#UgBlog #ugblogweek Freedom of Expression Imagination Tech Uganda

#UGBlogWeek: Day IV. Freedom of Expression and Go!


Let me just type away my opinion and go.

Social Media has overtaken the Bar in connecting people of different backgrounds. Not even the Church comes close.
With the bar, #JamrockThursdays:
You’ll make genuine connections, have the best of conversations and for those that do Quiz Nights; learn a thing or two. You’ll get to realise that you really don’t know much and have a lot to learn.
You’ll leave as learned as you’re tipsy. The bar is the perfect connections pot. 🍺🍺🍺
But not all of us frequent the bars in search for the bitter, happiness and one more stranger turned acquitance. 
Comes in Social Media.

I’ll only cover Twitter, Swarm[Foursquare] and Snapchat. The apps or forums I mostly use; apart from this app, WordPress.

Freedom of Expression and Social Media:
We are all given 140 characters, we are free to use them whichever way we want. Shakespeare didn’t invent the alphabet but rearranged the letters he had, to make the wonderful pieces he wrote.
We are to be Shakespeares in our own right or so we are made to believe the moment we get a text field.

With the 140, you write whatever comes to mind, whatever you feel like sharing; rants, observations, opinions, quotes, lyrics🎶, name it.
Be whatever you want to be; Influencer, BOT, troll, sex guru, motivational speaker or even Pablo.

See the thing is you’re free to write anything, you’re free to express yourself. You’ve got that ultimate Freedom of Expression with your precious 140.

And you type away. Say things you believe in, chat with people you want to, drop into people’s mentions, hit their DMs and wherever that leads.

That’s where human behavior comes in. The interactions made aren’t in a Vacuum, they involve other people; followers and followers of followers. Strangers and friends. Many people. Billions of people.

You’ll say things, and you’re totally free to say anything considering it’s with in the acceptable limits. *Leave Jews out of this. And don’t exploit minors.
Sad we never read the EULAs and the Terms and Conditions of any app/platform.

Then one day you say something you believe in, anything and you’re castigated by other people that don’t think or believe the same. Funny enough, they expect you to believe and accept what they say on the other hand.


You’re homophobic and you’re branded an animal for that. But you strongly believe homosexuality is wrong. You were raised to believe so, your mum is a Catholic Nun, so…
They are homosexual and they believe it’s right. Love knows no barriers and everyone chooses to identify as whoever they want! 
And they want you to accept their beliefs, ditch yours and take up their beliefs. And you can’t say what you believe, only what they believe. Freedoms impinging on other Freedoms.

You’re a feminist and believe anyone who points out issues contrary to what you believe, is better off in hell and not in your mentions. If you think women should kneel, you’re less of a woman, self-defeating and saying things to please men. Much as you believe in equality, you’re the enemy, and deserve no seat at the table of womyn. “And don’t say another word, because you lack, intellectually.” You’re muted.

You believe your Soccer Team has the best manager, the best stadium, the best players and the best loos and whoever thinks otherwise should trip and fall out of your mentions. Or kindly see themselves out.


You embark on the furnace journey to modor, you light a fire in your kiln and dish out blocks, you block this one and block the other. You unfollow and mute. But while doing this you don’t ever realize that another person could be doing exactly the same to you and others. And if each one blocked one. There would be no Social Media, that’d be more of Anti-Social Media.

You think that no one should have a right to be a fashionista, if they don’t have a DSLR Camera and a YouTube Channel. That their opinion and fashion sense is lacking if their Instagram has compact camera and android phone pics.


You don’t realise that whatever story you choose to share on your snapchat, you’re free. Those cinema stories, the laptop series you’re watching, the sermons, voice notes and the stale jokes.
That whichever filter you choose. You have that freedom to express yourself, embrace it. And no one should set the standards and expect you to tag along.

That there’s Freedom of Expression and 7 billion people can’t have the same values, same views and the same lifestyle? You don’t get that.

Well, be yourself, share what you feel and mind no one. I know we all live for attention and those notifications we crave. It’s normal, it’s human. Share your posts and go.
Embrace the little freedom of expression you have.

Don’t self-censure, the government hates competition.

#ugblogweek Imagination Infinite Love Love ShortStory Tech

Love: From the Phone Side of Life.

Let me tell you a story.
About a phone and a phone.
A brick phone and another brick phone.

Once upon a time, there was a phone, Thusi, big; blue all over, in color and grey on the sides, on the face.


