Nothing happened

When we completed our senior six exams,we had already planned to go dance in Ambiance discotheque,to celebrate the end of Secondary school.
So,evening found us rather engaged,toasting to a new life at University,and enjoying our new found freedom.
When night came,we were still dancing and drinking.But it was also then that we realized some boys are sharper than others. They had female company. In the same hotel. Now don't you get your hopes up,my daughters read this blog.So there shall be no X rated descriptions.
But with such interesting species joining the party,things got a little hotter. Remember ours was a boys only school. Of course they claimed it was all just coincidence,nothing planned. Even in the morning when the same people were sighted doing the walk of shame,it was just our imaginations playing,we were assured. And then that famous line,'nothing happened'. We are just friends after all.

My turn was to come years later,in Mombasa.
I shared a cottage with this guy who so loves his bitter. Well,he earned a living brewing it.By some coincidence,my girlfriend,now my wife,had been booked in the next cottage,with other girls. Mutual friends.Or mutual haters I should correct.
Now,I have issues with heat.Mombasa heat or is it humidity is not good for my health. I can't drink,unless I do that from the pool. I tend to sleep early.
So after just a few drinks,I was in bed when everyone else was simply starting their night.
It is at that time that room mate decides to throw a cottage party to polish up our stock of Uganda Waragi. He came with company. I had the only key.
Now,the way those cottages were built,everyone looks into everyone's door way.So when party people came by to my cottage,huffing from the heat,longing for the Waragi to quench their thirst,they found the cottage and liqueur store locked.
Those were the days before roaming,or it must have been expensive so there was no need to use it.If someone traveled to Kenya,they instead bought a Kenyan line,instead of using their Ugandan line. So my known line was off.
They knocked and called. I was dead asleep.
They called my name. Nothing.
They banged the glass doors at the balcony,only nearby monkeys yawned.
The neighbors woke up instead.
Trust the girls in the next cottage.
" He must have binned you.That guy must have imported."
Girl friend was woken up to come see the drama. A good night to meet your boyfriend's other girlfriend,they reasoned. The crowd grew at my door.
After a few minutes,girlfriend decides to call my Safaricom line,the one I was using for the trip. It rang

the first time.Then the second. Then the third time I was awakened by this incessant noise only to find the phone ringing.
I pick up. I open the door to be welcomed by over thirty people surging into the cottage.
In my boxers,rubbing my eyes out of sleep,I did not understand why the excitement.I only listened long enough to hear wa-ra-gi,dr-i-nk,pa-r-ty before I blacked out again even as the party went on.
Seeing me alone in the cottage caused a lot of disappointed faces,who went ahead to search the bathroom and drawers for some invisible girl who had been keeping me busy.
I guess it was this moment where I was expected to say,'Nothing happened'.But I was alone.

But life never cheats any one of opportunity. My full moment came in Bagamoyo a few years later.
I shared at cottage with another drunk who insisted that we throw midnight parties every day.So we did.
Four days consistently.
On the third day,I was done in by the heat.So when everyone else went to Hunters night club, I staid in and slept.The party soon returned and began getting drinks out of the mini bar.
They argued as a host I could not sleep while they drank. I adamantly pulled the covers more to my head. They wheeled my bed to the balcony.I got out of bed and wrapped a towel around me. I served drinks. The party went on till early morning.
Robbed of my beauty sleep,I decided to wish every one good night fast. One girl decides her room is far away and she is afraid of the dark,or whatever is left of the dark. She needs an escort.I was nominated as the best,being host and all.
Since it was still dark and warm at night,I did not put on a shirt or get a sheet to cover me up. Till her room.
Saying goodnight at the door,I wish our guest a good what was left of the night.
Then a chorus from her room-mates who were meant to have been sleeping with lights off.
"Hi, you two!"
Apparently,they had been watching us walk till the door,me barefoot and only towel wrapped around my midriff.
Up to now,I am still trying to plead to whoever cares to listen,"Nothing happened".

