Daily Prompt: Believe

via Daily Prompt: Believe

What Happened To Uganda, The Country We Were All Proud Of?

The early 2000’s to which most of my age-mates and I gain our political knowledge were great times to grow up into.

The economy was stable, the doughnuts and food were cheap and sizable, education was cheap, we attended  public school thanks to a government that loved us, got to pay less than $10 dollars a term for quality education, electricity was cheap and seldom on leave.

We were really the pearl of Africa and there was promise for more glory

There were few cases of nepotism, we trusted our government and didn’t scrutinize government programs even though some sounded dubious, we sat through tiresome census exercises, went willingly for immunization, as far as the people were concerned, the opposition were a bunch of losers.

As kids  we endorsed government programs without actually understanding them-such was the trust we had for our leaders, anyone who critiqued our “Museveni” became an automatic enemy.

Every helicopter that passed in the skies was “Museveni” and we rewarded to the fading airplanes in the airspace’s with the humble yet noble gift of our voices singing “Amba Museveni” a praise and worship song dedicated to our leader that was no where within the acceptable values of entertaining  but we didn’t mind, we sang along out of sheer devotion to our President.

When in mid 2004 word came out that one of those public school we loved so much (Shimoni Demonstration School ) was going to be sold to an investor we rallied behind our president rubbishing the report as false and watched with disinterest as our parents suddenly became increasingly exasperated with the government.

Ours was not a rationale belief in what facts were available but rather a passionate hero worship of a man we had been told brought peace and stability by waging war on dictatorship and even though in the northern part of the country, a deranged general maimed the lips of his own kinsmen while claiming he was fighting to liberate them we held onto hope and believed in our president.

When a young member of parliament from Kampala Central dashed forward amidst criticism and stood by our parents protesting the sell of our beloved Shimoni, I finally came to terms with the fact that the government had sold our school and I had been betrayed as a child.

I grew sympathetic with the Member of parliament and actually liked him, I didn’t think that throughout his entire political existence it would be a fundraising ceremony for sympathy.

More than ten years past, with an ailing economy, a jobless youth that would rather commit crime than work, an abusive police force that that rewards hooliganism and kidnaps children for the crimes of their parents, and a legislature dominated by greedy individuals representing themselves in parliament and the government still celebrates to the victories of the early 2000s, it is then safe to ask what independence are we celebrating?

to be continued


Intellectuals Could be Wrong

In the nineties Nigerians grappled with the leadership of Dictator Sani Abacha who pretty much like M5+2 took power by coercion in November 1993 with the excuse of upholding the principles of democracy that were being violated by then leader Ernest Shonekan.

A portrait photo of ex Nigerian president Sani Abacha.....grumpyivaan
A photo of ex Nigerian president Sani Abacha

While Nigerians warmed up to the possibility of a savior, it took Abacha less than 10 months to shed off his democratic skin, and in September 1994, he came up with a law that gave his government absolute powers, to put it mildly, his govt was above the jurisdiction of the courts.

In his Dictatorship 101 MasterClass, Abacha went ahead to violate human rights, unlawfully detain his critics and even had some hanged, he embezzled money and did lots of other stuff, in short he did the things you’d find on every dictator’s bucket-list.

At the heart of his rule with an oppressed populous who felt tired from all misery subjected to them from their would be savior emerged an “Einstein” (In Mourinho’s dictionary a know-it-all).

This learned man at the rank of professor much respected in his discipline came up with a master plan that he believed would solve the Abacha issue, and while the world held its breathe, what came out of his mouth was a shocker, even to people like me who were not existent at the time.

In order to overthrow Abacha, this wise Man, created by God and full of knowledge advised that women take to the streets every morning and evening at 6 and while naked shout something like “Abacha Go away” and in that way, this proffessor believed that they could get rid of a dictator.

I personally think he was a low-key pervert, but then again that’s my opinion.

Just imagine the thought of it, that a Coup hardened general who had been an accomplice to more than two coup d’etats would step down at the sound of naked women shouting him away.

Anyway, my whole point is that learned people have been known to come up with the wildest ideas.

For instance, I was alive when a very knowledgeable member of the fourth estate who seems to be an expert at everything reliably informed us mbu “corruption is a good thing, its a sign of development”

Over the past few weeks a couple of learned folks have sought to inform us that Hon Kyagulanyi who by the way is as ignorant about fiscal policy as am ignorant about the meaning of emojis on my phone, would never make a good leader for Uganda, that we can do better.

They could be right you know or they could be wrong, either way it wouldn’t be the first time. An

Cohen Spills on Donald Trump;

Micheal Cohen’s Oversights and Reforms committee hearing has been anything but short of drama.

Micheal Cohen, sentenced to three years in prison late last year for lying to congress, has done the perfect job discrediting his former boss (Donald Trump).

He describes Trump as a racist, conman and a cheat revealing that the 45th American President knew prior that Wikileaks would release the controversial Hilary Clinton emails.

