Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
In the 1600s the teachings of enlightened scientists and artists were regarded as a threat to the existence of the church which preferred to govern its followers through fear and strict adherence to dogma, the scientists were hounded for their radical theories and free rein of thought, for instance when Galileo proclaimed to the world that the planets were in rotation around the sun he was placed under house arrest.
Looking for a way to meet and share their ideas and discoveries the scientists formed the Illuminati sect and met secretly at a lair whose location remained known only to a select few, here they hatch plans to achieve their quest: the destruction of the church.
Fast forward to present day and science has come up with a discovery that threatens to annihilate the human race. Buried deep under a research facility in Switzerland an Italian physicist has succeeded at an unfathomable, mind boggling experiment. Using energy he has created matter, for those familiar with physics matter can’t be created, all matter in the universe was created during genesis if you’re religious or during the big bang if you’re the scientific type. There is one twist however, the physicist created antimatter; this refers to matter whose electric charges are opposite to those found in normal matter.
Anyway to avoid sounding like the physics teacher whose classes you hated in O’level let me move on to something that might get your attention for real.
Antimatter is highly unstable it ignites when it comes into contact with absolutely anything even air. A single gram of antimatter contains the energy of a 20-kiloton nuclear bomb.how largehow
The physicist is found murdered and a small canister containing his only specimen of highly volatile antimatter capable of vaporizing anything within a half mile radius is missing. With all clues pointing to the Illuminati the canister somehow turns up in the Vatican, where it is visible on a live feed security monitor, but its location is unknown and its battery power can last only six hours before the vacuum suspending the antimatter dies, only six hours before the entire Vatican city is reduced to rubble.
Time is running out, the conclave is convened to elect a new pope and the entire top leadership of the church is sitting on a time bomb, and that’s not even the half of it, the top four favorites for pope are missing, kidnapped by an Illuminati assassin who threatens to execute a cardinal every hour, the Illuminati have no demands, they ask for nothing they are about to achieve their centuries old goal.
Enter Robert Langdon a Havard university professor of religious symbology whose extensive research on the Illuminati may be the only resource capable of unraveling the mystery of the ancient sect, the sworn enemy of the Catholic Church.
The book is a fabulous read that keeps you glued from the first page to the last, the plot is well spun in spell binding fashion. Langdon finds himself in the midst of a hair raising adventure as he hurtles across Rome a city that prides itself for preserving its ancient architecture that’s as beautiful as its history is mystical and hidden within this architecture are clues and riddles, riddles that contain the answer to solving the conundrum facing the church, before it’s too late.
And yes Tumwi, you were wrong.
Friday, April 24, 2009
The characters in this story are purely fictional they bear no relation or connection to persons living or deceased.
He stood up with the rest of the VIPs and shifted uncomfortably on his feet, he watched intently as the VP led the president to one of the armchairs. The president stood before the chair and faced the crowd while the VP and army chief took their positions on either side of him.
Everyone remained at attention while a police band played the national anthem.
Inside the G-series Capt. Rusoze keying away furiously on his laptop completed a second infra red sweep of the pavilion aided by an FLIR (Forward looking Infra Red) lense built into the roof of the Benz, the lense could detect anything from concealed weapons to bomb materials.
The anthem soon ended and the guests shuffled into their seats, soon after wards a march past of various trade unions and cooperative societies ensued, the marchers carried banners praising the government and president.
Seated four chairs to the left behind the president he could even hear snippets of a conversation between the president and the VP he caught the words ‘Nairobi’ and ‘Summit’ and surmised they were discussing the forthcoming East African federation meet in Nairobi. The earpiece felt quite uncomfortable in his left ear and he wondered how soon he’d receive the signal, all he wanted to do was to get this over with and reunite with his wife and kids. As if on cue the earpiece came to life, “Julius Caesar” said a female voice.
His heart resumed it’s thumping, nervously he glanced around him ‘was he being watched?’ suddenly his hands started twitching uncontrollably the way they always did when he panicked,
He knew he had to get up and complete his assignment but he felt a crippling paralysis take over his entire body, was he doing the right thing for his family? He asked himself for the hundredth time that day. “Julius Caesar” the female voice crackled again in his ear, shocking him out of his stupor.
He fingered the pen that was placed in his coat pocket for a few seconds, then he slowly removed it and twirled it between his fingers and all the while he thought of his family.
Inside the radio shack Rwakitata’s face was a contorted mass of anger and frustration.
“Send out an orange alert to the Bravo team” he ordered the sergeant, “tell them to stand by for a ‘Tsunami’ this was the PGB code for an immediate evac of the president to a safety zone, all resistance met was to be termed as deadly and swiftly eliminated, simply put, you didn’t want to be in the PGB’s way during a Tsunami.
The sergeant punched a few keys and spoke into a mic protruding from his earpiece
“Bravo, Alpha team this is command center, defcon Orange, acknowledge and confirm.”
“Command center this is Bravo command, confirm Zulu Zero Delta,” A voice responded on the radio speakers. “Command center this is Alpha command, confirm Zulu Omega Delta” another voice crackled on the speakers.
“Bravo and Alpha moving into position sir,” Sgt. Kagonyera announced.
He had to get up now, or else he’d never find the nerve, he placed the pen in between his thighs and stood up leaving it on the chair, slowly he shuffled his way past the guests in his row and found his way out of the pavilion. He approached the soldier who had taken his briefcase earlier.
“I need to retrieve a speech for the minister from my briefcase,” He lied, trying to sound less terrified than he felt.
“Tag please,” the soldier barked.
He handed over his location tag wishing the ground would swallow him up that instant.
“Follow me sir,” the soldier beckoned.
Back in the pavilion on the seat he had just vacated lay his pen, a seemingly innocuous piece of stationary, but it was no ordinary pen.
The fountain pen was an ingeniously designed killing machine.
The pen was in fact a hollow casing that held a liquid known as nitroglycerin; this particular pen had been designed to hold about 500 millilitres of the substance.
At the cover end of the pen was encased an electronic receiver that had been programmed to detect a certain radio frequency emanating from a transmitter within a 300 meter radius.
In a separate compartment separated from the first by an aluminum foil was 10 milliliters of methyl nitrate.
Two minutes after detection of the frequency the electronic receiver was designed to heat up and in the process cause the aluminum foil to melt in turn releasing the 10 milliliters of methyl nitrate.
Both nitroglycerin and methyl nitrate are relatively harmless substances, but combined they form a highly volatile and combustible substance that boils to temperatures reaching 95 degrees Celsius and within 3 minutes of mixing explode with devastating effect.
He followed the soldier to a tent that held various items from cameras to phones, items that had obviously been kept from the guests for security reasons.
The soldier located his briefcase and handed it over to him, “you have two minutes sir.”
“I’ll be quick,” he replied.
Quickly he flipped open the briefcase and pretended to leaf through the papers.
Built into the bottom of the briefcase was a small blue button that when pressed would initiate a tiny electronic signal on a frequency capable of being read by the electronic receiver on the killing machine he had left on the chair. He was the unwilling assassin, his was the finger to pull the trigger, all he had to do was press that button and walk away, walk back to his family.
He closed his eyes and applied pressure on the button.
At that very moment in the radio shack Sergeant Kagonyera sat up with a start, “what the bloody hell?”
“What is it soldier?” Rwakitata asked, obviously alarmed.
“It’s a low frequency sir, and it’s not ours, a few seconds ago someone transmitted a signal less than 200 meters from here.”
“Can you locate the sender?” Rwakitata was visibly shaken.
“No sir, it’s a signal that reroutes the source ID through various channels, it’s virtually untraceable, this kind of toy is very new stuff.”
The electronic receiver melted away the aluminum foil and the methyl nitrate started seeping through the foil creating a hissing sound as the two liquids started to mix.
“Holy mother of god,” Sgt. Kagonyera was beside himself.
“Talk to me soldier,” Rwakitata screamed.
“I….I….I used an advanced triangulation programme to reengineer all possible signal reception,” Kagonyera looked like he had just seen a ghost.
“And...?” the colonel grabbed Kagonyera by the scruff of the neck.
“It was picked up by a receiver in the pavilion,” Kagonyera spoke like the world was about to come to an end.
And indeed it was, their entire lives were about to change forever. Both men were aware that all it took to detonate a bomb was a minute signal and as they stared at each other in shock they also knew they had very little time if any to avert a possible threat.
The two liquids began to boil with such intensity the pen shook and rolled off the chair onto the floor.