The land of thirteen months of sunshine

When I heard that line being used,of thirteen months of sunshine, I thought to myself,wow some creative marketing! And yet again so how corny!
They have even increased the months in a year!
Till I visited Addis-Ababa.
There, from fireside stories of a friend I made there,I was educated about the history and the present of Abyssinia.
I sat there,on a small kitchen stool,the one they use to cook that all black coffee that you then take in miniature cups,that coffee which you have to smell before they crush and mix it.
That coffee whose flavor is is in its thickness,and for lack of a good word,bitterness. But Iam not a coffee connoisseur,and a few days drinking coffee do not make me one.
So there I sat,prodding the fire and waving away the smoke,once in a while looking at her small hands,lifting the lid,checking the kettle,checking if the coffee is brewing well,and whether it is time for us to get out the miniature cups and taste the brew.

I was told about the Ten commandments,and how one tablet,or is both tabs are in Ethiopia. About the rock-hewn cathedrals of Lalibela(which I will visit the next time I visit) and those wars of conquering and perfected scorched earth policy and how the warriors perfected the art of survival by feasting on raw meat.

There, in front of that disturbing smoke,whose presence you however miss if you are in front of a hearth,I was told,nay, educated about the Ethiopian calendar,how Ethiopia was never colonized by Zionist forces as Idi Amin would say, and there i attempted to learn Amharic.I still remember a few words,and the truth that there are actually thirteen months in the Ethiopian calendar. Days start at what we'd call 6am, and the evening starts at 6pm. So you wont have 4.00 am in the morning. In Ethiopia, the morning is in the morning, and the night is at night.

I got the name even,I mean of the thirteenth month,it is called Ṗagʷəmen (ጳጐሜን/ጳጉሜ);or Ṗagume according to my Bantu tongue.
You should hear it roll off my tongue. I was almost spanked and derided for failing to get that pronunciation; and that Pagume has five days. True story.
Then I realized just how much beauty was there to take in. I mean they even get paid a full month in Pagume.

When my plane landed at Bole airport. It was evening. It was winter,they told me.Yes,winter a few hours flight away from sunny Uganda. It was misty and as I collected my luggage I could see people,a lot of people, holding flowers.That confirmed I had truly come to a new land. Who carries flowers to pick someone from the airport!
Well, not in Uganda.
But they were not there to show off,or to pull some fast move as a guy would, if he wanted to impress a new girl. I surely would know that the first time if I saw one.
No,it was not to show off.It was with genuine affection and this glorious innocence.

That is what welcomed me to Addis Ababa,and oh yeah that double peck on the cheek,even by people I was meeting for the first time. People who had gone through life not knowing a particular random guy like me existed. And I did not need to be told,I just knew it is a way of life,I was among friends,among friendly people.

It is this friendliness which comes with beauty that had me fight a tinge of green jealousy. Oh my God.These people are beautiful. I say this affectionately,as one who lived with them for days.
Here are lovely,delicate,almost innocent beauties in their glory. They move around with a regal air, as f they are being tended to and when they smile,even effortlessly,the room glows. When one smiled,the chilly airport illuminated. Iam not trying to pull a fast one. I don't even remember her name. But I remember the smile.

The guys are picture perfect. I mean. That is why I was jealous.Men are supposed to be rough.They are meant to have rough edges and huge noses and if they appear even a little beautiful,yes ,beautiful,then they should be dwarfs to compensate for invading female territory.
Not in Addis.The guys are equally beautiful.Yet nice and friendly.Now you know why I could have been eaten by envy.

I lived here for days,speaking Luganda with colleagues and laughing in Amharic. Ha ha! and eating injera,with spiced lamb and when my stomach could not cope enough,my host was kind enough to take me to a tourist restaurant.

