A few moons ago, President Museveni reshuffled cabinet. He basically meant, “I wear the pants in this country and every day I be’s reshuffling.” Old brooms were brought back to sleep some more. Some accentuated brooms were shoved outside. It was surprising. These brooms swept in an accent and they swept our finances in the process. But these two had a brief chat the other day in some kafunda somewhere in Kulambiro. Our fly on the wall was there and it eavesdropped the whole conversation; here, in verbatim. It nodded its compound eyes at some point.
Museveni: Eh, Miria, you are here? Who told you about this place?
Kiwanuka: Misterrr Prrrezident, I always come here afterrr a laang day at work for kikalaayi. Been gaaad?
Museveni: Wangi? What’s ki..kikalaayi?
Kiwanuka: Hmm. Ask your new Minister of Animal Husbandry. Tonkooya!
Museveni: But..but Miria, there is ice in your voice. Bad day, huh?
Kiwanuka: Like you don’t read papers?
Museveni: Matter of fact, I do. You have a tape out, too? *Adjusts his hat*
Kiwanuka: Nah. I ain’t repearing myself. Ask your new minister of Information.
Museveni: Yesu! What wrong did I do now? Oh, wait, the cabinet reshuffle? Ah, that was a typo. Okay, it wasn’t, but you know..uhm, waiter!!
Kiwanuka: Carry on.
Museveni: Let me tell you what happened. That night, as I was drafting the new cabinet, I received a WhatsApp message from someone who told me to impeach you because you were all accents and my ministers always sleep throughout the budget reading. I said no. He said yes. I said no again. He said mbu nti yes. I rubbed you off. See, it wasn’t my fault. It was that guy’s fault. That snitch. That old moron. What do you take? Tusker Malt? Ah, these guys’ drinks are too expensive. Do you have some money on you?
Kiwanuka: Hmm. No. Ask your new Minister of Finance. Mstchewwww.