girl – nare

Ugawood is behind but the movie titles aren’t helping either

Not a fan of African movies especially those with story lines like its grand ma telling you a story from back from her childhood when the only way they got closest to skype was looking through a pot filled with water not some paid guy and talking back to yourself. Over the last few years cameras have become the in thing and so has been the demand for local content from TV, to newsprint to all forms of media we now even have a Ugandan way of tweeting and facebooking. Problem with these cameras if they are not being used to make good related able Ugandan stories most are taking selfies however the professional ones though some are being for positives though and that’s making films which has given rise to Ugandan film industry though very young some signs are no no no being touted around as UGA WOOD see it’s good to fit into the standard operating procedure of HOLLYWOOD and BOLLYWOOD.

Giant steps in the right direction for a country that specializes in talking about each other however we have a little problem here, the movie titling is way off the mark take for example a movie titled HARD TARGET. Anyone who has watched Western movies long enough would expect such a movie to be littered with fighting scenes, big guns and some of the mark effects instead the movie has a man in suit with pointed shoes holding a begging a demon or spirit to leave a body lying flat on a mat or chair. The body itself has the victim all big eyes popping out of his body and the enhanced effects are of him having a thick layer of Vaseline smudged across his face so he reflects in the camera. In the background are a collection of voices repeatedly saying we won’t go, we won’t go for several minutes.

Next up a title like NO RETREAT NO SURRENDER which over the years has been synonymous with the actor being or operating behind enemy lines however don’t expect that in a Ugandan made movie. No guns, no karate of martial arts in a complicated story line that has that compels you to re watch the movie of how the main actor got behind enemy lines instead what you should expect is a scene in which a woman probably a wife is on the floor seated next to the house girl knee deep in some drab conversation and the only thing not retreating or surrendering about the scene is the fact that the house girl was caught sitting by the camera in an explicit position.

The trailers too are crazy comedy skits reduced to a minute or so that are thrown around on social media. A friend recently sent me a clip titled TEBATUSASULA loosely translated to “we were never paid” and by virtue of its title expect an adrenaline packed show with guns, revenge and everything that makes up the package as to why the victims were never paid. Instead the characters when they swing a kick its visibly one meter from impact but thanks to the poor after effects get their man, the runs look like it’s you baby brother playing with the forward button and when shots are fired using a gun the sound is so bad it’s like someone whistling very close your ear. The bullets on landing the victim spill more blood than the size of the characters head and its always thick red gushing out of the wood. The area they are filming from is never sealed off and you can see by standers wondering what’s up with all these camera people in the area. So instead of going for complicated story lines how about we stick to simple stories that don’t need too much reliance on effects that make the creator, actor and ultimately the one who is going to watch the movie a fool.

Probably to prevent these movie makers should organize pre screenings before these movies are actually released like its being done lately in the music industry by hip hop artists so the target market feels the movie then appropriate changes can changes can be made before hand. This is because the Uganda movie is one of the most protected industries in the country you can easily get a new Hollywood release on the black market in Kampala but not a Ugandan made movie. You even risk prison for even thinking about smuggling one and selling it illegally but the quality they have made does not warrant all this protection.

Desire Luzinda and our stupid celebrities

I once heard someone intimate Uganda has no divas and scoffed when a list was created a couple of years ago of their existence by the very newspaper that is making a killing revealing new tit bits of her nude photo story. I too concur in Uganda there aren’t celebrities however we have people who masquerade as celebrities just because they appear every day in Uganda, the newest videos or are at the airport welcoming back or athletes or collecting free money from religiously blinded Ugandans at random churches in across the country. Desire predicament just shows even those we believe are celebrities aren’t doing themselves any favor whatsoever in their actions and they all don’t seem to learn nothing.

As a musician you would expect her to be the type to product the brand named desire even though one would argue it does not exist but you know it and that’s one of the building blocks of a brand. She should be care who she hangs, who gets to say what when and why but unfortunately not our girls in Uganda especially if they get their little sisters to pen down a collection of random words that are pushed through the systems as songs instead they are quick to sling the love was blinding me anti dot at every issue. You would expect anyone with something to sell would be protecting it jealously and professionally but not anything is done.

There is also the question of manager of a Ugandan musician who is he, what is his role and is their arrangements with these musicians’ contractual agreements. Looking at Desires situation is starting to believe these are long term friends who not to be called groupies act as managers. Speculation says Desires alleged boyfriend had funded her concert to the tune of 100million and was now revenging because she was now referring to him as a crook who wants to rob her well that’s not verified but acts as a pointer to what is happening too many in the music industry in Uganda. Well an organized industry such dealings to go through one channel a manager, company or some sort of legal representation while the musician concentrated on other things not concerning the monetary issues. Instead we have the typical Ugandan situation the boyfriend provides the girl takes off with everything unfortunately for her, she left her photos behind and we got them thanks to something called jilted lovers don’t have brains you do them in the dark we see them during day. Away from the Desire pictures you won’t be surprised to find situations where a musician fires a manager and the manager turns and asks how he fires me if he doesn’t pay me or we have no contract between us.