One day,while I was going through my mail at the Hilton cafe', I met someone important.The Ambassador of Uganda to Ethiopia. He recognized us fast,maybe because there are not that many dark people in Addis Ababa.So he asks us where we are from. We reply ,Uganda. He is pleasantly surprised.
He asks us what we are doing in Addis. To celebrate the new year,we respond. He must have taken us for spoiled young men. I mean,this is September!
But yet,that was the truth. Ethiopian year,yes with all its thirteen months, ends in September,I mean September according to our calendar. In fact I was there to usher in the new millennium.Yes, the new millennium has met me twice,once in December the year 2,000 in Uganda and in September 2008 in the Queen of Sheba's land.

I highly suspect this Biblical history like the beautiful Queen of Sheba and how she wowed King Solomon when she visited his palace is the source of all the present day magic of the place.
It is this magic that I rode till the end. Drinking beer in test tubes and two- liter beer mugs in full view of the brewery. Dancing to new year oldies at Sheraton Addis and nearly being kicked in the mouth by this damsel on the dance floor.

I sang with children and skipped over fire in a new year celebration. I almost dislocated a shoulder doing the eskista.

I watched the sun come out before end of bedtime. I breathed in the spirit of a new year. I drank more St.George beer and despite my six hour flight delay,I shall surely return.

"Cemetery park, please."

2.00am Saturday Morning
(Drizzles outside of the night Club)
"Could you plese drop me at Cemetery park?"
Totally zonked beauty slurs into this equally inebriated dude's ear.

Slightly attentive, possibly because the girl is such a looker, the short skirt she has on surely playing its role,he takes a double look.

"What d-d-did you say?” dude now fully alert, stammers.
Again it could have been the drink or the skirt.
Drawing even closer.
"I want to go to buje buje. I need a ride." She shouts into his ear.
"What are you saying?" he music does not make things any easier given their drunken state.
Drawing even closer, clasping one bony palm across the other ear, the one still saliva-free...

Dude softens up.
She takes it for a clue to explain.

Leading him by the hand through the mass of bodies on the dance floor,she throws him on the seat and straddles him.
Now she has his full attention.
Drawing even closer....
"I want to go to buje buje. Do you have a ride?"
"I will take you anywhere. Can we leave now?"
Miracles still happen, he is thinking.
His night fortunes have just turned around.

"But I don't think you understand. Buje buje is right there. There in Cemetery Park".
Dude is momentarily shocked.
He sets the record straight.
"No. You are not dead yet.
You are just drunk".

Who visits a cemetery at this time of the night!

6.30am

Shoving her wig out of her eyes,she slowly lifts herself out of the couch.
"Oh my Gosh, these lights are really bright! Can I just lie here? Wake me up when we are ready to go."
In her soggy sub-conscious, she doesn't see any other people.
No music.
But all that is too much effort to grasp.
It is easier to just lie down.
Close her eyes to stop the spinning head.

Sam had kept filling her glass. Not letting it get even half full. At one moment he half remembered she almost sensed the quiet. That they were not in a loud discotheque anymore but in a quiet room, though with more alcohol.
Who would complain!

These girls, with drink! He muses.
But what did she mean by buje buje and the cemetery! Poor girl could be a recent orphan! He would ask her when she wakes up.

There is a loud knock on the door. He almost pours his drink. He panics. Who could that be!
He takes the almost dead girl to his bed.

There is a querying expression on his land lady's face. She must have heard all the shrieks and roars in the night. It had been a night of drunken stupor.
But even he could not remember whether anything happened!
Seeing the half drunk bottles and his breath not helping either, she gives him this disapproving look.
She retreats as quietly without saying a word.
This generation! She thinks.
But she is well paid and in time for her house,she cant complain about noise and girls too much.As long as they are not her own.

Damn nosy old woman! He is thinking.

A quick phone call clears everything up.
True,the girl in his bed is not known to him.
Never seen her before.
Last night was the first.

Her intention had been to go to Le Beaujolais. It is located inside Centenary Park.

But that was all before he had instead taken her home. To his home and kept feeding her alcohol till she blacked out.
Now how does a guy get someone who they don’t even know home!
And if they had just drunk all night, why was she in his shirt?

What is in a name?

You know how Shakespeare was? Eh.
You don't know? Let me tell you.
One day, Shakespeare was in love,so he faces a serious problem,how does he tell the ka-girl he wanted eer he was in love with that they ....eeer you know...

