Category Archives: Seasonal

UG@50: After Independence, Uganda Gets Spiderman For President

After 9 years of lousy post independence governance, Uganda got a true president. The pansies were out of the way and in came the true hero, black messiah, go-getter and epitome of all things possible. Here is a story of a P.4 dropout who got a doctorate in law; a Kakwa boy who was raised by a single witch mum to become president; a hustler who started as an assistant cook in the King’s African Rifles and rose through the ranks to become a field Marshal with a distinguished Service Order (DSO), a Military Cross (MC), and a Victorious Cross (VC), pretty much all the honors one would deserve after conquering the whole British empire single handedly.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you; His Excellency President for Life, Field Marshal Alhaji Dr. Idi Amin Dada Oumee, VC, DSO, MC, CBE.

The only Ugandan who had more honors than the then exiled Magulunyondo.

A president who loved and promoted sports in this country, not just in boxing where he held the heavyweight championship title between 1951 and 1960, but his reign saw Uganda scoop the first of the two Olympics gold medals we pride in.

However like all great people, our leader oso had a weakness:  his being a shortage of fucks. The debate is he gave a lot of them literally and was left with none for figurative speech. This was evidenced by his relations with the west, respect for human rights plus his relentless and unrepentant efforts to purge the Pearl of Africa of all people Acholi and Langi.

His wishes became commands, his dreams became decrees; when he had one that the Asians were milking Uganda then they had to leave in 90 days. When he felt like the Tanzanian Kagera province would look better on the Ugandan map, then he made a move for it.

Everything about him was royal. Like King Julian, he rode around in a sedan chair carried by four Englishmen.


Like king David, When he saw a woman that made his 280 pound body quiver with love, all he had to do was snap at his right hand man; “Mariyamungu, tonight I make babies with that one. Bring her to me and take care of the husband”.

Because he refused to lick ass (but made everyone lick his), haters imputed hypomania on him (a form of manic depression which is characterized by irrational behavior and emotional outbursts). Later, condescending nicknames were invented for him.

A 1977 Time magazine article described him as a “killer and clown, big-hearted buffoon and strutting martinet”. But to all this woloks, he smugly wagged his thick middle finger and giggled “I don’t see how you can hate from outside of the club, you can’t even gerrin”

So he thought; until Israeli ninjas raided his club on a 4 July 1976 counter-terrorist hostage-rescue mission where his troops experienced a mortifying 90mins defeat. But being the black hearted ninja that he was, he oso took out his revenge on a sick and helpless 75 year old grandma.

But as the luganda proverb says, even him who “dances” well leaves the platform. Our dear leader did not survive the Tanzanians; apparently they disagreed with his idea of on whose map does their Kagera province look more beautiful.


UG@50: How We Won Independence

You, young reader, often wonder how we got our independence without hurling boulders, screaming ourselves hoarse, frothing at the mouth and flashing genitals at the British.

Fight for independence

A Ugandan fighting for independence. NAT!!

Granddaddy Sleek was there. And he has the telegrams that brought about our independence. Telegrams, young reader, are like tweets. So it is safe to say that tweets won us our independence. It is with great pain in my lower back that I finally bow to pressure and share these telegrams. Ok only two of them are   telegrams and the rest is hate mail.

21 JULY 1960











From: Sir Apollo Milton Obote

To: Sir Walter Courtz

Date: 15th November, 1960

Walter, do not falter, at the alter, that we call Uganda-lter. My name is Milton. My friends call me Milton. You might know me as the dark guy who carries a pimp stick around. The same guy with a line in his hair. Yeah, that’s me. I’d put a photo here but that’s not been invented yet. All I am trying to say is, one Sir to another, leave now my nigger. We shall drown your cat. And its kittens. And then draw pictures of that same damn cat of yours and drown them too.


