I would like to wish you all a happy bran new 2007, which looks like its going to be a hell of a lot better than 2006.
Sorry I have been away for long. Originally it was because I had somehow lost my blogging mojo, but over the past month or so it has been because I have been galavanting in areas with names like Nyakagyeme, Namufumura, Katereeza, Kyaka, Ruhinda (all in western and southwestern Uganda), which are internet challenged.
I am actually just going through Bushenyi town right now and I have taken advantage of some NGO office to make this quick post.
Will be uploading some pix and getting my blog on soon enough. But first will spend like two days seeing what I have missed from all of you.
Did I wish you all a Happy New Year?
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
As I move on.
Over the past week I have been runnining up and down while trying to tie loose ends and as such I have hardly been at my desk in the office.
Because I havent been near my trusty Dell laptop I have realised somethings about blogging that I had started taking for granted.
First aof all I am going to miss my fast connection here at the office. It tried to update twice at variuous cafes in and out of kampala but the Blogger beta and the slow connections made picture uploads impossible that I decided to give up. While blogging here I can take my time. I dont have to worry about the seconds ticking away.
Signing in and moving about is a lot easier with the laptop because of all that cookie business and the small tools, widgets, plug-ins, extensions I have added to my browser of a period of time.
I have become so used to using Firefox and/or Opera that Internet explorer is like a new thing whenever I try it out.
Another thing
For those who like TV series may I recommend getting your hands on Rome. It has political intrigue, good writting, gory violence, lavish sets and costumes. Basically everything a period epic of its kind should have.. and yes lots of sex. The sex can get graphic but it is not gratuitous. Anybody who knows how the Romans lived there lives would understand.
Because I havent been near my trusty Dell laptop I have realised somethings about blogging that I had started taking for granted.
First aof all I am going to miss my fast connection here at the office. It tried to update twice at variuous cafes in and out of kampala but the Blogger beta and the slow connections made picture uploads impossible that I decided to give up. While blogging here I can take my time. I dont have to worry about the seconds ticking away.
Signing in and moving about is a lot easier with the laptop because of all that cookie business and the small tools, widgets, plug-ins, extensions I have added to my browser of a period of time.
I have become so used to using Firefox and/or Opera that Internet explorer is like a new thing whenever I try it out.
Another thing
For those who like TV series may I recommend getting your hands on Rome. It has political intrigue, good writting, gory violence, lavish sets and costumes. Basically everything a period epic of its kind should have.. and yes lots of sex. The sex can get graphic but it is not gratuitous. Anybody who knows how the Romans lived there lives would understand.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
The road not taken?
I haven’t been that regular with my posts for the last month or so because I have had a lot on my plate.
A series of slip-ups and major bust-ups with the immediate boss, who wont accept that some of the slip-ups were caused by his failure to fully grasp what the assignments from above required, over the last 10 months have led to a situation where the office has been a truly nasty place for yours truly for the last few weeks.
After thinking long and hard, with the help of some intelligence gathered through my mole in the higher echelons of this organisation, I made the very difficult decision to tender my resignation letter and give in my notice.
After 3 weeks of pushing and shoving it was inevitably going to come down to a choice of who should leave, the boss or me. I realised that was one decision that was more than likely not going to favour my black ass so I made the pre-emptive move. This way I wont have a record of ever being fired.
I am beginning to think I did the right thing, under the circumstances, because everybody is falling over himself or herself to tell me that they will have my back should I need any positive recommendations in the future. To me this means they were going to fire me regardless of the merits of my defence and my resignation gave them an easy and guiltless way out of the problem.
I am not saying I am totally blameless but considering most of the time I was operating under some very misguided instructions, I should have been cut some major slack.
All this has me wondering how different my life would have ended up had I taken up my calling to become a broadcast journalist.
As a MassComm student I developed an interest in radio and TV broadcasting (I was looking for options with no written examinations) and under the initial tutelage of a chap called Murray Oliver I started churning out some pretty impressive assignments. In those days we didn’t even have a campus radio stations and editing suites, like the Countryboyi has, to help grasp the practical elements better. You do not know difficulty until you have attempted to edit a radio skit with only a microphone and a boombox with two tape decks
While still at university I worked for a while at a, now defunct, TV news agency. I liked the work but because I wasn’t being paid I quickly took my uncle’s offer for a job that I found uninspiring.
He had a PR consultancy firm and he had just won a really big job, which required him to get some extra staff. He wanted an assistant and since I was studying mass communication he figured I would do just fine. He also knew that he could pay me peanuts and I’d be happy.
It was the allure of a salary no matter how small (it was actually quite a sum for a university student) that started me on my journey down the “wrong” path. For once I had money to spend and since I was being paid weekly, had no real expenses to talk about, I found I was above the average income level of my classmates.
Almost a year later, after our finals, I was selected by my head of department for a 4 month internship with WBS which would almost certainly lead to fulltime employment. Being the myopic person I was, I turned the internship down. Why? Because I had just received a slight increase in pay and I didn’t see myself quitting what I had to work for 4 months without pay.
As with all consultancy work, the big juicy assignment was soon done and my uncle’s company found it hard to get any new contracts (at least none as good as the previous one). Company went broke after a while and I found myself doing all sorts of dull short-term research gigs, until I got my current job, which is (or was) also largely routine and administrative in nature.
As I sit here charting the carriers of my old team from the broadcast class, many of whom have gone on to better (more interesting at any rate) things, I can’t help but wonder what it might have been like had I stuck to what I liked.
But then again, maybe knowing I am going to be on the street in 28 days has me seeing things from an unhealthy perspective.
A series of slip-ups and major bust-ups with the immediate boss, who wont accept that some of the slip-ups were caused by his failure to fully grasp what the assignments from above required, over the last 10 months have led to a situation where the office has been a truly nasty place for yours truly for the last few weeks.
After thinking long and hard, with the help of some intelligence gathered through my mole in the higher echelons of this organisation, I made the very difficult decision to tender my resignation letter and give in my notice.
After 3 weeks of pushing and shoving it was inevitably going to come down to a choice of who should leave, the boss or me. I realised that was one decision that was more than likely not going to favour my black ass so I made the pre-emptive move. This way I wont have a record of ever being fired.
I am beginning to think I did the right thing, under the circumstances, because everybody is falling over himself or herself to tell me that they will have my back should I need any positive recommendations in the future. To me this means they were going to fire me regardless of the merits of my defence and my resignation gave them an easy and guiltless way out of the problem.
I am not saying I am totally blameless but considering most of the time I was operating under some very misguided instructions, I should have been cut some major slack.
All this has me wondering how different my life would have ended up had I taken up my calling to become a broadcast journalist.
As a MassComm student I developed an interest in radio and TV broadcasting (I was looking for options with no written examinations) and under the initial tutelage of a chap called Murray Oliver I started churning out some pretty impressive assignments. In those days we didn’t even have a campus radio stations and editing suites, like the Countryboyi has, to help grasp the practical elements better. You do not know difficulty until you have attempted to edit a radio skit with only a microphone and a boombox with two tape decks
While still at university I worked for a while at a, now defunct, TV news agency. I liked the work but because I wasn’t being paid I quickly took my uncle’s offer for a job that I found uninspiring.
He had a PR consultancy firm and he had just won a really big job, which required him to get some extra staff. He wanted an assistant and since I was studying mass communication he figured I would do just fine. He also knew that he could pay me peanuts and I’d be happy.
It was the allure of a salary no matter how small (it was actually quite a sum for a university student) that started me on my journey down the “wrong” path. For once I had money to spend and since I was being paid weekly, had no real expenses to talk about, I found I was above the average income level of my classmates.
Almost a year later, after our finals, I was selected by my head of department for a 4 month internship with WBS which would almost certainly lead to fulltime employment. Being the myopic person I was, I turned the internship down. Why? Because I had just received a slight increase in pay and I didn’t see myself quitting what I had to work for 4 months without pay.
As with all consultancy work, the big juicy assignment was soon done and my uncle’s company found it hard to get any new contracts (at least none as good as the previous one). Company went broke after a while and I found myself doing all sorts of dull short-term research gigs, until I got my current job, which is (or was) also largely routine and administrative in nature.
As I sit here charting the carriers of my old team from the broadcast class, many of whom have gone on to better (more interesting at any rate) things, I can’t help but wonder what it might have been like had I stuck to what I liked.