The march past was almost complete, soon the MC would stride up to the mic and invite the guest of honor to address the people.
“Commence Tsunami, all units proceed as designated,” Rwakitata was screaming into his mic furiously. Just my luck he cursed, just bloody perfect. “Alpha team, secure ‘Rabbit’ and prepare for evac.”
Rwakitata bundled out of the shack and raced towards the pavilion gun in hand , even as he labored to cross the 50 feet separating him and the pavilion commando units had sprung to life and were tearing into the pavilion brushing aside anything and anyone in their way as they closed in on president Mubeseni.
The sound of a helicopter caused him to look up and he felt a sense of relief as he watched an Mi-78 chopper bunk toward the center of the field attempting a safe landing.
The Alpha team would hand over ‘Rabbit’ as the president was called to the Bravo team who would spirit him away to one of many secure locations.
Rwakitata neared the pavilion, he was hoping a human shield had already been formed around ‘Rabbit’ time was of the essence.
He pressed his earpiece and connected with Capt. Rusoze, “You’re on point, perform post op analysis and mop up, I am leaving with Rabbi…………..
The explosion was loud and deafening, the sheer force of the detonation lifted Rwakitata off the ground and threw him 5 feet back, as he landed on his back he sighted a huge ball of fire and smoke envelop the entire pavilion.
Pandemonium broke out, there were screams everywhere as people collided with each other attempting to find a way out of the field.
Dazed and shaken Rwakitata got to his feet and stared, “Sweet Mary” he muttered.
The canvas roof was a tattered mess as smoke billowed from the pavilion and the floor was a mass of mangled bodies and chairs. The president was lying somewhere in that mess.
The Colonel sunk to his knees.
Thanks for reading
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
This is the first award I have received ever since I started blogging and I would like to tell you guys that I appreciate this gesture very much.
The only problem that comes with the Honest Scrap award is well the honesty, 10 things? damn. I am so screwed.
But once I start I guess the rest wil fall in place.
These aren’t weaknesses, no, I just happen to have both X and Y chromosomes, hell it ain’t my fault.
- I love food more than humans, my mouth waters every time the scent of Pilawo and chicken fills my nostrils.
- Next to food comes the most important invention of mankind BEER.
- Now for number three, I am so lazy it’s annoying, I wouldn’t clean my living room to save my life.
- Now this one is indeed a weakness, it’s a certain creature that’s descendant from a being who once cavorted with Lucifer in the form a serpent in a certain garden a long long time ago, this creature has been responsible for meting out to me both pleasure and pain in equal measure, it is most commonly known as woman but I prefer to call it enigma.
- My conceit stems from my father he was always suspicious of any one lowly or inferior, so don’t blame me.
- I am a one woman man (for Lulu’s benefit) I am very capable of fidelity.
- I would love to travel the world except for the one teenie weenie problem, my thin bank account.
- I would love to give to charity, if only to assuage my guilt of shoving beggars aside every time they accost me on the street (nodesix think of bloggers AID fund)
- I don’t have a bible can some one donate, donors I can think of: - Ug girl, Lulu, Nevender, B2B, Apr9…….
- Of all the female bloggers I have met or the photos I have seen, Chanel’s lips are the most kissable.
Now for the blogs that make me laugh and sigh
Erique: get back soon you bastard, miss the mess.
Emi: keep writing your shit.
Cheri: you need to get your butt back to the keyboard pronto.
Chanel: you so killed me with naked football, keep those lips shiny.
Tumwi: you are killer.
Antipop: you are dope.
UG girl: you are a sobering, calming influence in this mad world
Carlo: keep complaining love your bitching.
And now the instructions.
1.You must brag about the award.
2.You must include the name of the blogger who bestowed the award on you and link back to the blogger
3.You must choose a minimum of seven (7) blogs that you find brilliant in content or design.
4.Show their names and links and leave a comment informing them that they were prized with Honest Weblog.
5.List at least ten (10) honest things about yourself.Then pass it on with the instructions!
Thursday, April 16, 2009
The characters in this story are purely fictional they bear no relation or connection to persons living or deceased.
Col. Rwakitata watched as Lieutenant Mugabe led the rather anxious VIP to his seat, he consulted the sector by sector security detail that he had committed to memory which if it served him correctly said Lieutenant Mugabe was head of sector D situated outside the field. He stepped down from the hood of the G-series and proceeded to the ‘radio shack’, this was actually a mobile com van that contained some of the most sophisticated communications control apparatus from assigning satellite protocols to electronic frequency monitors.
Inside the shack seated behind a wall of computer screens and radio equipment was a young Seargeant who didn’t even turn when the colonel entered, his eyes remained glued to the screen as he monitored frequencies and coms.
“Sergeant Kagonyera, who ordered sector swaps for D?” he barked.
The Sergeant punched a few keys and without taking his eyes of the screens said “Maj. Kutale ordered the swaps he moved Lt. Mugabe to A and assigned captain Kakande to D”
“What happened to Mugisha in D?”
“Got the big M” still his eyes never left the screens.
“Son of a bitch” Rwakitata cursed under his breath, “put me through to Kutale”
The sergeant punched some more keys and in a few seconds Maj. Kutale’s voice boomed on the speakers “Kutale here.”
“Did you authorized sector swaps?” Rwakitata spat.
“Yes, Lieutenant Mugisha’s got malaria, he’s at IHK.”
“Very well, next time run all swaps by me first”
The pressure of the revolver pressed against his temple eased and he turned his head to look at his captor through his half open swollen eyes, his entire body ached from the torture he had had to endure for the past….he had lost track of time. His tormentor kept the gun aimed at his head.
Maj. Kutale was strapped into a chair and could barely move his arms and legs, he spoke through his bloody lips, “you got what you wanted now let me go.”
“Not just yet Major not just yet” his captor replied through the ski mask.
Rwakitata was now on edge, he still couldn’t put a finger on what was wrong but his gut told him that his well laid security plan was under threat, though there was no plausible reason why, Maj. Kutale was one of his most trusted men, he’d hand picked the man himself.
As he was stepping out of the shack the young Sergeant let out a muffled shout “Colonel”
The Colonel paused in his tracks turning his head “What” he said irritably.
“The combat analyzer programme just detected a duress code in the phone call”
“Impossible,” Rwakitata retorted, “I know all duress codes by heart”
“Sir” the sergeant said emphatically, “this wasn’t a PGB code.”
“What?” the colonel was now visibly irritated.
"It was RPA." Sgt. Kagonyera replied.
“Rwandan army? Are you playing games with me sergeant?”
“No, sir”, the sergeant replied nervously, his usually unruffled manner gone, “take a look.”
The combat analyzer programme had indeed picked up an RPA duress code and Rwakitata had missed it because he was of course PGB.
According to the sergeant, in the RPA the use of abbreviations like IHK and addressing superior officers by their titles instead of ‘sir’ was a clear indication that they were communicating under duress.
"But why RPA?" Rwakitata mused.
"He could have intel that PGB is compromised."
“Call him up again.”
The sergeant pressed a key on one of his numerous keyboards which redialed Kutale’s number, after a few brief seconds a busy tone sounded on the speakers.
The convoy snaked onto the School field moving at a slow 4kph, soldiers scurried into position as they assumed their security roles. A handful of government officials headed by the army commander and the VP stood at attention before the VIP pavilion.
As the convoy came to a halt several plain clothed bodyguards hopped out of the land cruisers and stood in formation around the lead limousine, one of them hurried to open the door.
President Mubeseni stepped out of the limo and walked slowly to the welcoming committee, he was dressed in a grey suit and perched on his head was the trade mark hat of the same color.
The president shook hands with the VP and exchanged salutes with the army commander, after exchanging a few pleasantries with the welcoming committee he was led to the pavilion where two large arm chairs were waiting in the front row, the rest of the guests already seated inside the pavilion stood up respectfully as the president was led to his seat.
Rwakitata cursed again and ordered the sergeant to redial but they kept getting the same irritating busy tone.
He pressed a button on his earpiece “Captain, give me status.”
Captain Rusoze who sat in the G-series with a lap top replied, “President seated with Lt. Baguma and Lt. Kavuma right behind him, Sat photos indicate field secure and infra red reconfirmation sweep completes in 3 minutes.
“Keep me updated and assign somemone from the Alpha team to watch Mugabe, if he so much as farts I wan't to know it.”
