Spoken Word Rwanda!! Floetry in Motion

It’s rare to come from “outside countries” and find that the “other country” is way cooler than yours. After having been fed on “propaganda” of how clean the city is and how well run it was, it was about time someone came over and saw the “lies” first hand.

The utterly baffled narrator was utterly baffled to find that not only was the “propaganda” true, but it kind of even went beyond expectations, I mean who puts Christmas lights in the tarmac roads to dazzle us in the night time?? They should have been removed on Boxing Day for God’s sakes!! Aren’t there people on load shedding that need this power? Do they even know what load shedding is??

What was even worse was that at 5pm, more bafflement-attacks kept hitting the narrator, for electricity was just not going off, what kind of world is this? There is power for more than 24 hours straight?? 2 weeks?? What gives?? And when it rains, where is all the garbage that is supposed to flow right in the middle of the road?? And where, pray tell, is the dust? These hankies were not bought for nothing damn it!!!

The best part of it all though, was the cultural aspect of the whole thing, a “Spoken Word” session, only previously heard of in “Russell Simmons Def Jam Poetry” DVD’s that we used to borrow, that’s immediately after washing our hands of the accumulated dust on the way to the video library.

On the Kampala scene (busted), the closest that comes to a poetry session is the “Lantern Meet of Poets” where one recites a poem then the rest of the chaps attending tear it down like a bone in the jaws of a hyena, “I believe your talents are better placed in a local shrine”, the “critic” would confidently yawn, like it were Pop Idols and there are 20 Simon Cowells, what about??

Spoken Word Rwanda, on the contrary, is nothing but love for any soul that dares entertain whoever is in the crowd, well at least you tried.

Occurring every other Wednesday at Shooters Club (it also has a bar), the sessions are interspersed with song and comic relief from some of the presenting crew, while a couple of sessionists usually put us right back in our places when they rhyme in French, leaving some members cursing why they opted for Commerce instead of the lingua while in Senior 2.

Created by a duo of 2 literary scholars, who happen to still be in the category of “youth”, the sessions are reaching fever pitch levels, even soccer games, the ultimate worshipping alter for any African character, are ignored like a mad lumpen on a city street drinking boiled paraffin, if they dare show while the session is in progress.

Lyricists on the night we showed face (pardon moi, never to remember names) spat rhymes like they were auditioning for a hip hop class act, with some memorable phrases like: “my ex-girlfreind should be an actress, unfortunately if she found out it was a job, she would blow it…..”, “like a rabid dog infected with rabies, al attack you with my love and infect you with babies….I put the star in start, I put the cute in execute”, “voulez vous couche avec moi, cest soi….”

The last verse is forged just to show how the lingua was changing, thank you Lady Marmalade singers.

So come next session, we shall be representing the city of black gold….er, black dust, sorry there mate, hoping the theme shall be one of these;

“Pot Holes and their positive effects on tyres”, “Qualifying tips for the African Cup of Nations”, “Bribery Re-loaded”, “Embezzlement Un-Cut”, “The Positive effects of Tear Gas”, or “How to rule ……. like forever”, we’ll be on point.

Out!!

The Story of the Miracle Birth

An extremely long time ago, 4BC or thereabouts, before the introduction of company-branded calendars and office-department end of year parties, there was a young virgin named Mary, who lived in Nazareth, and had just been engaged to a one Joseph, whose stag party had been held at a remote drinking spot in Galilee, a small town where he lived with his fiancé Mary, and it is rumored that the wine got finished, but there was no one to turn the plenty of water into boxes of Namaqua, not at least for 30 more years or so.