But then again, maybe knowing I am going to be on the street in 28 days has me seeing things from an unhealthy perspective.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Lady pays the bills
A discussion with friends about whether or not it was OK for guys to let a woman pay the bills while on a date got me thinking of an embarrassing situation I found myself in sometime back.
I had just joined a certain international organisation, my boss of two months had been posted elsewhere and this young lady had just been posted to Kampala. She was my boss temporarily while a permanent replacement for my former boss was hired.
Since we were all new at the job (and her even the country) we soon became close. She was one year older than me but a lot younger than many of the other expatriates at work. I soon became her consultant on everything about Kampala and Uganda.
One day, after she had been around for a while and was starting to get used to the expat scene in Kampala, we were talking about hanging out in Kampala and she was surprised that I had never been to all the restaurants she was mentioning. I told her that I wasn’t much of the restaurant type and that a decent meal in some of the places she was mentioning would probably cost me a tenth of my monthly salary. As far as she was concerned dining in places like Krua Thai, Mamba point, Grand Imperial, Sheraton etc was pretty normal (of course she would, she was earning thousands of dollars per month).
Anyway soon after that she made it her mission to school me in fine dining. We did the rounds in damn near every fine restaurant in Kampala, Jinja and Entebbe. I also did my humble bit by introducing her to all the local buffets I could think of ( I once got her to eat kalo and eshabwe, which she enjoyed immensely).
All this time she kept insisting on paying for everything. At first the few traces of machismo in me were uncomfortable about it but I soon came to accept the state of affairs. I told myself that after all she was always the one suggesting where we go and the prices in many of her places used to make me shudder. So I decided to let her keep paying if she wanted to.
One day I had gone for a Kasiki in Silk and I ended up over indulging. I spent my last money on a cab to my place. When I woke up in the morning I had a total wealth of 1,800 in coinage. I had to get to work fast and since I was running late so I decided I would hit the ATM any free time I got after clocking in.
At lunchtime, with 500/= left in my pocket, I was very hungry and I couldn’t wait to get to the nearest ATM to withdraw some money and go have myself a humongous lunch. At this time my friend drops by and says she wanted to take me out for lunch. I figured the ATM could wait since my immediate problem was about to be solved. So I said yes and out we went to a nice restaurant near work.
After the meal, she asked for the bill, which came up to 32,000/=. I wasn’t bothered about anything because I knew the sister had everything covered. However, as bad luck would have, it she had three 10K notes and a 50K note. The allocated 1 hour for lunch was up and we had to rush back to office so she didn’t want to give the waitress money that would require her to go and bring back change. At this point she asked me to add 2,000 to her 30K so that we could be out of there fast.
You should have seen a brother fidget. I nearly chocked on my toothpick while I mumbled some excuse about forgetting my wallet in the office. My friend didn’t think much of it and pulled out the 50K note, which she handed to the waitress. I felt so embarrassed and the look the waitress gave me made me want to melt into the ground.
I will never forget the contemptuous look. I could almost hear her tell herself what a useless, exploiting, gold-digging, good-for-nothing scum I was. She must have shared her sentiments with all the other waitresses she met while going to get “our” change because they all started peeping in our direction to see which chap was de-toothing the Muzungu.
My friend still insisted on paying the bill on other subsequent occasions but I was less willing to have her do it. I also started finding excuses for not going out with her unless I knew I had some loot on me.
I had just joined a certain international organisation, my boss of two months had been posted elsewhere and this young lady had just been posted to Kampala. She was my boss temporarily while a permanent replacement for my former boss was hired.
Since we were all new at the job (and her even the country) we soon became close. She was one year older than me but a lot younger than many of the other expatriates at work. I soon became her consultant on everything about Kampala and Uganda.
One day, after she had been around for a while and was starting to get used to the expat scene in Kampala, we were talking about hanging out in Kampala and she was surprised that I had never been to all the restaurants she was mentioning. I told her that I wasn’t much of the restaurant type and that a decent meal in some of the places she was mentioning would probably cost me a tenth of my monthly salary. As far as she was concerned dining in places like Krua Thai, Mamba point, Grand Imperial, Sheraton etc was pretty normal (of course she would, she was earning thousands of dollars per month).
Anyway soon after that she made it her mission to school me in fine dining. We did the rounds in damn near every fine restaurant in Kampala, Jinja and Entebbe. I also did my humble bit by introducing her to all the local buffets I could think of ( I once got her to eat kalo and eshabwe, which she enjoyed immensely).
All this time she kept insisting on paying for everything. At first the few traces of machismo in me were uncomfortable about it but I soon came to accept the state of affairs. I told myself that after all she was always the one suggesting where we go and the prices in many of her places used to make me shudder. So I decided to let her keep paying if she wanted to.
One day I had gone for a Kasiki in Silk and I ended up over indulging. I spent my last money on a cab to my place. When I woke up in the morning I had a total wealth of 1,800 in coinage. I had to get to work fast and since I was running late so I decided I would hit the ATM any free time I got after clocking in.
At lunchtime, with 500/= left in my pocket, I was very hungry and I couldn’t wait to get to the nearest ATM to withdraw some money and go have myself a humongous lunch. At this time my friend drops by and says she wanted to take me out for lunch. I figured the ATM could wait since my immediate problem was about to be solved. So I said yes and out we went to a nice restaurant near work.
After the meal, she asked for the bill, which came up to 32,000/=. I wasn’t bothered about anything because I knew the sister had everything covered. However, as bad luck would have, it she had three 10K notes and a 50K note. The allocated 1 hour for lunch was up and we had to rush back to office so she didn’t want to give the waitress money that would require her to go and bring back change. At this point she asked me to add 2,000 to her 30K so that we could be out of there fast.
You should have seen a brother fidget. I nearly chocked on my toothpick while I mumbled some excuse about forgetting my wallet in the office. My friend didn’t think much of it and pulled out the 50K note, which she handed to the waitress. I felt so embarrassed and the look the waitress gave me made me want to melt into the ground.
I will never forget the contemptuous look. I could almost hear her tell herself what a useless, exploiting, gold-digging, good-for-nothing scum I was. She must have shared her sentiments with all the other waitresses she met while going to get “our” change because they all started peeping in our direction to see which chap was de-toothing the Muzungu.
My friend still insisted on paying the bill on other subsequent occasions but I was less willing to have her do it. I also started finding excuses for not going out with her unless I knew I had some loot on me.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
To fib or not to fib
I had taken a hiatus from blogging. It was not because I wanted to but a combination of personal and work related issues conspired against me making a timely post to the “As you asked” Part Deux.
As I was compiling that (last in the series post) something struck me, which has left me somewhat, discomfited. This might appear trivial to some of you, but allow me explain my case.
For most of my life I have had one debilitating condition-I have been incapable of telling a lie and getting away with it. For some reason everybody (excepting maybe toddlers) has been able to see through my lies, embellishments, truth embroidery..etc. Because of this I have become by default a (depending on how you look at it):
1) Trustworthy person
2) Person useless at making excuses for errant buddies. Like when buddy’s gilfie asks what time him and me (her boyfriend) left the pub after the previous nights champions league game and I know I haven’t seen the chap in two days.
3) Utterly useless salesperson/advertiser.
4) Kind of person you don’t ask if the dress you are wearing makes you look beautiful/sexy/corporate/slutty/fat (girls delete accordingly) if you are expecting a comforting (but not entirely true answer).
5) And the list goes on.
Why am I bringing all this up now? This is why.
Recently I have told two really big lies to my boss (to get out of some of the trouble I have been in due to the abovementioned work-related/personal problems I have had) and he seems to have swallowed them hook, line, sinker, anchor, ship, the whole enchilada.
You might say my boss is a gullible, trusting chap, but then you do not know my boss. He is the kind of guy whose gaze would have made torture tools unnecessary during the inquisition. The kind of chap who would make Jack Bauer ask for his mommy (ok that’s stretching it a bit). But you catch my drift.
I was feeling good that I had gotten myself out of a spot of bother but then I got to thinking. I told myself that the ease with which I was spinning fibs was worrying. I started wondering whether I was losing that which made me Jay. I asked myself “Was I sliding down the dark and ignominious road of dark lies and deception?”