So Shakespeare was clever.He wrote a play and dedicated the killer words(said by a girl in the play) to the ka-lover. Genius,if you ask me.
You too can use the line if you ever find yourself in a place of inconvenience-meaning when you have fallen for some one with a bad name. Roll it off your tongue like dis..."What is in a name?
(Really.What?) That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."
..and this is a long time-ago- girl showing you game.

Any way.Now the story.
I have had issues,serious issues courtesy of my name.Actually,both,lest one gets jealous. I was born Emmanuel Njuki(M.B.K).
In the village where I was born,the locals called me Manweli. I didn't mind;after all I didn't know better.Then French happened to me and I realized,the French alternative is close, Manuel.
Cool.
Then one day some one decides to be creative with my name.They decide it rhymes better as Emma Njuki. It picks up. Trouble starts.
Okay,not yet.In Uganda,it is common to find guys being called Emma...and they are not gay. We have this random pastime of cutting short every name...say Nebuchadunezer to Neb. We even have guys called Kanye here.Full version is Kanyerezi.

So,as I was there enjoying my new version of name. I take a trip to Nairobi.
Our hosts ask for a list of names,and there my name appears.
Just to prepare you.It is a totally different picture in Nairobi.They have more female Emma's than male.In fact they don't seem to have any males at all.Emma's I mean.

Some random dude decides on who to host basing on the name..expecting a voluptuous Ugandan dame,who may even know Swahili. You know us with Swa.

Shocker of all shocks.When Emma disembarks from the bus beard first;he is fully male.Dude decides there and then he will host someone else.

The joke has been on him since then.

bird poop

Yesterday I was humbly taking my walk through my leafy neighborhood when I felt something cool.No.Cold on my head. I looked up,and then I Couldn't see any more,well for the next four minutes.Then I wondered,when they talk about blessings flowing from heaven,is this how they fall?

Kumbe some family of birds had decided I was the nearest thing to a flush toilet for them.

All my swagger was gone.I thought of returning home,but how do you return home like that! If those of home don't laugh at you they will pity you,and me and pity are not exactly very good friends.

Seriously,how does one go ahead to address situations like that?
Its only later that I realized that birds are taught these things in their schools.

end of the word(kigambo)

I am sure by now you have already noticed that we postponed the end of the world.Our leader here

agreed with us that every one needs a second chance(you must have watched the soap) we did too. So you were spared. You see,this was going to be fun,remember us the followers would be watching the rapture on TV,can you imagine,as the rest of you die.Let me break this down. Some where around the world,the world would end.But there would be news teams filming,and reporting,then the faithful would be praying,oba for what and also watching a horror kind of movie,okitegeera?
Meaning this thing was going to be selective. Yes,even things of heaven be like that;ani akumanyi sort of. But then we re-scheduled,because we had not subscribed to enough channels to watch bulungi.

This should be a warning then for you to move away from places where you see news crews gathering.

While we were still reeling from the postponement and wondering just how St Peter would feel for having postponed his work,I watched TV. I told you we would be watching. But it was our Ugandan TV and it was Channel 44.You know it? Yes.There was this preacher working(read preaching) and something hit my eyes hard. A Mobile Number (registered for Mobile Money). Us viewers and congregation I guess were also being encouraged to send in the money.I didn't send ,well, because there was no network on mine,but I am sure those who sent in,plus secret code a fat blessing must have been SMSed back. Ensi eno!

tell me, do you really want to be a priest?

For the majority of my readers ,that can only come from a movie.Nah,not many of you even watch Padre Pio movies.It could only have come from a fictional book.Sixteenth Century perhaps.

For 15 year old Emma,that was a real question that put that real fear into him. The answer would mean chasing a dream or letting it fly.(Padre Pio is a saint by the way)

This young boy was two weeks late reporting to school at the minor seminary. All horror stories had been told about that place.Still he went. Two weeks late.