Earlier on in the Old Testament, the Nastradamus of the times had predicted that in this very dingy town, the messiah would be born to a very special lady, whose pregnancy was to be inflicted by Gad himself, as the future kid was no human being, but would come in human flesh, although a Gad in his own right. A cross-section of atheists that was refusing to believe this theory was asked to look into their LG freezers where they saw that the water they had put in as liquid had turned to ice which was also steaming cold, it was all water in 3 forms, innit, atheist bitch??? *good one

Then an angel visited Mary one day,told her kneel down and pray, for unto her a man child would be born (*then Lauryn Hill used that line in her hit jam, Zion), not Pee Wee Herman, but a child who is a boy, through a chow by the Holy Spirit. While still blasting away to her engagement to the carpenter, she miraculously missed her period, and dashed to the nearby pharmacy where she procured herself a pregnancy test kit which she peed on and gave a 2 minute wait for color separation, watching with bated breath as the colors turned all the way to positive.

It was hard work explaining to her fiancé how this happened, for he must have thought it was that dis-trustful blacksmith that lived next door. The next thing we heard, he had taken her to court like her name was Bad Black, only to turn around and give her a lip kiss in court. Pundits trying to figure out what the hell was going on were later told that Gad had sent an angel to Joseph’s dream telling him to calm the hell down, it was really his kid, and which male lumpen wouldn’t want his wife to have Gad’s kid?

On a starry night, Joe and Mary headed to Bethlehem for a census that had been called up, probably to figure out how to share the nation’s resources, like Abyei. Because all the inns were full, the young couple found a stable nearby during labor pains where the handler’s said “Push”, while she cursed the hell out of the person responsible for taking her through all this pain, like any woman would do…poor Gad! The father couldn’t attend the birth ceremony, a theory that explains why men, till today, dodge the hospital during child birth! The kid was then placed in a manger and dressed in fresh Huggies and baby overalls.

Nearby in the fields, an angel appeared to a bunch of shepherds who announced to them the birth of the newest celebrity kid, Gad’s own, and these rushed over there to celebrate like it was a Chaka Demus and Pliers show! To crown it all, 3 wise guys appeared from the east bearing gifts, which have been revealed to be the new Play Station 5, “It’s a Baby Boy” cards from Bethlehem 24 hour shopping center and myrrh, among other stuffs.

Reigning NRM ruler King Herod had asked the wise guys to show him the new kid after finding him so he would show his respect, like South Korea to Kim Jong Il, but the wise guys “had a dream”, not that one day they would be free at last, but that the naughty King was planning to kill off his future competition like a lion that had just taken over a pride, so they never reported back, earning themselves a name, "NRM rebels", and the kid surviving to tell his stories.

This, ladies and gents, is what we are celebrating, the birth. Any other related stories can be found in the bible!

Forgive........and kind of Forget!!

Pastor Kayanja has vowed “never to forgive” the four pastors who dragged him to court on account of him “playing golf on the wrong golf courses”, if u know wat I mean.

In other un-related news, the Pastor, while preaching to his congregation on one of his many “healing crusade tours”, told them that forgiving another person is the most divine attribute anyone can have and will guarantee them entering heaven when the time comes, as they shall have portrayed a characteristic only Jesus has ever shown, since it was he that said, “thou selfish punk shall forgive thine nasty offender seventy times seven times”

Ok Jesus, let’s assume we follow you up on this, seventy times seven, according to my “Cashio” fake digital calculator, is 490 times. This means that after being offended and thereafter forgiving punks for bullshit crimes against you 490 times, you have every right to kick their balls right back into their sacs, or bitch slap the offenders if you just so happen to be stronger than they are.

I still have 2 cases against the Government to reach 490 then I shall also riot, but KCC is now on 623, and a couple of corporate bosses reached 900 “crimes” by Sep 2010, crimes of which include “feeling ballistic with their ipads”, mbu they are “conferencing with group about regional quarterly targets”, posing wankers!!

Forgiving is not in itself an end, as it entails the rather difficult bit of forgetting, which is next to impossible, unless you are a politician and are tasked to remember your campaign promises! Or a husband for that matter, after proclaiming to all those promises and vows at the alter that are somehow quickly forgotten, now that’s some bullshit!