In a stellar performance that deflects blame from himself, Trump’s lawyer of more than 10years not only accuses US’s “individual one” of deflating his assets to evade tax but also discloses that Donald Trump reimbursed him for hush money paid out of his own personal account on behalf of the US president.

In another shocking revelation, Cohen also informed congress that Donald Trump didn’t expect to win the 2016 election and only went in as a “marketing stunt” to push his brand.

And while Cohen’s attack on his former boss has been music to the ears of the democrats who have throughout the hearing sought to affirm the lawyer’s testimony, the Republicans have done their best to discredit Cohen as a “pathological liar” whose words shouldn’t be given the light of day.

Ministry of tourism takes it too far

It started brilliantly with the Gorillas and our numerous bird species, in between were tours of snowcapped Rwenzori’s and game parks and Rivers. Then some genius decided mbu the Rolex could attract hungry tourists who would trek from allover the world to come and taste the mighty “Rolex” and go back with stories bringing in “lots of foreign exchange”, needless to say those clowns got the recipe on some online blog and made their own Rolexes and refused to come and visit.

Awo olwatuka Nankulu Jeniffer Musisi came up with the Kampala Festival which was in my Opinion a decent idea, and it was doing well (did you guys see the imported Brazilian dancers?), then it was cancelled last year.

Then this year the Ministry of Tourism smiles and says, hold my beer;
“We have lots of curvy women, that have been empowered by the NRM govt, I think it’s high time we portrayed them as sex objects.


Friends at this rate I think that whole ministry should have all its officials fired, including the cleaners for making that place tidy so the top guns would come up with such dumb ideas, otherwise one of these days you’re going to wake up and hear a Minister say that we are now promoting Kamuli’s legendary Witch Doctor Damian Akuze as a tourist attraction for helping Speaker Rebecca Kadaga achieve political success.


Downtrodden of this country.

Travel Tales

The bus help rises up from his seat near the door and draws attention to himself by speaking loudly and standing in between the front seats.

He speaks English in homage to diversity, introduces himself to us, introduces prayer as the first item on our travel agenda after which he beckons us to humble ourselves for a word of prayer.

We close our eyes in obedience and he embarks on his conversation with the good Lord of Yacobo and David; He begins by thanking the Lord for the breathe we have, then he commits our journey and hands it over to the Lord, his prayer is that we arrive safely and fulfill the various missions of our travel.
After a solid two minutes of dedicating our trip he invites us to say the Grace. Then he thanks us for choosing to travel with Makome and walks out to our admiration.

In his place walks in the Turn boy who also wishes us a safe journey and heads over to the Dvd player near the bus door and inserts in a CD.

My chatty teenage neighbor taps me and assures me that I should get prepared to be entertained, re-echoing the words of the Bus park broker who assumed that i was a first time traveller and assured me that Makome is the best for entertainment.

“Balina ziri firimu embii!!” He had said.

The movie loads on the DVD and in ten seconds a familiar face appears replacing the sky blue of the Sony DVD.

Its the chocolate skin, tiny head and slim physique of a man who wears nothing except a leather loin “skirt” on his waist, its the man I’ve grown up calling “Bushman” of the “God’s must be Crazy” fame.

On behalf of entertainment, I feel offended, my neighbors had better not buy Ffene because right now I feel like a security risk and i still have four hours of this Kanda-Bongo man era entertainment.

We need more Investigative Journalism

The Xmen movie series, Valkyrie, Superman Returns and this year’s Oscar nominated film, Bohemian Rhapsody are a few Box office movie successes that come up when movie director Bryan Singer’s directorial exploits are mentioned.

Photo of Bryan Singer
Photo of Bryan Singer by Getty Images

And for all its worth the 53 year old is a great movie director, but his exceptional ability on the filming set is not the reason he’s trending online today.

He’s trending because of his sexual exploits with underage boys during the nineties for which four men accuse him of sexual abuse and rape. and while Singer is no stranger to accusations of this kind, this current wave of accusations reported today morning by “The Atlantic” have caused wide spread social media outrage at the 53 year old who denies any wrong doing.

Although the focus is on Bryan Singer and most online debates are orbiting around disgust and a ping pong of who should take the blame, I would like to shift your focus to Alex French and Maximilian Potter; the amazing, committed and hard working investigative journalists who broke this story after interviewing more than 50 different sources for over a year in order to to tell this story that has more than

No offence to “press conference journalism” but in my opinion this why we love journalism; the ability of journalists to contribute to public debate by not only reporting stories but also seeking the truth and freeing it from the people that would rather hold it captive.

Back at home here I can pinpoint stories like the investigation of sex for marks at Makerere University by Nbs Tv’s Richard Olweny, the Kifesi gang story by Solomon Sserwanja and the fishing Island turmoil by Ntv journalist Emmanuel Mutayizibwa all of which in my opinion have been masterpieces considering the journalistic environment Ugandan journalists have to work in braving issues like denial of access to information, misinformation and even intimidation.
But i think we can more as a country, we need more investigative journalism.

