So I was minding my business as per usual the other day talking to this guy who misses home more and more each day. Apparently there are things about being at your home that makes it worth while.


I am not disputing that. I would rather imply that some times not being at home gives you the variety you need and therefore makes your experiences worth while.


So this friend suddenly starts talking about “jumping” (its that thing where you take forced leave from your parents house or school or mental institution and hope to the good Lord you do not get caught. In retrospect, maybe the idea IS to get caught!) and how he would enjoy the treks through the plantations (he was in Mwiri apparently) to go see the city lights. He was really proud of the fact that he started going to the discotheque when he as in S.2.


Let me think back… what was I doing in S.2? What were YOU doing? Upon reflection maybe I should not tell you what I was doing. My estimation in your eyes might decline a great deal and we don’t want that to happen, do we?


His “plot” went on till he was in S.6 then he got to University and since he did not have to ask for per(mission) it was all good after that. The one thing though that he regrets was going to see a kimansulo show.

Kimansulo you say? Yes, kimansulo. (It’s that thing where supposedly pretty girls take off their clothes or something. Let me redefine, it’s a peak show. The thing is though, people are too high to even notice if the girls are pretty or even if they are girls to begin with.) This phenomenon (yes, I know big words), I thought, took over Kampala about 7 years ago. Apparently it has been around longer.


The saner of you must be wondering then, how I came to know of such rumpus activities. My answer, by the power vested in the Media. Yes… freedom of the press and what not.
The less believing ones in the crowd may now stop raising their eyebrows. In addition to that possibly giving you a head ache, it does nothing to make you cuter than you already are. So No, I have not been to a show before.


Although I have been to karaoke shows that would put the most “interekcho” of you to shame. So look me up some time when you are in the mood for some really funny stuff. You have no idea how many Beyonce’s and Shakira’s are in Kampala until you attend such festivities. I wonder why Ugandans don’t want to be like Joss stones or even at worst Mariah Carrey. I might have spoken too soon. It’s kind of like how when you go to Karaoke at a supposedly cool joint in Kampala, all the chicks stand up to sing Celine Dion and Whitney Houston (at this point I usually yawn a lot and make more serious plans to take over the world). The only uplifting point in the whole thing (a side from questionable drink mixes) is the moment when one of us remembers that the only actually fun song on the whole juke box is Gloria Gaynor’s “I will survive” thingy.


Must dash. Shall complete later.