After all of 10 minutes of worrying and obsessing, I said to myself “chief, whats the worst that can happen?”
“Either you discover that your tall tales didn’t hit the mark by a mile and the bossman is only marinating on the most cruel method he can use to make you pay for thinking you could sneak a weak-ass lie by him and thus you don’t have to worry about all that ignominious road nonsense ”
OR
You just became normal.
As I was compiling that (last in the series post) something struck me, which has left me somewhat, discomfited. This might appear trivial to some of you, but allow me explain my case.
For most of my life I have had one debilitating condition-I have been incapable of telling a lie and getting away with it. For some reason everybody (excepting maybe toddlers) has been able to see through my lies, embellishments, truth embroidery..etc. Because of this I have become by default a (depending on how you look at it):
1) Trustworthy person
2) Person useless at making excuses for errant buddies. Like when buddy’s gilfie asks what time him and me (her boyfriend) left the pub after the previous nights champions league game and I know I haven’t seen the chap in two days.
3) Utterly useless salesperson/advertiser.
4) Kind of person you don’t ask if the dress you are wearing makes you look beautiful/sexy/corporate/slutty/fat (girls delete accordingly) if you are expecting a comforting (but not entirely true answer).
5) And the list goes on.
Why am I bringing all this up now? This is why.
Recently I have told two really big lies to my boss (to get out of some of the trouble I have been in due to the abovementioned work-related/personal problems I have had) and he seems to have swallowed them hook, line, sinker, anchor, ship, the whole enchilada.
You might say my boss is a gullible, trusting chap, but then you do not know my boss. He is the kind of guy whose gaze would have made torture tools unnecessary during the inquisition. The kind of chap who would make Jack Bauer ask for his mommy (ok that’s stretching it a bit). But you catch my drift.
I was feeling good that I had gotten myself out of a spot of bother but then I got to thinking. I told myself that the ease with which I was spinning fibs was worrying. I started wondering whether I was losing that which made me Jay. I asked myself “Was I sliding down the dark and ignominious road of dark lies and deception?”
After all of 10 minutes of worrying and obsessing, I said to myself “chief, whats the worst that can happen?”
“Either you discover that your tall tales didn’t hit the mark by a mile and the bossman is only marinating on the most cruel method he can use to make you pay for thinking you could sneak a weak-ass lie by him and thus you don’t have to worry about all that ignominious road nonsense ”
OR
You just became normal.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
As you asked
To those that asked, here goes.
Where do you fall? To circumcise or not to circumcise, for men that is?
Circumcission seems to be the thing these days for various reasons, many of which I don’t buy. Personally, I am against circumcision simply because I am against self-mutilation of any kind. Nothing to do with all the scientific facts about reduced chances of getting HIV (condoms do that a lot better) and theories on how the girls love it better (haven’t received complaints yet). I am doing just fine with the foreskin on.
That profile pic of yours,,,do u look remotely like that? I could swear i've seen u before. Or the real owner of that "face". U look somewhat like "Chege", that guy in "The river between". Never seen him tho (i just put his name to that face).
Yes and no. The nose and forehead are quite similar, but the cheekbones are what make the major difference. Fill the cheeks out a bit, add a goatee and some more hair on top of his head and yes he might just pass off as me.
The reason I chose it though was because it was the description of a what a typical black man (un homme noir) looks like in an old anthropological journal. It’s a painting of a Mandingo slave from 18th Century New Orleans or thereabouts.
Do u blog under another identity ie. Iwaya. same writing style!Or do u atleast know each other?
yeah...you iwaya or r u buddies?
I do not blog under any other identity. I am flattered that I can be mistaken for somebody far more talented than myself. Although I do administer a specialised group blog, where I post articles under my real identity sometimes. But that is not my blog.
i always wondered,do you put both socks on before both shoes, or is it one sock and shoe and then the other two?
I had never really thought about it until you asked. I put on both socks first before I put on the shoes. Is there anything for the psychologists to read in to this.
What do you wear to bed?
Only my chocolate-brown skin. No pyjamas, no boxers, nada. All night, every night.
I have never really been down with the whole pyjama thing even as a kid. I would have probably been sleeping naked back then if it was not for sharing room with siblings and such.
Sleeping nude is the best way to sleep. It is so comfortable especially during those hot nights in this sunny city.
Lehommenoir is just a french thingie or vous parlez francais?
J'aime la langue française et je la parle mais je ne suis pas fleunt.
favourite sex position... pour quoi?
Woman on top. All pleasurable details aside, it involves less work.
i wanna know about ur love life!! is
their a significant other, y or y not? how long u guys been together if
u r indeed together?? any plans of gettin wit anyone if u'r single?? i
mean, i noticed u dont discuss ur love life a lot, and i'm curious..
There is no significant other right now. There hasn’t been for some months. I spent most of last year and early this year dealing with two “significant others”. One liked me a lot and she made this point very clear. Unfortunately I did not feel her the same (a minor detail I never got to mention to her), mostly because there was this other person I liked a lot. But this other person was very unclear and kept playing me like a puppet (she knew I was smitten). Not to bore you with details, in the end one young lady left the country hating me for breaking her heart and it was eventually made clear to me that the other young lady liked some other chap more (I wish I had gotten to find out under less embarrassing circumstances).
I am "freelancing" right now and enjoying the benefits that such a situation has to offer but I can definitely get with someone. Although when you use the word “plans” its like it is some kind of ten-point programme thingy.
3 people (if given a chance) you would love to meet
There are like a gazillion people I’d like to meet but since I don not have a ready made top 3 list I will put up these.
I’d really like to have a one-on-one with His Excellency Kaguta. I’d like to seat down with him over, unfortunately, tea and pick his brains for a while.
I hope dead people count because I’d really have also liked to meet Hitler and ask him WTF?
There is this lady Ayaan Hirsi Ali,who seems to thrive on having fatwas declared on (or is it against) her fine self. And also because It is always enriching to be in the company of beautiful women.
Hopefully that answers all.
Where do you fall? To circumcise or not to circumcise, for men that is?
Circumcission seems to be the thing these days for various reasons, many of which I don’t buy. Personally, I am against circumcision simply because I am against self-mutilation of any kind. Nothing to do with all the scientific facts about reduced chances of getting HIV (condoms do that a lot better) and theories on how the girls love it better (haven’t received complaints yet). I am doing just fine with the foreskin on.
That profile pic of yours,,,do u look remotely like that? I could swear i've seen u before. Or the real owner of that "face". U look somewhat like "Chege", that guy in "The river between". Never seen him tho (i just put his name to that face).
Yes and no. The nose and forehead are quite similar, but the cheekbones are what make the major difference. Fill the cheeks out a bit, add a goatee and some more hair on top of his head and yes he might just pass off as me.
The reason I chose it though was because it was the description of a what a typical black man (un homme noir) looks like in an old anthropological journal. It’s a painting of a Mandingo slave from 18th Century New Orleans or thereabouts.
Do u blog under another identity ie. Iwaya. same writing style!Or do u atleast know each other?
yeah...you iwaya or r u buddies?
I do not blog under any other identity. I am flattered that I can be mistaken for somebody far more talented than myself. Although I do administer a specialised group blog, where I post articles under my real identity sometimes. But that is not my blog.
i always wondered,do you put both socks on before both shoes, or is it one sock and shoe and then the other two?
I had never really thought about it until you asked. I put on both socks first before I put on the shoes. Is there anything for the psychologists to read in to this.
What do you wear to bed?
Only my chocolate-brown skin. No pyjamas, no boxers, nada. All night, every night.
I have never really been down with the whole pyjama thing even as a kid. I would have probably been sleeping naked back then if it was not for sharing room with siblings and such.
Sleeping nude is the best way to sleep. It is so comfortable especially during those hot nights in this sunny city.
Lehommenoir is just a french thingie or vous parlez francais?
J'aime la langue française et je la parle mais je ne suis pas fleunt.
favourite sex position... pour quoi?
Woman on top. All pleasurable details aside, it involves less work.
i wanna know about ur love life!! is
their a significant other, y or y not? how long u guys been together if
u r indeed together?? any plans of gettin wit anyone if u'r single?? i
mean, i noticed u dont discuss ur love life a lot, and i'm curious..