Then we have the legal system built to punish people but never actually punish anyone apart from the germs in the mouth of the person reminding us what the law says as they throw around blind threats. In Luzinda, all it has done is remind us Desire deserves 10 years in jail and there are no questions of who is the real culprit here; where the crime was committed instead all our leaders are busy blanketing punishment on everyone. It shows the mistrust we have the judiciary no lawyers even those who have something to protect don’t care about getting themselves lawyers so how do you expect those who have nothing to indulge in such luxuries. Look at the west where sex tapes are rife clever musicians use the tongues of lawyers to delay the release of such nude pictures and videos until a certain agreement monetary or compensation is reached and if money is to be made off the figures have to be known. In Desires case you have a girl stuck at 25 years with a daughter half that age fighting for her respect against a man who is staring at pictures in his phone with nothing but his stupidity to prevent him from throwing the pictures onto the internet.

A sweet stupid Ugandan girl

The time check was 12:30 am in the eastern town of Tororo and the day was the 1st of January 2014 at rock classic hotel and the guest performers were two divas at least by Ugandan standards Grace nakimera and Desire Luzinda see our divas have a habit of pulling off disappearing acts frequently. Grace was the main act and Desire the opening act where she performed her then monster heat we are fitting. Despite having listened to the song like a million times i had never recognized who the female voice on the track crooning away alongside the dynamic duo of radio and weasel was. Her performance was short and largely forgettable all i remember doing was holding revelers hand who screamed for an opportunity to run their greedy fingers down her curves while pulling down her short outfit like she was reminding we drunk fellows how voluptuous she was then mysteriously disappeared like she had come but not now posing on the bed, the birth tub and while v-ing the forbidden fruit.

It had been a while since her other song had an effect on me where she sings about fooling with a lover typical of Ugandan love songs in which she tells her better half the haters go get mad seeing us playing with each other. However the video had more emphasis on her curves than anything else unfortunately this real life song it’s her they fooling on. Several of her photos emerged on the internet sparking a challenge if we would challenge her possesses which morally wrong but to this date still wondering what happened that fateful night. Wonder how many girls out there are actually getting blinded by love to strip at least the UCU sex tape girl claimed it was her ambition to strip for the camera instead desire rubbed shoulders with paper bags around the country and to the extent she was doing concerts for charity at least by the glossy adverts that lined the streets of Kampala this year however even that wouldn’t hide the village that sound bite done for radio ads was not black and white as she try to sell it to us.

At the stage even though my eyed getting half closed because of the Guinness bottle my sixth for the night she still looked sweet. Her waist narrow the heaps over flowing with godliness looking at the pictures cant still can’t explain which part of her voluptuous body holds the brain.
Having seen the predicament of Cindy another celebrity one wonders do these girls ever learn, why are they so desperate for validation to strip for the camera and pose as far only for her i hope she took the purported 100m they guy claims her gave her otherwise she is a sweet stupid girl who now has to deal with the mess of knowing we all know what she carries behind those nice clothes.

Shock As Man Suffers Endless Eréctions After Having S3x

Yaka and our hatred for change #UgBloggers7Days

Transparentised version of Image:Gluehlampe 01 KMJ.jpg (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Problem is you Ugandans don’t like change to the extent you will even fight tooth and nail if suggestions of change are thrown your way take the honorable Amam Mbabazi his calls for change in the NRM have forced him to lose the prime minister and his secretary general post is in the balance screamed a wannabe politician at the taxi stage in Bujuuko. Directly above him Umeme officers were installing Yaka! An electricity billing pre-paid solution in which you don’t have uniformed men knocking on our doors in the name of billing your energy consumption for the past 30 days. The excitement started with the landlords as they saw it as an opportunity to pass on the electricity to us the users i.e. the tenants and given it’s the Umeme officers who came looking for them at their doors it elevated their egos even more. The landlord in turn quickly passed a note around insisting everyone should get his own Yaka! meter so he manages their own power all said with a grin as he locked the door behind him.

However the party was short lived in the evening several of the shops around blacked out and word got around the Yaka! Machines we blinking red and the 30kilowatts left behind by Umeme burnt out as quickly as the time Umeme had spent installing them. Apparently the many fridges, TV’s, charging systems had drained the small machine and as more shops blacked out came the complaints and so the finger pointing started

‘These Umeme people are thieves this Yaka! Business is foolery’

‘The Yaka! Drains the power like a cheap hoe sipping money from your pocket’ complained another

‘These are the end times now the devil is passing through machines supplied by Umeme repent your ways or perish’ screamed a street preacher

While others complained about the meter some asked about the renew process so where do we buy this Yaka! Business?

You will have to take a taxi to Nakulabye the nearest Umeme office to buy the Yaka!’ which was met with disappointment

‘What that’s too expensive’ screamed Nabukenya one of the harshest most complicated landlords who owned nearly half of Bujuuko rental units. Women too were not forgotten and one came air her view

‘I had the man say you could renew using mobile money’

‘Mh how do you do that woman?’