Jesus did not forget the lashes he received, or the crown of thorns bestowed upon his forehead, which explains why he refused to return to earth in the year 2000, as had been threatened by his “messiahs” in Revelations. “Dad, send someone else, those earth guys are maniacs”, he was quoted as saying by a heavenly tabloid! “Besigye hasn’t even had half of what I went through”, he reiterated his thoughts.

However even in all this punishment, Jesus said he had forgiven his tormentors, unlike Ghaddafi who simply kept asking “what have I done to you?” The Holy Son, who is not being groomed for the top spot owing to the fact that his Father’s job is forever, said “I forgive ‘em, for they do not know what they are doing”, a statement that has been dismissed as cow pupu by the Pastor Kayanja. He (Kayanja) said, “my tormentors know what they are doing, so fuck ‘em”, although in the real words he was more cautious with his French.

Kizza Besigye, who has gone through a kind of similar treatment like Jesus (Unlike the cross, he was carrying his rack sack the whole time, oba it has a fresh pair of sneakers) has also not forgiven his tormentors, the tear gas platoon! He wants to sue them individually at the ICC, the International Criminal Court for Africans, we wait.

So as we head toward yet another festive season of forgiving, let’s remember that that it strictly applies only 490 times, however, you have to forget the number of times.

That is the irony!

How to write a Ugandan best seller!!

The call sounded urgent, “man, u gotta read this book…it’s a life changer”, the chick wailed over the phone after getting herself a copy of “The Secret”, a 2006 best selling “self help” book. I had written about it before, but this gave me fresh ideas.

The book promotes some sort of “positive thinking” known as “The Law of Attraction”, what you think about will most likely be the actual outcome, according to the retards that wrote it.

I have since spent the last 3 or 4 days concentrating heavily on pictures of a 25 year old Tyra Banks….hey, am attracting the lass damn it, the Secret says so!

Matter of fact, after reading this book, am not even typing this stuff right now….i am just focusing on the keyboard, and I see stuff typing itself out!

According to the Secret, germs don’t kill, it’s your never ending negative thoughts that degrade yo health! U know why you are poor, it’s the bad thoughts damn you! Don’t send money to starving kids in Somalia! They need some attitude changes around there! Someone should tell them to think positive.

The new reading culture is going to mess a lot of people up, especially the new magazines that chicks be snappin’ off book shelves.

Cosmopolitan and it’s sex advise, “75 ways to please him, then keep him”, is what the front page will say. Meanwhile, Oprah’s “O” magazine has yet a different set of “90 ways to make him yours forever”. You would think chick’s aren’t confused enough.

Because all these books sell real quick in UG, I suggest the following self help books be written right here;

• · The secret to a happy marriage – By Prince Barigye of Ankole

• · Why forests are good for Mehta’s sugarcanes – By the cabinet

• · How to win friends and influence people – By Tamale Mirundi

• · Who moved my house keys? – By Gen Tinyefuza and Jennifer Musisi
  

• · How to avoid prison – By Jamwa, with foreword from NSSF board

• · Print and Grow rich – By Nasser Sebbagala

• · Awaken the Loser within – By Kizza Besigye

• · The tear gas driven life – By Action for Change
  

• · Kitenge design in seconds – By Olara Otunnu

• · How to buy this book and give me more money – By Pastor Kakande

• · How to attract unnecessary attention and keep it – By Chameleon with Radio and Weasil

• · How to remain forever a child: Ugandan Peter Pan – By Bebe Fool and Bobi Swine

• · The Power of tomorrow, how to postpone shows – By Sean Kingston and Akon

• · You are stupid…and an idiot – By Otafiire

• · How to get a really cool accent while growing up in Ug – By the Sanyu FM morning crew

• · Why goat racing is cooler than formula one – By Kampala’s elite association of posers, inc

• · How to beat inflation – By the NRM election mobilisers.