Even before he could settle into his 40 student's class,the biggest so far in a long history,he is hand picked for the worst student career killer ever in the whole school.A trip to the lake(also the worst punishment you could ever have)
Crime was asking just what the phrase :
"Tu periurare timeto -- commodat in lusus numina surda Venus" meant.

Subito(Latin for suddenly) a name given to a particularly mysterious teacher Priest finds me in action and there on my first day in school I am led to the lake for punishment.

Once there,the following conversation occurs,
"So young man,you have come to the seminary!?"
Knees shaking I barely whisper,
"Yes Father",
"And a few hours later you have your first punishment. Will you even make an average Seminarian?"(that asked with so much anger I wonder why,and a sneer to match)

I f I say YES,he will say,how then do you find yourself in this situation?,If I say No,I swear to God he will send me home. So I say,
" I will try"
......and he goes,
"Laba,Just trying? You will just try?" I don't think you are good enough."

Don't blame then when I chose to leave after a whole four years. My start was not the best. I tried.
And for you Latin starters,sentence translates as, "... fear not to forswear thyself. Venus makes the gods deaf to the plaints of the deceived lover."

Rotaract beach volley ball

There is that song that was famous for getting people to do things on the beach. Not that one you ..... that one says other things. I meant. Let’s go to the beach baby,by ..I think oba Julio Iglesias. Google it.

Any way having listened to said song in my head. It’s still playing. I go to the beach as it says. The Rotaract Club of Rubaga was hosting its second annual beach volley ball challenge,at Sports beach Entebbe..The song doesn’t mention it. Sponsored by Club beer. So Club was 1 k,and all its sister beers.This information may be coming to you too late,but you may use it in the future. Yes, 1 k.

So teams assemble. It's yet to be determined whether the awesome attendance was due to the fact that it was the beach or they could have known of cheap beer or the fact that they think seriously of sport o r even all the above. I don't know. I am just reporting. But all those were in plenty.
Let the games begin.

And they began. The sand was hot,the breeze cool.The fish tasty,the Club chilled. And we played. You must have notices I said 'we'. You were right. I also played.As a dangerous substitute.That’s what my coach called me.

Having mentioned also earlier that the event was sponsored by Club beer,well and Rwenzori mineral water you could have though that the players would go for water to cool off the sweltering heat. No brotha. The Club looked more inviting.

And given the inviting price mentioned earlier,it competed favorably i n attention with the games. Thank God there were no such rules of drinking under the influence;uumm eer sorry, it must be the other way round ,playing under the influence.

Before I forget.Even the music was nice.And before I forget again. The Rotaract Club of Kampala Ssese Islands took the trophy for a second year running.

Now to other attractions.

Need I say more?

Photos courtesy of Andrew M. Eunice A. and Henry K.

One elephant day

This goes waaay, way back while still at Campu. You see,I had the pleasure and honor of being a Lumumbist.The great elephants you must have studied about in your history..oba was it geography class. Those ones. I was one of them. Don't be asking me about Gongom yet. But to clear ground,he is good, I hear. I mean,the guy has an empire to himself.

But that is wolokotho.To the main point.(he he i dare you to find it)

When the news hit me that I will be residing in Lumumba hall, I was both sad and oba happy. You know that feeling? We heard that is where everything goes down,you don't leave the same. But these guys(us ) have a reputation too, they are just too hard to handle. Whatever can go wrong will go wrong in Lumumba.I didn't know whether I would catch up.Iam known to be slooow many times. Now news travels fast.An old family friend learns of my admission and my assignment to Gongom land. Ha! He was a rat this guy during his days(those of Mitchel).
He calls my old man chap chap.

Mzee.I heard the boy was given Lumumba for a hall! Ha ha. you are in trouble, fellow parent. Kids don't stay in Lumumba and remain focused. You must remove that boy immediately! Pay for a hostel or something.That is one hell of a hell hole(okay he didn't use those exact words. Ed.)