Rwakitata was one hundred percent certain no one could get anywhere near the president without alerting suspicion, but why would they hold Kutale or switch sector heads? And if the PGB was indeed compromised as sergeant Kagonyera had implied then he had some cleaning up to do but that would come later, right now he had scant little to go on, all he had was a duress code that wasn’t even Ugandan and a Major he couldn’t reach. There were more questions than he had answers for and he painfully knew that if there was indeed a threat on the president’s life he had to evacuate immediately but that came with its downside, mainly if the threat proved to be false he might find his promising career taking a nosedive.
Final Episode webs on Monday at 4:00pm
Monday, April 13, 2009
Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely
The characters in this story are purely fictional they bear no relation or connection to persons living or deceased.
His sweaty palm gripped the briefcase handle tightly, he scanned the crowd looking for his contact, he did it any way even though he didn’t know who that would be. All he had been told was that he would be reached. His navy blue suit was a tight fit and it made him feel naked and exposed, he was almost certain everyone present could hear his heart thumping loudly inside his chest, his breath came in quick short bursts and his brow glistened with sweat, beads of perspiration continued to pour down his face despite his constant attempts to dab them away with a white handkerchief that he held in his left hand, and all the while his right hand tightly clutched the briefcase.
The president’s motorcade left Columbus lane turning right to join the Lule Motorway that led to the school. The motorway was lined with hundreds of cheering people who waved the thumbs up sign to the motorcade and no one in particular since both limousines that cruised past had all windows tinted out with black as was the case for the accompanying land cruisers that formed a protective shield on either end of the convoy.
He pocketed the hanky and proceeded to the entry point, the school field was swarming with PGB soldiers their blue berets visible form every corner of the area, policemen in their rather unsightly brown uniforms formed a cordon all around the football field, large crowds of eager spectators and curious children swarmed back and forth pressing against the cops, eager to watch and wait to catch a glimpse of the president. He proceeded to the VIP entrance gate nervously fingering the VIP pass pinned to his lapel, he fell in line behind a rotund and loud Major General who was constantly bitching about the slow movement of the line he recognized the officer as Kalinza Ofalire one of the historicals, his heart raced and he swallowed hard to stop his head from throbbing, a quick glance behind him revealed a very impatient Akama Mukabazi, security minister who adjusted his spects every five seconds. That was when it hit him, his was a class ‘A’ VIP pass, his knowledge of protocol told him that he would be seated right behind the president. He closed his eyes and thought of his wife and son, the man had told him they wouldn’t be harmed, he just had to do as asked.
Col. Moses Rwakitata stared out of his black Raybans and scanned the entire area for the umpteenth time, his eyes alert and unblinking took in every detail, from his vantage position atop the army green G series benz nothing escaped his attention. Parked next to the VIP pavilion Rwakitata had only one task to execute ‘protect president Baguta Mubeseni at all costs’ next to him sat Captain Rusoze whose hand constantly caressed the butt of his holstered Colt 45.
The motorcade sped on along Lule Motorway, crowds lined up by the road side cheering as the convoy flew past towards its destination..
“Confirm status” Rwakitata ordered, his eyes never left the crowd.
Rusoze whipped out a walkie and started a routine security check with security personnel planted all over the area.
“Status 1330, this is Eagle, come in sector A” Rusoze spoke into his walkie.
After a crackle and some military gibberish to the untrained ear a voice finally confirmed “Sector A all clear”
Capt. Rusoze repeated the process with sectors B, C, D, and E.
“All clear in sectors A to E” he relayed to Rwakitata.
Rwakitata nodded perfunctorily, his eyes never leaving the crowd, everything was going according to plan yet his gut told him something was amiss, after 20 years in the army he had come to trust his instincts and his never lied.
By the time he stepped up to the metal detector his stomach had turned into a painful knot, it was all he could do to keep from bending over, he was hoping that the tension and anxiety wasn’t plainly showing on his face. He passed his brief case onto the soldier on his right and stepped through the arch of the metal detector.
“Could you open this Mr. Mulunuzi”
He stared at the soldier for a brief second and wondered why he was being called……..
He then remembered that that was the name on his VIP pass.
“Of course” he offered.
But before he could flip it open a tall and broad shouldered PGB Lieutenant arrived and curtly announced.
“Mr. Mulunuzi is with the foreign affairs detail I’ll take him to his seat”
He stared and swallowed hard. His contact, A PGB Lieutenant?
“We need to check that”, the soldier insisted.
“Very well”, the Lieutenant snapped, but make it quick will you, the president arrives in fifteen minutes.
The briefcase turned out to contain a sheaf of documents printed on government of Uganda coat of arms letterheads.
“Clear” announced the soldier.
The lieutenant led him by the arm and whispered in his ear “Do exactly as I say and you will see your family again”
“Please don’t hurt them I’ll do anything……”
“Shut up” hissed the lieutenant “put this in your ear when you hear the words 'Julius Caesar' you will proceed as instructed” the lieutenant handed him a miniature ear piece.
They crossed the field and proceeded to the VIP pavilion.
Another soldier stopped them at the steps to the pavilion and held out his hand for the briefcase.
“This stays outside the pavilion you’ll retrieve it at the end of the function”
He received a location tag for the briefcase and climbed the steps that led him into the pavilion.
“Over here Mr. Mulunuzi” the lieutenant smiled and waved him to a chair in the second row, behind the phony smile the soldiers cold eyes bore into him ominously.
Episode 2 webs at 2:00pm on thursday
Monday, March 30, 2009
I have only one word to explain my disappearance and that's WORK.
Question: Why wasn't I born a rich heir who didn't have to work for food? or better still why doesn't somebody put me in charge of a donor funded government programme on development, I'd get fat off the dollars while I let the poor villagers for whom the money is intended to drop further down the food chain.
As I write I am nursing a humongous hangover the effects of last nights happening are still being felt and apart from the ringing in my ears I have failed to get rid of the bitter taste in my mouth.
Every time I am in this state I just can't help but be reminded of Petesmama she always ridiculed guys who brag about their binges the following day, as in when with colleagues a dude could go something like "Man we caught from high table swallows were flowing like water, then after that Chris came and drove us to Steakie and we caught and caught peke 2:00 then we shifted to Rouge and caught more pints peke morning............... and so the conversation would go.
And just in case you would like to know, yes I caught peke morning.
Before I am swept away by another tsunami of work I would like to express a great deal of boiling uncontrollable anger at those hairbrained idiots that call themselves the champions of the poor in Malawi. Okay granted Madonna is a bit controversial but she's no psychopath and has already proven to be a good parent, so why oppose her bid to give just one child a shot at a better life away from poverty, hunger and disease?
Shots out....what does that mean anyway? mbu I hear 'shots out'
Any way shots out to you all or is it shouts out? Whatever, I missed Emi, Erique, Mudamuli,Cheri Oh! before I forget Carlo blew me off outside silk obviously she had better people she was rushing to see like Baz and D. Baz I have beef.
Missed Ug girl, Lucy was too busy these past few days she barely noticed me I could have been part of the furniture, missed Chanel, Besilent, Apr9, 31337, B2B and everyone else.
Friday, March 13, 2009
So please lets all help her. My favorite and the most prolific blogger hasn't given us anything for millenia.
Let's help her find it. Lucy take the kitchen, Emi search the lounge, I'll sweep the bedroom ofcourse, Muda come and help me with the closet drawers I might see what am............
Erique search the garage and maybe wash her Jeep while your at it.
SAVE OUR SUGAR AND SPICE CLUB
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
I am going to try and list a few of these mistakes most of which I have been hearing since Primo, that’s slang for primary Emi in case you’ve some how forgotten, you Matale old boy. Speaking of slang there are quite a few Kampalan slang words that I find quite interesting and others that just bore me to death for their senselessness, I will in the course of this post try and outline those that shouldn’t have been forged in the first place.
Borrow me 10,000/- :- now this one just makes me want to take a sledgehammer and smash someone to pulp, meanings of simple words like lend and borrow should be easy to grasp, no?
What sauce did you have for lunch? This one I have never come to accept even one bit coz sauce is a paste or some sort of curry and has never been a reference to soup or stew.
B2B is stubborn: - I bet you heard that phrase a lot in school Basix, probably got used to the sound of it too, not me dude, how come the word naughty has never entered our vocabulary? coz stubborn simply means something else altogether.
Been a while since I head this one - How do you make it? : - dude you need to back the fuck up.
Where did you eat your Christmas? : - with the rate at which Easters and Christmases are killed and eaten it’s a wonder we have any left to celebrate and Erique please don’t ask me for your Easter coz I sure as hell don’t keep Easters in my locker.
