A SATURDAY IN THE DUNDGEONS OF KAMWOKYA

A SATURDAY IN THE DUNDGEONS OF KAMWOKYA

After a Friday night out of some hard gin, I retired home uncharacteristically early at 1.00am. As I tried to undo my shoe laces, I inadvertently snoozed off in the sofa and was woken up at 5.00am by the incessant buzz of the irritating mosquitoes. If only they could bite and suck without having to interfere with my sweet sleep! Anyhow, I was more annoyed by the fact that I was sleeping in the sofa with nothing to cover myself, leave alone the uncomfort, than the lazy blood sucking vectors that were too full to suck anymore more blood but still insisted on making that most irritating noise.

“Better never than late,” as old dear Mulili would say, I jumped into my mazongoto and slept like a baby till 8.00am. For some reason I think the Muse must have visited me that night because I was in this creative mood that I dug up my writing project(the one I have been working on for two fucking years!) and perused through it. There is a particular scene in the early chapters that was more surreal than fictitious. I read and reread it and was convinced that at best it was mediocre.

My projick then was to go and look out for a more natural scenario with features similar to the physical setting of my chapter. FYI, this particular chapter is set in a hood where the scum and other wretched of the earth dwell, where the spirit of resilience against all odds NEVER dies. I looked at my mental the map of Kampala and zeroed on Kamwokya; the fabled ghetto in the not so convincing but convincing anyway imitations of Jamaican patois (read music) by one Bobi Wine.

Time check: 11.00am, Location: Kamwokya. I took a stroll around the entire neighbourhood deep down to the filthiest of the filthiest place. You see I don’t use notebooks; I record everything in my head, (thanks to my photographic memory and superior IQ! Lol!). There was a roadside “Cineplex” (video shack) which I figured will provide me with the most fertile setting and anecdotes to breathe life into my book. But I was lacking something, I knew I needed to get into character first before I could freely mix and mingle. A few more meters down the road and the kafunda presented itself to me.

I put off my designer sunglasses and bent my head a bit to enter but the bending didn’t spare my head from being smacked by the door frame. (Folks, sometimes being tall is not such a good idea…hahahahaha) I brushed the knock off like a macho and made myself confortable in the kafunda. Loud lingala music was blaring out, there were some patrons already, a good mix of old and young, men and women.

Needless to say, I had found the perfect spot for my mission. I ordered for a tot of “Beckahm gin” and expertly bit off the top left hand corner and started suckling from it. No sooner had I stepped into the bar than the lively conversation died. (For the record, this is the first time, I’m using “No sooner” in a sentence since my PLE. Beat that?)

I sensed that my intrusion had sent shivers down the spine of many a kafunda patron. They probably thought I was an undercover cop investigating the underground marijuana trade. By the way, I hear it is quite lucrative. (Denis, you were soliciting for business ideas, there you go). So to ease the tension, I ordered a full soda bottle full of the local gin and before long, the nerves had relaxed and the room was full of animated conversation.

I started making small talk with a man who seemed in his early fifties, very drunk at mid day and yet looked respectable…
(To be continued tomorrow)

BANKERS GONE BONKERS, PERHAPS

Yesterday afternoon, I was walking along the dusty potholled roads of Kampala.
As i lazily walked without any destination in particular, i was accosted by a big signpost of a bank; one of the leading ones in this country whose identity i will not reveal for obvious reasons.
Just at that moment, a brilliant idea hit me, like the Eureka (Eureka, I wish!) and I smartly matched into the bank's Credit Division.

There were two available loans officers, some brown thingie and a stout guy who looked as if his necktie was about to suffocate him. The choice of whom to approach was crystal clear, I headed to the necktie guy's desk. That brown chic was a no go because honestly I didnt want her to beleive that a loaded looking guy like me was looking for a ka loan. Anyway, that's a story for another day but I was hopping I meet her in a more cosy place after getting the loan.

Anyhow, I went to the brother and narrated my stuff. He interviewd me a bit until he was satisfied that I was credit worthy and had the means to pay back the loan. Then came the dumbest question ever, and i quote,
"Why do you want a loan? What are you going to use this money for?"

Surely, that was beyond irritating, should it matter to the bank why I need the money? My conviction is that as long as i can guarantee those Shylocks security that I will pay their money back, never mind the abnormal interest rates, what I do with the money shouldnt be a problem.
Whether I have a mind to walk with the wad of cash straight into the casino or Speke road with it, why should that be their problem??

After expressing my sentiments, the necktied guy passed his verdict. That his bank cant give me any money until I come up with an investment plan of where i will inject it.
Stupid idots! Who told them everyone is supposed to be an investor?

Today's cup of tea

Just a storm in a tea cup?

The political climate in the Pearl worries.
It has shot up to record highs
The waters are turbulent, a tsunami brews
Ready to wreck havoc without warning.
The temperatures are scorching hot
Just like the folks’ furnace hot tempers
Perhaps resonating with the fiery Law enforcers

The ship’s siren blares out a deafening noise
Warning of the imminent capsize
Passengers quiver, beseech the captain to act but his ears are sound proofed
Even his advisors and attendants are sure.
That for sure this is not time for praise singing
They echo their fears of the rough waters
But Mr. Captain is all too adamant.

In his famous self assured gaze and vision,
Mr. Captain opens his eyes wide and says
“Relax, this is just a storm in tea cup.”

03-05-‘07

Wrote that sometime back. 2007 to be precise.

IF YOU'RE SINGLE!!!

After a long pretty idle weekend, I'm back fingering my keyboard.(stay still you dimwit perverts)
Well, yesterday my mind drifted off and i was caught in the web of some stiff i have actually never thought about before.
How do i begin this blog? Ok, let me pose a question? Are you, reader, single, cohabiting or married. If you are not single, never mind. but here's some interesting stuff the "un single" guys miss out.

After a long Friday night of beer, hard liquor and chasing skirts, you retire home in the wee hours of the morning. At around 10am, you grudgingly drag your lazy bones out of bed and slouch into the sofa. Then grab another beer and put on TV and watch 24 or Prison Break or even porn, yes porn. You can afford this luxury because there is no nagging woman to pester you about for example helping with house chores or even going for a bath!! bliss, aint it? There is even no whining baby screaming loudly to worsen your already bad migraine, thanks to the different cocktails and tribes of beer consumed during the previous night's drinking binge.

Assuming you chose to watch porn over 24, and the consequence is that you get a boner of the year, what do you do? It then dawns on you that your single life isnt so blissful afterall.

Hey, have u read up to this point. Shit, i cant believe you did because even yours truly doesnt understand what this post is all about or why i even idly wrote it in the first place.

Anyway, there you go now, a less idle post later in the afternoon.

benjer!

After 1st April

After 1st April
The day she chose to leave him
He felt all the world’s woes upon him
Like she had arrived without notice, so did she leave him
Never in her heart did she remotely pity him

The day after she chose to leave him
The rain from his eyes came down in torrents
The heavens too let down heavy drops
He went out to feel the rain coming down

The cold harsh raindrops soaked him allover
A smile then played on his lips
He knew someone else grieved for him
The rain, it occurred, was the tears in Cupid’s eyes

Benjamin Mpaka 2009

The debut post

Hi Y'all!!!

Welcome to my blog!!
Be it politics, the arts, poetry, lifestyle and whatever is out there, it will most definately be dissected here.

Coming to you from Kampala; the former city of seven hills in Uganda,;the former Pearl of Africa.

you are gonna get a different, and deeper perspective to all issues right here.

'Nuff said. now brace yourselves for the real stuff.