As you may have heard, much to your delight and excitement, Zuena Cool, wife of highly-decorated musician, superstar and public niusance (if you ask the people who didn’t sleep on Easter Monday) who needs no introduction, is writing a memior. The book, according to our sources (namely a single tweet that started the rumour) will chronicle her journey from whatever she was before to whatever she is now.
We wanted to be the first to bring you exclusive excerpts but since we don’t know how to get over the fence of the Cool bungalow and are afraid that his little dog might bite us, we just decided to forge.
It was a warm, peaceful night when I was born. My mother was humming quietly to herself, singing a song by Dolly Parton, when I decided it was time to come out. “Excuse me?” I said.
“Yes, dear?” she replied.
“I’d like to be born now, please.”
“Oh, certainly. Be my guest,” she said. And so I slipped out of her womb and began my life of fabulousness.
I was the most beautiful baby anyone in the entire village had ever seen. People were always borrowing me when they had visitors from town. The way they borrow nice cushions and bring out clean curtains, they would leave their own babies with my mother and take me to their house.
I knew very early in life that I would live a life of fame and glamor. This was due to the fact that I didn’t just crawl, I cat-crawled.
Life was to teach me harsh lessons at a tender age. I was just sitting amidst some flowers with the sun shining around me when another baby crawled up and pinched my perfect skin. That was when I learned about the nuggu that would follow me all my life. I was just a baby and I already had haters.
I was in Primary two, and the sun was shining through the classroom window, and I was sitting at my desk being cute, when one of the boys brought me half a lindazi. The moment another boy saw it he flew over the desk and kicked the lindazi away and offered me a full stick of muwogo instead. Then another one dashed up with a bun. School was very educational to me.
There was a call for contestants for Miss Uganda one day. It was a contest for the most beautiful woman in Uganda. They were joking. I got up from my desk in class. “Where are you going, Zuena? How do you just get up in the middle of my S3 class and saunter out in that catwalking way? And why allowed you to wear high-heels in this school? Where are you going?”
I turned round and paused only long enough to say one sentence: “My destiny is calling me. Later for you haters.” And I never saw that school again.
Note: The writer of this post is jealous of Zuena and he wishes he was just like her. Of course. However, as a fellow author, he wishes her success when the book finally comes out.