 From: Those ends of Bunyoro kingdom

To: Whomsoever it may concern

Date: 27th February, 1961

Dear man,

Please leave the sit for us also. You have eaten our country’s things for much years. Go away now now tomorrow or else I will send spirits to do bad manners to you when you are there sleeping. You took our counties. You will pe


From: DJ Mukajanga

To: Wally

Date: 01st May, 1961

Mu Lord, why don’t you go back to your country where your friends they are there? Why? You go also you. Leave our country quick like a cheetah


UG@50: The Hunt For Our First President

Not many people know this, but there was actually a time in Uganda’s past where we did not have a president. Fewer still know that there was a time when the president of Uganda was NOT Museveni. This period is generally referred to as, that time when we had just gained our independence. Reports are as scanty as a skirt at a Sisqo Concert, but fortunately, we were there back then. How else would we confidently tell you conclusively that things went down a little something like this…

One quiet afternoon, as afternoons tended to be before Lady Mariam or Justin Bieber, the following conversation played out…

“Well Reginald, it was bound to happen, it was. I didn’t think we’d be saying goodbye like this. Fare thee well dear friend…”

“What the Queen’s Biscuits are you on about mate, they just got their independence and I wager it will be at least decade and a movie before the concept of expelling foreigners takes hold. In any case, I think all they want is a president, innit?  So give ’em one and Bob’s your uncle. How hard can it be….”

But it was hard. For you see, religion had successfully tarnished our people’s view on this leadership thing and despite the whole Mwanga thing of those days people were not being straightforward in their ways.

The Man Who Would Be King President

One of these people was a young man called Appollonious Milititus Obote. He was a fairly different bloke who had the misfortune of being drawn into a lifelong game of hide and seek with fashion sense.

“Curses,” began he, with a word that had not yet enjoyed a tour of the country, but risked having it’s entire life span fluffed out in the House of O, “this Mutesa guy is going to mess me up. I want to be the ruler of this country and it’s now or never…” We shall assume that this meant something else seeing as the concept of clinging to power was relatively unheard of. In fact, if we were to hazard a guess, that very concept was but a zygote.

Now, the colonial masters from pre-1962 can not be accused of holding on to power. They merely held on to the country for a bit with a morbid fear of the thereafter.

If you were paying attention, you would have noticed by now that we have introduced a new character. Mutesa was a so-so chap. He was actually quite like you and I {and that I write assuming you’re a guy} with the only difference, I suppose, being his ownership of a palace and royal blood. One of these may have heavily influenced the presence of the other, but that’s a story for another day.

He was quite content with just being there, being a king, those things what. But the country needed a President in much the same way a desperate virgin needs a cucumber, and as such, Edward could not just be there being a king those things what.

It would have been hella funny if the guys handing us our independence had actually said, “even us we want to be your president” for you see, they were British and there’s no way Brits could speak like that. From an early age, British are taught how to avoid mbogos. This essentially involves affecting an accent so refined, a cup of coffee would feel ‘local’ as it was being raised to a Briton’s lips.

Searching. For That Something That I Would Never Find

So anyway, try as she might, Uganda couldn’t avoid having a president. So the colonialists, who were also British, run around the entire expanse of Kampala looking for someone that would fill the void.

The logical thing to do, obviously, was to have someone that had some sort of experience with this ruling thing, hence the search for a king.

Uganda’s Got Talent

The first King, unfortunately, was getting set for his third marriage, or was it his Masters and as such Larry King proved a non-viable candidate. Frustrated, the king seekers moved on.

You need to understand, this was long before Ugandans had taken to bestowing fancy names upon themselves all fwaaaaa-like and stuff. Why, if you so much as had the name Ernest, you would be the envy of your peers. To spite you they would spell it as ‘Earnest’, making you feel bad, yet even you had just fallen in things.

So, the search continued. If someone was smart back then, and I assure you, some people truly were, this would have been the best time to introduce a reality show, “Uganda’s Next President”, “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire”, “Big Bother” etc. That sort of thing would have been more intriguing then, than now, because, well, there would in fact be a ‘next’ president.

Diana King, who would have made an awesome president lucked out because she was more preoccupied with finding a shy guy, but to her credit took a look at those that sought the man that would be president and told them she would say a little prayer for them.

Frustrated, the colonialists did what anyone in that position would do, they went to Buganda and offered Edward a pretty sweet deal. “Look mate, we get that you’re comfortable and all just being there, being a king, those things what, but this would be better, you would be King of the country!”

“I’m the king of the world!” shouted a young Leonardo Di Caprio.

Everyone in the room looked over at him wondering whether he was trying to plant an idea. “Shut up and get down from there before God hears you.”