So,Mzee calls me for a discussion and we must have had that discussion most serious parents have with serious children.Those of stay away from girls,stay focused and read.. By the time I was escorted to my hall,I was determined to be a good boy,after all I was assigned an Annex.Those ga rooms where you have deckers competing with people in numbers.You had to be extra naughty to be creative in such a room! Poor old man's advise was unnecessary.

Then,I see something. One fyne morning I was going for a cold shower when I detect foreign sights in the hall shower rooms,I take a double check. I look closely. I am not lying,there was a girl.Yes a girl,casually draped in a towel waiting in line for the shower. Alone like this.I died.If I was supposed to be good,why were such temptations put in my way!Straight like that! Ha. That was followed by some joke that if Lumumba hall ever fell,like many thought it would,I hear they would find more female bodies than male. Such madness.

Now. because I was a resident in that Annex for a year.Nothing else interesting happened till I moved...other than some guy we named fresher sharp who on a state visit by his gal they get busy on the upper bunk which is in the way of those large Hall windows,and just as he turns to stretch..after you know what..the whole three blocks chorus, in unison;

"Eh Lumumba Oyeee!"
"Oh fresher sharp oyee.."

Poor girl walked out with an averted face to wicked clapping. Fresher sharp applied for a dead year.

Nairobi hangovers!

This post would have a better title if only I have been even remotely sober every time I visit this City.It's not my fault by the way.Contrary to popular belief, I don't drink much. In fact I am polite,and one you would describe as a social drinker. I know what you are thinking.Stop now. Bell while at home and Tusker mkubwa the other side of the border.

I still remember my first visit to Nairobi a long time ago. Like all first visits you observe a lot.Trying to acclimatize with the new environment.Our hosts met us at a pub(you remember I told you it's not my fault? Now you believe me?),and I was trying to decide what to order.I decided,what the heck, I will take the first thing I saw as I entered the bar,it must have been Hooters.I mean the bar,not the drink.That problem out of the way,I order for Tusker,unlike here where Tusker means the malt,there ,malt is called malt and Tusker is Tusker...eeish.How easy is that! Any way,I order. Then this waiter chick decides to complicate things ati moto au baridi? I looked at her.Obviously I did not know what she meant,even if I had known I did not know how to answer.So I looked at her, confused.She was not letting. She asked her question again. Now,while in Nairobi the town seems to be on a marathon of sorts,no,not a marathon a dash, I think. Everything from walking to speaking are done at a fast speed,more like to get them out of the way and do other things.Not enough time.Not like home where we speak slowly,walk like we are on holiday,the taxis(matatus) reverse to pick us up.I suspect in the near future they may even help those six -inch -heel- trotting bu-gals cross the road. No hurry in Uganda. Sorry, I got carried away.Eeer we are at Hooters... yes..waitress looking at me wasting her time. So I seek help from my right hand neighbour who happened to be Ugandan too. She had noticed my predicament and she tells me, just say Baridi. I ask her,but what does baridi mean,and she simply insists just say baridi.So I say baridi and the waitress chick goes. I later learn that was my first Swahili lesson and it was to serve me well during the numerous visits to the Nairobi and to the bars too.

Then we go sight seeing. The safari walk,the Sarit centre,mbu to shop,well I managed to buy a book.The museum..yeah I think it was the museum,but the name could be different and then the Panari Sky centre. This is where my second lesson was waiting.Kenyan money. Let me take you back.When my bus arrived at River Road,it was early morning,and they warned me to stay in the bus till day light.Nairobi is not as friendly as Kampala by night.So I waited.But I wanted to buy gum,so I called this hawker around the bus terminal to get me gum. Good thing,he had gum,and I had money.So we exchange. I give him a Ksh 1,000 note. He stares at me. I wait for my change. Back home,chewing gum goes for Ush 200,or Ush 100 then.So just give me back my 900. The guy politely asks me if he can go to the bus office and find change. I say yes. He comes back 10 minutes later and tells me ,we may have to wait till the bus cash office opens before we can get change. I say no problem. Then someone notices our exchange and asks me.
"Do you realize what you are asking the man to do?"
I ask,"What? I am just buying gum"
So he breaks it down for me.Gum is like Ksh 5 and you have just given that guy Ksh1000. Then it sinks in.