There is no significant other right now. There hasn’t been for some months. I spent most of last year and early this year dealing with two “significant others”. One liked me a lot and she made this point very clear. Unfortunately I did not feel her the same (a minor detail I never got to mention to her), mostly because there was this other person I liked a lot. But this other person was very unclear and kept playing me like a puppet (she knew I was smitten). Not to bore you with details, in the end one young lady left the country hating me for breaking her heart and it was eventually made clear to me that the other young lady liked some other chap more (I wish I had gotten to find out under less embarrassing circumstances).
I am "freelancing" right now and enjoying the benefits that such a situation has to offer but I can definitely get with someone. Although when you use the word “plans” its like it is some kind of ten-point programme thingy.
3 people (if given a chance) you would love to meet
There are like a gazillion people I’d like to meet but since I don not have a ready made top 3 list I will put up these.
I’d really like to have a one-on-one with His Excellency Kaguta. I’d like to seat down with him over, unfortunately, tea and pick his brains for a while.
I hope dead people count because I’d really have also liked to meet Hitler and ask him WTF?
There is this lady Ayaan Hirsi Ali,who seems to thrive on having fatwas declared on (or is it against) her fine self. And also because It is always enriching to be in the company of beautiful women.
Hopefully that answers all.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Everyone's Favourite Ugandan Dictator Coming to a Screen Near You
Just when the world was about to forget all about Amin and Ugandans could travel around the world without having ignorant chaps asking if Amin was still the President, FoxSearchlight pictures has him well-packaged and ready to be unleashed onto the 21st century.
The Last King of Scotland is set to be released later this month and it is likely to generate a lot of talk about Amin and his terrible regime.
I have to admit I have been waiting for the movie for a while because its the only movie I have actually ever seen being shot. I remember having different parts of Kampala blocked off as the crews were shooting or seeing Makerere University Library miraculously turned into Entebbe airport's lounge (at least thats what I think it was).
It was rather funny seeing old Peugeots, Citroens, VW Beetles from the 70s being planted along the roads as props. THe filmmakers would have prefered to have many of them being driven up and down but they failed to get enough that actually worked.
Onet thing that worries me about the film is that some people may not realise that the film is only very loosely based on actualm events or that the book its based on was largely a work of fiction. You might find guys asking that if Amin was all that how could the young scottish doc sleep with his wife and live to tell the tale.
Its a pity that no Ugandan actors got any significant roles. They are doing the usual standin, passerby and twoline type roles. It would have been nice to have some Ugandans up in there like in there were in Mississippi Masaala.
At least the movie was shot here, where it is set, and thus put some money in a few Ugandans' pockets unlike some of the more recent films set in African countries. Hotel Rwanda was shot in South Africa. Tears of the Sun wasn't even shot on the continent, leave alone Nigeria, but in Hawaii.
Below is the trailer.
The Last King of Scotland is set to be released later this month and it is likely to generate a lot of talk about Amin and his terrible regime.
I have to admit I have been waiting for the movie for a while because its the only movie I have actually ever seen being shot. I remember having different parts of Kampala blocked off as the crews were shooting or seeing Makerere University Library miraculously turned into Entebbe airport's lounge (at least thats what I think it was).
It was rather funny seeing old Peugeots, Citroens, VW Beetles from the 70s being planted along the roads as props. THe filmmakers would have prefered to have many of them being driven up and down but they failed to get enough that actually worked.
Onet thing that worries me about the film is that some people may not realise that the film is only very loosely based on actualm events or that the book its based on was largely a work of fiction. You might find guys asking that if Amin was all that how could the young scottish doc sleep with his wife and live to tell the tale.
Its a pity that no Ugandan actors got any significant roles. They are doing the usual standin, passerby and twoline type roles. It would have been nice to have some Ugandans up in there like in there were in Mississippi Masaala.
At least the movie was shot here, where it is set, and thus put some money in a few Ugandans' pockets unlike some of the more recent films set in African countries. Hotel Rwanda was shot in South Africa. Tears of the Sun wasn't even shot on the continent, leave alone Nigeria, but in Hawaii.
Below is the trailer.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Caught in the middle
It’s about 10pm and I am at the counter in my local slowly poisoning my liver but liking the process immensely. My usual buddies are not around so I am making some chitchat with the bar lady in between watching bits of a recorded premiere league match (sans volume) on the screen above. The background music is just right and everything is cool.
In walk Jon and a beautiful young lady that I seem to know from some place. Jon walks over to me and gives his greetings. Young lady picks sits on a barstool next to Jon, who is now sitting on my right. I am introduced to the young lady and vice verse. The young lady is called Sue. The name does not set off any chimes in my head but the face still looks familiar.
Sue offers to buy pork for both her and Jon but Jon declines, he says something about an early supper or late lunch. Sue goes on to order for her meat and for drinks for both of them.
The manager walks in and challenges Jon to a best-of-three pool duel (apparently Jon walked all up and down is ass the last time they played). Jon takes up the challenge eagerly and thus I am now left with Sue and the small talk commences.
I enquire as to where I might have laid eyes on Sue’s fine self before. Sue says she doesn’t think the two of us have met. One of those Eureka bulbs pops up glowing brightly above my head and I say I am certain that I have seen Sue once or twice at a certain medical facility that has always been good to me whenever I need an excuse for having not appeared at work on a given day. Sue acknowledges working there and I realise why the face is familiar and yet she doesnt seem to recognise me. Her workplace is usually teaming with bonafide patients who keep her too busy to notice loungers with made-up diseases chilling out in the lounge reading two-week old magazines while waiting for the doctor to bring any official looking, signed and stamped, document to prove that they were actually to see the doctor.
Jon has been beaten terribly at game one (a quick seven-baller) and he comes over to take a sip off his drink. He asks me for a cigarette, which I offer. Sue tells him how her and me “as if” know each other. Jon makes some “small world” like comment and goes back to salvage his honour at the pool table.
The small talk (more like familiar banter by now) goes on over drinks and cigarettes (Sue loves to torch it too, by the way). Its all good until I begin wondering what Jon is doing over there at the pool table (especially since they are really sticking it to him) while his date is over at the counter with me.
Sue calls over to Jon and suggests he packs it in and gives her a ride home. Jon light-heartedly (at least I am sure it was meant to sound light hearted) that people with no faith in his pool playing abilities should find their own way home. Jon loses game three and I am thinking its time to get the hell out of Dodge, seeing how it is approaching the witching-hour (not to mention some sense of tension).
I am in the process of bidding my adieus when Jon says he won’t have any of that. He says he hasn’t had time to have a decent chat with me the whole evening. He offers a round and even says he will drop me off home. He had me at “another round” so the free ride is a great bonus.
Sue is now suggesting it is late and she’d really like to leave. Jon says we’ll be done in no time. Sue smiles but I can see she isn’t happy. Well anyway, we finish the drinks “faster, faster”; clear whatever needs to be cleared. Jon promises the manager he’ll definitely be back in the sequel to the evening’s pool show and we exit the bar.
We get into the car and I can’t wait to be dropped off at the turning to my block not far away. However when we get to said turning Jon doesn’t stop and moves right on. Sue doesn’t look too happy about this (probably has something to do with the fact that I had mentioned vaguely where I live during our chat earlier).
We get to Sue’s place. Sue gets out quickly; Jon follows soon after and tells me to give him a minute. I move to the front, light up (I have travelled in this car many times and I know he’s cool with it), and wonder what tiff I have just gotten myself mixed up in.
The car is parked just outside the gate and I can hear a bit of the exchange going on on the other side. I convince myself it has nothing to do with me until I hear my name mentioned twice. Jon comes out and we set off.
I am dying to ask what just happened but Jon answers me before I do. Sue is apparently an ex of Jon’s friend and she has wanted to bed Jon for a while. She had apparently figured that night was the night and she wasn’t amused by the fact that one Jay tagged along and ruined everything.
I am quick to point out that I didn’t ask to be dropped off. Jon says he is aware of that fact but that my being in the bar gave him a way out of spending the night at Sue’s without appearing to be the bad guy. Apparently he needed time to find out if she wasn’t on some mission to get back at her ex. I suspect he told the chick that he would have loved to stay but he couldn’t leave a buddy stuck in the middle of the night
I was like damn; I’ve probably made myself an enemy without even trying.
