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.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
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!!
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!!
Monday, March 15, 2010
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!
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!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
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!
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!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
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!
Could give you a little insight, from his perspective, about a country so battered.
Walkabout Chronicles, you have done well!
Thursday, March 4, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, March 1, 2010
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!!!
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!!!
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