‘Are you expecting anything sensible from a woman selling charcoal’ sneered a man in his mid-twenties with dirty boots who was a brick maker in the town at the swamp

‘Be very careful with your tongue that’s my wife’ shot one who had been very quiet all this time and all the men agreed to handle the man’s wife with more respect. It wasn’t the first time men in the area had fought over women just the night before two men had fought after the other had referred to the others wife as a hoe. To clear this Yaka! Menace the men agreed to make it a point and early bird to Nakulabye in the morning to resolve the Yaka! Menace that was eating up every shop in the village and building by building. The popcorn lady had gone off midway in the process of preparing popcorn; a barber had left a client’s head shaved half way which made him look like a fancy footballer and just a few hours before an announcement had passed by

‘We are remaining with 20kws’

Screamed Mukiibi the landlord’s first son. He came with all this excitement written all over his face then minutes later he was back this time with sadness there are 14kws left and the light before swallowing very hard. Aysha a tenant who deals specifically in butunda, munansi and needs the fridge full time asked

‘What light??’

‘The one on the Yaka!’

‘What’s wrong with light?’

‘It’s red’

‘Meaning?’

‘It’s going to switch any time from now’

‘And how do you know this’

‘The people who installed it told us that’

Before he would even finish the woman ran back to the house switched on the blender, ruffled through a cupboard throwing kaveera around as she looked for oranges, passion fruits and a clean bucket of water. She swiped the glistening knife through the oranges and threw them in the blender and quashed them into juice. She loaded the juice into the backed and switched on the fridge and life came back to normal. One customer after another they lined up ordering juice and munansi until one customer complained that the juice wasn’t cold enough. As she stared down at fridge she noticed the fridge light was off. She quickly ran next door to the internet cafe

‘What is it?’ asked the cafe girl

‘Is power is off’ she asked under her breath

‘I was also wondering the computers just went off. I thought one of the sockets had blown as usual however even the bulb is not lighting.’

‘Well let’s wait for Mukiibi’ suggested Aysha, ‘his been passing here all the time besides he has the habit of switching of playing with the electricity connections’

‘Hope so’ concluded the cafe girl

As Aysha walked out of the cafe auntie Chalani the tailor who sub rented the verandah asked in Luganda

‘What is wrong with the two of you it’s like you have seen a ghost?’

‘Hope it’s not have you seen Mukiibi?’

‘No’ came the reply from auntie Chalani ‘i think his with his bricks behind the house

As they stood at the cafe door debating what was wrong with the power Aysha spotted Mukiibi entering their house armed with a plate over flowing with beans and posho

‘Mukiibi’ screamed Aysha ‘come ko kalittle’

‘Let me put this food in the house and come’ he replied

Minutes back he came back pulling on his blue jacket while dragging his shoes made from used car tyres.

‘Have you been playing with power’ bellowed Aysha pointing a finger at him

‘No’ he replied calmly ‘but i thought i had told you

‘Told me what’ asked Aysha

‘The Yaka! Is finished’ Mukiibi shot back

‘What are we to do then’ asked the cafe girl

‘Wait for muzeeyi’ was Mukiibi answer then he walked away while whistling and fingering his phone

‘So what are you going to do’ auntie Chalani

‘Don’t know wait for the café owner and see if his got any solutions he usually does’

No sooner had they finished chatting than a popular land dealer came whistling armed with papers inscribed broadly with the words “REPUBLIC OF UGANDA LAND TITLE”

He greeted politely and asked

‘Nyabo is there photocopy??’

‘Sorry there is no power’

‘How come the other shops are lighting even the video hall people are watching movies’ he said

‘Am told our Yaka! is finished’ the cafe girl answered

‘And what is this thing called Yaka!?’ the man asked

‘Well it’s the new solution of paying for power but come back maybe tomorrow’ she said as he walked away very disappointed muttering now i have to ‘travel to Kyebando‘

With the boredom creeping the cafe girl carried her chair to auntie they started detailing there impending Idi Aduha celebrations and the impending slaughtering of animals as Allah asked it to be done. Auntie Chalani promised to carry a dish packed with meat for her but she suggested it would be better in a polythene bag to which they all broke into laughter. As they chatted the café owner passed by armed with a jerry can and asked

‘Why are we off?’

That night the cafe closed very early and in pitch blackness while directly opposite shops were bubbly and it was business as usual with money switching hands accompanied with

‘Why are those shops off?’

Others wondered have they been disconnected’ however most were not comforting at all and instead slang mud at the landlord ‘that is weaked and his not even caring for his tenants’ but am sure he will demand for his rent at the end of the month. Aysha complained that man has not even bothered to explain why power is off if i had it my way i would shift to another house. The late night customers at Aysha’s shop were not merciful any little bit and suggested Aysha and other tenants organize a strike since it’s what all leaders hear and respond to.

