Uganda Blogger's Happy Hour; through my eyes

Ofcourse there was no opening prayer. GUG did not grace us with his presence and nobody else felt obliged to say a prayer. Hence BHH just started with no event. Most of us were late. We were a nice small crowd. We talked and laughed and joked and teased and shared dreams and sympathized and empathized with each other’s disappointments. We missed those that did not make it and most of you came up in conversation. We wondered how to pronounce your names. Is it Gag or Goog? Is it Sibella or Saibella? Wris or Rice? In the end we were as baffled as we had started out. Here is the roll call

It was the evening of ditching. First, he ditched me. He is a newbie and wanted to come for the inauguration. He asked whether I would be kind enough to take him. I graciously said yes, I will hold your hand, I will let no harm come to you, I will protect you from the evil claws of the blogren, only to tell me later in the day ON MESSENGER that he was not going to be able to make it, his friends were going to outside countries and he had to kiss them goodbye. Then another blogger ditched me.

Then I call my backup chanel who told me she was on the way and we would infact arrive at about the same time. She came 3 hours later. Apparently she was still chatting with Mr Biggs. Their story is nauseatingly lovey dovey. When she walzed in, she smelled mighty nice, was glowing like waxed floors, and her top, shoes and jewellery matched to a tee. And that plunging neckline! Any lower and we would have had some serious spills- from oba the guys?

The lovely Mrs made a cameo appearance just to whisk away the Mr. Off to a place unknown. All evening, the Mr. And I had been plotting to go home together. I mean take the same taxi home since we stay in the same neighborhood, but I have never been ditched so fast! I took the solo ride home and arrived safe thank you all for your concern

Darlene was looking lovely as usual. And again, she tried to recruit me into the UTL family. Your employers must be proud of you. The UTL guys. As for your other employers Newvision, I am not sure they will be very thrilled about the careless abandon in which you write their movie reviews. I am sure they expect nothing short of “a girl, in large glasses diligently typing the story away at the typewriter or on that Windows1994 Computer” but not this girl. She put her Nokia something something or other to good use and while she sipped on coffee and chipped into the conversation, she also typed her story away. Niiiice.

Dante and Carlo. Dammit! Dammit! They look cute together. Dammit! Dammit! Sorry about that. Green monster was attacking me for a bit there. But how can they be that happy together? I need a plan. But anyway, here is some juicy gossip that may work against them. Turns out, Dante is detoothing Carlo. Yes. I have it on good record. You see, Dante ate chips and something laced with mayonnaise thingie and washed it all down with a cola. And Carlo paid! That is detoothing 101 I tell you. We talked about Melanie, Thabo Mbeki, the price of gilr’s clothes in some shops, whether or not I would buy a pair of shoes at 150k, at which I said ‘heck no!’ Carlo's bored with her job. This is an appeal for anyone that knows any one that's looking to employ someone. Holla at her. She told a story of black condoms- you know, same shade as a man’s skin. I thought that was racist. She said just like Band-Aid, someone came up with those suited for a black brother. Must have been undercover brother that thought up that idea.

back2basics. He ditched me. Dude, i thought we had connected all evening? People!

Collin the blogger, I unfortunately do not know his blog, was there. Dude walked all the way from Wandegeya to Mateos. With that kind of dedication, we would always have a full house at Mateos. He talked from when he got there to when he left. He had lots of fancy words but the ones that stood out most were the ones he used describing clothes, hair, shoes and fashion. He described my hair as ‘tresses,’ said Dee’s braids were called ‘locks’ and I forget how he described Carlo’s ponytail. He wondered whether basik’s sweaters are always pressed at which point chanel pulled the sweater out and displayed it. and sure enough, there was not a trace of a crease! Collin meticulously advocated for men’s rights to wax, pedicure and manicure-kinda makes sense tho. Geddit? MANicure? I called him gay, he threatened to prove me wrong and I left it at that.