Always the kind that wouldn’t take shit from anyone, apart from say, his agent or whoever handed him his scripts, Di Caprio shot back, “oh look at me, I’m scared, I’m done for, my ship is sunk…”

Now, anyone that has any knowledge of the very short history of the Titanic can attest to this being the first known case of inception. The idea took and, you know what, that’s not the story we are here to tell…

The King and I

So Edward was convinced to be in the right place at the right time. Meanwhile, from a distance, Apollonius muttered some shit about a good Muganda being a wed one. Now this was not really a big deal, given that all the women in the country belonged to the king. Yes, even Bad Black, unfortunately. No, not Mama Fina though, he dodged that pornographic bullet.

So in 1962, Uganda had her first elections as a country and they saw an amalgam of the Uganda People’s Congress and the Kabaka Yeka party come out on top with Mutesa assuming the mantle of Prezzo, for sure, for shizzy and Obote settling for Prime Minister.

As they sat on the balcony, glasses of scotch in hand, Edward turned to his confidant, “What was that about a good Muganda being a wed one?”

Apollo, ran his hand gingerly through his escalator inspited afro then took a sip of his drink, glanced back at the new man in charge and introduced a phrase that was going to linger around the corridors of power for a while “I was misquoted…”.

UG@50: Uganda Before Independence

What was Uganda like before Independence? I thank you for picking me to do this article seeing as I am THAT old. I was there.

First of all, how far back do you wanna go?


How far back do you wanna go?


Uganda Before Independence, or UG@-200

Ismail Bin Walahe broke through the jungle and gazed down at the rolling hills. They were dotted with village huts. Every now and then a small army would dash down one hill and beat up the people in the next village. Ismail Bin Walahe turned back to his caravan and said, “Where are we?”

Once Ismail Bin Walahe had finally learned enough of the native language to communicate with the people in this jungle he had found at the end of his long journey from the East African coast, he was finally able to ask, “What country is this?”

“Eh mama, look at this one, shya, mbu that I hear what country, shya, me don’t quence me, eh mama, kale see this one, eh mama!” said the first big-hipped woman he asked. She had recently been assimilated into the growing Ganda kingdom and was therefore a Muganda chick.

Ismail Bin Walahe decided that he was tired and didn’t have time for her bullshit so he moved on to ask the next person.

“What country is this?”

“That what? What is a country? For us us we don’t know those things of I don’t know Country. For us us we are kingdoms for us. This kingdom she is called Buganda Kingdom,” said the man with the large nose.

“Hey, you,” a young sexy chick barged into the conversation and walked up to Ismail Bin Walahe. “ Are you a silver?”


Uganda Before Independence or UG@-100

“Hullo, Hertsmytheshire, Old Chap. Splendid climate in here, don’t you know?” said the elderly posh white tweed-clad man with the single disc of glass over one eye, the pipe of polished wood, the dog with a face like collapsing rubber and the imperialist grip over the nation as he glanced over at the hills.

“Roight ye are, guvnor! I reckin this ‘ere colony is goner moike queenie well ‘appy, innit?” said his squat, fat, bald, cockney, lowerclass squire.

“Oh, heavens me,” said the guvnor, “What in the bloody british blazes is that?” A shadow crossed a path on the hill below.

“It’s native, guv’nor. Place is crawlin with ‘em, guv’or. Africans all over the bleedin’ area, ya git me?” replied the squire.

“Good grief! They are dark as soot!” the Guvnor was shocked.

The native climbed up the hill and stood before the two men. She, asked, “You are a silver pure! Where have you been all my life?”


Meanwhile, down the hill, two black, thick-lipped, fat-nosed nappy-head chaps were looking up the hill.

“Gwe kyali wange, what’s cutting those ends up those ends?”

“Those ones? That’s those bazungu.”

“Nga they are doing what here?”

“I hear mbu they run the country these days, nti.”

“They run the country? Who says?”

“They are the ones who say.”


“You are wakanaring?”

“Me I’ve jammed.”

“You will see.”


Former resident of Kampala


Uganda Before Independence or UG@-50


The governer looked down the hill at the tin roofs of the growing Kampala City and felt a stir.

“The natives are getting restless, sir. I hear talk of independence,” said the new Governer, Andrew Guvnor, looking down the hill at the distant black bodies clambering up and down the roads. “Ya git me?”

“It’s wikkid innit?” said his wololo. “I say we shoot the buggers in their bloody arses, right! An lock ‘em up on townships an’ ghettos and keep all the good stuff to ourselves!”