Banange that’s a good shoe: - Dear Chanel I have two shoes that collectively are referred to as a pair of shoes thank you very much, same goes for a trouser.
There are plenty of irritating mistakes in English and worthless slang most of which I have banished from my memory but the one kids these days use that just gives me an ulcer is ‘Zibs’ to mean problems or Bizibu. Zibs puts an enormous strain on my teeth and lips it is a whole lot easier to say Bizibu and get it over with.
Shule: - I admit I did accept this one albeit with some reservations, maybe even used it once or twice but I still maintain it should be relegated to that crop of words that need to be decommissioned.
My co-news anchor is particularly fond of using shortforms like ‘mona’ and ‘yesto’, its okay for kids I guess but for a man who is fast approaching 30 I feel embarrassed on his behalf.
GUESS AM OUT or should I say I have 'Buled'
Before I bule her's one I just remembered- 'I just 'chall' the stuff or we just 'challed' sincerely the word is just irritating, twisting words for slangs sake is despicable.
I've bust for real.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
I too have come up with my own list of irresistible, totally desirable beautiful women that can have any man including yours truly drooling with unrestrained excitement.
Unlike Nev of the Bloom fame my list is in order starting with the one I would kill to sleep with, till the one I would… well also kill to sleep with.
Presenting my most desirable women list.
The cheeks give her that cute girl next door looks but her eyes betray an experienced and skilled lover who can satisfy your every desire.
NO. 1 – Gabrielle Union
NO. 2 – Kerry Washington
Her beautiful eyes lure you closer and her sweet lips curl into an irresistible smile that puts you under her spell forever.
NO. 3 - Megan Good
No one has caused such mass desire since Janet Jackson went ‘Nasty’- NUFF SAID.
NO. 4 – Alicia Keys
This one is the kind that would make any man green with envy when you step into the room with her on your arm, she oozes sex from every pore on her body, Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the accused is capable of killing your desire for any other woman. Prosecution rests.
NO. 5- Tyra Banks
This damsel’s one mighty fine piece methinks, what say you mate.
Elizabeth Swan is probably the only reason I would be brave enough to step aboard the Flying Dutchman.
NO. 6 – Keira Knightley
Party's over folks! Go home.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Take a look at the Pepper's headline today 'owino in ashes on ash wednesday' and to add to that the Monitor just couldn't resist using the pun 'Harsh wednesday' newspapers and the television can't help but feed off other peoples problems, earthquakes, fires, murders and even genocide offer the papers an opportunity to sell more copies than they would ordinarily sell on a cold wet morning when it's business as usual with nothing going on but the occassional traffic jam.
But before you lean back your pompous ass and frown on the fourth estate just remember that it's not the editors that devour these stories with such frenzied excitement it's you. you are the reason the media makes such a meal of these disasters and prints macabre and grotesque images. they do this to feed your thirst for drama.
I won't pretend that I empathise with these owino lowlifes and I won't write anything in sympathy or pity, heartlessly I went about my business yesterday as if the fire had merely burnt through my garbage can and ruined the remains of yesternights supper. I did shop from that filthy place once but that was a long time ago, call me callous call me the devil but thats just the way I feel.
Also I will go a step further and say that maybe the idiots deserved to have all their means of earning a living go up in flames, before you log off in protest lemme say say that all the police investigations might turn up nothing this was clearly a bolt of fire from heaven that was sent by Michael the archangel to stamp out that crop of vermin that has nothing better to do with their time than pickpocket, gamble, and sell flesh. Lets rejoice, our mini Sodom is no more, now we can put up a mall that will house mobile phone shops and identical clothes from china.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
The girl rolled her eyes provocatively at Simon and beckoned him with one finger.
He looked back at the group he had just left, Russell seemed to be delivering the punch line to some joke because the girls suddenly burst into fits of laughter. He turned back to the girl who was now swaying her hips to the music and he walked over to her.
“Hi!” She said “I’m totally loving your skinhead.”
“I almost ran you over, then you took off” he said accusingly “you were running from them, the savages and Seargeant Kaggwa said they got you, what are you doing here? how did you…” Simon was still going until she stopped him.
“Ran me over?” she was now quizzical “Where?”
“Back in the forest” he labored to explain “this afternoon at around three you rushed onto the road I almost killed you”
“Me, in the forest?” look, you must think I’m somebody else.
“They were after you, these savages, I swear it was you” he insisted.
“I don’t know what you’ve been drinking, but you need to split.” She said exasperatedly and turned to walk away.
“Wait,” he said “Lemme show you something.” He was now absolutely perplexed, but he needed to find out more about her, either she was lying or his mind was playing tricks on him.
He removed a hanky from his jacket pocket and picked a bottle top from the ground, carefully while she watched he placed the top in the middle of the hanky and folded it, after a brief second he flipped the hanky in the air and turned it around sideways. The bottle top had miraculously disappeared.
“Wow” she said exitedly “how did you do that?”
“It’s just a little magic” he smiled.
“So cool, can you teach me?” she pleaded.
“Lemme think about it while we dance,” he replied. “Shall we”
He took her hand and they made their way through a mass of bodies until they found a free space in the middle of the lawn.
They boogied to a number of hits including his favorites, Sean Kingston’s ‘Beautiful girls’ and Chamillionaire’s ‘Ridin’. Simon found her to be a terrific dancer and as the DJ spun a raga tune by some obscure Jamaican artist he put his hands on her hips and pulled her closer while gyrating from left to right.
She didn’t seem to mind and pulled him even closer with her arms around his neck.
“So what’s your name?” She spoke in his ear.
“Simon, what’s yours?”
“Rachel.” She answered while pointing to a golden chain around her neck from which dangled a calligraphically designed letter ‘R’, “Rachel Kalema”
“Do you always give your full name to a total stranger”
“Only when they’re cute,” she smiled mischievously.
“You sure know how to dance for someone so young” he teased.
“Don’t you know that dancers are born?” she retorted.
“Really?” he laughed “and what class are you in?” he inquired further.
“That’s a really clever way of trying to tell my age young man.” She joked.
“How about if I asked directly then, how old are you?” he shot back.
“Why not find out” she teased.
She pulled his face close and kissed him on the lips, in a very unexpected move her warm and moist lips enveloped his mouth and he felt his heart thump rapidly, quickly Simon regained his composure and pulled away slowly.
“Wow, you don’t waste time do you” he said “some kiss.”
“Am a girl of many talents” She purred.
“No doubt my dear no doubt, but I would wish for you to at least give me a warning before errr….displaying your numerous talents.”
“Fine my love” she cooed, “what I wouldn’t give for a drink right now.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” he concurred, “let’s look for a bar”
They made their way to a bar where he obtained a bottle of tusker for himself and a coke for her. Several tents had been erected all around the compound and plastic chairs were neatly arranged underneath them, he took her hand and led her to one of the tents, they slumped into the chairs with much relief.
“My feet are killing me” he complained, “Haven’t danced this much since first year.”
“What course did you pursue?” She inquired.
“Social Sciences” he answered.
“Have you found a job?” she dug further.
“No, still looking”
“What is this, an inquisition?” he joked.
“Just asking” she said defensively, “just imagine you’re on TV and I’m Oprah.”
“Okay Oprah, you can fire away just as long as I get to play Larry King later.”
“No, no, no” she cried, “tonight is about you.” As she said that Simon saw that she shivered a little.
“You’re getting chilly.” He noted as he removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders.
“I’m actually developing a mild migraine.” She sighed.
“Well, that’s because its way past your bed time,” he teased, a look at his watch told him it was a half past midnight, “my my my time sure does fly.”
“Could you take me home?” she pleaded.
“I’m your night in shining armor,” he replied and stood up, “could you hang on a second? I need to go tell my cousin.”
When he got back to where he had left Russell, neither his cousin nor any of the three chicks were anywhere to be seen, he whipped out his phone and dialed Russell’s number.
“Sup cuz?” Answered Russell.
“Can’t find you” Simon replied, “Are you still at the party?”
“Naw, got lucky man, ama spend the night at this hottie’s motel.”
“Alright cuz, see you in the morning,” Simon said and hung up.
He found Rachel shaking her head to Timbaland’s ‘Apologize’ “love this song” she shouted when she saw him, “did you find your cousin?”
“No, he split, so where do you live?” He asked.
“Near the power transformer, at the bottom of this hill.”
