Satire: Ugandans don’t understand a mere tattoo - Sheeba

On Friday, Sheebah convened a meeting with her inside team and a few journalists who “understand modern presentation of a woman’s body” to her pad. I was dragged in by a colleague who said it was time I understood and appreciated the real Sheebah.

Sheebah told the meeting it was time to start planning for the two battles slated for November because this time round “money alone won’t console my cleavage”. 

She said it was payback time for Cindy to feel the wrath of what she can deliver.

“To get us there, we must first review the first battle and appreciate what went wrong,” her manager said.

“Nothing went wrong,” Sheebah said pointedly. “What do Ugandans see in Cindy that I don’t have? The Deputy Speaker said it was a tie. He said so to not offend Cindy, I guess?”

“She’s got legs,” said The Observer snapper, who pleaded that I don’t mention his name once he learnt I would write something about the meeting.

“Yes, legs… To beat her, you ask to perform in Gomesi all night,” said a vixen who looked like she had used a gallon of magenta lipstick.

Sheebah glowered at her then turned the fury of her eyes at The Observer guy. Then, letting out a deep sigh, she admitted Cindy had legs.

“But I got a lot more only that Ugandans don’t even understand tattoos. I show them my tattoos strategically placed in locations that can sensualise a Budha rock but nothing… they can neither feel the tattoo nor what the tattoos are planted on.

“Wo! Ugandans, they don’t know art so I wouldn’t expect them to understand music anyway,” she added.

This was like a cue to a heavily tattooed man in the room. His accent filled the air like fog does dawn in Kabale as he explained how Beyonce, Lady Gaga and Kylie Minogue had made it big as artists riding on their great bodies and what they let the public see of it.

“In London, people are 100 years ahead of our Bwaise fans here so they will understand art when they see a racy-lacy performer on stage,” he said.

“Cindy’s legs will be lost out there,” added a lingerie.

Well, it might not make sense calling a human being ‘lingerie’ but I swear if you saw that vixen, you wouldn’t put it past that. She was more of a lingerie than a person – if what we dressed made us, same way we say ‘you’re what you eat’.

“But Cindy isn’t all about the legs, she can sing, too,” said a one-pack fella whose biceps, for some strange reason, reminded me of Straka.

“Who has asked your opinion?” asked the manager.

“Who can’t sing?” fired Sheebah at the made-up meeting. “Have you ever heard me give a feeble excuse, ‘I can’t sing while dancing like Celine Dion’ the same way this joker did?” 

Sheebah warned her team not to take London for granted because “Cindy might decide to bring our game to her stage and beat us at it”.

She did not explain what this meant but my friend Odeke said it had something to do with Cindy going ‘pop cosmo.’

Whatever that means, I might never know without being there but music must win this time. As I learnt, I heard vaguely as someone proclaim that Britney Spears will beg Sheebah for a collabo that can help relaunch her dead career.
I agreed. But I don’t smoke weed.