“Great idea! Let’s do that in Kenya first.”


Uganda Before Independence 0r UG@-25

At the bottom of a hill, two little black boys were speaking.

“Gwe, we go to school.”

“What is school?”

“It’s where they go to teach you to talk like as if how those bazungu’s talk.”

“Okay. We all go.”




Meanwhile, in Nakasero, Sir Andrew Cohen was thinking Britishly.

“We’re being right rogered by the darkies in Keenia, don’t you know. It’s quite a kipper of bollocks over there.”

“Thank goodness our darkies are well-subjugated, ya git me?” said his wololo.


Uganda Before Independence, or UG@-1


Benedicto Kiwanuka walked up the hill.

“Tumbavu. Get out. We want Uganda back,” he said.

“Okay,” said Cohen.

“Where are the silvers going?” asked the middle-aged lady who liked to hang around the colonial offices.


Last Chance to Post About Big Brother

Big Brother is coming to an end. We don’t want you to be completely green about what is happening so we have compiled an unreliable guide to the events that led to this finale, and a line up of the important figures.


The Big Brother Stargame

Modeled on Arkham Asylum, the Big Brother Stargame is all about placing social misfits together under camera surveillance and carrying out psychological experiments on them.


The Asylum, also known as the “house” or the “set” is divided into two regions. Upville is for the villains, and Downville is for the hoodlums, who are less intelligent.

Lady Mayday

As you can tell automatically from the name, she is the official designated house stripper.


Of coruse it's a ho name. May Lay



Lwaki? Mu ffumbiro temuli mmele? Agende alye.


The honourable MP for Ruhama has helped galvanise the movement party against the opposition in the house of parliament. We say this because she is more powerful than all other Janets in all other houses.


An annoying Kenyan who records weak rap music.  He has survived “eviction” thinking it is because Africa wants him to win. Actually, it is because Kenyans don’t want him to go back.

Kenyans show support for Pressle



A former prostitute was convicted for fraud and sentenced to four years incarceration after charges brought by her ex-lover.

Kushaba Kairo

A Ugandan chap the way you see Ugandan chaps. At this point I shall quote a statement from our twitter department:

 Big Brother Africa UG representative Kyle, if you want to stay alive, don’t win. People will hug you, shake your hands & give you Ebola.


Now that you are up to date, don’t forget to join the rest of Africa on Sunday for the finale of the thrilling Big Brother Africa Stargame which we just described. Thank you.

The Origin Of The Rolex

By Ninja Gerald Ainomugisha a.k.a Six Wheeler

One wise man once said, “Spain is not Uganda. Because in Uganda, Rolex is not a watch” I find loads of truth in this sentence… well, apart from the wise man bit. I must tell you I have been baffled by the infinitesimal awesomeness of this national phenomenon we call Rolex, right from the second we locked lips. It was love at first taste!

Being the bright inquisitive young man I am, I was intrigued to delve into its history, I wanted to know what made the Rolex tick… (Haha! Pun so intended! Place your palm on your monitor screen for a virtual hi5!) So, I now present to you my Advanced Hypotheses On The Origin Of The Rolex.


Caught in the act of rolexation.

Hypothesis #1:

The Big Bang. Yes, I know what you are thinking. The Big Bang caused the formation of the universe not simanyi a Rolex. Well, clearly you have been wasting your DSTV watching NatGeo and Discovery instead of Agataliiko Nfuufu but look here, there’s a catch! According to my quantum calculations, when the Big Bang occurred, such an abnormally great amount of energy was instantaneously released that the universe was formed.

Once again, I know what you are thinking. We knew that, dwanzie! But here is the long hidden secret; it is the Rolex which caused the Big Bang. Technically, I know this is not an explanation of the Rolex’s origin but hey, at least you’ll have something to say when caught in a geeky argument.

Hypothesis #2:

There once lived a hard working chapatti maker who worked hard. He worked so hard they called him Mr Hardworking Chapatti Maker.  One day, Mr Hardworking Chapatti Maker was hard at work as usual spinning away at his hot turn tables, when a storm started gathering. And he spun away, and it gathered, and he spun away even harder. While everyone ran for cover, Mr Hardworking Chapatti Maker just made more dough. And I don’t mean that dough you hear in Rick Ross’ songs, as in he literally made more dough.