Now to my friend who goes 'shopping' at Panari centre.She gets into the clothes' boutique and notices this really nice sweater. She asks the price and they say 7,000. She goes,
"Wow,you guys really are cheap.Pack me two sweaters please"
They start packing. Then it hits her,that the 7000 was Ksh. She gets out her phone,gets the calculator application and she mumbles an apology to the attendant. We head to the bar. You see,if you were from Nairobi and came to Uganda,such a scenario would not arise,because our money is 'more' it sounds an alert when you are told the price.Then you compute.On the other hand,if you are handling Kenyan money for the first time,it seems so little,till you realize after conversion.

Anyway,my hosts were so nice they took me to a three course dinner,at that place Chillers.They even asked my friends and I to be a tad formal,and we enjoyed the dinner.So we go upstairs where the bar is.You know how you can be after a hard day's work or walk when you see your first beer being poured into a glass?It's very very relaxing,and that first sip! Aaah! You can feel it wash down all the day's dust down the throat. We were thus occupied when my friend seated right by the counter feels something on his forehead.Something smooth. He looks up to see a stripper right there on the counter looking down on him and her foot on his forehead. I hope now you realize why I chose to just be drinking throughout my trip.

Oh.I had forgotten. There's is this guy who decides to buy us all beer. We have since become friends...and dude whenever you get to read this,know it's a warning.I almost turned into an alcoholic since then because of you and your turn to be drinking Nile beer non-stop every time you visit has not even began. That marked my first visit,of course not mentioning F1,F2,is there an F3?

I missed church at my host's home.Actually walked in as they returned from first mass.Just because some dude decided to run out of cash and go use the ATM at K street. Of course now that he had the money,we had to drink it.

Will you be my valentine?

Good night boys and girls. Is n't that how they greet when it is at night? Because in the morning we said,good morning,we can't be repeating ourselves.

So the question has been popped.Quick.Your heart begins to race. No.It doesn't. Its your feet.You run to the nail.You unpluck your favourite red shirt.You whip it out once,.Whoosh.Dust flies. Some saliva on finger tips.You reline the moustache..slowly turning bushlike. You tap tap that overgrown kaweke hair into an almost perfect afro. Hah. Now  shoes. The red ones have dust,you get the nearest rug to wipe off the sweat,or is it soup oba dust(whatever it is,you wipe) and you are ready,two minutes after the question was popped.

That is how Valentine's day will be from now on.A high class committee meeting sat. Don't say ssha! oba msweww..I was there.I took the minutes. High impact decisions were taken. I give you a sneak peak.You thought you were my friend for free? Here.

I am here today, to tell you  what will happen tomorrow,or is it the other day,whenever that Holi-day will fall. Valentine holiday.
A great day has befallen us(the Chairman whispered with fear),without warning,and all the calendars of the world are this moment re-shading themselves in red. Yes,if you were inquiring where the red theme comes from;from the calendars.

                                            Diagram 1:example of first date kiss
Minute 1:Girls.It will be your turn to carry flowers to the boys and pay for dinner too.The rewards are that even if you forgot to bring flowers,now you will know why it 's not such a big deal. He won't throw you out...and I hope you stay long enough,when you drop him off to know that kissing on a first date is actually o.k. We(meaning aforementioned high profile committee) heard your complaints and we have decided to give you a chance to lead the celebrations.Dont mess them up.

Minute2: The new official colour will be yellow and green. Red and Black are overused.So let me see me some green shoes boys.

Minute 3:No chocolate people. The factories want their people to have holiday also.Since its going to be different this holiday,buy rolex instead.Rolex people can work instead.

We are done here. See,it's not a big deal. Now go.

P.S. Iam not sure it will be a holiday,but not to worry,plastic flowers can be cut several days before. That is why you have a desk drawer at work.

Emma's musings on prostitution and global business.