“Yes, I think I saw it, let’s get going then.”
Simon started the truck as Rachel climbed into the co-drivers seat.
“Fasten seatbelts,” he announced.
“Seatbelt on,” she answered “let’s move already”
Simon drove down the mud track till he reached a junction at the bottom of the hill, to his left he could make out the silhouette of the power transformer in the darkness.
“So where’s home,” he inquired.
“Just a few meters past the transformer,” she replied “there” she pointed into the darkness.
As they cruised past the transformer, a few meters ahead Simon spotted a small house lit in the front by a single security bulb attached to the roof, “I can see it” he said, it was a tiny red brick house with a hedge fence that formed an intermittent boundary around it, as he drew closer Simon dimmed his headlamps for he felt a feeling of apprehension come over him, there was a buzz of activity going on around the house and quite a number of people sitting or moving around the house.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” he asked, he turned to Rachel for an answer but she was gone.
Simon felt a chill run down his spine, he slammed on the brakes and looked all around the inside of the vehicle. One minute she’d been there and the next she was gone without a trace.
“Rachel” he shouted her name, “what in heavens……..” he went from being mildly worried to hysterical, how could she just vanish? It was almost as if she had melted into the upholstery.
Simon stepped out of the vehicle and it was only then that he noticed the group of villagers that had started crowding around the pick-up, he was just about to say something when he heard wailing noises from the house, he was quite familiar with the sounds, they were cries of mourning.
A young boy of around 13 was peering curiously into the pick up. he grabbed the kid by the arm.
“Did somebody die here?” he asked the boy
“Yes,” the kid replied.
“Have you seen a girl around here she’s about this high, white blouse, blue skirt” he pressed further.
“No” the kid replied “can I drive your car” he begged.
“Do you live around here?” he shut the car door to keep the boy from jumping in.
“Yes, this is my home,”
“You…you live here,” he questioned, “see, I’m looking for this girl she just vanished, Rachel, you know her?”
“Rachel was my sister, she was murdered,” the boy was now wearing a grave expression.
“Murdered?” he looked disbelievingly at the lad, “the girl I’m looking for is Rachel Kalema.” I was with her just now.
“That’s her, my sister and you must have been with somebody else because her body was discovered a few hours back, in the forest.”
Simon felt a tight knot form in his stomach and almost immediately the blood rushed from his head making him reel backwards unexpectedly.
Nothing made sense, who was Rachel? Why had she led him here? How had she vanished? And why was this kid telling him she was dead?
“Is she… Is... Rachel ……inside” he asked the boy.
“Yes” said the kid.
“Take me there” his voice was husky with trepidation.
The kid led him towards the house, the wailing and crying got louder as they approached the entrance, in the middle of the small lawn a large group of young men and women were stoking a fire around which they all crowded for warmth.
“Omwana wange omuto mamange” the wailing got shriller as he stepped into the house.
The most heart wrenching grieving came from one corner of the room where an elderly woman whom Simon surmised to be the mother was crying inconsolably, a group of several women dressed in gomesis or kangas filled the tiny room.
It all felt like a bad dream, the kind you fail to wake up from, but much as he tried not to think about it something told him the girl in the forest, Rachel and this house were connected. Beads of perspiration formed on his brow and he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, “this is some crazy,” he said to himself.
Laid out on a mat in the center of the room was the bloodied body of a teenage girl. Simon almost turned and ran when he beheld the horrific sight of the corpse that had been bundled in a white sheet through which the blood had seeped.
He stepped forward warily.
Simon suddenly felt very sick. It was her.
Surprisingly Rachel’s face looked calm and serene it was blemish less with an angelic beauty that made her look like a sleeping cherubim. The golden ‘R’ chain around her neck still managed to glimmer under the dim light from a sooty bulb on the wall.
Simon turned and fled from the house, in his haste to exit the scene he rammed into a person almost knocking them over.
“Hey watch it, bro,” said someone.
“You blind?” screamed another, Simon could barely hear them, their voices sounded distant, he tried to focus on the people confronting him but their faces looked hazy and vague, his sight was foggy and his head felt woozy, he stumbled past the group huddled around the fire and stopped to recollect himself, his legs gave way and he knelt on a patch just by the hedge.
A wave of blinding nausea hit him and forced him to double over and clutch his tummy.
Simon retched and vomited onto the grass.
"The occultist sees in the man of today a being in the full swing of evolution. Man is at the same time a fallen God and a God in the becoming."
Watch out for the Season II premier next month
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Simon stood in the shower and soaped his entire body from head to toe, using a sponge he spread the lather all over his body and as the sweet smelling foam multiplied he heaved a sigh of relief.
The sun had set on Kyalika by the time he had returned from the search in the forest with his grand father and the police, he had quickly retrieved his hilux truck from the village square and followed his grand father to a large and expansive attractive bungalow built atop one of Kyalika’s numerous hills, the house was surrounded by more than 10 acres of a magnificent orchard with trees that flowered mangoes, avocado and jack fruit. This was Dr. Katende’s retirement home and Simon was shocked at the splendour and luxury his grand father waddled in.
The bungalow had been designed by a renowned South African architect, all the furniture was imported from Europe and opulent tiles that made up the walls and floors shimmered from every angle of the plush house.
The days events had left him feeling exhausted and filthy, he bent down to pick up the bucket of cold water between his legs and tipped it over his head, the water gushed down with such force he stopped breathing and felt a fleeting sense of helplessness not unlike being swept by a flood, he refilled the bucket from a tap in the wall and repeated the action twice until he was gasping for breath.
Simon reached for a towel, wrapped it his round his waist and stepped out of the shower into his room, he walked over to his rucksack and fished out a fresh pair of jeans and a clean shirt, after quickly dressing he looked at himself in the full length mirror atop the dressing table, his clean shaven head shone under the light bulb and a stubble has formed on his chin, he wasn’t in a hurry to shave though, Simon liked the bad boy looks a beard accorded him. He took a glance at his watch which told him it was a half past eight, he threw on a black denim jacket and went to look for his grand father.
Simon found his grand father on the patio perusing through the New Vision paper. Dr. Katende was dressed in white slacks and a white T-shirt and was reclined on a beach chair, he failed to look up when Simon stepped onto the patio.
Seated next to his grand father was a young man dressed in only beach shorts and a baseball cap, Simon knew him as Russell a first cousin of his whom he only got to see on weddings and funerals, if he remembered correctly Russell was only a year older than him and spent his life bumming around the country from party to party.
“Well Russell,fancy seeing you here.” he announced his presence.
Dr. Katende looked up from his newspaper and smiled, “he’s just here to refill his wallet Simon and I don’t mind helping”
“Dearest Grandpa my only wish is for your good health and prosperity” objected Russell.
“Thank you grandson, could you pour Simon some wine.”
Between the old man and Russell on a coffee table was a bottle of red wine that was nearly empty, two used wine glasses indicated that the duo had been at it for some time, Russell picked up a third glass and filled it, while handing it over to Simon he raised his own in a toast.
“To grandpa” he said.
“To grandpa” Simon echoed. He slumped down on the only remaining beach chair and took a sip from his glass, he let the tingling liquid rest in his mouth for a lingering moment and then swallowed, he grimaced as a burning sensation filled his stomach.
“Not a wine person I gather” his grand father noted.
“Is it that obvious grandpa? He joked, “I’d choose my beer any day thank you.”
“You young people” Dr. Katende sighed, “No appreciation whatsoever for the good things in life, you’ll find a few beers cooling in the freezer by the kitchen door.”
“I’ve got a better idea Simon ol’sport” Russell joined in, “there’s this kasiki at Col. Muwenda’s place a few miles back the way, lets go check it out.”
“He’s in no shape right now Russell, Simon needs to relax” The old man started in Simon’s defence.
“Oh! Don’t be a spoil sport grandpa we’ll be back in a couple of hours, besides it’ll help Simon get all this stuff off his mind.”
“Alright kids but drive safely okay!” the old man gave in.
As Russell entered the house to look for a shirt Simon started up the hilux and revved the engine, his mouth was already beginning to water as he pictured an ice cold Club Pilsner in his hand, unable to contain his desire he skipped out of the hilux, rushed over to the freezer and retrieved a Club, unwilling to look around for an opener he popped it open using his teeth and took a huge gulp.
As the ice cold brew flowed down his throat his tense muscles relaxed and he closed his eyes as tiny shivers traversed his entire body.
“Snap out of it homie” Russell’s voice brought him back from his trance.
