resolutions for a new year. What next?
A friend of mine decided to sell his car and use, pooh.., public transportation, in order to cut down on costs, gitty up and buy a piece of land, build a house...., Another friend decided he was ready to meet a soulmate and love them intensely, and that is what he did, until the soul-mate moved!
Another friend said he wanted to make wads and wads of cash.

So there, we start the year, resolute, collected, inspired.

January comes in, the unpredictable tropical weather, rain pellets down and huge gusts of wind blow straight into your eyes, after a few rounds in the smelly taxi park teeming with funky smelling touts screaming a cacophony of destinations you didnt know existed in the greater kampala and her neighbors, you implore inwardly "did i really make the right decision to sell my car?" Had you known that doe-eyed little kid skipping happily in the taxi park could gut your bag and steal your phone in 2 seconds, you would not have gone near the park in the first place.

You meet someone new, young, incredibly cute! After two weeks of non-stop humping, you decide you are ready to take the next step, propose matching napkins perhaps? Or a mini-move in? But you know what they say about kampala and her mediocrity, you decide that soul-mate is not 'it' afterall, they probably wanted to rob you blind or hump you and then blackmail you in no particular order, so you ask yourself, am i moving too fast? Have my resolutions become the blinding headlights infront of me, am i pummeling my resolve a tad hard? Am i spinning? Am i flailing?

Then you remember that sweet-natured, unjustifiably smug friend who droned in your ear not so long ago "Love will find you, don't push it" and you realise that he probably went through what you are going through and then some, explains his smugness, that the poor lad didn't have a choice!

By mid February, you can NOT reiterate your resolutions to those you had incessantly crowed them to a month ago, when they ask you "Oh, by the way, how is the cost cutting thing going for you?" or "Oh! are you still in love with that young'un?", your constipated smile is properly justified.

Inspiration

As i was riding on the bus this morning, i struck up a conversation with this workmate whose daughter i studied with. I remember this lass was quite smitten with me in days gone, in my high school to be precise.

This girl finished college a few years ago and started doing a few odd jobs, did a bit of counselling, then went on to teach nursery school, and other odd and end jobs just to get by, but with the stubborn resoluteness inherited from her mother, no less, she kept trudging on.

This morning, My workmate bursting with joy told me her daughter is now a businesswoman, curiosity piqued, i asked, thinking maybe she was into some humdrum business like fruit selling (no offense) with a flourish, she pulled out a number of soft-back young-level 1 - 4 English and maths books her daughter now writes!!! i was bedazzled! You know the usual "... then John climbed up the mango tree and hid from his mother who was looking for him to do household chores...." (well, she didn't exactly say chores, that would be too advanced for a level 1 - 4, right?) complete with diagrammatic illustrations! On the cover of all books bore her name!

My workmate, now feverish with pride, told me how she injected capital into the business, bought a number of computers, printers and copiers and set her daughter and two sons up in her living room, (daughter writes, her two siblings draw) she continued to say that the house has now become a printery, with her car ferrying printed papers to printeries for binding, and subsequently to bookshops for selling. She now exports books to Rwanda and Sudan, and has started doing market research in areas of Nothern, eastern and Western uganda.
We are talking a girl who came across as young, callow and uninspired not so long ago.

For me, given my interest in writing, and all that comes with it, this is quite an inspiration, that someone i know closely took it and made it professional! Props to her!
Notwithstanding, the books are directed to young English learning, however, everyone starts somewhere, right?

This has struck a chord in me, making money in this town shouldn't only be by selling clothes or shoes, egg farms, real estate etc, i think, Ugandan's minds have reached a discerning stage where we can think outside the box and start creating jobs for ourselves, in addition to being enterpreneurs.

I will meet her later this week for a run-through.

Interviews.....the after

So the waiting begins...

will they call, or will they not??? I went in there, stardom-like and 'knocked 'em dead!'

My suit dazzled they almost didn't recognize me.

I believe that whenever one intends to do something, thorough preparation is paramount. For example, reading all about Behavioral interview questions, Stress interview questions and all will make you understand the interviewers point of view 'from the other side' Preparing thoroughly before the day gives one the confidence to go in and open up. Of course the first question will be answered with a slight quiver in your voice, but as the second or third question set in.... go with the flow!

For more interview tips read 'Great Answers to Tough Interview Questions' by Martin John Yate.

Hope i am not shaking my own hand in vain!!

Wish me Luck!

The Third Twin

I have just finished 'The Third Twin' by Ken Follet, Yeah! Ken Follet!!(and i know i should have read it like a zillion years ago!!) Its a quaint little drama book, with a scientific twist, i think this book was Follet's debut at science. Its well written and an easy read too. It talks about, to put it plainly, three greedy friends, scientists, who in the 80's revved by part, quest to 'breed' the perfect american (white, strong, blond haired, blue eyed, good genes, IQ off the charts et al) and part to make a lot of money, of course, clandestinely split an embryo seven times, and plant the eggs into seven reproductively challenged mothers on different days! the latter produce 8 identical twins with the same DNA, unfortunately, these 8 all grow up with an innate blood-thirsty persona, rape, murder, arson etc.

One of the scientists becomes a celebrity professor at a university and unfortunately hires this fiesty spitfire 29 year old junior female professor who does research on identical twins. Unbeknownst to him, she comes across the puzzle of the octuplets! To cut the story short, she ends up playing a Nancy Drew on the scientists and their organization and the rest is history.

Its a fast paced set in one week book that will keep your heart beating till the end. I personally dont think its his best work (Pillars of the Earth would take that accolade for me!!) but its a different twist to Follets writing style. He can easily come off as a Jeffery Archer in this one. Try it for a different Follet twist.

Interviews

All, how was the long christmas break?

I have been on a perpetual cycle of eating, sleeping and drinking, i became a basic animal with little or no need to worry about anything, and i should say it paid off well!

As the new year gradually sets i get jostled from my reverie and remember that i have a year to start off!

Yesterday i got shortlisted for this job i had been running around trying to apply for. This means i start my year in gear, barely out of my leave, i sit to read all day for the interviews, mumbling and thinking to myself, forward and reverse thoughts: "have i read enough? will the basics make do?, or have i veered off the path?" My mind is lost in a cyclic mind process that, even though i have done countless interviews before, i cant shake off the shakes!

I am thinking confidence, confidence, confidence! March in to the interview room with my head held high and a conjured bravado, answer all questions with rapid spit fire responses, and then impress them with my vast knowledge of things! Whatever comes of it, victory shall be met!

Basically this job will be the exit of my problems, the yin to my wallet yan, and the veneer of a new year ahead.

Wish me luck y'all!