#UgBlog #ugblogweek Motifs Rollicks Satire Uganda ugbloc

Three Years.


Three years. I’d be joining Nursery school would have joined Nursery School today. I can almost hear myself sing all the nursery rhymes. I can almost feel myself sharing all my fancy day 1 food. Have been a giver since day 1, literally.

Approximately three years ago I moved on from Blogger to the fancier sister WordPress. And like they say, “the rest has been quite a story.”

I’ve made buddies, lost some *those that feel like you almost wrote about them, almost kissed and told, yet it was just imagination triggered by a moment some time back.

I’ve written nice pieces and better pieces, I’ve procrastinated once too much, I’ve been hit by the block. I’ve got past the 300 Follower Mark. I take pleasure in knowing that I can share with a number that big. And humbled for most read, and some reply, comment.

I pray and hope, even promise to write more. To be bolder, to swim beyond the reef and to write more. I promise to try to be Me.


#UgBlog Motifs Rollicks Topics Uganda

Eissshhh Fu♤k Rules


Rules are meant to be bent or broken.
That’s what should have been Uganda’s motto. We hardly have any rules respected, let alone followed.
The President:
Term limits clearly state that he should retire. Dude is like over my dead cow. He bends the constitution and breaks the term limits throws the carcass in our faces, and here we are again. With another 5 years of the same old tricks. Politricks.
The Parliament:
They sold their ‘birth rights’ not over bread and lentil stew but a mere 5 million Uganda Shillings. 5 million won’t fuel your Range Rover for 8 months, 5 million won’t pay your bill at Riders, 5 million won’t even buy a baby Vitz.
5 million and the future of the country was gone. They bent the trust the people had in them and broke every rule in the book to trash the term limits. Losers. MPigs.
The Judiciary: The constitution of Uganda, otherwise known as the book of rules; in the first place was constituted with loopholes in its loopholes. Apart from the Land Laws, Benjamin Odoki, the then Chairman lied. He sold his country to the person that is the president.
Remember when they wanted to bend the rules to have him back! Even the Attorney General issued a Fatwa that all was ‘according to the law’. Or did he mean loo because his expert opinion reeked of shit.
I won’t talk about the Amicus Justices that couldn’t see the belly button on the naked body before them. They would later say they wanted evidence that the naked body was a body and that the belly button was infact a button.
You want your case thrown out and your file eaten by termites? Just bribe the State Attorney with a bar of soap.

Now that the holy trinity are original rule benders what country do we have?

Traffic lights:
hahaha you’re funny, those are just lights and I don’t even know that it’s not yellow, that it’s amber. But I know Amber Rose and her MILF something something.
I even send Roses to my girl out of respect but can’t just respect them. See I’m an aeronautical Engineer, I know everything chromatic, but I don’t know how to wait for that Amber light to turn green.
Seat belts:
Maybe if the boda bodas had seat belts I’d use them seatbelts.
I have a belt on each day, everyday. Sunday isn’t a day just like it’s never necessarily sunny.
But I can’t put on a seatbelt when I enter the car. Maybe I see the glass as half full, maybe I don’t even see the glass.
I could remember a condom however heated the moments are but not the seatbelt. And I’m not allergic or have phobia for ropes and their relatives but I just don’t. Maybe they should make automatic seatbelts. Only then.
Don’t you like people that drink beer with straws. Don’t you? Kenyans spoilt the most of us. For fear of losing the foam, beer has to be consumed fully and like a milkshake.
And Ugandans love their beer, you just need to buy yourself one and others will feed you the entire night. And pay for the straws too.
The grass in Uganda isn’t even greener on the other side. Because there are like 1000 zigzag paths through it. It’s like people wake up and say I’ll walk where no other man has walked. They read Tracy’s law, ‘the path of least usage is directly proportional to the chances of getting lucky, later in the day’ Oh how Tracy lied.
Imagine a guy in a Jeep throwing trash outside the car window. Cheap.
Imagine seating on chewing gum. That gum placed under the seats. No, not cool.
Imagine if we never littered, we’d have no rubbish.
Imagine we had no rubbish, just imagine that.
I always pray that those that litter lose their Airtime Scratch cards in the process. Yes, good for them.
• Cheating:
People smash each other ehhhhh.

*I could go on and on but the guy I’ve been waiting for, just came.
Getting #5AsideLeague a home.

#ugblogweek Life Love Motifs Poetry Rollicks

Good Lord Music


You own ear pods, don’t you?

Sitama nkutebeze. *Sit down I tell you.

Whatever song is playing,
Long as there’s the beat in your soul.

Music so dulcet that you lick your lips,
Shake your head.

Tap on the floor,
Stamp your feet.

Leaves you with goose bumps on the brain,
Two ear worms on your brain all day.

Takes you all the way, you don’t stay.
Eyes closed.

Twitches down your spine,
Desire coiling in the lower abdomen.

You swear, confess, think, about;
What was and what would have been.

It’s on repeat, one hour, two, eternity.
You don’t realise.


Oh Good Music.
Sweet Lord Music.

It’s not on Shazam, you don’t know it’s title.
You feel bad, you lose hope. Might never find it.

It’s playing in a stranger’s house.
You follow the beat, knock on the door and sigh.

It’s on your playlist now,
You make yet another friend.

It plays, and boom Eureka moments.
You think the impossible, plan the inevitable.

It’s not weed, it’s not a capsule.
Just a drug.

Catch yourself grinning.
It’s the Music.

Bored, jaded and confused?
You play the Music.

When the heart is hurting.
You drown in the Music.

That long flight, or fright,
Call on Music.

Piano, Guitar lessons. Notes and Strings
For the Music.


First kisses, pinned on the fallboard.
Ass on the Keyboard. Music.

First dance, Pas de deux.
Danseur,Ballerina chemistry on that harlequin floor.

Under the shower head, in the mirror.

The only thing that makes us feel alive.
As we make memories.

Slide to unlock?
It’s in the Music.