“All set Russell?”
“All systems go” Russell replied.
Russell jumped into the co driver’s seat while Simon placed the Club bottle in the cup holder next to the gear lever and cruised off into the darkness with the beam from his headlamps leading the way.
A mile further down the hill lay a colonial style mansion with an expansive plush lawn surrounded by a brick fence. This was the residence of Col. Muwenda the commander of the 4th mechanized brigade stationed in Masaka. Col. Muwenda’s daughter was getting married the next day at All saints in Kampala, circulating rumors revealed he had thrown his daughter a farewell party that would be spoken about for years to come.
Simon and Russell wasted no time in getting comfortable, they walked straight to the free drinks bar and Simon ordered a Tusker with Russell settling for three shots of Uganda Waragi. The entire compound was swarming with hundreds of guests who were either busy stuffing their mouths with free food or making sure the free booze wasn’t wasted, everyone seemed to be swaying to the music that was blaring from the more than ten Disco speakers supplied by Silk mobile and one had to shout above the sound of the music to make themselves heard.
“Do you know any of those cuties?” Simon pointed to a group of three hot looking girls dressed in skimpy party dresses, they were holding wine glasses and skimming through their mobile phones as if oblivious to the festivities around them.
“Nope, but if you’d like, we could get to know them” without waiting for an answer Russell took one swig from his glass and marched over to where the girls were standing.
A baffled Simon stared at his departing cousin, shrugged his shoulders and followed suit.
“Hi I’m Russell you guys sure look out of place in this village, not from around here I reckon”
“No” said one of the girls, she was wearing a short blue dress that left nothing to the imagination. “We’re from Mbarara actually, MUST”
“Oh! So you’re friends of Claire’s I guess, I gather she has a degree from there” Russell observed.
“Claire?” a confused Simon inquired.
“The bride to be” the rest of the group said in unison.
“Oh! I see, I’m Simon” he shook hands with the girls, he took particular interest in one that was wearing a black dress that fell to the knees and opened up at the front to expose a cleavage that almost sent Simon into a paroxysm.
“So are you a med student?” he asked her.
“I wish” she answered “I’m doing a paramedics course”
“Oh! I see so I guess you can help me, my heart just stopped when I saw you, you are absolutely stunning.”
“You are so dead,” she laughed “but I’ll buy you a coffin.”
Simon closed his eyes playfully and groaned. “Let me fetch you a drink before I die.”
He took her glass and made his way back to the counter.
He was halfway to the bar when he saw her, his entire body froze and his mouth opened in shock, the glass slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground.
It was her the girl from the forest, she was wearing the same skirt and blouse he had seen her in, only this time she was clean and wearing white trainers. He eyes sparkled in the disco lights, they were the same pretty eyes that had stared back at him in terror just a few hours back in the forest.
She smiled and waved at him playfully.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Simon jumped into his truck and proceeded to follow the old man into the village.
A few meters after the Billboard a dirt road branched off to the right, the Yamaha bike left the tarmac road and proceeded up the dirt road.
The road was lined on either side with crop fields of Maize and cassava, occasionally Simon noticed a sugarcane plantation. Every few hundred meters a homestead appeared, a circle of small huts surrounding one big hut was the standard homestead arrangement. Villagers were hard at work in the fields, bareback in the stifling heat. He watched as they raised their hoes in the air and brought them down tirelessly.
Ten minutes and a dusty drive later they arrived at the village square. Numerous stalls had been erected all around the square and as Simon drove in he was hit by a cacophony of voices as traders loudly advertised their wares and announced bargain prices to whoever cared to listen.
The police station was sandwiched between a vegetables stall and a charcoal shack, the structure that housed the station was an untidy cabin built from mud bricks that had been painted white, the white paint had long since turned to a dirty shade of brown and the word POLICE had been untidily painted in black paint above the entrance.
His grandfather dismounted and strode into the station, Simon climbed out of the Hilux and followed the old man into the cabin.
The smell of raw tobacco hit Simon as soon as he stepped into the station which was just as untidy inside as it was on the outside, the paint had peeled from the walls exposing mud bricks that were beginning to crumble, in a far corner of the room was placed a table and a chair.
Perched on the chair was a policeman who squinted at the pair as they walked in, he was dressed in full police uniform and a roll of tobacco was trapped between his nicotine stained teeth. A couple of seconds later his face lit up and he rose to meet his visitors.
“Dr. Katende, it’s been a couple of weeks, how are you today?” the cop bellowed.
“Well Kaggwa, it’s not always I run into trouble.” replied the old man.
“Never hurts to check in on an old friend old man.”
With those words his eyes wandered to Simon who was still standing in the doorway.
Dr. Katende waved towards Simon. “ Kaggwa meet my grandson Simon.”
“Simon this happens to be Sergeant Kaggwa the officer in charge of this post.”
Simon shook hands with the cop. “Nice to meet you sir” he greeted.
“Simon here has run into some kind of trouble.”
“What can I help you with Simon? Please, sit down.” He waved to a wooden bench in front of the table.
Simon sat down and while his grand father remained standing Kaggwa reclaimed his seat behind the table. For the second time that day Simon recounted the afternoon’s events in the forest and his close call with the savages.
Kaggwa listened with his fingertips together until Simon’s narration was over.
“Well then, I suppose we shouldn’t waste any more time, let’s go find this girl.” Kaggwa proffered, “do you remember the spot where all this happened?” he asked Simon.
“Sure.” Simon shot back.
Kaggwa whipped out a walkie talkie from some where underneath the table and quickly muttered into the device, there was a burst of static and some gibberish from the person on the other end and then silence.
“We’ll have a patrol car here soon” the words were hardly out of his mouth before a police patrol double cabin pick up pulled up outside the station.
“Let’s go” Kaggwa jumped from his seat and lead the way to the patrol vehicle.
Simon and the old man huddled into the back cabin while Kaggwa hopped into the co-drivers seat, the patrol car sped forward and cruised down the dirt road at break neck speed leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.
“Slow down Mubiru, you trying to kill us?” Kaggwa yelled to the policeman behind the wheel. “Mubiru here drives like a bat out of hell” he shouted over the noise of the car engine.
“Just doing my job, I chase bad guys.” Mubiru shouted back.
Not before long they arrived at the scene of Simon’s misadventure.
Simon noticed the fragments of glass from his shattered window that had fallen on the tarmac. “this is where the bastards smashed my window.” He pointed out. He walked over to the point where he’d almost run her over. “And this is where she lay after I…..” he couldn’t find the words.
“It’s alright” Kaggwa assured him. “Show us where she went.”
“There” Simon pointed to the spot in the forest into which the girl had disappeared.
Kaggwa beckoned for Mubiru to follow him into the forest. Simon and the old man remained by the roadside while the two policemen entered the dense undergrowth with AK-47s strung across their backs.
“Think we can save her granddad?” Simon asked more as way to break the silence than expect an answer.
“Don’t know grandson, it’s a pretty large forest”
“I wish I could have done something, I just freaked and ran.”
“Wise thing to do Simon, you were outnumbered.”
A few minutes later the policemen emerged from their search in the forest.
“We found her tracks and then we lost them” Kaggwa announced.
“There were other tracks as well, five sets to be precise.” Mubiru joined in.
“She was definitely followed into the forest.” Kaggwa surmised.
“So let’s follow their tracks.” Simon suggested.
“It’s not that simple grandson” the old man interjected. These bastards know how to cover their tracks.
“He’s right Simon” Kaggwa concurred. “the tracks run cold about two hundred meters into the forest.”
“So that’s it, we just give up.” wailed Simon.
“I’m afraid so young man. I’m afraid so.” Kaggwa concluded.
The leader of the savage group watched as the four of them piled into the patrol vehicle and drove off. He lay on his stomach barely 100 feet away camoflagued by the thick bushes.
The remaining four were crowded next to him doing their best to stay hidden as they watched the police vehicle drive away, one of them held the girl in a tight grip with one hand firmly covering her mouth to keep her from screaming, she tried to twist and break free but she was helplessly trapped in his vise like embrace.
As the police truck disappeared down the road the leader stood up and pulled a 'blackberry' from the bark cloth around his loin, he punched in a few numbers and pressed the PDA against his ear.
“Devil’s bonfire” said the voice on the other end.
“Death to the serpent” replied the leader. “We got her.”
“When do you need me?” asked the voice.
“Tonight, 8:00pm don’t be late.” Said the leader and hung up.