He fell in love, real love, stupid love with a girl who was new on the scene, Nandi.
Nandi was pretty, light skinned, curvy with a ginormous behind but surprisingly light, with a waist of a wasp.

It was love at first kiss, it was one cold Saturday morning and the skies were threatening to let loose, it was all dark skies and angry winds up in Kololo. Days when the Kampala weather is bipolar, off medication and throwing tantrums. Thusi was in Kololo for the first time, he’d come to fix something small, he needed to swallow a pill, a pill that made him an extrovert, connect with others, make him have the confidence to talk to others. He was here for his service fee.

In came a lady, full of fancy color and a cool jacket. It was the jacket; he looked at the jacket and felt the bite of the coldness hit hard. But as she came closer, he looked at the boobs, typical of men, and at the pretty face down to the high heels and knew it was it. She was the one. She placed herself closer to desk 15, in the extreme corner via the VIP Only section.

He stared, and stared some more, she looked and caught him staring. It was a blank stare, probably that stare that leaves you picturing someone in the wedding gown and with the gown off later after the wedding night in a split second.
He was caught, staring, and staring is supposed to be rude, but she smiled, he melted, with a cold shiver down his spine. The coldness disappeared and he began perspiring on his brain. He couldn’t say a word, or swallow nothing, for two seconds he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know what to do, but he smiled like a puppy, and collapsed, he powered off and couldn’t restart.

The shirt was removed and the battery too, but he couldn’t start. Nandi knelt down and CPR was applied, she put her full lips on his and her soft hands on his chest and gave that kiss, the kiss of life as he pressed the chest, nothing. Once, twice, thrice, nothing. A small crowd had gathered and some ladies behind had started crying, it was drab. Nandi didn’t give up, one more time, and another and another and Thusi was up, alive, breathing fit as a fiddle but confused.  Everyone got relieved, someone had called 999 but 999 in this part of the world only came as an agent of the morgue, nothing more.

Relief in the air, Thusi thanked Nandi endlessly and asked if they could go to the near restaurant for some juice. She allowed, maybe because of pity for the big guy or because they had a lot in common. It was the juice and numbers exchanged and arrangements for more visits. It was love at first kiss. The kiss of life.

It was a kiss on the aisle, vows exchanged and a future together painted.
It became a perfect couple, they were both big and could keep supplies for weeks if not months depending on usage. •Nandi and Thusi were charge once and use forever. Battery never ran out.
•They were easy maintenance, they didn’t need fancy things like MBs. Things that cost a fortune and brought neither satisfaction nor happiness.
•They never over stared, over looked at everything that didn’t concern them, in fact they were see no evil, have no camera.
•They kept secrets, and had morals, didn’t keep immoral memories on them, let alone leak them. Nudes wasn’t something known to them
•Thusi and Nandi didn’t have lugambo, loose talk, they would never take a screenshot of your conversation, never.
•And they satisfied themselves in everything, see they both had big pins and the sex was intense and real.
•They were strong and wouldn’t cry over silly things, a fall was nothing, they didn’t want to know whether it rained or not, they’d move out and work.
•Most importantly they lived for long; they celebrated birthdays, ate cake, drank wine, blew candles and themselves and got tired.

Then they had kids, first the kids were skinny and with every kid they had, the size decreased. In stature, awesomeness and genitalia, everything.  Small pins happened.


•The kids became fancier with a love for color and fancy head gears, they would slide here, flip there. They were the cool kids.
•They started developing environment capturing tendencies and would take and keep few memories, they got cameras.
•They also started talking too much, for long times and in faster tones, doctors called it an evolutionary trait called mp3.
•The cool kids started hanging out with other cool kids and other cool kids and had a secret way of doing it without leaving evidence, the parents wouldn’t know. So the parents couldn’t cast their nets to catch the misbehaving kids. The kids nicknamed it the Internet. As cool kids grew up, the parents started having more kids.

More kids, came in extra sizes. Thusi and Nandi couldn’t understand, their new kids were born big and would soon become obese with each kid.