In walk Jon and a beautiful young lady that I seem to know from some place. Jon walks over to me and gives his greetings. Young lady picks sits on a barstool next to Jon, who is now sitting on my right. I am introduced to the young lady and vice verse. The young lady is called Sue. The name does not set off any chimes in my head but the face still looks familiar.
Sue offers to buy pork for both her and Jon but Jon declines, he says something about an early supper or late lunch. Sue goes on to order for her meat and for drinks for both of them.
The manager walks in and challenges Jon to a best-of-three pool duel (apparently Jon walked all up and down is ass the last time they played). Jon takes up the challenge eagerly and thus I am now left with Sue and the small talk commences.
I enquire as to where I might have laid eyes on Sue’s fine self before. Sue says she doesn’t think the two of us have met. One of those Eureka bulbs pops up glowing brightly above my head and I say I am certain that I have seen Sue once or twice at a certain medical facility that has always been good to me whenever I need an excuse for having not appeared at work on a given day. Sue acknowledges working there and I realise why the face is familiar and yet she doesnt seem to recognise me. Her workplace is usually teaming with bonafide patients who keep her too busy to notice loungers with made-up diseases chilling out in the lounge reading two-week old magazines while waiting for the doctor to bring any official looking, signed and stamped, document to prove that they were actually to see the doctor.
Jon has been beaten terribly at game one (a quick seven-baller) and he comes over to take a sip off his drink. He asks me for a cigarette, which I offer. Sue tells him how her and me “as if” know each other. Jon makes some “small world” like comment and goes back to salvage his honour at the pool table.
The small talk (more like familiar banter by now) goes on over drinks and cigarettes (Sue loves to torch it too, by the way). Its all good until I begin wondering what Jon is doing over there at the pool table (especially since they are really sticking it to him) while his date is over at the counter with me.
Sue calls over to Jon and suggests he packs it in and gives her a ride home. Jon light-heartedly (at least I am sure it was meant to sound light hearted) that people with no faith in his pool playing abilities should find their own way home. Jon loses game three and I am thinking its time to get the hell out of Dodge, seeing how it is approaching the witching-hour (not to mention some sense of tension).
I am in the process of bidding my adieus when Jon says he won’t have any of that. He says he hasn’t had time to have a decent chat with me the whole evening. He offers a round and even says he will drop me off home. He had me at “another round” so the free ride is a great bonus.
Sue is now suggesting it is late and she’d really like to leave. Jon says we’ll be done in no time. Sue smiles but I can see she isn’t happy. Well anyway, we finish the drinks “faster, faster”; clear whatever needs to be cleared. Jon promises the manager he’ll definitely be back in the sequel to the evening’s pool show and we exit the bar.
We get into the car and I can’t wait to be dropped off at the turning to my block not far away. However when we get to said turning Jon doesn’t stop and moves right on. Sue doesn’t look too happy about this (probably has something to do with the fact that I had mentioned vaguely where I live during our chat earlier).
We get to Sue’s place. Sue gets out quickly; Jon follows soon after and tells me to give him a minute. I move to the front, light up (I have travelled in this car many times and I know he’s cool with it), and wonder what tiff I have just gotten myself mixed up in.
The car is parked just outside the gate and I can hear a bit of the exchange going on on the other side. I convince myself it has nothing to do with me until I hear my name mentioned twice. Jon comes out and we set off.
I am dying to ask what just happened but Jon answers me before I do. Sue is apparently an ex of Jon’s friend and she has wanted to bed Jon for a while. She had apparently figured that night was the night and she wasn’t amused by the fact that one Jay tagged along and ruined everything.
I am quick to point out that I didn’t ask to be dropped off. Jon says he is aware of that fact but that my being in the bar gave him a way out of spending the night at Sue’s without appearing to be the bad guy. Apparently he needed time to find out if she wasn’t on some mission to get back at her ex. I suspect he told the chick that he would have loved to stay but he couldn’t leave a buddy stuck in the middle of the night
I was like damn; I’ve probably made myself an enemy without even trying.
Everything you've always wanted to know about Jay, but were afraid to ask.
I got this idea from another blogger a while back but I didnt think much of it then. But now I think
it could actually be interesting.
Basically, I want you guys out there to ask me anything you want. The questions can be about
myself, my opinions on issues, they can be whimsical but humorous. Actually anything except my
name.
This ought to be interesting for me seeing what kinds of questions y'all come up with.
Send in the questions by email to hommenwa at yahoo dot fr.
Will be dropping the answers in a week or so. For obvious reasons, some questions I might not answer fully.
it could actually be interesting.
Basically, I want you guys out there to ask me anything you want. The questions can be about
myself, my opinions on issues, they can be whimsical but humorous. Actually anything except my
name.
This ought to be interesting for me seeing what kinds of questions y'all come up with.
Send in the questions by email to hommenwa at yahoo dot fr.
Will be dropping the answers in a week or so. For obvious reasons, some questions I might not answer fully.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Of Unstirred Martinis and Beautiful Women
I have done little else since Friday evening than try to watch all the James Bond films (the official ones anyway). I have only managed to watch 8 and a half, which leaves me 11 and a half to go.
It all started when I found out that a friend of my housemate had a collection of all 20 movies on DVD and I convinced my housemate to borrow them so that I’d finally be able to say I have watched all the Bond movies.
I have been a Bond fan
since that day when my old man came home with our first VCR and with it Live and Let Die. From then on the debonair spy would become one of my favourite movie characters of all time.
I started with the 3 I hadn’t watched before Thunderball, Goldfinger and Licence to Kill and as I made my through them I started realising some things I had never taken note of before, mostly because I watched my first 13 Bond movies between 1985 and 1989. Back then I was easily impressed and things like plot, dialogue and elements of cinematography were not of much interest to me.
But over the weekend I kept wondering why most Bond fans think Sean Connery is the best Bond ever (I prefer Rodger Moore). I also realised that the Bond franchise needed the changes it underwent in the six year hiatus between Licence to Kill and GoldenEye. For one the portrayal of the Bond girls in the earlier movies of the 60s and 70s just wouldn’t fly today. For starters all of them fall for the guy as soon as they lay eyes on him, they might turn on him and attempt to put a steel blade through his ribcage later but he will have had his way with them by then.
I remembered a grimy and unshaven Pierce Brosnan leaving the North Korean Prison in Die Another Day and I compared him to the first two bonds who never had a hair out of place even at the worst of times (in Diamonds are Forever Sean Connery’s bond barely survives cremation by a matter of seconds, but gets out of the confine unfazed and with hair and crease line neatly in place.
I should be done by Friday and I want to make my own “Best of” series, while I wait for Casino Royale latter this year.
Right now though, I am trying to figure out which theme song I like more Sheena Easton’s For Your Eyes Only, Gladys Knight’s Licence to Kill
It all started when I found out that a friend of my housemate had a collection of all 20 movies on DVD and I convinced my housemate to borrow them so that I’d finally be able to say I have watched all the Bond movies.
I have been a Bond fan
since that day when my old man came home with our first VCR and with it Live and Let Die. From then on the debonair spy would become one of my favourite movie characters of all time.I started with the 3 I hadn’t watched before Thunderball, Goldfinger and Licence to Kill and as I made my through them I started realising some things I had never taken note of before, mostly because I watched my first 13 Bond movies between 1985 and 1989. Back then I was easily impressed and things like plot, dialogue and elements of cinematography were not of much interest to me.
But over the weekend I kept wondering why most Bond fans think Sean Connery is the best Bond ever (I prefer Rodger Moore). I also realised that the Bond franchise needed the changes it underwent in the six year hiatus between Licence to Kill and GoldenEye. For one the portrayal of the Bond girls in the earlier movies of the 60s and 70s just wouldn’t fly today. For starters all of them fall for the guy as soon as they lay eyes on him, they might turn on him and attempt to put a steel blade through his ribcage later but he will have had his way with them by then.
I remembered a grimy and unshaven Pierce Brosnan leaving the North Korean Prison in Die Another Day and I compared him to the first two bonds who never had a hair out of place even at the worst of times (in Diamonds are Forever Sean Connery’s bond barely survives cremation by a matter of seconds, but gets out of the confine unfazed and with hair and crease line neatly in place.
I should be done by Friday and I want to make my own “Best of” series, while I wait for Casino Royale latter this year.
