Ki Uganda Kinyuma: Jesus died; Jesus was resurrected from the dead. Kampala remained unmoved. The potholes unfazed. The iron sheets, yes, our father who art in the State House finally heard our prayers. He wondered why we did not just ‘report’. If only Ugandans could learn the art of reporting to our father, all things would be sorted. That Ugandans have a habit of not reporting the thieves. That at least, we can always go through the son, and whatever we ask through the son shall always be granted.
At this rate, Uganda needs a class monitor, someone to note down the names of the noise makers, the trouble rousers, then this list can be submitted to our father who art in Nakasero.
As we worked through Easter, one of our masters decried the state of entertainment in Uganda. All along, I had the impression that Kampala was the king of the party, the maker of all fun. One of our masters argued on the contrary. That one can only find shisha pots in Uganda, and if one needs to engage in fun, they must fly to Nairobi. That was a shocker. What have you people been doing late in the night? Working? Even on weekends?
CONTINUE READING… The Easter that was…
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