The strange case of L’il Jim

I wrote a story a while back, it was of a watchman drunk,
Drunk as hell, was the story of he, but nonetheless, just a story it seemed to be,
But a lot of truth is told in jest, so now compelled I feel, compelled to tell the story behind the story,
The tale if you must, of the watchman who now I fear has ceased to see,
Ceased to see life as we know it be
Really, there’s no way to tell a tale, without some background,
A narrative of a life past, a sort of origin
If you know what I mean,
His name doesn’t matter,
The odds that you’ll meet him,
The possibility that you’ll feel obliged to greet him,
Are nil, null, zilch or nada…
In all fairness, I don`t think I`m treating this with the level of seriousness it deserves, so I suppose I should take this from the top…
So this guy, we called him L’il Jim. Sure he was kinda lanky and skinny, but the reason we called him L’il Jim was cause we thought it was a nice spin to Kagimu, for that was his name. Any way, Lil Jim has worked for the family in varying capacities for as long as I can remember. During the course of his tenure, (and I use the word tenure ever so liberally) he was a go-for guy… you know, go for this, go for that. I suppose it was as good a way to earn his keep as any. He certainly helped me treat a couple of hangovers with a packet of OJ (orange Juice)… the thing is, human nature is flawed. . . Lil Jim manifested that in a series of ways, countless are the times he was asked to go to the market to pick up food required for the lunch time meal only to show up close to supper time.
What was particularly interesting is the fact that he could not understand why he was being yelled at, why people were pissed off with him. You may call it being care-free, that is possible…but there was the alcohol.
Lil Jim loved his alcohol, and the worst bit is that it came really cheap. 200 shillings was more than enough to get him higher than a kite…
Lord knows the number of times he was fired… greater still are the number of times he came walking through the gate with no recollection that he had had his employment terminated earlier. I had a dream once where I came home, found him waiting for me and then got stabbed in the gut by him. Suffice to say, I avoided him a lot more.
The story goes that recently some guys were moving around with some public address system thing, reading out the names of some people who were thieves, threatening to come down upon them and throw them in jail.
Lil Jim was on that list.
I would be telling a lie if I said that he did not deserve to be there, I lost a couple of shirts to him, but the reasons cited for his appearance on the list were asinine to say the least. Word going around has it that he was definitely a thief because he could afford to buy Newspapers every day. It is worth mentioning that one of the things he did for the house was buy the paper for the day. So efficient was he, the neighbours had also enlisted his services.
The other proof, if ever such a word was so unjustly used, was the fact that he could afford liquor… add to that the fact that he was well dressed all the time and you have yourself a case against an innocent albeit, occasionally inebriated soul.
It’s amazing what it takes to rip the strands that come together to form the fabric of sanity, the list achieved what the alcohol and other substances had failed. It put him down.
Such was its effect, Lil Jim decided the only way around this was by leaving the house and going far far away.., for good!
For the first time, he was not making sense without the assistance of a toxic substance swimming through his veins. He was off his rocker…gone.
When I got back home the other night, ( I reckon it does not matter when exactly), I was informed that the madness of Lil Jim had taken a new direction with him saying that I had paid him to leave. The accusation went thus; I said he was a thief, paid him and said i did not want to see him when i got back. I have not seen him in about a week, so this is clearly, untrue.
Yesterday, he donned his best clothes, said goodbye saying he was going to meet up with someone who would pay his fare for the journey back home, and be on his way. Said person did not see him until this morning when he turned up at theirs and said he could not come home to his room, because someone at ours had asked him to leave.
He was not wearing his shoes.
Some of the people at home saw him off this morning, wishing him a safe journey. I could not bring myself to face him. The nasty case of food poisoning I seem to have picked up not being the cause. It felt pretty depressing to see someone who had once been carefree, reduced to this. Paranoid and convinced he was alone.

There you have it, the story of a man,
A man who carried himself without a plan,
Without a care in the world,
A man whose life in moments few,
Has come undone,
This is the other story,
Of the drunken watchman.


One Afternoon, not too long ago. . .

“when I was growing up as a child. . .”

-Patience Rwabogo

So there I was, chillin’ out at a pal’s video lib. Conversating as we are wont to, when suddenly…

Vacist: Man, you guy, your stuff is dope! Do you have Sopranos?

Mr. E: Yeah, what season?

Vacist: Okay, what. Gene (generally), I can’t click what season it was. Oba (perhaps) it was 2 or 3. First play and I scan

After a few moments of “scanning”

Vacist: Yeah, mob! That’s the one. Man! But I am going to pay 1500 instead of 2500, shit is tight ehn, you click?

Mr. E: But borrowing is Two grand.

Vacist: Eh..Okay.. heh

Then he sees me…

Vacist: You guy, you’re a blogger, what!

Me: Er…

Vacist: Man, don’t deny, what! You’re the chief blogger, yeah. I read about you somewhere!