Right now though, I am trying to figure out which theme song I like more Sheena Easton’s For Your Eyes Only, Gladys Knight’s Licence to Kill
Friday, August 18, 2006
Just for Just
Being the lazy guy that I am, I never do anything unless I really have to. As such I never iron
anything unless I am going to wear it right after. I have now become used to acertain pattern
in the loadshedding schedule and I know on which days to iron an extra shirt for that morning when there will be no electricty.
Somebody somewhere turned everything on its head and yesterday morning I woke up to an electricity free flat. I mmediately knew I was in trouble because the only two clean "office" shirts were so creased they looked like they had just been spat out by a cow that had decided it didnt like how they tasted after chewing on them for a while.
I ended up going to work in a shirt with a few of those African designs on them- I had decided to bring the casual friday a day forward. I kept getting odd looks at the office but surprisingly nobody questioned my choice of shirt. It wasn't until later while at steakout for the rock night that everyone I met was asking if I was on leave or something.
From now on its mass ironing for me. Anybody know a cheap dhobi?
I have read many technology reviews and many sites have interesting writers but nothing has amused me more than the guys at niggaknow. Its not so much for the reviews but for the language and the humour. Granted the language is rather explicit and somewhat racist if you are white or asian, but I found it funny using hardcore ghetto slang to review the tech.
Speaking of tech. Apparently Ugandans do use the WAP services on their mobile phones. I was surprised to learn that many Ugandans access the beeb on their cellphones (considering the small number of Ugandans
with cellphones (saying nothing about those with WAP enabled sets).
Any of you believe in time travel? Is world war 3 starting in 2015? A chap called John Titor told us it will when he dropped in from 2036 looking for some 1975 IBM PC for some kind of research in his time. After acquiring what he wanted, he dicides to check out the years and landed in 2001 and started dropping all sorts of predictions on the future on many forums and chatrooms. Even had sketches of his time machine and all. Check out this site dedicated to his predictions and this wiki that puts it in perspective. I say it was a damn fine hoax.
Enough randomness for now. Gots to get back to
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Its an anniversary
I have just realised that it is exactly one year since I stumbled upon blogger, opened an account and made my first post on this third rate blog. Why I chose Inzikuru as the subject of my first post and not some “hi I’m Jay and welcome to my new blog” kind of post, I can’t recall.
Blogging has since become a major part of my life and checking out my blogroll everyday has become a near addiction. It’s amazing how something that I knew nothing about before 10/8/2005 has quickly become a part of regular activities.
At first I thought I was a lone Ugandan sailing the vast sea that is the blogosphere until another sail picked up my message in a bottle and responded with urls of other blogs that had been around longer. Thanks Ivan.
Now I have a whole lot of blog friends and acquaintances, many of whom I probably pass on the streets many times without knowing (probably just as well for them). Some of the bloggers I have met have been philosophical, poetic, analytic, lyrical, angry, soulful, scandalous, odd, clinically insane etc.
I now have my on nook of the net to put down whatever is on my mind and it is great. I get to write stuff in a way a like at my leisure while enjoying the experience before I sit back and wait to see how people respond.
Heck, this blogging business has even got me on the BBC site (looking around smugly).
Next stop: My Own Website. Though I don’t think my lazy ass can keep one going.
Blogging has since become a major part of my life and checking out my blogroll everyday has become a near addiction. It’s amazing how something that I knew nothing about before 10/8/2005 has quickly become a part of regular activities.
At first I thought I was a lone Ugandan sailing the vast sea that is the blogosphere until another sail picked up my message in a bottle and responded with urls of other blogs that had been around longer. Thanks Ivan.
Now I have a whole lot of blog friends and acquaintances, many of whom I probably pass on the streets many times without knowing (probably just as well for them). Some of the bloggers I have met have been philosophical, poetic, analytic, lyrical, angry, soulful, scandalous, odd, clinically insane etc.
I now have my on nook of the net to put down whatever is on my mind and it is great. I get to write stuff in a way a like at my leisure while enjoying the experience before I sit back and wait to see how people respond.
Heck, this blogging business has even got me on the BBC site (looking around smugly).
Next stop: My Own Website. Though I don’t think my lazy ass can keep one going.
Any Stasibasiphobes in the house?
While trying to get some light to the dark and murky place that is my mind by way of my trusty friend google it dawned on me that I am not as messed up as I had earlier imagined. There are a some really troubled souls out there judging from some of the disorders and phobias I have come across.
Think of any irrational fear of anything and somebody somewhere probably has it and it will have a medical name. This guy has a list of all manner of phobias.
While reading throughthe list, I wonder why anybody would be dendrophobic (afraid of trees) -except for hobbit lost in the Fangorn Forest. But then, phobias are not logical.
I would think being afraid of being buried alive (taphophobia) is normal and those
who are not should be the troubled ones.
If any of you answered yes to the title of this post I suggest you jump of a not-too-high building and land strategically as to carefully break you spine that way you will become paraplegic and you wont have to be afraid of walking or standing up anymore.
Think of any irrational fear of anything and somebody somewhere probably has it and it will have a medical name. This guy has a list of all manner of phobias.
While reading throughthe list, I wonder why anybody would be dendrophobic (afraid of trees) -except for hobbit lost in the Fangorn Forest. But then, phobias are not logical.
I would think being afraid of being buried alive (taphophobia) is normal and those
who are not should be the troubled ones.
If any of you answered yes to the title of this post I suggest you jump of a not-too-high building and land strategically as to carefully break you spine that way you will become paraplegic and you wont have to be afraid of walking or standing up anymore.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Getting the movie. Then and Now
The proliferation of bootleg DVDs of very new movies (many of which are still showing in the cinemas) got me thinking of how far Uganda has come in terms of accessing the latest entertainment. My mind went back over the years, thinking over how things have really changed.
I can’t say I remember when I watched my first movie, although the earliest clear memory I have of a movie is of Clint Eastwood’s A Fist full of Dollars which I must have watched around 1983/4 at an aunties place. Back then I wasn’t sure whether it was TV or not.
We got our first VCR (along with the first colour TV) in 1985 and with it came 3 movies Live and Let Die, Assault on Precinct 13 and All Quiet on the Western Front. Owning a VCR meant having a constant supply of tapes to feed it. This is where the problems begun. The likes of Darlyne and Inktus might not believe that there was a time when there was no real Movie Library in Kampala (and Uganda for that matter).
I remember my old man used to bring home tapes with the words Whittaker’s (or some such name) video library written on them. Now before you start saying “but I thought there were no video Libraries” let me explain.
Mr. Whittaker (if there was ever any such person) had come up with the ingenious idea of having his friends in the UK record stuff for him off the telly, which they could send over to be lent out to the likes of Jay’s dad. But because the recording was off TV and the people doing the recording probably just set the timer and headed on down to the pub, the tapes would come with commercial breaks, public service announcements, breaking news etc. We would go some minutes into a movie like the Far Pavilions and have a ketchup ad thrown in before reverting to the “regularly scheduled programming”. Something like that would probably piss me off now but I was six at the time and even the ads were fun.
The other good thing about these tapes was that Mr. Whittaker felt that the entire 180 minutes of the tape had to be filled. Along with every movie came a few episodes of some sitcom or series. These were mostly british programmes like Fawlty Towers, Not the 9:00 o’clock news, Top of the Pops etc. and sometimes the American series like Miami Vice (somehow I do not see Collin Farrel and Jamie Foxx, in the soon-to-be-released movie, having the kind of chemistry Don Johnson and Phillip Michael Thomas had in the TV series)
Thanks to Mr. Whittaker I developed a love for British TV, which has remained to this day.
We moved to Jinja in January of 1987 by which time VCRs had spread all over the land and the movie rental business had started developing. We soon became members of Bashir's Video Library, which was next to Town Talkies video hall.
Bashir did have the movies (the proper ones without commercial breaks) but the problem was the variety wasn’t that great. The movies were generally categorised thus;
-“You kill my father now I kill you too” old style Kung Fu flicks with titles like Snake in the Monkey’s Shadow. Closely related were the latter day versions of previously mentioned flicks. High-octane Hong Kong martial arts kickfests all based on the same cop drama/revenge script Police Story.
-Vietnam flicks. You remember the type where some badass GI would mow down a whole battalion of Gooks (their words) and not somehow not get hit by a single bullet shot at him. Case in point, Leathernecks.