Then out of the darkening sky came a lightning bolt that went straight for Mr Hardworking Chapatti Maker… Lights out. When he regained consiousness, all that was left of his stand was a hot steaming Rolex. Seeing this as a sign, Mr Chapatti Maker was so thankful for his life had been spared that he immediately repented his old chapatti-making ways and immediately became Mr Hardworking Rolex Maker, and he made rolex happily ever after.

Hypothesis #3:

On the Sabbath, God the Almighty decided to rest after a stressful week that included creating all and sundry, from Szamboki to Golola, from perfections like Six Wheeler to the likes of Bad Black… He probably overslept that morning, woke up to a heavenly brunch complete with katogo of offals, inspected His legions of angels, played FIFA 12 on his PS3, took a siesta and then topped it all off with a cool fruit cocktail from the Garden of Eden.

Then He woke up the next morning, fully rested and rejuvenated, generally feeling ayree and, with His Beats By Dre strapped on booming the latest hit single of The Heavenly Choir Of Angels, God started working on His last creation… the Holy Rolex.


A holy man continuing God's work.


Chicken Found Dead On Man’s Plate

By Ninja Gerald Ainomugisha a.k.a Six Wheeler

In a shocking horrific discovery, residents of Kimbejja village in Kyaliwajjala woke up to the shocking discovery of the mutilated dead body of a chicken. The steaming corpse was found lying in a pool of blood-red tomato sauce on a plate belonging to his human housemate. The deceased was identified as Mr Mulyakasooli and is survived by 3 hen-widows, 2 ex-wives, 15 chicks and 10 eggs.


The dead chicken during happier times

In what seems like a scene taken straight out of SAW, detectives came up with this as the most likely account of the gruesome crime; the suspect decapitated the deceased and chopped him up into pieces with a sharp object before proceeding to deep fry in hot oil. The corpse was also found to be missing feathers.

Witnesses RUM talked to claimed that the suspect had established a friendship with the dead chicken, as he was seen regularly feeding it some of his left-over katogo. On the fateful day, he was seen chasing the poor bird around his compound.

“Nigga, I saw the hommie chasin the bird but dude, I was like they gotta be playin coz they been kinda tight lately, no w’am sayin?” That was the account we got from MC Cool Cow, the suspect’s bovine neighbour.

Mr Wankoko, the chicken representative on the LC 1 committee has strongly condemned the crime saying, “It is very unfortunate that we are still witnessing such barbaric acts against members of our species in this era of equality and freedom.”

He also added that the murder was very likely to compromise the delicate peace between the humans and chicken of Kyaliwajjala and that it could have drastic economic effects on the township.  Kyaliwajjala Active Chiken In Trade Association (KACITA) has threatened to start hoarding eggs, a move that would deal quite a blow to the township’s GDP.

The suspect who narrowly survived lynching by a mob of violent chicken has been locked away and faces the possibility of being sentenced to 25 years of dodo and katunkuma. He seemed rather mentally disturbed as he shouted over and over, “Lwaki munzibako enkoko yange?!!” (Luganda for “Why do you steal my chicken you guys also you?”) Despite this, the police took the corpse to Mulago mortuary for a post mortem.

A photo of the dead chicken. (Warning: Picture might be too graphic).


7 Reasons Why You’re Not A Superhero

By Ninja Michael Kyeyune

The new Spiderman movie is just about the corner and it’s got people thinking: Why don’t I get bitten by radioactive insects (commonly known as Nsanafu)? Why don’t I get to put on cool underwear uniforms like Superman? How can I get Cat Woman’s number? Why cant I be a Superhero? Here are seven reasons why Superman wont share his underwear with you and probably why Cat Woman wont call back.


Ugandaman wearing his suit.

1. You don’t know the difference between right and wrong.

As the saying goes, “With great power comes many a chance to impress the girl next door and the right time to quit on education” by many Ugandan ministers back in their day. To prove my point let me ask two questions as copied off tests set at The International University of Superheroness found in the States.

Qn.1 You walk into a bank and suddenly have the to rob the bank. Do you;

A.     Rob the bank?

B.    Fight the mind control Prof. Xavier has on you?

Qn.2 You find yourself in a situation whereby you have to save Kim Kardashian or Kanye West. Do you:

A.     Save Kim first, get her number and take her out for lunch before saving Kanye?

B.     Just ignore Kanye?

If the answer to both questions is B then you probably have no friends and live a life of solitude. You’re a jackass.