First thing in the morning the café owner moved to the landlord’s house with his mind swirling with thoughts and bulging with questions that he planned to offload at the landlord’s door steps. These thoughts had been hardened by the past history of the landlord and as he stared at the landlords behind bent over in figure seven heaping charcoal in small plastics while her second born was at the extreme end sweeping the dusty compound one incident stood out clearly. Next to the building housing the café was graffiti of skimpily dressed women invitingly holding glasses of what looked like alcohol, their chests screaming to the opposite sex to come and touch away there fantasies behind them were chain smoking young men with cigarettes sticking out of their mouths bent over playing a game of pool. The other occupants of the scene were holding pool table cues waiting on their turn while the third man in the picture was holding a big brown bottle of alcohol in one hand and the other was wrapped around a woman’s shapely waist her hands resting on his shoulders while her ears were leaning next to the man’s ear like she was whispering something. All around were speakers blaring music and other figures that completed the graffiti were in oddly shapes suggesting they were enjoying the time of their lives dancing away to the blaring music. This was what remained of the once magnificent bar that occupied this part of the house however it’s ending had not been smooth.

Auntie Duuka had told me how the landlord had excused himself of all the arrangements he had with the bar proprietor and claimed he wasn’t paying his monthly rent nor the umeme bills that were now running into their millions. To throw him out he had even called for the intervention of police to evict him from the house and so she had suggested that when he got tired of a tenant he would bring up all sorts of excuses and load them onto your doorstep and looking at the power shortage that was hitting the café I couldn’t help but shiver at the thought probably this was part of his plan to throw us out.

‘Morning Sebbo’ a soft female voice interrupted my thought

‘Morning Nyabo’ I answered quickly shaking off any would be embarrassments that she would think of in me standing behind him. ‘Where is the landlord?’

‘His inside’ came her answer as she placed a black plastic pail on the ground rubbed her feet against each other then moved inside to call her husband

As she came back she went on a short rant accusing me of ignorance and never minding, telling how during the installation of Yaka! she had interacted with the installation officers who had reduced the price to only one month’s rent which stood at 150,00 Uganda shillings. she then went on to sub consciously defend her husband’s actions of not quickly putting back power excusing that he didn’t have enough to fund the installation of each house that number to six in total and instead she advised the tenants to procure their own Yaka! devices or forever sleep in darkness she threw all this information at the cafe owners feet then disappeared to quickly go back to creating little heaps of charcoal that she sold at her stall in front of their house and the café owner wouldn’t help but wonder does she know what it means to raise money to pay rent monthly.

The café owner stood at the verandah for close to five minutes wondering how a man would watch away while others suffered in the darkness like renting his premises was a crime committed by the tenants. As he cooked up the most dramatic way to announce his disappointment to the landlord his thoughts well-choreographed were hijacked by the landlord himself.

He crept from his back so silent like a cat and announced ‘didn’t I tell you to buy meters?’ the question threw the café owners well-choreographed speech onto the wind and he was put on a lecture bench once again by the unwashed face of the landlord saliva foam at the corners of his mouth was not helping at all.

‘I told you these Yaka! People were coming and told everyone to find information and you all acted like it didn’t matter’

‘Now here you are looking at me with an accusing eye yesterday my boy came and told you the Yaka! Was remaining with few units instead of saving you all turned on your power consuming gadgets’ as he went on the café owner tried to fight back and kill the crap.

‘So what’s the way forward?’ he asked his voice fighting back the resentment that he had built towards the landlord

‘Every one of you should get Yaka! My wife says its only 150,000 Uganda shillings he asked the men installing them’

‘So how am I going to Umeme to ask them to connect to a building that is not mine?’ the café owner shot back

‘MH just get the forms I will sign for you as your landlord’ he responded with a shrug then went on about how he only uses only a TV, and two lights even though his house close to three bedrooms. As he went on about his advanced energy saving skills the café owner wouldn’t help but feel disgusted at the landlord mumbling to himself had slipped his hands into his pocket, pulled out the balance of the rent and slipped away leaving the landlord mumbling to himself. As he turned away he noticed one the tenants had just arrived in their grey Ipsum.

As he walked away he wouldn’t help but ask himself of all the questions that he had failed to ask the landlord face to face. Was this his nature to ask himself these questions than the people who are supposed to give these answers? It wasn’t the first time that had happened to him but it was usual occurrence he had even failed to ask his girlfriend for sex directly and instead opted to use his mobile phone to do so. As he walked away an idea came to him he had an uncle who worked with Umeme. Pulled out his phone and dialed his number which was quickly covered replaced by the uncles picture a scrappy looking black and white figure glowing at the Centre from his nose upwards. As he stared at the phones small screen a tiny timer started to count starting at zero.

‘Hello Hello Hello uncle’ the café owner screamed shaking the phone in an attempt to get extra signal strength bars on the phone

‘Yes how have you been?’ his uncle asked

He didn’t hear the question and went straight to the point screaming into the ear piece since the area had a reputation of having very poor network even though it was just few meters from the city

‘Uncle uncle I want to get Yaka!’ he screamed back

‘Yaka!?? For what’ he asked back confused

‘For the place I work from’ he replied

‘Problem is I don’t even know where you work from in the first place’ he replied

‘Nansana’ came the quick reply and he had his next question lined up until he heard the reply

‘Well go to Nakulabye offices with a handwritten application saying you want to be connected to Yaka! three passport photos and a letter from the LC1’ he answered before the phone died leaving the café owned more dazed than helped. All along he thought he would by-pass the beuaracracy of the Yaka! offices instead he had been dumped on the front door like all the miserable faces that search for electricity connection for days with no answer the sight of that man forging wiring permits just to get connected to power was a sight he would never forget. That call was the last blow and he switched off the phone to go moonlighting on his other job alongside the café until his head was clear enough to get around the mess he was currently in.