So Dr. Nsaba stopped an International Sex workers' meet! Huh!
The spokesperson of the Uganda Sex Workers' Association says that  the symposium was not meant to discuss or even practice sex techniques(and we are known for those  across rivers and hills) but rather discuss occupational health issues,like occupational safety,rights and let us face it, global business strategies for  the 21st Century(it goes without saying)!
Picture this;
The Sexworkers start levying 18% VAT on sales which they retain and at the end of business year they trek to URA's Commissioner Genaral's office to remit their VAT and maybe claim some tax refund for deductible services...and let's say they have a few billions to declare.How would it be? Would the Minister of Finance together with URA call the Police or would they shake their hands and praise their contribution to national development?
Caution to the ladies(of the night) you need something else to be relevant..have what others want.Conduct profitable business. Then you will even be categorised as either mid-sized or large (he he he)tax payers! You will have the attention of the President in minutes.

Scenario2. Spiritual and moral.Say it is campaign time and all Presidential and Mayoral or even Parliamentary candidates are short of campaign cash and this humongous donation is presented ,with issues to be tabled once elected.I doubt you would have trouble capturing the  attention of leaders.You could even demand for infrastructure. Or just  start tithing and contribute generously to church projects.Prayer helps.

Or maybe you obtain World  Bank funding and on a given day in one of our dailies there is that title: Invitation  to Tender:

The Uganda Sex workers Association has recieved funding from the World Bank to the tune of 128 billion shillings..to...... Bids are invited from suitably qualified candidates without prejudice or conflict of interest to carry out a baseline survey on whatever it is....

 Some one tell me you would look the otherway if you are in the consulting business.

Lesson .Don't be poor.You will be seen in the worst light ever. So go ahead and claim those funds government has.After all you say  the Global Fund had some percentage of yours.

Or maybe you occupy offices in swanky places like Nakasero or Kololo and you advertise for jobs for your Association. A CPA here,a Legal advisor there and maybe a Medical Doctor there...Very highly competitive jobs,with high pay. Someone tell me you won't go for the interviews.Someone please.

Memory loss!

Till now, I am still trying to recollect my thoughts. That alone should tell you how

good some sessions of the conference were. Savanna Coffee lounge: forgot to tell you that the conference was held in Gigiri, the leafy neighborhood of Nairobi, at

The UN centre. So we were delegates there, you know.

So with the expected state of the art UN conference facilities and the greenery mentioned before, we managed to find a Members only bar and that is where some ‘sessions’ took place! But that is the other side of the conference! Before that, we arrived in Nairobi and up to Sandton Palace hotel, we went (I am speaking for myself) you must have noticed.

The conference started on Thursday, but before that we had missed a promised cocktail, which was not there any way, I was told later, and we had sang and danced at the Karaoke competition on Wednesday night. That was good stuff.

As I said, the conference started on Thursday and half the audience was half asleep. I was alert enough to notice that it was opened by the Kenyan Vice President, Kalonzo Mushoka, and then tea, and then lunch, and then the Savanna afore mentioned.

Back to the Conference, my highlights:

The DG nominee is someone whose progress I have been following, at least in entrepreneurial circles, a great man, with inspiration every time he speaks,       Rtn, now DGN Eric Kimani (you remember that speech  about personal branding?)

But this is already Saturday, with the Rotaract Conference having been officially closed the previous day, when the announcement was made. (I wrote my disclaimer earlier).So…..eeer, before that, MalcomTwino is confirmed as DRR nominee, and we had gotten a brilliant presentation from Rtn Kimbowa about Social entrepreneurship, and the END Polio campaign from DRR Lawi.

Haven’t I said enough?

The night life: You know Nairobi!!

Way forward: Addis 28th April-1stMay 2010. Your ticket by Ethiopian

Airlines will be 50% discounted.

Friends, that was my conference. Well organized and attended mostly by Ugandans as usual.

Copyright: Emmanuel  Njuki

Article first appeared in the ‘City Wheel’.

A monthly publication of the Rotaract Club of Kampala City;

May 2009.