2. Can’t fit in the uniform.

Honestly, how many of you can fit in Spidey’s tights? Or Superman’s underwear? As for the ladies, I’m told mentioning Cat Woman is a touchy topic around you.

3. You’re black.

Here’s the thing about superpowers and don’t say I didn’t warn you; Superpowers are racist. And they probably figure that as a black you’re mutation enough.


Ugandaman after mutation.

4. You’re broke.

Quick, check your pockets! Now throw away the thread coming from its being torn and dig deeper! Do you feel that hole? Yes, you’re broke. Otherwise you’d be going to work in Batmobile dressed in an Ironman suit.

5. Lack of prerequisites.

Your parents aren’t aliens, however much they act like it. You don’t have dead parents with lots of money, dead parents who apparently were geniuses and experimented on you out of love, and just plain dead parents and mutant parents.

6. Lack a Supervillain.

Let’s be honest. Who are you going to fight? It’s not like there are Jokers walking round the place. Potholes perhaps? UMEME maybe? UPDF? Those guys are invincible! No one wants you dead. Yet. Just go home.


7. You’re not in the US.

This is Uganda. Our heroes are on “Agataliiko Nfuufu”.



By Ninjaress MoRoots

So the trend that caught my eye on twitter this week was #ICantDateYou… people proceeded to let rip of reasons why they won’t date people. Several ideas sprouted like green beans to my head: “because you are shorter than me”, “you only have one eye”, “because you have toes are ugly”, “you don’t wear socks with trainers”…

But I can only elaborate on a few…

#ICantDateYou if you suffer from bipolar disorder. If one minute you shall love me tender and give me sweet kisses then in the next second proceed to thrust me against the wall screaming f**kingskankwhoref**kingf**kf**kiloveyou… we are going to have a problem. I realize this is quite the extreme of scenario, however, what I mean is that I will not date you if you’re hot and cold, day and night, winter and summer in the same sentence. A little consistency goes a long way. No one wants to be treading on their tiptoes around your ass for fear of saying or doing something that will incite violence.

#ICantDateYou if you’re not loved by my family. Now, this is an especially personal for, because family and I are TIGHT. I love no one more than my family, my siblings are my best friends and if you wanna hang with me, you must be able to hang with them. Please do not expect me to put you before any of them because you will most probably be disappointed every time. But lucky for you, my family are just as awesome as I am, and if I like you, they most likely will…

#ICantDateYou if you send one-worded texts. This shit is just plain irritating and it shall force me to never text you back. In my head, texting is a conversation taking place because we are separated by space. SO if our conversation FACE TO FACE GOES LIKE THIS:

Me: How was your day babe?

Him: Oh, fine baby, had a long day at work boo, my boss was on my ass the whole day… (Notice how my boyfriend calls me baby and boo)


Me: How was your day babe?

Him: Cool.

Hmph. I shall passive aggressively (although I don’t really know how aggressive this comes across) reply your one-worded answer with a 3 paged essay that resolves with a series of several questions, leaving your ass TRAPPED to answer me back properly!

Me: So what you got planned for tomorrow? You wanna get drinks? What time do you finish work?

Now, if you are dating the ultimate asshole this is what you’ll get in return:

Him: Nothing. No. 5.

At which point I shall reply with two words: F**K YOU.

#ICantDateYou if you don’t like cuddling and giving hugs. I AM A HUGGER. The tighter the better, the longer the better! I also like to hold on to your arm and particularly enjoying sitting on a couch hugging aka cuddling. So, if you are one of these “you’re in my personal space” types, we have problems, as when it comes to cuddling time, I know no concept of personal space. Your space, is mine, your chest will be my pillow, I shall caress your arm and you shall love it 😀

#ICantDateYou if you are married already. I don’t know what else to say really. This seems pretty self explanatory.

#ICantDateYou if you’re a hoe. Everyone has a past. No, scratch that. It’s not true. Not everyone has a past. Maybe what I mean to say is that we’ve all done things in our past, fair enough, no judgment, you were young, you were excited about hitting puberty, you got excited that your voice broke, your testicles dropped, you felt it necessary to ensure that they were producing the things they were supposed to be producing. GREAT. Remind me why you have then continued to go around humping everything that wears a skirt? I leave such behavior for the likes of my German Shepherd… because he is a dog. Take your loose balls and sloppy tongue elsewhere.