In the evening he jumped off the taxi his heart anxious as to whether there had been a change at the café. He wondered whether any of his neighbors had taken the initiative to pay for Yaka! so business would go on s usual or was everyone passing on the blame to each other like a typical Ugandan highly skilled in implementing the by stander theorem of all theory in the world. as he moved one shop after the other bulbs shorn brighter than Rihanna’s forehead smeared with a thick coat of Vaseline, even the welders who are the perennial consumers of power were hard at work and so were the poultry farm inputs with their heavy stench hanging all over the place where lighting brighter than ever. As he negotiated around the corner of the poultry farm inputs his heart started to beat even louder to extent he would actually here it beating one, two three and more times. His fears were conformed when he negotiated the last corner past the LC1 chairman’s home and noticed the whole place was in darkness since the back light of the landlords house was not lighting. With his fears all but confirmed he moved with an added stride in his movements that increased step after step only to find all the tenants standing at their front doors like war refugees fearing for the worst inside the buildings. The first door was tightly locked under key and lock, the next door was open but in pitch blackness and all one would see was the pink light of the charcoal stove lighting in the back room, next door was the café that was locked since the café girl that day was informed her lovely day off till the Yaka! Mess had been cleared. Lastly was Aysha who was standing next to her door behind her a dull yellow flickering light that was creating shadows dance on the walls every time she moved in to serve a customer munansi or Katunda. As he scanned the environment and compared their side of the darkness with the opposite she saw him and cooked up a conversation before he would ask.

‘Welcome back to darkness’ she announced

‘Thanks for keeping it even darker’ he tried to lighten the moment but he wouldn’t hold back. He wanted to know what the landlord’s next move about power was since it was the second day they were sleeping with no work once again.

‘Nothing’ was her calm answer ‘all he does is move in and move out of his house only sending his son to keep dogging us around’ she explained ‘I think his spying on us’ she concluded while giggling

‘MH and the other people’ he asked

‘What people’ she inquired all confused ‘you mean the other tenants’

‘Yes’ and before she would answer one of the tenants mama Henry walked up to them armed with a chair to join the conversation

‘What did the landlord tell you I saw you giving him money’ she asked

‘ohh I clearing my remaining rent fees’ he answered ‘however I tried to negotiate if it were possible for us all to get sub meters however he insists on each of us getting yaka’ the café owner explained

‘If that’s the case then we are in trouble’ she muttered to herself

‘Why’ Aysha asked inquisitively

‘My husband did the math of getting Yaka! And it will cost each of us a minimum of close to 600,000 Uganda shillings’ she cried

‘Wow’ the café owner screamed

‘And that’s minus the time you waste getting connected to Yaka! Thanks to the beaucacry of Ugandan system’

‘I know’ chipped Aysha before she went on a roll

‘But that man is unfair, I know of a house up there with 10 rental units and they all have Yaka! As their source of power however not all of them have solido from the pole to their houses. All the landlord did was buy the initial yak of 100,000 then installed sub meters into each rental unit and all those who don’t want to pay up are automatically disconnected’

‘Why does he insist on we getting our own Yaka!?’ Asked Mama Henry

‘Because he doesn’t want to lose’ replied Aysha

‘Even then even if we to buy meters to fit into the houses what if I wake up next and am shifting do I have to go with the sub meter?’ asked the café owner

‘I don’t know however if history is to be followed the last two occupants didn’t have luck in carrying them away’ said Aysha

‘I remember Sajjabi the man can mean to be evil he even called Police to evict the poor man over the issue of the meter he had bought himself’ as the two women concurred on the last incident like it happened yesterday.

‘So what is the way forward’ asked the café owner getting frustrated with all this little talk in the dark corners ‘ suggest we call him in a meeting to iron out these little differences’

You are right but what shall we tell him given he insists that he consumes very little power in comparison to the rest of us?’

‘Everyone should get a sub meter including him’ suggested the café owner

‘I am with you on that point’ before they dispersed to get the other tenants to the venue of the meeting. Aysha got busy calling Hajjat who was the newest tenant and fat very quiet lady, Mama Henry got to call her husband to the meeting while the café owner confronted the landlord and his son to the meeting. He went to the mothers stall and inquired and was reliably informed that he had just returned and was at the back to which the café owner reliably informed his son to call him for a short meeting organized by his tenants to iron out the power crisis. The tenants arrived and took their sits on the verandah in front of the café with the lights off except those in Aysha. after ten minutes of waiting Aysha brought up a conspiracy theory saying he was scared of his own tenants that’s why how was not coming for the meeting to which we quickly sent his son to go look for him and the only excuse he would raise was the fact the he didn’t know where his dad was and was not even interested in calling his dad. Then after another twenty minutes he did arrive with half his shirt UN buttoned to which he was invited to the meeting and it kicked off. The tenants agreed to raise each 10,000 Uganda shillings so as to pay as the crisis was being sorted and on collecting it another excuse came up. No one knew how to pay for the power except through going to the Yaka! offices in Nakulabye to which the café owner reliably informed them that was not the case all you did was credit your mobile money account and then pay for the bills through making mobile money transactions. Initially it caused a stir as the tenant’s squabbled saying that was impossible and even one said they had to head to Nakulabye to recharge their Yaka! When it ran out however the café owner insisted that’s how it’s done. The tenants raised 40,000 and the landlord added a little 5,000 Uganda shillings and then came the step by step process of crediting the Yaka! with money. As the meeting went on the landlords son was instructed to process that to which he disappeared in the dark as he ran towards a mobile money outlet ran by a lousy know it all guy called Busulwa who did more talking than serving customers.