The Devil's Bonfire resumes on 7th Feb 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Shortly afterwards he heard the hum of an oncoming motorbike, the rider rode up from the direction of Kyalika on a Yamaha motorcycle, Simon watched as the rider approached, stopped next to the Hilux and killed the engine. He was dressed in blue jeans a white shirt and black army boots.
The rider wore a jet black helmet and black riding gloves to match. He looked Simon over head to toe from behind the dark helmet, subsequently he dismounted and proceeded to remove his helmet.
The deep set eyes, bordered above by bushy white eyebrows were unmistakably his grandfathers. That pair of eyes had stared back at Simon countless times from family photographs. The slim lips that remained firmly shut beneath a sharp protruding nose gave the old man a hawkish appearance. So this was him, his grandfather the legendary Dr. Richard Katende who’d retired from public life years ago to spend his twilight years in remote Kyalika.
Simon rather undecidedly took a few steps forward with an outstretched hand.
“Good afternoon granddad. How are you?”
“Very well Simon, welcome to Kyalika.” The slim lips broke into a warm smile.
“This place is a long way out.” He observed while shaking the old man’s hand.
“This is home Simon, your home too any time you want to come live with your old grandpa.”
With that they both laughed together heartily until the old man’s laughter died down abruptly.
A wave of apprehension came over Simon until he followed the old man’s gaze to the shattered car window.
“Had an accident?” his grandpa queried.
Simon was silent for a while not quite sure where to begin. He was still reluctant about admitting to almost running over the girl even though he was now pretty certain it wasn’t his fault. But the savages had tried to kill him and he couldn’t report that to the authorities without disclosing his near fatal hit on the young girl.
He knew he needed to make sure the girl was found and saved so he had to come clean with the truth.
“Some people tried to kill me.” He said quietly.
The old man’s eyes narrowed as he looked inquiringly at Simon.
“What do you mean by ‘some people tried to kill you’?” his grand father asked rather incredulously.
They were savage, they carried spears………machetes... The words spewed forth rapidly, Simon was now talking frenziedly his earlier hesitation to speak having somehow dissipated. He recounted his story right from when he’d almost run over the girl to the point he’d driven away from the nightmare.
The old man listened with no interruption or exclamation, he kept his eyes on Simon and with his arms folded across his chest he listened to the entire story from start to finish.
After Simon’s narrative the old man turned and stared in the distance, he was obviously in deep thought and Simon dared not interrupt. After a few minutes his grandfather suddenly faced him and shot a question.
“This leader, what exactly did he look like.”
“He had some weird head gear with long feathers and…….
“Yes, I heard that” the old man said impatiently “anything else?”
“I……..I couldn’t notice much grandpa…I was scared shitless.”
His grandfather walked over to him and grabbed his shoulders.
“Think” the old mans fingers dug into his flesh painfully.”
“Granpa you’re hurting me.” Simon yelped.
“Sorry” the old man eased his grasp.” We’d better go to the police, they can help save the girl.
The old man glanced at his Rolex, the gold plated time piece sparkled in the afternoon sun, “I know you’re tired but the police chief’s gonna want to hear your story.”
“Nice watch grandpa.” Simon quipped.
“Parting gift from a friend at Oxford”
“Thought you went to Havard?”
“Yes, when I was your age, there’s a lot you don’t know about me grandson, hope we get some time to catch up.”
He mounted and kick started the bike, the old man fastened his helmet securely and after beckoning to Simon to follow him, sped off towards the village.
Once again Carsozy cannot apologise enough for the delay in posting the fifth installment.
Devil's Bonfire resumes Monday 2nd February 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
In the years to come he would look back at this moment and wonder whether that fall saved his life.
As he hit the ground Simon heard a swoosh sound above his head, in the next split second a spear hit the tarmac in front of him and skidded across the road.
Simon stared right ahead at his hilux, he estimated thirty lay feet between him and the car, ‘I’ll never make it’ he thought resignedly.
“Son of a bitch” the leader growled.
Simon had been sure they were right onto him but the voice had come from far off, he stole a glance behind him and realized much to his relief that the savages hadn’t even moved at all, they had relied on the spear thrower who fortunately for him had missed.
The bunch had turned really angry and were brandishing their weapons in the air.
“Get him.” The leader’s order needed no repeating.
The rest of the bunch surged forward and in a second were racing towards Simon.
When he got to his feet the savages behind him let off loud yells and he could hear them approaching heavily across the tarmac.
He sped off again towards the truck and this time he was more confident of escaping his would be murderers given his head start.
He reached the truck and yanked open the door, when he glanced over his shoulder the savages were barely twenty feet away and closing in fast.
Simon jumped into the truck, slammed the door shut and wound up the window. When he turned the key in the ignition, the engine sputtered, coughed and died.
“You gotta be kiddin’ me” he shouted out loud.
He turned the key again and was wild with despair when the engine once again coughed a few times and fell silent.
He ran his hands through his hair desperately and looked in the rearview mirror, the first of the savages had reached the tail of the pick up and had a machete raised in readiness to strike.
Simon said a silent prayer and reached for the ignition once more.
A machete smashed through the car window spraying him with glass fragments, when he looked through the shattered window, the savage was raising his machete for a second blow.
Behind him the pigs were squelaing wildly, their squeals were defeaning, they were obviously frightened by the sudden violent goings on around them.
Simon turned the key and the engine came to life with a roar, he engaged the first gear and pressed on the gas pedal, the truck sprang forward and as Simon raced off he heard the clang of metal to metal as the machete bounced of the truck body.
He raced off at break neck speed towards Kyalika, a glance in the rear view mirror showed him five very angry savages gesticulating wildly in the middle of the road weapons in hand. He brushed glass fragments from his hair and shirt, re-engaged gears and stepped on the gas.
The huge Warid billboard loomed ahead and a sense of relief rushed over him, he had finally reached the village.
Simon was both angry and frightened. Angry at himself for having lost concentration while driving and he was now frightened of being alone in this remote zone, he couldn’t wait to meet with his grand father.
His run in with the savages had left him exhausted and famished, he longed for a cold shower and some food. He parked beneath the billboard, whipped out his mobile phone, and rapidly typed a text message to his grand father. He moved round to the back of the truck to check on his cargo. Both pigs looked alive and well, he leaned against the tail of the truck, and felt around the pockets of his jean trousers for a packet of Dunhill, Simon lit a cigarette and pulled on it long and hard, he exhaled deeply and as the smoke poured out from his mouth and nose he realized his hands were trembling, Simon quickly took two more drags on the cigarette and stamped it out beneath the heel of his Timbaland boots.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Simon stood rooted in the middle of the road not quite sure whether to go on after her or to step into his hilux and drive off, he was both confused and amazed at the way in which she had seemingly risen from the dead and melted away ‘she was injured for crissakes. He looked at the spot in the forest that had swallowed her and the very thought of going into the thicket after her made his blood run cold, he was terrified of snakes and he was sure there were plenty of them where she had gone.
“Don’t let her get away you bloody bastards, bring her back now”
The voice seemed to be coming from behind him, he turned quickly to face the direction from which the words had come, no one as far as he could see, but he was pretty sure there was someone else beyond the thick bushes.
“Hey!” he called out.
And then he heard them. It wasn’t just one voice. Voices, they were loud and moving closer.
“We’ll get the little bitch, hurry up you fools.”
As the voices became louder the foliage in the distance shook and swayed.
“She’s not far off, move faster you.” Another voice.
The approaching voices were quickly becoming louder and they sounded angry.
“She has nowhere to go.” Different voice.
Simon was now petrified, it all came together now, he understood why she was so frightening, why she was running, she was trying to escape from someone, them, but why? And he was dead certain her pursuers were about to emerge from the forest any second.
They were very close now, he could hear the undergrowth give way as the men moved nearer and the trees swayed from the motion. Simon was frantic he looked back at the spot where the girl had disappeared into the forest across the road, she could be anywhere by now, no sense going after her, he faced the voices again and at that moment a man emerged from the bush.
His torso was bare and his skin was sweaty, save for a loin bark cloth that covered his groin he had no apparel, his chest heaved as he breathed heavily.
Simon looked straight into his eyes, they were bloodshot and murderous.
Unblinking the man stared back at Simon, for a few seconds the two sized up each other and it was in those few seconds that Simon noticed the machete hanging loosely from the man’s right hand.
Simon’s heart raced making his head throb in the sweltering heat, the machete glinted in the sun causing Simon to swallow hard.