Me: Yeah, I blog, but I wouldn’t say I’m a chief blogger. Ernest blogs more than me. He even puts up pikicha of roco artis

Vacist: Ah, wah, so you write what!

Me: I write whatever comes to. . .

Vacist: I know. I was saying. So you write articles, words, those things, what!

Me: Uhm, yes… those things

Vacist: So how do I blog, begin writing,what! Who do I pay?

Me (suppressing urge to make money off this chap and his question tags): It’s easy, just go online, sign up and you’re set

Vacist: Its that easy what! Man those things of internet, www, what! Those things are tight mob man, when!

Me: What??

Vacist: Yeah, sorry, I meant what! You click these things ehn, man!

…and then

(I promised I wouldn’t include him in this post so in all fairness, we have only one side of the chat)

Vacist: Man. Do you want someone to work here with you.


Vacist: Its kawa, I don’t want money. Okay you can pay me a bit while I try out


Vacist: I like movies,what!

Me: You just want to hit on girls

Vacist: Uh, no man! You guy you are a spoiler, what!

Me: You haven’t got the job yet, I can spoil more for you.

Vacist: Man, be easy. Be kawa

So I shot him.

What Tha Funk?!

“I giggle outside the booth, but ain’t no joke inside”
Bubba Sparxxx (Ugly)

Ever had one of those days where everything just isn’t going well? Stuff won’t work right? Like whatever you do, whatever happens, you keep coming up against a wall. And then when you try to back up a little, there’s another wall? And then, slowly it seems the walls seem to be coming in together, trapping you in the middle?

Yeah? That’s me for the past couple of months. I’m just about done fighting this. I should have done this a while back, but I suppose better late than never, right?

You know what you’re doing. Your move God.

Posted in This Life. Tags: , . 11 Comments »

Another sick note…

So I had a cough and cold the other day… well to be perfectly honest it was over a series of days. I don’t know where this stuff comes from, but when it arrives it puts me down so bad. I can’t do a thing in that state. Except wallow.

I do a lot of wallowing at this point and then the hypochondria kicks in. I figure I have one of three thousand diseases or their close relatives and I have a sense of dread so bad.

It’s usually around this time that I go to the pharmacy and then ask them to hook me up.

Given the ridiculous number of times I’ve been to the pharmacy (and repeat viewings of House), I have a knack for prescribing my own drugs. Read the rest of this entry »

a night’s tale


Savannah… that place on your way to Muyenga… or from it. . .

Heineken brought to the table. Can is opened. . . a sip taken.

Water is ordered. Medicine swallowed. . . back to Heineken. . .

Change of venue suggested. Pangs of hunger manifest.

Pizza recommended…



She who shall not be mentioned is at pizza place. Still elicits a stare. Read the rest of this entry »

A New Year, A week later

You’ve probably had the “happy new year” greeting more times than you care to remember so I’ll spare you.

As it stands there’s very little to be happy about. Our cousins across the border are going through the after effects of an election gone wrong. Its what we keep hoping won’t happen to us. We’ve been fortunate to survive that sort of thing. Whether this means we give up too soon, we are too sane or we just don’t have the balls to stand our ground is an entirely different issue. Heck, it shouldn’t matter.

There’s talk of how this makes Uganda look good. How exactly someone came up with this is beyond me. Maybe it does, but is it worth it? People are dying and somehow we should appreciate this? Its messed up, that’s what it is.

There’s a fuel crisis because of the situation next door. The annoying thing is the fact that even if I haven’t got a car, I am still affected. Its a classic case of damned if you do, damned if you don’t. For the first time in my life I heard the words “Only rich people can afford us” coming from a Boda Boda. A humbling experience? Nuh. I was pissed off.

Apparently we as a nation have issued a statement congratulating the “president” of Kenya. What does this say? As it stands (to the best of my knowledge) we are the only people that are okay with this. We as a nation backed this? Fine.  Realistically there’s not much we can do about this. We have to go with the flow and hope that our cousin’s across the border are aware that it was not a view that we all held.

I gather we have deployed across the border to prevent the violence from sipping over. Is there a chance that we may be paying attention to the wrong border?

Let’s pray that this thing is sorted out soon.

 In other news, my take on the Showbiz in 2007 can be found here

And finally, because friends know you better than you know yourself (yeah, sure), my pals figured they’d make my resolutions for me… One kind of implied that the CRAVE cologne I was wearing on that day was not as cool as I thought it was (go on, HATE), so, to end this, here are my pals’ NYRs for me…



So there you have ’em. Their Handwritings in plain view. Practice them and when they finally make it in life, rob ’em.


’twas the last day of the year…

This is my year end post, it goes a little something like this…

I have learnt this year that live and let live is the way to go. I believe that half the fun in making New Year’s Resolutions (here on referred to simply as NYRs) lies in the knowledge that you probably won’t live up to them… Make ‘em anyway.