Back to the meeting the landlord started by reminding everyone how he had asked each member to get a meter but they had ignored his calls and with Yaka! Now available everyone was being forced to jump on or be locked away in darkness. He spoke for close to five minutes with none of the tenants replying then one of the Tata Henry interrupted him by saying,

‘Thank you for everything you have said however you know each Yaka! Needs its own solido?’

‘No no no you have the wrong information’ answered the landlord ‘my wife asked and they told her its only 150,000 which you can all afford’ as he pulled out his best version of an evil laugh

‘Yes that’s 150,000 however that are only the Yaka! You will need to buy solido then earth the place where it will be connected and that’s before you factor in the waiting period for Yaka! To be finally installed’ he explained as the other tenants listened intently nodding their heads periodically

‘Before we know it would be close to a month before we can even see the light’ he concluded stammering each word as he spoke

‘By the way do you want your house to be filled with solido wire connections since each tenant will be connecting power to his place??’ chipped in the café owner as the landlords evil smile dried away and he started to look down as usual

‘Me I don’t but that idea’ chipped in muzeeyi’s wife ‘it’s very expensive for us and time consuming now like me should I pull a solido to the container I work from??’

‘I think the best solution s fir each one of us to get sub meters I mean even Nabukenya’s house uses them and yet she’s the most complicated landlord’ Aysha said

‘We all buy that but what happens when I decide to shift? Do I have to go with it since its I who bought it?’ asked the café owner

‘That should have been the case but since we have decided to lose I suggest you leave it in the house’ said mama henry ‘I mean I don’t think the landlord wants his house demolished every time a tenant is leaving?’

‘Well I think that will be the case’ said Tata Henry

‘Then be it said the landlord disappointment written all over his face’ the very meters he had banned from the house were the only ones that were practical for use in the house and it was agreed each tenant was to contribute 40,000 to acquire them and the landlord was to fund the process of installing them as well as acquiring the much needed wires.

What had started as a much needed up grade on the power installation that would create great peace of mind for electricity users had led to the closure of businesses as tenants are forced to become electricity conscious so as to consume little power. Fridges are now running for only a maximum of 3 hours a day and those who have deep freezers run them every three days and once they get iced are switched off by the owners. Electricity guzzlers like blenders are on the market for cheap since no one wants to use them at all in the town of a couple hundred people. The habit of landlords poking wires into electricity connections has also died away and so are the Umeme workers who used to patrol the area looking for easy money from those who they thought were ‘stealing’ power. How a technology can make you all electricity consumption conscious still beats my understanding but not Yaka! To give everyone in Bujuuko a scare with its habit of jumping off when empty until we users learnt to use it without jumping off.

face book aint dead #UgBloggers7Days

Facebook logo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A couple of months and the last few days friends have been hiring up my daily asking why i aint active on facebook any more. My quick snap answer has been that facebook is out dated and no longer the in thing. Now hold there and step in me the business man and guess what am selling the most…..opening new facebook pages for people.
Each day i get new faces asking me to guide them through how to join facebook. Excuse me sir; well done i want to open a facebook page for my school, myself or some poultry farm he just opened across the road.
They even pay an extra dime despite the fact facebook screams ‘free…..and it will always be……’ on the home page and they can all read or i presume since its there for all to see. It gets even more interesting when track drivers, builders and all the other lot come through asking you please check for me this person on the facebook. One lady came to me armed with an old 2000 shilling note folded in her crasp with fear painted across her face,

‘Excuse me sir, can you track for me this number’

‘what number i asked’

‘She then went ahead to read out a number and then reminded me how someone had reliably informed her it was very much possible to do it on facebook’ that’s the amount of power many have in facebook.

