Second attempt!

Yesterday i tried to show you what Mama Miria looks like. She is trying to be like Sharon Stone, i think. That must explain the shades and the attitude.

Mama Miria, dear

Its official, Mama Miria will never be president of this country. In a single move, Andrew Mwenda shattered all the dreams I had been entertaining; that probably, next year, Uganda would also pull a Liberia.

The lady must have taken a very long time without thinking about issues at hand. Probably, when she was in State House, she was like Marie Antoinette. Or probably, Ugandans did not debate about issues the way they do today. Whatever the case, when she appeared for the show, she started from a fizzle and just went down, without even making an attempt to impress.

She just went into that old game of African politicians, Ugandan opposition, actually; throwing blame and flexing muscles. She has not heard Winnie talking. Yesterday, we had Winnie and as usual, she dazzled the listeners. The chick sounds beautiful even without being seen.

Winnie is bright. She knows how to load her statements with double entenders. There was that one about “Museveni is not man enough!” Boy, that chick rocks.

Then we were told that the next guest was mama Miria. Cool, we said. When she came in, I could not hold the bile. She is so unimpressive. Whoever is using her is walking a tight rope. On one side, she is a strong rallying point and she can draw multitudes. On the other hand, she is so completely ignorant about what to say. She shoots from the hip but she also can shoot at her troops. No one is safe.

But one good point in all this politics this season is that we are getting to learn history we never learnt in school. This is the real stuff we should have been taught back in shule. So we shall know the saints and the liars. Oh, and with all these politicians coming to speak on the radio, I’m seeing the people who shall be studied about years from now.

So there you have it, whoever is reading this load of bu…

Okay i tried to upload a picture of the lady but the net jammed.

Midnight in Kampala

It was just like any other day. I left home early, like I do everyday and rushed to work. It was a public holiday so there were very few people hanging around. Nothing strange in that. Work was as mundane as it’s always been and it was not like I was expecting miracles to happen.

So when the strange guys made their entrance, no one gave them a second glance. I mean, the public walks into this place all the time and there’s no way one can vet everyone who saunters in. The strange looks started like an hour into their visit. The guys had been sitting in the room and saying nothing. That’s when someone asked who the hell the visitors were. That’s also when we realized that they were sitting like statues; saying nothing, reading nothing and looking very uneasy, like they got spiked clubs stuck up their behinds.

I thought there were only two but when someone walked up to one of them and asked what they were doing sitting in this members-only place, we saw some others, three from the lib and three from upstairs, coming and forming some form of military formation thingy.

That was when we realised there was cause to fear. When the guy who looked like the platoon leader stood up, the employee who had dared ask backed away. The guy was a man mountain and the look on his face made him even bigger. That’s when we noticed that they all had loose fitting shirts over bulges at their sides. They had radios, which did not look like standard army issue. They looked tense, like they were waiting for an order from somewhere.

We were all rooted to our spots. No one dared talk. The room had grown deathly quiet. We did not know what these intruders wanted but whatever it was, we knew these guys would not hesitate to use force to get it. It was the moment when the weak bladdered would have released the contents from this morning’s breakfast.Maybe some of us did.

What did they want? Why had they ambushed us? Why were they all staring stony eyed at us? At least they should say something so we can know if they are human or just automatons out for the kill.

Then three other guys came down the steps leading the MD. I had never seen the guy that shaken. Hell, how often do you see your boss at the point of shitting his pants? In another setting, I would have burst out laughing. This would have been the material for many barstool tales but at the moment, I knew anyone, even I could shit my pants anytime. The air had grown chilly and it was only 11 AM.

Then the office clown walked in. The guy everyone despised. He of the funny lisp and slow brains. They guy who would never be smart if the earth survived the extinction level event coming next year and gave all the stubborn survivors a second lease on life. This guy now walked into the office with three gorillas behind him and the way he carried himself, it was obvious that he was the guy running the show.

And he was speaking a strange language. A military language, which sounded harsh and clipped. He was giving the intruders orders and that’s when it dawned on us that every one of us had been suckered. We had been playing in the jaws of the enemy all this time and like a big cat playing with its prey, this small insignificant man had let us say all the incriminating things one can say about a government.

Because we knew this was about all the things we had been saying about the state. Now the state was here to get its own back. The international community was not here to save us. All they could do was talk. There would be a million talking heads on a million stupid boxes around the world saying a lot of hot air but that’s all they could do.

On the president again.

For all its worth, in yesterday's post about the new Liberian prez, I kept on referring to her as Sirleaf-Johnson and also as Sir-Johnson. Tut tut. Now what was that about? Anyway, just in case there are any people thicker than I am, thinking that there are two Liberian presidents, I meant Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf.

A thousand apologies to the good lady. No hard feeling, your Excellency, no?

Madam Johnson-Sirleaf

Mrs. Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf got herself a big ol’ new job. Congs, girl! That’s the way to go. You have to show these males the way it’s done.

Maybe her victory is timely. Having heard her talking, I compared her speech to King George’s and I found the royal goal scorer really wanting. So he’s spent like a whole lifetime in Europe schmoozing with the big money guys. What has that gotten him? Lots of money certainly. But he’s failed to learn to pronounce basic words.

