For those of you
who may not be in the know that is the title of a very popular novel that no self-respecting
trend follower cannot be seen totting around or at least say they have read it.
Normally such people will then delve into how the book speaks to something more
and will try to explain some existential mental orgasm the experienced at the
hands of the masterpiece.
I have not read
this book. I doubt I shall read it. In case you are like me u suggest reading
the wiki-pedia page on this book and you shall quickly realise, unless of
course approval by these yuppies is what you crave, that you should spend your
time on more worthwhile things like reading an African classic or picking your
nose.
For me the book
is just another example of how women’s lib really has to work more and a dive
into one man’s sadomasochistic fantasies. But hey that’s just my opinion. But
seriously reading a book on migration in Uganda would leave you better educated
unless of course you are into Sado-masochism of which then this book is just
what you need.
That said this
post is way too late. It was meant to be a piece on 50 things I love about my
country and a dedication to my mother nation on its 50th celebration
of Independence from British Colonial rule but I just never found the time and
as such, this is late. But no matter, i shall plod on.
Furthermore I
doubt I shall be listing 50 things on spot either so feel free to comment and
suggest some of the things you like about your country. Please avoid the
bizarre, inane, asinine and lewd.
Solidarity: I was once on
this bus coming into town and as i got of some other lady darted outside and immediately
started throwing up. From what i gathered she had been unwell and the
passengers harped upon the bus driver till he stopped and let her out. But that
was not the amazing thing; they made the bus driver wait for the lady until she
had finished with some even offering to pay for the delay if the impatient
driver could not show some humanity. They all threatened to get off the bus and
not pay if he dared leave her behind. Needless to say he waited; the lady
finished retching and got back into the bus. I on the other hand was left with
a warm feeling in my pumper.
I love Ugandan(s)
party mind-set. While i may not condone excessive partying, i condone even less
people who take life too seriously. While we may not hold a candle other
festivals around the globe I can tell you, you have not partied until you have
shaken it to the rhythm of the pearl. 'Nuff' said.
Boda-boda: No one word can describe these chaps. From
what I have heard the term originated about the border areas of the nation
where bicycles where used to ferry people across the border to locations from
which they could then hop a ride into whichever town they fancied. They were
not legal in the strictest terms but were “normal” and where popularly referred
to border to border hence the basterdised term 'Boda-boda'.
There are several
reasons i love these little two wheeled demon driven machines. Ok yes most 'boda-boda' riders seem to have their brains at the base of their skull and yes
they do get into nasty scrapes on the road and yes they have now forced the
National Referral Hospital to create one whole ward for 'boda' related accidents
but boy do they come in handy. They are the closest thing to an adrenaline rush
that does not involve jumping of or over something or going down rapids meant
to kill crocodiles and it is way cheaper too.
However that is secondary to the stories that they tell. Boy do they live interesting lives. If you have taken one of these rides especially late at night you will be amazed. Just know they are so good they convince me to use my atrocious Luganda skills just so I can follow the story.
We may not like
them very much but we cannot live without them and they may be one of the
closest things we have to a modern national symbol, crested crane
notwithstanding.
To be continued
(maybe)
