True to form, we gave Angola a whip-lashing over the weekend. With Father’s day the next day, we showed them who their daddy is. They sent us Father’s day cards with “Uganda, você é o nosso papai” written allover them.
Good stuff Uganda Cranes.
In other developments, the bad-get (-and-eat-our-money) was released last week in a foreign accent by our very own local Minister of Finance. She said we are now old enough to fund 80% of our thieving ways. No need to eat money from abroad yet there’s some right here. To ensure that this self-facilitation happens seamlessly, those kids who read for school using kerosene lamps will need to will their eyes to evolve and learn to see in the dark; kerosene prices are going to rise (if the minister’s proposals are approved). Who needs to read for school yet our leaders have no iPads? Disrespectful, ungrateful poor people.
The minister faltered when reading the bit about money to fund roads…but our benevolent leader stepped in and re-assured her “No no no, minister, we have money for roads”. Re-assured, she read the rest of her stuff
Speaking of our benevolent leader, lots of excitement was in the air last week when the nation came closer to finding out his age. Pockets of parties spontaneously burst out in various parts of the country. See, in his book about sowing seeds-and several other times, he’s said he was born ‘around 1944’ to illiterate parents who didn’t know the date. Last week, in the State-of-the-Nation address, he pointed out that he was born in a hospital. Which has doctors. And keeps records. Happiness. Joy
It is hard to write just how exciting this news is. Ugandan researchers have been spending sleepless nights trying to crack that age-old question. Entire teams are buried underground, surrounded by bleeping screens and whiteboards full of sticky notes and yellowed newspaper clippings from the 1940’s. This info could change the country’s course forever! If only we knew his age, the roads would be fixed. The ailing health sector would stabilize. The ill-fitting-suit-wearing MPs would articulate themselves better. Boda boda riders would give turn signals and apologize profusely if they hit you. Brings to mind that saying “Age is nothing but a number that begins with 7”