Solomon is tall dark and handsome! And that smile... he is the guy of node-six. He observed and smiled.

Turns out, you can't trust TRUST.



I pulled out a pack of them from my bag and Experts, collin, Carlo darlene and basiks went about discrediting the poor things. collin said they are a size or two or three too small and Basiks was more interested in knowing how many more I still had left in the pack. All three were still there


Someone else will have a different tale. Go with that one.

BHH ; Rules and Regulations

Agenda
- 6:30pm: the guests arrive (please be on time or do not come at all)
- 6:35pm: Opening prayer led by GUG
- 6:40pm: Opening Speech by the Kampalan
- 7:00pm: Minutes of last BHH by Rockthis
- 7:15pm: Open Forum/Ekimeeza(all members present must absolutely participate with vigor). Topics to discuss include;

a)What should bloggers do with all the oil in Hoima

b)Which blogger shall be sent to go and negotiate the Kony peace deal

c)Which blogger should go and pound sense into the environmentalists until the only truth they see is that DDT is the only way to the promised land

d)How does Thabo Mbeki’s resignation impact blogger’s lives? Will the Internet work faster now the evil man is gone?

e)The new Pakistani president; would you as bloggers have given him mercy votes?

f)Appoint blogger in charge of purchasing passenger helmets (elementi) for blogger boda boda users

g)Congratulating a Kanungu blogger coz finally electricity, DSTV, GTV, and internet found their way there

- 9:00pm: AOB by princess
- 9:01pm: Closing prayer by Int3llig3nsi4
- 9:30pm: Bed.

Observe the following-
* There will be no looking at men suggestively, or looking at them at all, and there shall at no time be any cameras trained at men. I am talking to you
* Dress conservative. Mini skirts shall not be tolerated. Pumps, earrings, jewellery, dreadlocks, French cut, bright colors, baggy jeans or any kinds of jeans for that matter shall not be accepted. Come wearing them at your own peril.
* There shall be no laughing, smiling, holding hands, hugging making eyes at each other, swapping phone numbers, drinking beer, tea or coffee. Water is life.
* No two grown up men or women shall be seen chasing each other around tables for any reason. Not even if say, one of the adults stole the other’s heart and the other one was trying to get it back or at worst steal the stealer’s heart as well. Not even then. Not even if you have to answer nature’s call or your mobile phone (please be reminded that there shall be ample network in the space allotted to you) You shall all remain in your seats at all times until such a time as you are permitted to leave.

Lastly, I leave you with this picture of a storied mud and wattle house in Kanungu. I am willing to bet my money on the fact that it is the only such building in Uganda




burden me

ttfn(ta ta for now)

Antipop's off to kanungu, but i leave you with;

nothing saying, just in the mood to write something, anything

When my cousin twat was in S.1, he was suspended from school for constantly refusing to go for karate classes. His dad failed to get any answers from him so he solicited for my services as ‘cool cousin’ to get him to tell him what the problem was. According to him, his hands were made for just one purpose. “These hands were made for the ladies,” he said to me with such conviction. Four years later, I get these free tickets to go see shaggy. As I had prior engagements, I called said cousin up and asked him to pick them from my place of work. As he did not call to thank me, I assumed he had failed to get the tickets. But on inquiry, I was told a certain teenager had indeed picked them up. Three weeks later, I get a phone call and caller ID says it is the little twat.