How the dickens did he go about asking for directions or telling his accountants and lawyers about his plans for his millions? I mean, the dude cannot say a whole sentence in real English. Now we all know that Liberia needs reconstruction and all that. So how could we go and elect a guy who cannot speak the language of the guys who hold the purse strings of the world?

Oh, sorry. For a moment I thought I am Liberian. Anyway, I don’t miss being one. My plea is to Mrs. Johnson-Sirleaf; please start a much-needed programme to teach the young people of Liberia how to speak. They need it, God knows.

Its a bird, no, its a dude called Brandon

It is the season of the superhero. After all the guys in funny tights that we have seen over the last three years, the big cahuna himself is being resurrected. Okay, no one can fill the shoes of Christopher Reeve but, yeah, you guessed it, the Superman franchise is not going to be left out.

Before they started on the shooting, the guys who own the ideas said they were going for a complete unknown to wear the blue tights. So that meant that all the speculation about Brendan Fraser, Josh Hartnet, Collin Farrel, Jude Law and all those other posers was just what it is, horse droppings. The word was ‘unknown’ and the last I checked, these dudes have had their faces pasted all around the world.

The man of steel had to be given a good return; something better than what they did for that bat thingy. Everyone was gaga about how Batman Begins is so dark and so cool and all those other brainless things that are usually said about a movie that all the critics know will sell out. So they have gone and outdone themselves. The movie is complete, has been complete for like a long time now but there is always something new. That’s postproduction work for you. Only Hollywood knows how to play that game. So they’ll keep us waiting until 2006!

The complete unknown is a dude called Brandon Routh. His situation might be better than Daniel Craig’s (I know. That’s the guy who wants to be the new Pierce Brosnan, sorry, James Bond). Craig is playing a hero who’s been around in Casino Royale, which is going into production next Feb. Routh is playing Superman from his beginnings. Everything that he does will be new so he doesn’t really have to prove much.

So next year, when the fellowship of the movie buffs gets their hands on the first pirated DVDs of Superman Returns, it’ll be with a heightened sense of wonder. Here is a new kid on the block and he is playing the greatest superhero of them all. It could fall either way; he could blow it and render himself jobless for a long time or he could be a good boy and do it like Daniel Radcliff, taking the role and making it his own. When Reeve was first cast for the role, he was also a total unknown. But watching him, particularly in Superman IV, Jeez! That guy had class.
The movie was completed in Sidney Australia yesterday. Its cast and crew include Kevin Spacey and Kate Bosworth. It breaks the record as the most expensive movie ever made. Following it are Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Titanic and Spider-Man, in that order.
So Superfilles, as I learnt buffs of the franchise are called, brace ya selves. We are going to be in clover come next year.

Cat got my tongue

So i last posted anything here like a month ago. Felt so bad when i realised the fact. But hey, i've had a great time just reading what others have been writing. Its been hilarious.

But then, one of the best series i had come to love, to expect every week just closed. Pyro and his dysfunctional gang were thrown on the heap by their creator, just like that! The guy said he'd been planning to do it since the first day he published it in some newspaper but...this felt almost like what i felt when it was confirmed that Phoebe, Joe and the others were calling it quits.

Really, if we get to see characters coming back to life in those bad TV programmes we devote so much time to, why cant these guys come back? please, Mr. Mataachi?

Yeah, there are Ugandan bloggers

Okay, that was uncalled for. That we are so far back in the days of Zinja and that the Kenyans (as always) have run away with the trophy; that was a blatant lie. Of course there are Ugandan bloggers. Just because one guy has been searching and has not found anything doesnt mean nothing. I was introduced to this pastime like last year but i only started this blog this year. I was lazy, so sue me. There are like thousands of guys out there with ideas and wit. But they dont neccessarily want to start a blog. And that doesnt make the Kenyans better than us. They can go and form ten other webrings of kenyans bloggers but that doesnt fly.

I have met some of the most interesting people on the net and they are Ugandan bloggers. Some of them are outside the country but most of them are right here. Everytime i read a new blog, i am humbled by how much talent is out there. And the only way i can meet them is right here on this great canvas, the net.This is where they pour out their minds and display their weaknesses and fantasies and make the whole human experience worthwhile, a great masterpiece.

Oh, and the best writers you'll ever come across don't write for newspapers. But you knew that already, dude.

What do you know? We now have gas masks!

So the situation got so tricky, everyone will look at you like you are crazy when you walk out of your house without a gas mask in Kampala. Funny how just a few days ago, we were all hugging and weeping and marvelling at the power of reconcilliation to bring warring factions to the same table.

Now, because of some grey man somewhere in the bowels of Seaside University, we are all breathing in strange gases. Everyone who has been in the city in the last twelve days has breathed the fumes.

And that is where the gas mask makers make their killing. Someone went and told them over the net that there is a demand in Ug for their products. When you see your neighbour moving out with a strange black contraption strapped over their head, dont go calling the US. ( i know there is almost no difference between the guys wearing gas masks and Ninjas or terorists).

And we can wear our masks but the cause of all this is not going to escape the teargas. Last week, he was in the papers, his interesting face made even more interesting by the effects of having stared for long into the gas. So what finally breaks him down and makes him accept to the funny charges might actually be the gas.

But all that is beside the point, go and get yourself a mask while stocks last. Now.