But why is canned beer so expensive?
CRAZY K’LA: The week that led to Martyrs Day had moved quite fast. There was a famous pilgrim that had come on fuutu, a big name in the digital world signed out, and then came Lucian tales. But you see, from the Lucian tales, I discovered that I have been unromantic, and I guess, all Ugandan men. Because no Ugandan man does warmups of that kind.
I am done forcing my relationship with alcohol. It will not work any longer. On the eve of Martyrs Day, I took my famous ka stout. I was desiring a cold beer, and I thought: why not pick up that good old friend. And boom, I bought a ka can. I do not get why canned beer is so expensive. And it is not like I am not the target market, but the whole Uganda seems to be out of the target range. Then in the middle of the night, I woke up with a headache. Not that I am blaming it on the stout, but people, one thing happened after another.
Anyway, I was willing to be a Martyr for that sake. The world would have remembered Saint Ortega, of course the Najjera folks would celebrate...in their dust. For the first time, there would not be a lanky fellow on their case. But they would also remember, he was lanky and handsome, they do not make us like that these days!
Of course, the week that led to Martyrs Day had also moved quite fast. There was a famous pilgrim that had come on fuutu. As we dealt with the circumstances of her travel, a big name in the digital world signed out, and then came Lucian tales. But you see, from the Lucian tales, I discovered that I have been unromantic, and I guess, all Ugandan men. Because no Ugandan man does warmups of that kind. Then on Martyrs Day, the President shocked me. He gave one of the shortest speeches of his career.
Museveni has been here from the time of canonisation (as a teenager at Ntare) and here now 60 years later as President. But he warned that the State of Nation Address would be long. But he also told lies mbu he used to be a terrific football player. Awo I knew Mzee was looking for more ways of charming Maama. But maybe the man was a great defender. Because he has allowed no other person to score in elections.
From Martyrs Day, a thought hit me. I have finally zeroed down on the signs of my future wife. It is about the sundress. I do not know what it is, but the sundress is the thing that will melt the heart of any aristocrat. You see, there is an innocence that comes with a sundress. Of course, you will not find a sundress in Najjera. Those who reside in that dusty area do not have the ability to adorn such dresses. But the sundress, aka akateteyi is the real deal.
I want to petition the government to give monthly benefits to ladies who belong to the kateteyi crew. Because eiish, it reminds me of the days when Irene Ntale was the goddess of Kampala. That playfulness, and I guess she was the true champion of the kateteyi. Kateteyi and marriage material, those things go in one sentence.
Speaking of fashion, there is some infamous Makindye croc, aka ekigatto. It is pompous, it is blasty, but it also has red flags all around it. You can tell who stays in Makindye or Salaama Road based on this kigatto. I hear it is a must have in the closet. I suspect it should be comfortable, but hey, I also suspect it is a summary of one and their life burdens. But then some ladies are courageous.
How on earth are you trusting a one Hamza wearing ekigatto with your life? See the day I wear ekigatto, I will know for sure that my ex has mixed me. No way, you wear ekigatto, support Arsenal, reside on Salaama Road or in Najjera and then expect to make something out of life. On that I bet. Impossible people. Impossible! Not in a million lives.
Since I also promised to upgrade the IQ of you dear readers, for this week, do yourself a favour and buy Tolstoy’s War and Peace. It is quite a bulky book, but hey, it reads just fine, line by line, paragraph on paragraph. It is the kind of book you can date for the next month. And you could also use that to mourn the Aristoc branch at Acacia. It was convenient for most of us.
When my children ask where some of my money went, it was to this branch. Just as this branch had started bringing in the classics, the kind from the magical Russian period of 1860s, that is when they closed. Thus, I am mourning ka little. Worse, I have also thrown the last of the bottle away. I am joining the folks who raw-dog life. No consolation, nothing to take you to a new reality, you just hard crash into life. Perhaps that is the whole point of life. To not escape. To dive right into it. To take its punches and punch back. To insult it and get insulted back. To earn your own respect for facing up to life. Ehhh but life si mchezo! But someone should also save us from the ‘check on your friends’ crew!
Twitter: ortegatalks