Lil twat: Antipop, what’s up man
A-P: er, I am okay. Hey, how come you never called to thank me for the shaggy tickets?
Lil Twat: Be chill man, I had no credit man.
A-P: So, this is a nice surprise…
Lil twat: Yea. Gwe man, I have a problem man
A-P: obviously, otherwise you would not be calling me
Lil.Twat: Man, Hols are gaming man, and I wanted to take my shortie out so I need you to house me man
A-P: How much are we looking at here?
Lil twat: I wanted to take her to G.C for a movie, then later hangout at the venue so I need like 40k, what! (I swear he said that. I did not just steal it (what) from Ivan)

1. When did the rules change? In my day, I was not even expected to know any boy’s name. Not even at campus
2. I can’t even afford to go to the theatre myself? Why am I expected to fund this teenage romance?
3. What is shortie?

an eye for an eye

Uncle George groomed me to be a lawyer. Everytime we were having conversation he happened to say, “When you become a lawyer…” never if. It was a given. I was going to finish secondary school, enroll in university, get a law degree and be a lawyer. And I believed it. I even spiced it up, so that everytime someone asked me what I wanted to become in future, I said, “Barrister.” But then I always had a true love. Lounging. So when it came to filling in forms for which courses I wanted to do at the university, I filled in “Lounger” in all the dotted spaces. He has never forgiven me for betraying him, and I have never felt better for stabbing another person in the back. And it turns out, there is no such course at the university. So I have perfected the art of lounging all by myself. I am genius like that. Now back to being judge. You see, my uncle might have been grooming me for bigger challenges in life. If only I could have listened.

I have mentioned before that I live with my sister (she’s kind bla bla bla). Well, she has a husband. And they are always bitching and bickering and pointing fingers. My job is to twist the finger to point in the appropriate position. I solve marital cases. They range from who is fatter to who loves his car better than his wife. I solve them all in these different ways;

a) I may stalk off to my bedroom ignoring the both of them
b) I might smile and say hello, and do a) above
c) I might indulge their foolishness and listen
d) None of the above

Often when I do c), I always try to come up with a solution. My brother in law might say to me as soon as I enter the house “A-P, I have a problem. Your sister has big feet” and then my sister will shout “He is the one with the rough fingers.” For one I might recommend Movit or Samona and for the other, liposuction. Case closed. This one time I fell short of my expectations. I had no answers for the impasse posed to me on one hot September night. I got back home tired, from an honest day’s lounging, and all I really wanted to do was get acquainted with my bed, but my brother in law needed answers.

So he says to me “Antipop, I think your sister has taken on a sugar daddy. ” Amused, I ask, how is that? So he says, “well, she has a contact saved in her phone she calls ‘Cash’ ”

This newbie is taking tentative steps into Blogville. Check him out.

I am whipped!

Dear diary,

Yesterday, I fell in love. I am ashamed to say that it was with a younger man. You see, I tried to fight it but it felt like there was a force pulling me towards this man. I knew it was wrong. I knew it would be frowned upon, but i followed the force anyways. I let it pull me, I let my heart give in. But truth be told, i was not trying hard enough to resist the pull. That, or love never takes no for an answer. So I watched helplessly as my knees buckled under me, I sat still as i felt a gentle tug at my heart. I surrendered to Love. His name is Isiah.



Isiah


The love of my life in the arms of another woman; My sister.


Isiah looking at me with non-expressive eyes. Trying to hide what is obviously his adoration for me. But whatever. I love him enough for the both of us.



I sent her for a hot Zulu boy, and she got me those instead. Imagine how many things i could possibly do with a hot Zulu. Now think how many things i could do with shoes. Just the one. Walk.

Today my workmate said to me...

“Antipop, you will never get married”
Truth be told, he is not the first man to tell me this. Another workmate also told me something to that effect about three months ago. And remember Duncan? The crybaby? Well, one day, he also told me I might never get married. I hear no man was going to be able to take my whole educated bullishness. Then there is my brother in law who thinks I will make a slave of any man that will be silly enough to take me.

Their reasons are that I am a woman and I should be willing to compromise.

My brother in law says I am too big headed for any man. According to him, it is okay for a man to have more than one woman, to go out and drink all night long and the duty of his wife to stay home and wait for him. He goes crazy everytime his wife goes out with her friends especially the male kind, whereas he has no misgivings about telling stories of how he was in the casino the other day with his friends Stella and Joanna….
So I always say to him, if a man cheats, by God I have every right to cheat. If he thinks it is okay to go to a bar and come back at 3 in the morning and expect me to open for him, he should also be ready to open for me at 3:30 when I return from rock night. What is good for the goose is good for the gander. Right? Right?