-Those good old shoot ‘em up plotless B-Movies with titles like Exterminator.
On top of that the newest movie was two years old.
Did we mind? Heck no. That is until we were watching the movies faster than Bashir could stock them up. One thing I remember that stood out of place at Bashir’s was 30 something tapes of Dallas (they just didn’t fit in with the rest). We watched them all and this was the interesting Dallas (up to the point Jr Ewing dies). It’s funny when you consider that all that can now fit on one DVD.
By now the eighties were ending and we were back in Kampala. The good news was that real video libraries were opening up like Bimbo and Ripples (which was the video library to be a member of), but the bad news was that the membership and borrowing fees were way to high. This led to the emergence of a coordinated network of lending and borrowing movies among friends.
If person x had that movie you had to watch like Terminator 2, Rambo 3 or Die Hard you had to find him an equally interesting movie or trade him something just as cool (like an Asterix/Tintin comic book, The Newest Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew novel). Lunchtime at the Rocks in Kitante was the time most of these exchanges could go down. It had the feel of some kind of stock exchange with young boys haggling over what movie was worthy to be exchanged for another or one guy promising to lend movie to another for an extra day on condition that a certain comic book was thrown into the bargain.
It wasn’t long before the Ugandans hooked up with bootleggers from around the world and swamped the market with the latest VHS movies there were to offer. Soon the bootlegged copies started getting bootlegged and every other neighbourhood had a video lib stacked with 5th and 6th generation bootlegged VHS tapes.
Then there came the shortlived VCDs followed by the DVDs. Since these days everybody and their uncle has a DVD player, VHS has all but disappeared. The DVDs are ubiquitous on the streets of Kampala and boy are they cheap. For the price of an “original” tape of back in the day you can have yourself 5 full-length movies on one DVD. Nowadays the only movies you cannot get in Kampala are those you have a hard time finding in regular outlets anywhere in the world.
I can’t say I remember when I watched my first movie, although the earliest clear memory I have of a movie is of Clint Eastwood’s A Fist full of Dollars which I must have watched around 1983/4 at an aunties place. Back then I wasn’t sure whether it was TV or not.
We got our first VCR (along with the first colour TV) in 1985 and with it came 3 movies Live and Let Die, Assault on Precinct 13 and All Quiet on the Western Front. Owning a VCR meant having a constant supply of tapes to feed it. This is where the problems begun. The likes of Darlyne and Inktus might not believe that there was a time when there was no real Movie Library in Kampala (and Uganda for that matter).
I remember my old man used to bring home tapes with the words Whittaker’s (or some such name) video library written on them. Now before you start saying “but I thought there were no video Libraries” let me explain.
Mr. Whittaker (if there was ever any such person) had come up with the ingenious idea of having his friends in the UK record stuff for him off the telly, which they could send over to be lent out to the likes of Jay’s dad. But because the recording was off TV and the people doing the recording probably just set the timer and headed on down to the pub, the tapes would come with commercial breaks, public service announcements, breaking news etc. We would go some minutes into a movie like the Far Pavilions and have a ketchup ad thrown in before reverting to the “regularly scheduled programming”. Something like that would probably piss me off now but I was six at the time and even the ads were fun.
The other good thing about these tapes was that Mr. Whittaker felt that the entire 180 minutes of the tape had to be filled. Along with every movie came a few episodes of some sitcom or series. These were mostly british programmes like Fawlty Towers, Not the 9:00 o’clock news, Top of the Pops etc. and sometimes the American series like Miami Vice (somehow I do not see Collin Farrel and Jamie Foxx, in the soon-to-be-released movie, having the kind of chemistry Don Johnson and Phillip Michael Thomas had in the TV series)
Thanks to Mr. Whittaker I developed a love for British TV, which has remained to this day.
We moved to Jinja in January of 1987 by which time VCRs had spread all over the land and the movie rental business had started developing. We soon became members of Bashir's Video Library, which was next to Town Talkies video hall.
Bashir did have the movies (the proper ones without commercial breaks) but the problem was the variety wasn’t that great. The movies were generally categorised thus;
-“You kill my father now I kill you too” old style Kung Fu flicks with titles like Snake in the Monkey’s Shadow. Closely related were the latter day versions of previously mentioned flicks. High-octane Hong Kong martial arts kickfests all based on the same cop drama/revenge script Police Story.
-Vietnam flicks. You remember the type where some badass GI would mow down a whole battalion of Gooks (their words) and not somehow not get hit by a single bullet shot at him. Case in point, Leathernecks.
-Those good old shoot ‘em up plotless B-Movies with titles like Exterminator.
On top of that the newest movie was two years old.
Did we mind? Heck no. That is until we were watching the movies faster than Bashir could stock them up. One thing I remember that stood out of place at Bashir’s was 30 something tapes of Dallas (they just didn’t fit in with the rest). We watched them all and this was the interesting Dallas (up to the point Jr Ewing dies). It’s funny when you consider that all that can now fit on one DVD.
By now the eighties were ending and we were back in Kampala. The good news was that real video libraries were opening up like Bimbo and Ripples (which was the video library to be a member of), but the bad news was that the membership and borrowing fees were way to high. This led to the emergence of a coordinated network of lending and borrowing movies among friends.
If person x had that movie you had to watch like Terminator 2, Rambo 3 or Die Hard you had to find him an equally interesting movie or trade him something just as cool (like an Asterix/Tintin comic book, The Newest Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew novel). Lunchtime at the Rocks in Kitante was the time most of these exchanges could go down. It had the feel of some kind of stock exchange with young boys haggling over what movie was worthy to be exchanged for another or one guy promising to lend movie to another for an extra day on condition that a certain comic book was thrown into the bargain.
It wasn’t long before the Ugandans hooked up with bootleggers from around the world and swamped the market with the latest VHS movies there were to offer. Soon the bootlegged copies started getting bootlegged and every other neighbourhood had a video lib stacked with 5th and 6th generation bootlegged VHS tapes.
Then there came the shortlived VCDs followed by the DVDs. Since these days everybody and their uncle has a DVD player, VHS has all but disappeared. The DVDs are ubiquitous on the streets of Kampala and boy are they cheap. For the price of an “original” tape of back in the day you can have yourself 5 full-length movies on one DVD. Nowadays the only movies you cannot get in Kampala are those you have a hard time finding in regular outlets anywhere in the world.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Kitante Petition
Some of the almuni (like yours truly), friends, parents and wellwishers of Kitante Primary School are seeking signitures for a petition preventing the the illegal apportioning of the School's land. If you feel the cause follow this link and add your signiture to the petition.
For those of you who might have gone through Kitante Primary School try and imagine no cops and robbers "in the rocks" and all the other games that could only be enjoyed because there was enough space to run around. Those of us who went through the school when corporal punishment was the norm might have also wished that that bamboo grove by the Museum fence had never existed but this wouldn't have been the way to get rid of it.
For those of you who might have gone through Kitante Primary School try and imagine no cops and robbers "in the rocks" and all the other games that could only be enjoyed because there was enough space to run around. Those of us who went through the school when corporal punishment was the norm might have also wished that that bamboo grove by the Museum fence had never existed but this wouldn't have been the way to get rid of it.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Car trouble: Two words you won't hear from Jay in a long time
The gods have conspired yet again to prevent me from ever owning an automobile. Just when I was putting together the last bits of the ingenious scheme that would somehow get me to purchase a car out of the loose change that is inappropriately called my salary, cars are about to get really expensive (the used ones anyway).
Actually, between you and me, I am smiling inside. Now I have another excuse to give those who keep asking me why I do not have a car. That’s not cause enough for a smile, I hear some of you say. Just hang on a second.
I am the only guy my age I know who has almost no interest in owning a car. The only times I get to wishing I had a ride are:
a) When there is that ballistic date looming and I know I have well nigh to no future with said date if I do not pull up to her crib behind the wheel of a car (preferably a fancy one).
b) When I have over indulged in the pleasures that are only to be found in Club Pilsner and a quick account balance inquiry (hand in pocket) reveals I have only 5,000 and the cheapest taxi cab to Bugolobi is 10,000 and everyone I know who owns a car seems to have vanished.