I have learnt that Boda Bodas are the way to go. Sure I’ve fallen off ‘em a couple of times and bled a little. I’ve looked on in wonderment as the chemical component goes all fizzy on the wound as it goes about its business of killing the germs… I’ma ride ‘em anyway.

I’ve been asked to be serious about my approach to writing. I’ve been asked to write as a professional might. Three out four of the professionals I know write shit that could put a cup of coffee to sleep. The remaining one out of four influences my style and that’s who I’ma take seriously… I might diss em a couple of times, but its just jokes, I’ma read ‘em anyway.

I have taken to naming my property, not just CHOGM but gadgets and shit. I get frustrated when they fail to respond and haven’t the decency to refer to me by my name or title (that’s Ghost Of Sparta, to you Sir), but I’m gonna name ‘em anyway.

I have learnt that whenever I hype a movie up way too much it fails to live up to people’s expectations. I may be overdoing it… I’m gonna overhype ‘em anyway…. The Dark Knight is going to kick so much Hollywood Arse, the box office is gonna walk funny.

I have been educated on shit that I chose to ignore in class; I have been privy to discussions that I shouldn’t be privy to. To the wonderful ladies that for some reason or another felt it was truly necessary for me to know How Stuff Works complete with graphs and charts and stuff, Thanks, but seriously, Too Much Info! I am a simple man.

That goes double for you that figured I should know where to buy ladies’ lingerie. I am not a cold heartless bastard but I doubt I will need to walk into a lingerie shop anytime soon. The theme of these little soirées is “bring your own lingerie”. None will be provided at the entrance. In all fairness, this is brought on by the “bring your own ‘rubber’ theme that y’all see fit to impose…

This year I experienced my first moment of Speechlessness. I didn’t think this was something I could go through, but it happened anyway… You read this stuff in books and see it in teen flicks, when it happens to you, you call up your pal and he tells you why it happened and you want to bash the phone on the side of his head, but seeing as you’re not using the earlier model of cellphones (the ones that were the same size as a laptop…or fridge) he’ll probably survive with barely a scratch… to the one that made me lose words for all of five minutes I say….

New friends made, none lost, to those that put up with me, cheers. It gets a little monotonous when I have to handle being me. It’s dreary and that I can rely on you guys to keep me going, cheers. I promise to cut down on the expectations y’all have of me so that whatever I do is ordinary, after all, you and I are just ordinary people… who am I kidding, I kid coz I love!

To all the wonderful people that populate the blogosphere…and Baz (ha!!!) Thanks for pouring words forth and making me laugh, think and hate you for being better than me. The constant reminder that there are people that are better at this game than I keeps me going, and for making me believe, thanks.

For the guys that made my costume party happen, thanks. I believe in Bottle Parties because of you. I really do… even though some saw fit to bring stuff that tasted rose-petal flavoured booze… you guys rock… which brings me to…

The peeps I have gone for Rock Night with. Ain’t no stopping us now. Here’s to hopes that we shall keep doing that thing we do and we shall keep hating on the suits that come over and slow dance to Linkin Park jams like they are Whitney Houston ballads. Damn Right! I don’t even slow dance to Snow Patrol when they are suggesting that we be there as if chasing cars, why on earth would I, in the glare of Starlight, be caught dancing slow without my Muse….

To people I’ve gotten high with and traded stories of highness with the following afternoon, we’re getting too old for this shit. Let’s cut down on the alcohol. There’s so much to live for… hehe, this paragraph is my April fool’s joke for the next year.

To anyone that schooled me on stuff academia, thanks. I am a better person for it… I may drop words without giving any thought as to whether they make sense, but hey, you can school me on that. To people that encouraged me to go back to school and get it out of the way, I say thank you and I ask, “Now what?”

To Uganda for pulling off the illusion of the century and giving it a name (CHOGM) (not MY CHOGM, the country’s)… I sit back here and applaud you and await with bated breath to see what your next trick will be… I know democracy will be a tall order, but shit, I can now see who’s propositioning me at 3am when I leave the club…

to the ladies of the night that beckon, watch some East Africa TV, style up and quit calling me Arsene Wenger and asking me to aim for your “Goal”, then we shall see…. shit, we won’t, just style up, the country needs you to pay higher taxes, we’re counting on you.

…then again, if you’re reading this blog, you ARE styled up just enough.

My NYRs for the year to come….
Achieve a certain level of happiness and comfort, no one likes a constant grumbler.

Speak Less, Listen more. No one understands what I’m saying half the time anyway. I blame it on the booze.

Keep a job for a year or something… It looks prettier on the CV.
Have an open mind. . . just.

Cut down on cussing. There’s got to be some distinction between me and the dude that sells the newspaper at the corner…

Watch. Like nobody’s dancing.

Cough. Like no one’s listening.

Smile. Like there’s nothing on your teeth

… Live. Like there’s no tomorrow!

To you and yours, Happy New Year!