At which point my brother in law sings to me, “every woman needs a man” and I say “yes. But does it necessarily have to be a husband?” Do I need a husband to be able to have sex? Must it be a husband that fathers my children? Do I need a husband to be able to have companionship? Can’t I just date? Can’t I just have random sex if it is physical fulfillment I search for? Must I walk down the isle to feel like a total woman? Must a woman always be defined by a husband? Why do people tend to think that the most important role a woman can ever play on earth is to take on a balding hairy man with fat fingers, to be the person she wakes up next to for the rest of her life?

My most trusted uncle asked me the other day whether I had gotten a boyfriend yet, so I told him I had not yet. I was still looking for the right one. And he advised me, “Antipop, I think it is time to lower your standards. Men (and I say this because I am a man) are not perfect. Therefore, you should just get someone, and be willing to take him as he is” Really? Should I compromise my values, principles, and everything I stand for just so I can get a man? To get married, have babies, grow fat and please society? Should I really be reduced to taking on Mr. Wrong just so I can appear normal?

John (not real name ofcourse) and I were dating. A really nice, funny guy. Cared about me, was intelligent, had stimulating(CB would have been real proud of him) conversation, successful and all that. Until one day we are talking and he says to me “antipop, I really do not believe in the whole emancipation shit. I believe a woman belongs home cooking for me, looking after me and watching over my property.” He also hinted that if say, I ever accepted to marry him, he would expect me to quit my job and stay home. I did not talk to him for a week and when I finally talked to him, it was to tell him, I could not see him anymore. We are still good friends. I still hate him for what he said to me.

I am incensed by all this shallowness. You wonder why people even go to school if they are going to come out thinking like this. I do not ask a lot from a man. Really. All I ask of a man is that he know how to cook and prove it to me. Everyday.

er, whatever!

Antipop double standards

Antipop=against pop music. I hate pop music. I will say to you “if you ever find me listening to pop music slice my head off and feed it to the vultures.” But one day you might find me listening to said genre of music. Just before you slice off my head, when you ask whether there is one last thing I would like to say before I die, I might plead not guilty thus; “but it is alternative rock, not pop. Honest.”

At the bank, I hate when someone cuts into the line in front of the rest of us. Often I have even told them to shove it and proceeded to read them the riot act, the bank’s rules and regulations and the common decency act. At lunch however, I will be damned if I will stand in the sun queuing for rice and beans. So I just shove past people at the door and shamelessly ask ‘Kanungu’ (the lunch guy) for a food coupon.


I abhor littering. I almost scream everytime someone throws trash into the road from a moving vehicle with such careless abandon as if they are doing the most natural thing in the world. I do not litter. Well, you be the judge after hearing this story. Often times on my way to work, I am eating a banana. After doing my monkey business, I roll down the car window and throw out the banana peeling into the bushes. My consolation is that it will rot and mix with the soil. Do I litter?

I am revolted by people who spit in public. I always say, “just how hard is to just swallow?” well this one time, I got out of the taxi and it was raining. There was no bodaboda in sight so I ran in the rain all the way home. Home is not near. Half way through, I got a burning urge to spit. I gave in. I spat by the roadside. My consolation; atleast there was no one in sight.

The only time it is right to spit in public is when you spit in someone’s mouth for picking their nose in full view of the world. I got this overwhelming desire to pick my nose the other day but I was at my sister’s shop and I knew any minute a customer would walk in and catch me at it. So I held this large file in front of my face and proceeded to relieve myself. No I did not have a handkerchief.

And that talk about losers, well, sometimes I am afraid, I have been the loser. I have cried, I have abandoned and refused to take calls, I have sort of cheated, I have walked out and I have told the lies.

