Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Odds And Ends

I have moved to, and i have also migrated all posts and comments. YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE SO CHANGE YOUR BOOKMARLS/BLOGROLLS ACCORDINGLY!!!!
#1 - Strange World This!

I'd never have thought it possible but my Anatomy Of A Kenyan MP touched a raw nerve with someone! I kid you not! He defends them, and he says "criticisms levelled against most Kenyan MPs fly across the face of sheer logic and common sense." Of course the first line of his defence, "I happen to be a son of a sitting Member of Parliament" knocks much of the wind out of his sails ...

I'm dying to see how many Kenyans agree with him. Please, let me know.

#2 - More On Uganda

The more of this repast that I consume the more convinced I am that I get a raw deal back in Kenya. For example the streets are festooned with gentlemen and ladies operating enormous charcoal grills that are busy roasting assorted foods, chiefly chicken and skewers of assorted meats. The streets smell delicious, enough to derail a son of the soil and future captain of industry into saying things like
M: Er, Hamis
Hamis: Yes sir?
M: Is that chicken those fellows are roasting?
Hamis: Yes sir.
M: (Thoughtfully) Chicken, you say?
Hamis: Yes sir. It is a delicacy.
M: I'm hungry. (Encouragingly) Are you hungry Hamis? You are? Excellent. Then I suggest we have a short stop here. The car is tired. Besides, we won't be missed for 15 minutes

When it comes to naming their towns, sons and daughters, Ugandans are at the top of the game. Multiple syllables and repetition are the name of the game. Thus we have sections of town called Bugolobi and Kitintale. We also have sons and daughters of Uganda called Sserwadda, Ssentongo and Tumukunde. This is a change for a chap like myself used to Kamaus, Otienos and Mwendes. Pronounciation is not as simple as you'd think, as I discovered quickly

"Ah, Mr Sentongo. Pleased to meet you." I say, rising and offering my hand.
"Ssentongo," says the gentleman with a smile, his sensitive ear effortlessly detecting my omission. "Pleased to meet you sir."

It's a matter of good manners to get these names right, especially when writing them down. Misspelling Ssali and Ssimwogerere is ssomething that you sshould sstrive to avvoid. Plain good manners.

Unlike their counterparts across the border, Ugandan mosquitoes are the very picture of drive and industry. They punch in at six thirty in the evening and spend half an hour of chatting with the lads over the previous night's day's adventures. At seven sharp they set to work. It is irrelevant whether you are in a noisy public place like a restaurant -- they are not shy about their work and will commence operations with gusto, biting for all they are worth. Waving your hands does not distract them. In fact they will welcome the draught that will cool them from their industry.
Sleeping without a mosquito net crosses the border between bravado and foolishness. The mosquitoes will pick your locks, jimmy the windows and get into your room and will have their way with you, and you will invariably spend the next couple of days acquainting with yourself with the ceramic of your loo as you suffer the throes of chronic malaria.

"Hi, this is Bob from Kampala. I want to send a shoutout to my father, and I want you to play for me a song as a special dedication to him - Sexual Healing"

Boy George - Karma Chameleon