Now let’s see if these wont be best sellers.

Hey!! Put that down!!! That's the salad fork punk!!

When the British left East Africa in 1962 after walk-to-work protests by Obote (Akena’s dad) and Kenyatta (Uhuru’s dad) turned violent, they promised they would be back, and they are, but they are disguised as a Ugandan company.

Etiquette Consultants is a fully fledged Ugandan company that was set up after it was noticed that many Ugandans were embarrassing their nation whenever they travelled overseas, or whenever they became rich and had no clue how to act rich, most especially ambassadors and as of recent Mayor Ssebagala.

Complete with a Business & Social etiquette coach, their first assignment last Friday was to send out invites to chaps to come and learn how to wine and dine like a real rich person of importance, never mind all this inflation that’s keeping us from buying dessert forks, this is how we actually behave in supermarkets.

“yo, supermarket attendant, how much is a fork?”

“Sir, we sell the whole pack, it has the salad fork, then the dinner fork, then the dessert fork”

“Bitch, I just want to eat my beans, just get me the middle one and let’s get this over with”

The etiquette theme was arranged under the moniker, “Miss Manners Uganda”, who cordially invited many company representatives, especially the un-civilized ones, seeing as mine was invited, to a “3 course dining etiquette experience” at Reedfield restaurant, yes, it exists.

Reedfield restaurant, like the name suggests, is not the kind of place you want to go to if your 3 course dinner consists of a rolex, then splash mango, then a tot of Bond 7. Nope, it’s the kind of place that makes you feel broke and lost. Located in Nakasero, it has the hallmarks of a British upper class household, well organized tables with a thousand napkins for every occasion;

“Sir, u seem sweaty, here’s the sweat napkin….no no no, not that one, that’s for placing on the laps during dinner, and please don’t do that, it should be folded in half after opening then gently placed on the lap, is there any other question I should answer before you mess up the place???”

The event was interactive, with the etiquette coach taking us villagers through lessons on manners, so one wonders what exactly the parents used to talk about when they said they taught us table manners. The most they did was say “don’t eat while standing, the food will go to your legs”, so what about the dessert fork mom??!! Why didn’t you tell us that stuffs??

Meanwhile, if you don’t have that 50 thousand to learn table manners, no worries, al teach ya the most important rules, so when u get rich, u can thank me with a BMW X5 or something for saving you embarrassment, now peep this;

If you are a chick and are into all that make up bollockery, do not attempt lip sticking yourself while at the table, I don’t know why, but bitch, just don’t play that! Go to the kitchen or something

If you are the host of this bash, yo ass shall be the last to serve, you greedy punk you! Wait for the guests goddamit!

When you are being served, receive the dishes from the left side, and calmly serve yourself and pass to the right side, even if it’s your mother-in-law on your right side, just do it.

Now don’t play wise ass when u are trying to eat your salads, there’s some physics to it. If the salad is served as the main entrée, use the dinner fork or the entrée fork, and please don’t ask what entrée means. Otherwise, use the salad fork, and please try and smile, this is serious bidnes!

When using a finger bowl to clean yo manicured paws, place the finger bowl and the doily on the upper left side of the place setting after swimming the fingers through the bowl, this clears space for the dessert plate.

And by the way, in case u bring those little nut case kids mbu they are on holiday, they should stand behind their chairs until all adults including Moses Goloola are seated, and please set the dinner napkin to the left side of the setting after yo plates have been cleared from the table after eating.

With all this stuff, I decided to stick to the rolex. The rules are simple, and few, just 3;

1 – Get rolex from Sula, and u can keep standing the whole time.

2 – Unwrap while eating and hailing that boda chap to take you home.

3 – Throw used kaveera by the roadside, it may be yo left side, or right side, upper left side, or right in the road, we are poor and don’t give a rats ass.

Anyone still up for getting rich?