I am fallible

here's putting a face to a reputation

Am i awesome or what? Here's bringing you more pictures of fated BHH meet that wasn't quite up to the expectations of some visiting bloggers and researchers.



Here is Tom. Tom Smyth. He's Canadian. Not American. He came for BHH in July, and left prematurely.


The canadian eating his awesome spicy things and drinking Ugandan beer(Chairman's ESB) while female bloggers drool at his height and hair. Can you see all those girls openly staring? See how they have their phones trained on him all dying to take a picture of his tall awesomeness?

ranting raving bitching and hating on country boy or is it boi?

INDEX
Thomas Smyth- a bored visiting American tourist
Dennis D Muhumuza- a 20 something bitter Christian mad that everyone does not think like he does
Blog- an Internet diary of sorts or there abouts
Bloggers- Underrated, awesome, intelligent people who cannot be bothered to indulge in cheap political debates and have given up all hope of world peace
Antipop- blogger

In the interest of attributing and coming off as authentic, here is me citing that Carlo started this whole explosion. Here is my own tantrum. Since the article is absurdly long, I will pick out a few sentences and comment on them. Then like all good essays are, I will have a conclusion. related posts can be found here dee, tandra, and baz,

“A debate had raged between two bloggers and a visiting American. Are all Ugandan bloggers okay with taking their meetings to a bar?” why no! Only the other day I suggested that we go to a discothèque. Only problem was that club Silk would not be open at 6:30pm

With Michael Jackson’s Thriller playing in the background, Thomas Smyth literally shouted his order, for that was the only way the waitress was going to hear.That's about when the two adults pursued themselves around tables 1. Don’t you just love MJ? Belting out tunes like that to spook idle BHH flukers? 2. Have you considered that maybe the poor waitress could not understand the American’s fabulous accent? Couldn’t he just point at the menu? And B2B, it was fun playing rounders with you

It was the beginning of a shocking evening for the American. You shock easily!

Soon, girls were eying him surreptitiously and whispering (possibly about his towering height) and taking pictures with their phones.- CB please! Slow your role. Have you seen the height on some of the guys that grace BHH?

Thomas Smyth gulped his drink and left the Happy Hour prematurely- why? Was he there to take the minutes? Or did he expect to give the closing prayer?


A woman would for example upload a picture of her g-string on her blog and ask if the readers like it. - Prove that g-string belongs to said woman. Show where it says she asks people whether “they like it”. I need to meet your editor.

A June 30 blog entry boldly titled “Boobs!”- Go Carlo. Go Carlo. Go Carlo(i am tired of linking).

From S.A.G.E’s understanding, bloggers are supposed to update their lives and voice their opinions on things they strongly feel about to provoke intellectually stimulating debate. - S.A.G.E is not God! He did not invent blogging. He did not coin the concept of personal diary (it was Anne Frank btw). Also, show me one stimulating post at S.A.G.E’s.

so girls talk about the first time they lost their virginity in the shower room, and boys about how sweet sex in the morgue is- Gimme links to these blogs this instant! I have been missing out!

“We don’t seem to have a lot of reported blogs in Uganda, which is very disappointing. In America, bloggers investigate…- America this, America that, America the other! Can’t we just be our own people?

“The culture (of blogging) puffs out like a hot air balloon; directionless and pointless.”- hot air balloons have compasses Einstein!

It’s only after we have revolutionized the way we think and blog that people like Thomas Smyth will not leave the Happy Hour with inhibitions. Poor, poor Thomas. Did your mother never tell you that story of peeping tom? No? It goes thus; if you are not invited to BHH, keep your damn comments to yourself. Nobody asked. But, if you felt that the conversation was not stimulating enough for you, how come I did not hear you bring up any intellectual topic and see how we refuse to respond because we are not brilliant enough?

The end


P.S Been trying to post pictures of the american in vain. Will put them up soon as i can