•They became giants with big tummies and an insatiable appetite, they had to feed them MB formula in bundles and special packs. And they would want more and more, they called it updates, an the budget went up as a result.
•The big kids became better at everything their cool kids could do, they could do quite many tasks at the same time without even pausing one. They were perfect multi-taskers.
•The big kids were like big shiny silos, they could store the earth and the moon and all the stars. They had this trick they had, they kept most things on square sacks. And they came up with slang for them too. Data for the things kept and memory cards for the sacks, clever bastards.
•These new kids were super bright though and could compute impossible calculations, and solve many challenges, some could even develop their own body parts.
•See the big kids had many ways to connect, they’d chill at places like Wifi and Bluetooth and share everything. They shared everything apart from the lessons about humanity and morality.
•They became pimps and connected beings to imaginary wives and helped spread the left hand syndrome, many nasty things were made and they had no shame in leaking and sharing with everything, just to make trends. Nudes, tapes, conversations, everything.
• The big kids had bad manners, they’d find a stranger drowning in quicksand and take a memory to share with their friends for currency called likes and retweets, instead of saving a life first.
•They lived for notifications, they craved notifications, and they set standards for likes, sold their souls for retweets and lived a lie. Their life was an aggregate of many confusing but captivating words, they called it a blog.


No one understood the new big kids, not even their bigger kids, the tablets. But certainly everyone loved and lived for the big kids, for they were useful, handy. Sadly the big kids one sunday lost their parents Thusi and Nandi, they died together in their care home, and left quite the legacy.

That marks the end of my story.

#ugblogweek Imagination Love Tech

I used to be a Mathematician.

I come back home, well everyone does at the end of their day.
I come back home, eyes half open, brain closed. I jump onto my bed into my dreams.

I dream, well everyone dreams.
I dream a lot, I travel. I travel a lot.
Into places unknown, I travel. Sometimes I, hold up, time travel.

Well, ever been in bed and the next thing you realise is, the bladder is calling, you are facing approximately 297.5° to the West North West and you don’t know which side is the wall?
It’s not the gravitational force, neither is it the size of your head. Think about it.

Source:  Google

It is something we call “The Rotational Matrix
“Rotation of vectors in 3D space by a rotation matrix”
It’s just another linear transformation in your rather very straight horizontal sleeping posture.

I wake up and my foot is in my mouth, my mouth is under the pillow, the pillow out of the mosquito net.

Down the stairs I indolently walk, like a half fed Zombie, eyes closed. To the loos that I seek, the loos I’m accustomed to. I manage to locate that round white cistern thing. *If you’re racist, you know what I mean.

Fighting to remove my phone from the back pocket lest it falls into the loathed drainage. I had slept fully clothed in jeans and my favorite blazer again. I had been jaded, so worn out, that I passed out.

Here I am, eyes closed, senses alert, faced with making sure the last drop doesn’t land on my feet, worse still on the floor.

See am fighting that very stupid gravitational law. “For every drop out of the urinary tract, the last drop must always land at the least distance to the dispenser’s foot.”

Whether it lands or not, I don’t care. The magnetic force of the warm bed coupled with the curiosity of what lies inside the duvet is hard to fight. It is slowly pulling me closer, like warm fresh blood to an old vampire.

Am back in the bed, back in the mix of things. The trade off between the tweet-urge and the aroma of the paused dream, the unfinished time travel journey sets in. Eyes shut.
Next thing am in a different world far from this realm.

The levitations begin, the magic carpet, the bullet dodging, the drones, the programming code, all in a “Musketeers mode”.
The thoughts of early in the day, the conversations, the whirls of the wind, the stench around that Bugolobi stretch, all fight for representation.

For he that sleeps 4 hours a night, all the day’s hullabaloo is in the mix and it’s quite amazing that he never wakes up tired. He’s the earliest, bird or worm, who knows? This dream comes in, the other jumps the queue and slides in.

Boom, Stochastic Matrix,the probability of a dream being experienced twice is sorted out thence. No more time travel reversal, no deja vu’s in sleep. The natural alarm sets off, it’s morning again and whatever wins the battle decides if I call in sick that day or if I arrive first at work, like always.

But now, that first rain drop that hits the roof calls in the Column Matrix. This one isn’t a joke, it brings me to it’s level and with a sucker punch. Before I know, I’m on the canvas. Half defeated, one sleep minute is the equivalent of ten clock minutes. The sleep is sweetest at this time. I don’t want to sleep anymore but I’m perfectly aligned, trapped.

The duvet is stapled on my body, I don’t even remember to call the Line Manager. Before I know it, it’s 10am, it’s late and there’s nothing I can do. I decide to enjoy the moment.

The only regret is when I pick the dismissal letter from Human Resource a week later.