However these two scenarios are not that common because, being somewhat socially dysfunctional (if this phrase means something other than what I think it means, don’t tell me), I do not date that often and when I do my dates do not mind sharing the comfort of the 100s of “specials” I part own (by virtue of regular use). I have also developed a nearly superhuman ability to keep tabs on my dimes even at my most inebriated (granted sometimes barmaids ‘forget’ to give me my change or threaten to call Mukiibi, the barrel-chested bouncer, if I don’t stop accusing them of cheating me of change).
I have no problem using the blue-striped taxis and I do not go through the agony of my housemate when cash is tight and he has to part with 20k for 3 days worth (curtailed movements and all) of premium petrol.
Besides having read the, ridiculously few, minimum number of Club Pilsners that can set off a breathalyser, I do not think I would be using my car on weekend evenings when I need it the most.
Actually, between you and me, I am smiling inside. Now I have another excuse to give those who keep asking me why I do not have a car. That’s not cause enough for a smile, I hear some of you say. Just hang on a second.
I am the only guy my age I know who has almost no interest in owning a car. The only times I get to wishing I had a ride are:
a) When there is that ballistic date looming and I know I have well nigh to no future with said date if I do not pull up to her crib behind the wheel of a car (preferably a fancy one).
b) When I have over indulged in the pleasures that are only to be found in Club Pilsner and a quick account balance inquiry (hand in pocket) reveals I have only 5,000 and the cheapest taxi cab to Bugolobi is 10,000 and everyone I know who owns a car seems to have vanished.
However these two scenarios are not that common because, being somewhat socially dysfunctional (if this phrase means something other than what I think it means, don’t tell me), I do not date that often and when I do my dates do not mind sharing the comfort of the 100s of “specials” I part own (by virtue of regular use). I have also developed a nearly superhuman ability to keep tabs on my dimes even at my most inebriated (granted sometimes barmaids ‘forget’ to give me my change or threaten to call Mukiibi, the barrel-chested bouncer, if I don’t stop accusing them of cheating me of change).
I have no problem using the blue-striped taxis and I do not go through the agony of my housemate when cash is tight and he has to part with 20k for 3 days worth (curtailed movements and all) of premium petrol.
Besides having read the, ridiculously few, minimum number of Club Pilsners that can set off a breathalyser, I do not think I would be using my car on weekend evenings when I need it the most.
Museveni has done it again
Museveni has just offered another investor prime property in the city without the courtesy of consulting or informing the major stakeholders. Is it just me or is our President's dishing out of public land getting out of hand.
For all the reasons I had for wanting Kaguta's son out of State House in February, my major peeve with him is how he micromanages everything and the way he is running the country like a personal homestead. He is convinced(actually tries to convince everyone) that nobody else has the the good of the country at heart and therefore he has to perform the thankless task of being in charge of everything-setting university tuition fees, deciding who builds where, offering land to investors (99 year leases and all) et cetera. What hubris!!
The thing that ticks me off most is not so much that the land was offered to an investor (to build an IVF clinic) but the fact that everything was done as a personal directive from the president.The Uganda Investment was directed to facilitate the process. Kitante Primary School, The Ministry of Education (Kitante is a public school) and other actors like the land board were not consulted.
And some people wonder why some of us never believe in his "one more term to consolidate achievements and strengthen institutions" speeches.
Its bad enough that all the wetlands around the city are being gobbled up by bigshots in connivance with corrupt City officials, but having a President who seems intent on ridding Kampala of any open spaces is a bit scary.
Land belonging to, a national broadcaster, two of the biggest free primary schools in the city, a public park and God knows what else, all given away just like that. Its just not right.
For all the reasons I had for wanting Kaguta's son out of State House in February, my major peeve with him is how he micromanages everything and the way he is running the country like a personal homestead. He is convinced(actually tries to convince everyone) that nobody else has the the good of the country at heart and therefore he has to perform the thankless task of being in charge of everything-setting university tuition fees, deciding who builds where, offering land to investors (99 year leases and all) et cetera. What hubris!!
The thing that ticks me off most is not so much that the land was offered to an investor (to build an IVF clinic) but the fact that everything was done as a personal directive from the president.The Uganda Investment was directed to facilitate the process. Kitante Primary School, The Ministry of Education (Kitante is a public school) and other actors like the land board were not consulted.
And some people wonder why some of us never believe in his "one more term to consolidate achievements and strengthen institutions" speeches.
Its bad enough that all the wetlands around the city are being gobbled up by bigshots in connivance with corrupt City officials, but having a President who seems intent on ridding Kampala of any open spaces is a bit scary.
Land belonging to, a national broadcaster, two of the biggest free primary schools in the city, a public park and God knows what else, all given away just like that. Its just not right.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Where is this? K'la back in the day
These are pictures of K'la back in the day. I'd like you guys to tell me from which parts of town they are and what is there now (if anything has been changed).Sunday, July 02, 2006
Uganda Oyee. 2 out of 3 aint bad
It has been a weekend of mixed results sportswise for yours truly.
On the world cup front England was sent packing after a penalty shootout with Portugal. This was bad news for me because as I have indicated somewhere in these pages I have been a supporter of the English team for years now.
In an attempt to get away from the England-haters that were making my life miserable at the Kampala rugby club I decided to relocate to quieter environs to watch the France-Brazil match hoping that the samba boys would be sent packing (I am one of a minority of people who do not feel Brazil, but its for reasons outside their football prowess). Les Bleus did not disappoint and they beat Brazil. I was one of the few very happy people at the end of the match, which "cost" me some friends (people do get overly emotional about football).
The win brought back memories of the 1998 World Cup final where I was one of a handful of France supporters in my local pub. I got into an altercation with a (very drunk) Rwandese patron, who had spent the whole match calling the French "genocidaires", when I told him to lose gracefully and leave irrelevant politics out of football.
HOWEVER, the highlight was being present to watch the grand mauling the Cote d'ivoire rugby team suffered at the hands of the Rugby Cranes (Uganda's national rugby team) at Kyadondo Rugby Football Club on saturday. The scoreline stood at 30-7 by the time the final whistle was blown. This brings Uganda a small step closer to qualifying for the rugby world cup in France next year.
A lot of work still has to be done considering we have a very poor away record (the cranes had lost to Morroco 36-3 a few weeks earlier). But considering the Ivorians held Morroco to a 9-9 draw in Abidjan recently, we stand a chance of putting on a better show against the Morrocans when they visit this sunny city in September.
Uganda wins, France wins and England loses.
Like they say 2 out of three aint bad.
On the world cup front England was sent packing after a penalty shootout with Portugal. This was bad news for me because as I have indicated somewhere in these pages I have been a supporter of the English team for years now.
In an attempt to get away from the England-haters that were making my life miserable at the Kampala rugby club I decided to relocate to quieter environs to watch the France-Brazil match hoping that the samba boys would be sent packing (I am one of a minority of people who do not feel Brazil, but its for reasons outside their football prowess). Les Bleus did not disappoint and they beat Brazil. I was one of the few very happy people at the end of the match, which "cost" me some friends (people do get overly emotional about football).
The win brought back memories of the 1998 World Cup final where I was one of a handful of France supporters in my local pub. I got into an altercation with a (very drunk) Rwandese patron, who had spent the whole match calling the French "genocidaires", when I told him to lose gracefully and leave irrelevant politics out of football.
HOWEVER, the highlight was being present to watch the grand mauling the Cote d'ivoire rugby team suffered at the hands of the Rugby Cranes (Uganda's national rugby team) at Kyadondo Rugby Football Club on saturday. The scoreline stood at 30-7 by the time the final whistle was blown. This brings Uganda a small step closer to qualifying for the rugby world cup in France next year.
A lot of work still has to be done considering we have a very poor away record (the cranes had lost to Morroco 36-3 a few weeks earlier). But considering the Ivorians held Morroco to a 9-9 draw in Abidjan recently, we stand a chance of putting on a better show against the Morrocans when they visit this sunny city in September.
Uganda wins, France wins and England loses.
Like they say 2 out of three aint bad.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Its official, Kony is nuts
Joseph Kony has just granted an interview to a British journalist in which he claims that everything he does, he does on behalf of the spirits. The spirits guide him and give him instructions.Its at time like this that I wish I had the powers to order an all out carpet bombing of his hideouts (which are known) and have this holy spirit rebellion business done with.
If the spirits give orders that lead to the suffering of thousands then I say we silence the medium.
For their sake, at least.
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