His gaze was still transfixed onto the machete when four others poured from the forest and grouped around the first man, they were just as scantily dressed and each held a weapon of some sort. Simon could make out a spear and an axe but he couldn’t really notice much more in the blinding sun as the sweat filled his eyes making him blink uncontrollably, he wiped the sweat from his eyes with a shaky hand and stared back at the savage bunch.
“Where is she?” the words were more of a threat. And they came from the savage who assumed authority and was clearly the leader, Simon noticed he wore a headset made of long plumes.
“You’re going to tell me where she is.” clearly the savage was used to giving orders.
This time he raised his spear aiming it directly at Simon.
Simon turned and sprinted towards the truck, he was running as fast as his legs could carry him, he needed to get to his truck and drive away from this nightmare.
The distance back to the hilux seemed endless and he wasn’t sure he would make it, he was almost certain the savage bunch would circle him and cut off his route of escape.
As fate would have it he tripped on a rock and stumbled, Simon lost balance and went crashing to the ground.
Chapter 4 release date: 24 Jan 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
When he turned around what he saw confirmed his worst fears and caused the bile to come rushing into his mouth, he swallowed hard to get rid of the sour taste that had filled his mouth and leaned against the truck to support his legs that had suddenly turned wobbly.
Sprawled out on the tarmac about 50 feet away was a young girl. She lay on her back unmoving.
Simon took one step towards the lifeless form and stumbled when his weak legs almost buckled under him, he took a deep breath and walked shakily to where the girl lay.
“Hey you okay?” he called out to the motionless girl, ‘Stupid me’, he thought to himself ‘of course she’s not okay she’s freakin’ dead.’
Her face was covered in mud but even then Simon could tell that she was quite young, she couldn’t have been more than sixteen, her skirt had pulled up almost to her waist and even in his state of fright Simon couldn’t help but notice her smooth brown thighs, as if guilty of where his eyes were focused he looked away.
He knelt next to the body and closed his eyes “What have I done?” he whispered to himself, he had enough problems to worry about without having to add to that the blood of an innocent girl on his hands, this transgression was enough to cause his dad to ground him till he was thirty, the humiliation his dad had caused him in the past would pale in comparison to the grief he would have to go through every day should his father learn of this.
In that moment Simon made his decision, he would drive away and never tell anyone of the incident ever, it would be his secret, his closet skeleton, his ghost to haunt him for the rest of his life, As he stood up to head back to the truck he heard a whimper, quickly he knelt back down and prodded the girl on her shoulder, could his mind be playing tricks or was it the girl for sure. ‘she could still be alive’ he said to himself, ‘please let her be alive’ he prayed.
As he shook the lifeless girl she moaned, opened her eyes and looked straight at him with a glazed expression.
“You’re alive, oh! Thank god, Oh! My god you’re still alive.” Simon could hardly contain his relief, he held the girl’s hand tightly as if to keep her from slipping back to the dead.
He had to get help, she was definitely in need of urgent medical attention and he wasn’t even sure where the nearest hospital could be found.
He would get help from Kyalika, his grandfather would know what to do he, decided to carry her into the truck and take her to the village, as he bent down to lodge his arms under her legs and arms she let out a blood curdling scream, shocked and horrified Simon drew back quickly, he’d hardly touched her, ‘was she in serious pain?’ he had to get help fast. When he looked at her face, her mouth was wide open and her eyes were terror stricken she reached out a dirty hand and the words she spoke were barely audible.
They’re………..they…… coming..help…….help me…….they’re…..
Simon leaned forward and held her hand “I’m going to get help we need to get to my car and go to Kyalika.” he assured her.
“No,.. Kyalika ………not…… going back …”
Suddenly with the strength that Simon previously would have doubted she had, the girl wrenched her hand free and stood up in a movement that to Simon looked like a spirit rising from the ground.
“What are you doing? You’re hurt, you can’t walk.” He exclaimed.
She brushed past him before he could stop her. She looked around in horror as if expecting something to attack her any minute. “She’s dead…..I ….we…hide...” The mumbling was incoherent.
“Listen to me, we need to take you to a hospital” he offered.
But she was gone. He watched in astonishment as she raced off into the bushes and disappeared into the dense undergrowth.
Chapter 3 release date: 22 Jan 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Simon had been driving for about an hour since his stop at the last trading center, according to the map he was about 4 kilometers away from Kyalika, he kept a constant look out for the Warid billboard which he was told lay just outside the village, his instructions were to park anywhere near the billboard, text his grand father and wait.
He was thirsty despite the two bottles of Rwenzori mineral water he had gulped in a space of 5 minutes, he cursed himself for having agreed to carry out this stupid errand, he had made plans to be with Brenda at Alleygators, now here he was in the blazing heat, 150 km out of Kampala with two pigs strapped to the back of his dad’s pick up truck.
The pigs belonged to his father and he had express instructions to deliver them to his grandfather unharmed, he had a good mind to set them free right there in the middle of nowhere but then the words came back to him - “Your granddad has a feast on Sunday he’s counting on you Simon” his fathers words played themselves over again in his head despite his most ardent attempts to banish them from his memory, according to his father all grandpa’s pigs were wiped out by a swine fever epidemic that had engulfed the entire Kyalika village, his home village.
Simon Katende had never been to his home village, which explained the map and he’d last seen his grandfather when he was eight. Now at 23 he hoped his first adult meeting with his grand father would be nothing like a confrontation with his father who was domineering and heavy handed, despite his latest attempts at independence Simon had failed to establish any degree of freedom from his overbearing father, John Katende ran a tight ship and he kept his son Simon on a tight leash. The old man had even instituted an 8:00 o’clock curfew the minute Simon had come back home after completing his bachelors at UMU.
He had his left arm on the wheel and had crooked his right arm to rest easily hanging half out the window, as the hills rolled past he leaned back and dreamt of Brenda’s soft brown skin rubbing next to his as he caressed her sweet supple lips with his own, he could almost smell her body lotion and shivered as he recalled the way it always made him want her so badly……………………..deep in his reverie he failed to see the slim figure that darted out from the shrubbery and raced right onto the tarmac straight into the path of his racing Hilux………..the scream brought Simon snapping out of his daydream and he braked furiously while swerving sharply to the left to avoid hitting it (what?), he heard a thud as the right side of his bumper hit something and he cringed as his entire body froze with the alarming possibility that he could have killed someone.
He fought to regain control of the vehicle as it veered left and right while heading dangerously into the bushes, as he swerved sharply back on to the road the engine died and he came to a sudden stop with a sharp jolt that made his teeth clap together painfully.
He was not sure what to do, he was shaken and frightened and he was doubly sure he had rammed into a person. He sat in his seat his hands tightly clutching the steering wheel and sweat profusely dripping down his face, he was too scared to look back for fear of what he might see. Something told him to turn the key in the ignition and speed off to his rendezvous but an unnerving paralysis seemed to have gripped his entire body.
Suddenly with a resolve that surprised even himself Simon reached out for the door handle, pulled the lever while pushing the door open, with one foot on the tarmac and using the door for support he pulled himself out of the truck.
..................to be continued.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Skimming through the papers today one particular story caught my eye, it was an article on the contributions the 'Kyeyos' make to sectors such as housing , education and health, the remittances the Cheri's and Emi's of this world make amount to a staggering 1 billion dollars annually.
This money is distributed down the food chain to the rest of us labourers through wages for various jobs that range from porters on a construction site to janitors in clinics and of course there are other specialised services like consultancies that provide professional advice on investments and capital finance as well as real estate and property.
So if I were the minister of state for trade and investment I would advise Ugandans living abroad not to invest their hard earned money in MTN shares as some have promised to do should that greedy multi nantional ever decide it needs to fill its already bursting belly.
I advise that they follow the trend and provide the much needed jobs for ordinary Ugandans by investing in housing or education, this way my cousin Bamujje who earns a pittance from growing tobacco in Mubende just might make the trip to Kampala for a better paying job.
But i think I see their point. It's easy to buy stocks and sit back and relax knowing you can sell any second you sense a profit, I know i would do the same after all who needs the cumbersome tasks of buying land to put up Muzigos for tenants who are only going to become a constant headache and there is also the risk of getting ripped of by a brother or uncle, I mean who can u trust with money these days. Of the 1bn I mentioned above about a quarter of that could have been lost in shoddy deals, ghost projects and outright theft.
So i guess its okay to make the Charles Mbiires, Noel Meirs and van Veens richer after all there's something in it for you, isn't there?
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