Sean Kingston, a well known reggae musician, was in Kampala over the weekend to perform a concert show before his fans. It was a tremendous success and all who attended it left fully satisfied with the music provided by the rotund reggae tween.
Kingston arrived in Uganda via ferry from Tanzania four hours before he was due to perform on stage. This assuaged the ripples of consternation that had started when his plane landed at Entebbe with no plump teens on board at all.
It was a misunderstanding. He had flown his private jet to the wrong country. It could happen to anyone. When I become world famous and am contracted to write in an American website’s offices, I am not so sure that I will not end up in the wrong state either.
Fortunately, J Kazoora put a call through to Chameleone who was able to put a call through to Professor Jay, who was able to get Kingston a ride to the ferry and we picked him up at Port Bell Friday afternoon.
“Ayo Sean!” I called.
“You Mr Kingston!” and I laughed at my own joke.
“Shhhh! I’m using bogus travel documents!” He hissed. “Call me Hassan Kingisitonya.” Then he turned to his travel companions and sneered, “Hebu anagalia hawa. Mbona huyu askari shoga ananiguza-guza hivyo? Mwambie mi sitaki watu kunishika kwa mboro!”
They laughed. The border guard finished examining his nuts and stepped aside with a sigh.
Once Kingston was over the border, he heaved his bag onto one of the bodas (naturally) that I had come with and said to the guy, “Boss, fe tugenda Kampala. Otutuusa?”
I had to ask how come he could switch languages so fast, yet his retweeting fans had told me clearly that he had never been to Africa.
“Man, when they found me I Florida and decided to make me a dancehall/reggae singer, I had to learn how to forge being from other countries very fast,” he explained and we hopped onto our bodas, Sean clinging tight to the waist of his pilot, and off we went.
I left him at the Lugogo gate and ventured off for a sumbi at Mr Tastys. When I got back it was to find him on stage talking to J Kazoora.
Kingston had been bragging to me on the journey here about speaking foreign languages easily, understanding foreign accents, and adapting in foreign countries, but when he met Kazoora’s tweng he could not understand any of it at all.
“Wurr horve a tredeeshran! RRRRkrrrrrrr grve me hirs warch! You girmme yrr warch!” Kazoora said again, beaming brightly into the mic.
There was a sharp guy backstage who understood what was going on and quickly smsed for help. In a minute Francis “Aposto Francinse” Kizingamazi was on the stage. Aposto Fransince is the interpreter from Redeemed Gospel Finance Trust Church of Naguru, and is an expert at translating fake American accents. He explained to Kingston.
“Agambye nti muwe esaawa yo.”
“Eh? Ono Munyakuzi?” Kingston asked the interpreter, puzzled.
“Are you a nyakkurz?” repeated Aposto to Kazoora.
“Nyakkazz?” Kazoora mulled over the word. Then he remembered. One of the hundred and four diverse sources of of his accent is the Boondocks and he remembered Col Stinkmiener (If you have youtube in your office, here) and a switch clicked.
“Year! Year! We niggaz! We niggraz! Gimmry yo warch, niggr!”
Now, Sean is not from Brooklyn (aka Blookryn, if you ask Aposto). He’s from a middle class Miami neighbourhood. He isn’t hardcore, so what could he do? He took of his watch and handed it over.
But it’s okay. I spoke to JK after the show and everything was sorted out.
Unfortunately, because I was so busy with JK, I wasn’t able to warn the boy about Purity Namusisi, so he left the show with Ugandan chlamydia.