Unfortunately some don’t get what they want on facebook especially the names since many in my town are known only by their fist names or last names and at worst case scenario a nickname coupled with our poor education spellings are always off the mark. The comes the fake pronunciation which ends with facebook screaming no results reason being the person has never even opened a facebook account but just because he can access internet on his phone he assumes his registered already. The persons takes a deep deep breath before picking up there phone, calls the person but because the name is complicated and his mother tongue so strong he will hand you the phone to make sense of the rest.
The girl at the end of the phone we searching up meanwhile has a complicated name something like ‘…treno…..trisha or tricia……..’ that’s complicated right..cause i cant make of the names not only is it foreign but concocted too by combining two or more names from her favorite soap TV characters. Am scared of failing yet this man has all his faith in me like am technology god sleeve lobs i mean Steve jobs.
Hit search and am scared nothing will show up as facebook suggestions are screaming something else. Hit search the first time facebook knows no one by the names treno…..tricia. Disappointment clouds the guys face i see disappointment eating in my skunk but quick thinking bites really quick how about if we add an onto treno and alas her face pops up. The guy screams ear to ear meanwhile me am wondering whats the excitement these are just facebook pictures we are talking about here and not the real thing.
Her pictures meanwhile are studio poses with heavy touch of editing but this guy is convinced she is the one and instructs me to clear any thing concerning her when some dude he works with walks in which i oblige…..i need the dime you know.
But what’s he hiding just as i searched her up i bet anyone could discover her but wait her biological name is not tricia nor is it trenon and none of those loser guys out there is go find out. Now i see facebook you still carry few surprises for many who cant believe they are on the internet and now i have a daily customer just like that…….rent is covered just like that.

face book aint dead #UgBloggers7Days

‘Excuse me sir, can you track for me this number’

‘what number i asked’

Why i only return to a barbershop if he gives my beard a good cut

Karl Valentin as the barber in Mysteries of a Barbershop (1923). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Just had my periodic dose of hair cut nothing fancy like the Balotelli inspired Mohawks or the Arturo Vidal random cuts just a simple mop over my head by the barbers machine something that I call marine omukulu loosely translated “old marine” after the American seals. Like any ordinary barbershop downtown it’s littered with talk on all topics from relationships, family, and economy to anything abstract remember the rappers wrote their best rhythms at the barber’s chair that usually complements the random pictures hanging on the walls in the barbershop many carrying pictures with hairs I highly doubt the barber can cut even on his best days.

While there, a female customer dominated the conversation especially given her sex and the fact the all the barbershop workers were male so there was a chance every male ego tried to throw a random line not to go un-noticed it would work as a starting point next time you meet her at the local bar. She spoke of several things until she made an analysis that I have come to think and presume is true to save the least and runs through the male gene we are basically not loyal humans especially to brands like females my auntie has the same saloon lady since her days from university and that was over ten years ago. Back to the barbershop, the lady concluded the only time a man will return to a barber shop is if his having his beard shaped but otherwise there is a fat chance we will end up anywhere as long as there is a free seat, a working machine and a barber very much willing barber to cut my hair. Her reasoning men take care of only their beards nothing else

I had never thought about it in a such a way for starters am from that group that needs reminding to have my hair cut so I will probably run to the nearest open barbershop. My girlfriend on the other hand is the type to have a visit to the saloon marked clearly on her to-do-list for the month and it appears in our monthly budget while I only cut if there happens to be loose change from the shopping basket.

The price too plays a great deal in my luck of disloyalty to the barbershop unlike my girl I get no discounts for sticking it out with one barber because she gets opportunities to have special prices on new hair styles while me my cut is legendary and I got it from my dad. I remember many years ago every time we did go to the barbershop with dad and that was after days after days of complaints from mum over our shabby heads even when we tried our very best to comb, All he did was tell the barber to take it off without bargaining or anything. If we tried to bargain with the barber to shape it according to our then-stars, he would clearly shout you are not a woman put your head and we go home this makes it hard for me to be seen bargaining at the local barbershop. Also the barbershop there is so much scrutiny at what you doing, wearing and who you are fucking something that I don’t fancy at all so I rather head in and out of a barbershop un noticed and un seen especially if you are not doing well in the getting rich or die trying department no wonder women leave looking very confident after a new hairdo while for a man there is a chance you will leave wondering why all your age-ments are leaving you lagging behind on the road to riches since the barber will run you through a long list of who is building the four storey building at the corner, who just married his newest bride paying 45 cattle while you are gathering the confidence to even meet your girlfriends parents and future in-laws, will be contesting so instead of daring to have my confidence punctured by all this talk I rather visit a new random barber where it will be strictly business not conversation.

Lastly the only time probably I would be loyal to a barbershop would be maybe superstition if I get props for my new beard there is chance I will always return to the barbershop because even when I cut my hair to much the latest trend I never get any praise from my girl something I have to do every time she visits the saloon. If I visit you barbershop and happen to get some that weekend there is a fat chance I will be sticking to your barbershop however that relationship would end the moment I get mishandled, get cut by the machine or a rumor runs riot that Ebola is running through your café.

Prolific lyricist Gerry Goffin, who penned hits like ‘(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman,’ dies at 75

Gerry Goffin, a prolific and multi-dimensional lyricist who with his then-wife and songwriting partner Carole King wrote such hits as “Will You Love Me Tomorrow,” “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman,” “Up on the Roof” and “The Loco-Motion,” died early Thursday at his home in Los Angeles. He was 75.

His wife, Michelle Goffin, confirmed his death.

Goffin, who married King in 1959, penned more than 50 top 40 hits, including “Pleasant Valley Sunday” for the Monkees, “Some Kind of Wonderful” for the Drifters and “Take Good Care of My Baby” by Bobby Vee. Goffin was able to pen jokey lyrics or achingly sad ones, and he did it for solo artists and multiple voices.

