Two cents, anyone?

Dunno about you guys, but I have had it up to here with Kampala night spots. I’m “proper” tired of all these teenagers dressed like they came from some new G-Unit video…with no fashion consultant…I mean, seriously people, I should not be able to see my reflection in / on the surface of those jeans. Its ridiculous.

Plus, I don’t like the fact that I can’t do squat about some kid pouring my drink coz its (the kid in question) is high on some cheap brew…and his inability to give me a good reason to let him off the hook. The following words do not, I repeat, NOT console me at all, ” Be easy!”
WTF? Be easy? Dude, do you know what I had to do to get this drink? For all you care I gathered my life savings, or the money I had borrowed to place bets on racing sea horse and used it on that drink..and now you want me to BE EASY? Anywho, lesson learnt, next time I save up, I’m buying a pistol, yeah, tell me to er, BE EASY then.

Then it feels like a bizarre flash back when I head on out. I’m not saying I don’t appreciate seeing old faces…well, young exuberant,naive faces are in, but hey…details,right? As I was saying, i don’t mind seeing peeps from my past…I just don’t like that they seem to remember me as the guy that bought them beers. Go on, give me a break. Seriously, i didn’t buy you vanilla flavoured water back then, no way am I going to buy you yeast and barley now. and don’t say I OWE you. If you didn’t take the fall, or give me your notes back in school…LET ME BE…

And I don’t see any reason why I should answer the “you’re lost” remark. Atti I’m lost? Have you been looking for me? Why?

You know what, to avoid all this stuff, I feel strongly …no…scratch that, I’m for a weekend in Jinja..


Some Sort Of Beginning

They called it a miracle. That no one could have survived an accident of that magnitude. The religious said God was watching out for him, that He loved him. He didn’t buy any of it.

For one thing, he knew it wasn’t an accident. He could still see her soulless eyes looking back from the side mirror. She knew what she was doing. What she had done.

The memory of that afternoon was etched firmly in his memory. The pain; in his being. That he was alive seemed like proof that someone somewhere was having a laugh at his expense. It was unbearable and if he could, he would end it. The truth kept coming back like a counterfeit note. He was paralyzed and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

They told him to pray until something happened. To PUSH. And yet, how could he? He had lost all control of his faculties. It was infuriating that all he had was his mind. And yet what good was that?

He watched as the caretaker drew the curtains in his room. She asked him if she could get him something. He tried to speak, all that came out was a slight grunt. For all intents and purposes, that wasn’t too bad. Some couldn’t manage that much. Hell, some were dead. And yet, here he lay. A vegetable.

Memories came flooding back in torrents he had no control over. It was a bad place to be. Reminiscent to being rooted to the spot, the spot in this case being the line of fire. He let them come and go as they pleased. He had to. It was all he had left,

His mistress had left him. He couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t. Why would anyone stick around with someone in this state.

They said love conquers all, that it lasts forever. They lied. It was love that put him here.


It had been 8 months since the accident, four since he woke from the comma, on this day he had an epiphany. He knew what he had to do. But it would take a lot of work. And will power. If life was a game of cards, he had been dealt a bad hand, but he was going to play on till the end. He would have his revenge. He reached deep within and gave it his all.
At 3:45pm, George moved a finger.