You can read more of the Atlantic’s story by clicking on the link below:


Eleven years Later; Remembering Benazir Bhutto

Thursday, 27 December 2007, Gulu, Uganda. The news of the assassination of Benazir Bhutto makes its way to 102 Radio Mega airwaves. I’m sad for the death of a stranger I’ve never met.

I’d only known her for a month, thanks to a newspaper article that I’d read while in Entebbe, highlighting her career as a politician but my admiration for her is nonetheless over inflated, I feel like I’ve known her for years.

The article had spoken of a strong woman, twice elected Pakistani Prime Minister. For me that was enough, a woman that could twice become Prime Minister of any country was one worthy of my probably ill-founded admiration.

It was an admiration I shared with millions of people, both famous and ordinary who mourned her.

Described by politician Nawaz Sharif as “one of the darkest and gloomiest days in Pakistani history”, the assassination at Rawalpindi of the Pakistani People’s Party (PPP) leader who had just returned to Pakistan from exile barely two months ago in October to prepare for the January 2008 election in a targeted killing that claims the lives of 24 other people goes on to send shock waves throughout the international community.

al-Qaeda would later claim responsibility for the assassination of Bhutto with its commander Mustafa Abu al-Yazid citing Bhutto’s relationship with the West as the reason for her termination.

Born on the 21st, June 1953, at Karachi, Pakistan, to politician Zulfikar Ali, and educated at Harvard University, Bhutto was Pakistani politician who became first woman leader of a Muslim nation in modern history, serving two terms as prime minister between 1988–90 and in 1993–96.

Throughout her political career she faced many challenges including arrest and detention but her regime is one that will always be remembered for the huge strides she took to empower women, her belief in democracy and bravery to march on with her campaign even when there was an attempt on her life the very day she returned from exile.

Eleven years have gone by since that fateful day in Pakistan. But, while today the world remembers Bhutto as a liberal charismatic leader, a women rights activist, a pacifist who made attempts to foster Indo-Pakistani relations, the media fraternity will remember her as champion for Media freedom who restored to duty journalists who had been banned by previous dictatorial governments, she destroyed the blacklist system used to rank journalists, and at her very best removed print media from state control.

I’ll be Fine

Most days I regret waking up,
so in those moments I hope that the big guy in Heaven,
really sees everything, I hope that he’ll succeed where I’ve tried and failed
that he’ll finally grant my wish,
and I’ll get to meet him In his glory.

Some days I wake up hopeful,
so I fill my head with only positive thoughts,.
believe that maybe, things will get better,
so I smile, act positive and all that stuff,
that shrinks tell you helps.

And to be honest sometimes I feel better,
Not because of shrinks but, thanks to whisky,
but then it’s only for a short while,
then the elevation departs, back to square one.

I don’t sip to make my problems disappear,
I sip to postpone this shitty feeling,
this emptiness that won’t go away,
this pain whose origin i don’t know,
this hatred for a tomorrow that I don’t want to see,
I hate this existence. But I’m fine. I’ll be.
that’s the only thing I’ve been told I should be.

Murder She Thought

You say you love but I don’t believe you,
you’ve never showed me any affection,
most of your jokes suck, but this one is really funny,
you say you’re proud of me, but you’re an actor,
i ain’t tripping over you’re latest scene.

You reach out to me, with wide open arms,
want to hug, am scared you might stab me,
in the back on my big day
but since there are people here, let’s pretend;
like its always been rosy between us,
like you haven’t spent hours,
hoping I would get knocked up,
attract the attentions of Aids & syphilis,
and bleed out while in labour,
and die with my little bastard.

My friends are home for the first time,
they are shocked, you smile at them,
act nice, they start to think that,
I just didn’t like em enough to invite em home

You’re asked to give a speech,
so you tell them how you groomed me,
a tear escapes your eyes, you stare at the crowd,
so that they can all see it,
my guests marvel at the love you have for me.

I’m crying, I feel disgusted, stabbed in the back,
my memory won’t let me be, it drifts afar;
to those mornings when I had to dig before school,
the beatings i took for late coming,
the great textbooks you never bought me,
your nice hand bags from Dior and Givenchy,
you let me admire with my eyes without care that;
the Coca Cola bag you gave me 6 years ago wore out.

Another memory, am filing my nails,
you’re banging on the door, calling me a thief;
just cause you can’t find your new hair pins,
the neighbors hear you, they are disgusted with me,
mama Lozi swears she will burn my thieving hands,
if ever she sees me talk to her daughter,
who isn’t even my friend, am humiliated.

The year is 2006, you’ve invited the preacher home,
am excited, until i actually meet him then,
he calls me a fornicator and whore,
says hell is mine for the taking,
slaps my forehead looking for demons
asks me to apologize to you for being a sinner,
am humiliated, the man of God just booked me,
a VIP ticket at the front seat of Lucifer’s den.

I’m out of tears, but you’re speech goes on,
you talk of responsible parenting.
Am scared, but for the first time,
am not scared on my behalf, am scared I might stab you in full view everyone.