Louise Goffin, one of his daughters, said her dad “wore his heart on his sleeve, and I am deeply blessed to have had a father who could so easily make the world laugh and cry with just a spiral notebook and a pen.”

King and Goffin divorced in 1968, but Goffin kept writing hits, including “Savin’ All My Love for You” for Whitney Houston. Goffin and King were inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 1987 and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame three years later.

King said in a statement that Goffin was her “first love” and had a “profound impact” on her life.

“Gerry was a good man with a dynamic force, whose words and creative influence will resonate for generations to come,” King said. “His words expressed what so many people were feeling but didn’t know how to say.”

Goffin’s lyrics could veer from romantic to defiant to silly. In “Will You Love Me Tomorrow,” he touchingly wrote, “Tonight with words unspoken/You say that I’m the only one/But will my heart be broken?/When the night meets the morning sun?”

But there was an undercurrent of sadness in his song “Up on the Roof,” where the lyrics go:

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“When this old world starts getting me down/and people are just too much for me to face/I climb way up to the top of the stairs/and all my cares just drift right into space.”

The Goffin-King love affair is the subject of the Tony Award-nominated musical “Beautiful: The Carole King Musical” on Broadway. King, while backing the project and with one of their daughters acting as a producer, had avoided seeing it for months because it dredged up sad memories. She finally sat through it in April.

The musical shows the two composing their songs – and competing against the formidable rival team of Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil – at Aldon Music, the Brill Building publishing company in Manhattan that also employed Neil Sedaka, Howard Greenfield and Carole Bayer Sager.

The show ends just as King is enjoying fame for her groundbreaking solo album “Tapestry.” Though it also alleges Goffin’s womanizing and mental instability were causes of the breakup, he happily attended the opening of the musical. A spokeswoman for the show said the cast would dedicate Thursday night’s performance to Goffin.

After his divorce from King, Goffin garnered an Academy Award nomination with Michael Masser for the theme to the 1975 film “Mahogany” for Diana Ross. He also earned a Golden Globe nomination for “So Sad the Song” in 1977 from the film “Pipe Dreams.”

Goffin was born in Brooklyn in 1939 and was working as an assistant chemist when he met King at Queens College.

“She was interested in writing rock `n’ roll, and I was interested in writing this Broadway play,” Goffin told Vanity Fair in 2001. “So we had an agreement where she would write (music) to the play if I would write (lyrics) to some of her rock `n’ roll melodies. And eventually it came to be a boy-and-girl relationship. Eventually I began to lose heart in my play, and we stuck to writing rock `n’ roll.”

A whirlwind romance led to a marriage and their first hit, when she was only 17 and he was 20, “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” for the Shirelles, which a pregnant King helped write while suffering morning sickness.

Both quit their day jobs to focus on music, and other songs followed, including “Up on the Roof” for the Drifters, “One Fine Day” for the Chiffons and “Chains,” which was later covered by the Beatles. Goffin also collaborated with Mann on the hit “Who Put the Bomp (In the Bomp Bomp Bomp Bomp).” King and Goffin wrote “The Loco-Motion,” which eventually was sung by their one-time baby sitter Little Eva.

Goffin continued co-writing songs, including “I’ve Got to Use My Imagination” recorded by Gladys Knight and the Pips, and “It’s Not the Spotlight,” recorded by Rod Stewart. In the 1980s and ’90s, he co-wrote “Tonight I Celebrate My Love,” a duet recorded by Peabo Bryson and Roberta Flack, “Miss You Like Crazy” sung by Natalie Cole” and the Whitney Houston mega-hit “Savin’ All My Love for You.”

“Gerry was one of the greatest lyricists of all time and my true soul brother. I was privileged to have had him in my personal and professional life,” said composer and pianist Barry Goldberg, who wrote many later songs with Goffin.

Goffin is survived by his five children and his wife.

From me to you….it can make us all stupid one time too many

First Love 432489a (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So a client passed by late in the night to type out this heartfelt letter to his lover calling an end to their steamy romance. As he typed i paid no attention until i read through all that he was saying…read to your heats and pass judgment

I know you’re hurting and you have been hurting so much for along time now. But to think it’s all on my side is unfair. You have been not only my girl friend but also my best friend among all the people I know. There’s nothing I can do to make the tears and the worries or the nightmares you have made me go through. All I can do is to be here and hold a hand on my chin thinking of the great love I had for you from the first time I set my eyes upon you. I ain’t meaning that I no longer adore you but I can’t continue feeling this way because the way you make me hurt is to much beyond which I can with hold. Possibly you’re too much for me to handle also to continue pretending to be in love with you is a humiliation to my personality.

We have been treading softly in this journey of love under mining the issue of compatibility I have been holding up my patience expecting you to change but what I have seen is that some things are inborn perhaps it’s the reason why you will never change. Literally you are a deceit and are not afraid to tell that to you. This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do is to tell you that the known as you and me forever is now left in the books of history .Being in love with you has been a great fountain of joy and happiness to my life since my existence

All in all I wish you peace