#ICantDateYou if you take life too seriously and get embarrassed too quickly. I laugh loud, as afore mentioned I give hugs not handshakes, I hold people on their arms (especially when they are big arms), I stand up and do impressions, SO if you are one of those always cringing-can’t take a joke – hiding in embarrassment types… I have only this to say: to the left, to the left, everything you own in a box to the left.

#ICantDateYou if you don’t like music. I feel like this doesn’t deserve an explanation, but I shall explain. I eat music, drink it, sleep with it, I have musician friends (I feel to name drop but I shall resist the temptation :-D). Music is a part of me, so if you have the audacity to step into a room and tell me to turn off the music or to stop playing the piano… eh. You’re balls are big, but unwanted. So please extend away from me.

#ICantDateYou if you want to be all up in my business all the time… talking about where are you? Who you with? When you coming home? Why didn’t you invite me? Please have your own life. Go hang out with your guy friends for a day, I’ll meet you later. It is unattractive to be needy or suspicious. 

The list can genuinely go on for another 3 pages, as this topic has been trending 4 days now 😀 BUT let’s end it on a positive note… I WILL DATE YOU if you love life, live life and make me laugh.



They say she comes from outer space, where for four hundred and fifteen years, ancient turtles trained her in the deadly art of making jokes and generally being the life of whichever party is in a thirty to thirty-five mile radius. Her cleverness bleaches the blackest of pots and doesn’t forgive the kettles either. She doesn’t just crack your ribs she splinters them. She doesn’t just tickle your funny bone, she dislocates it. Brew a cup of coffee and put on your reading glasses, presenting our latest addition to the sub-urban roster of conc and undiluted awesomeness, here is the breath-taking bubbling bundle of wit and talent that is ….

EDITOR: Mr. Producer, is it in order? I think it is in order; Go on, give the drummer some.

The Moroots herself. Mo, take it away!


I’m really warming up to twitter and the entertainment it gives me in my idle moments. I find it informative, amusing and very cool! One thing that I’m crazy about is innovations and how trends can SPREAD. Speaking of trends, twitter’s trending topics have become like ice cold water on a bloody heat-waved dusty Kampalan afternoon, you just drink them up! So I’ve decided once a month, I’ll dedicate a blog to a trending topic. This is my first one, a very popular trending topic, and really hilarious because most of the time so many of them really resonate with me as my life is a series of awkward moments.

And while we’re on this whole twitter topic… follow my twitter @moroots. It’s just as interesting as my blog

#theawkwardmoment when a heavy lady trips and runs into a 25 stepped stumble and THEN proceeds to crash into the ground. The actual falling isn’t funny – as she’ll probably hurt herself and whoever else is in the way, what is funny is everything that precedes the fall. She probably tripped initially because she can’t see her toes. She then evolves into this unstoppable ground thumping unrehearsed balance beam routine of 100 quick steps – this is probably the most exercise she has received in the last 5 years so it’s funny that she’s about to hurt herself as a result. People off balance make me giggle.

#thatawkwardmoment when you’re at a bar/club (mostly a bar) with REALLY loud music and your trying to have a conversation and SHOUTING into your friends’ ear about how I’M SO DRUNK I THINK I JUST PISSED A LITTLE, and the music just happens to cut off right after the I’m So Drunk part. Yes. Embarrassing. Everyone turns to look at you coz firstly why are you screaming? Then their eyes roll down to your vajajay area as if they are inspecting the stain this potential drop of pee has left, and then they squinch their noses up as if they can smell it!! And all this done in the total silence of a supposed to be loud establishment – awkward!

#thatawkwardmoment when you’re at someone unfamiliar’s house and you need to take a doodoo. And you take the shit and then the shit doesn’t flush and everyone BLATANTLY knows you dun the shit coz it’s only the 3 of you there! What do you do?! If you have good advice let me know. And saying “don’t doodoo at other people’s homes” is not good advice, coz what if you’re there for the whole day, or overnight, or there for a big spicy meal?

#theawkwardmoment when you’re in the village and at a function and then your Dad gets recognized and he insists on introducing his entire family. (forgive the grammatical errors of my vernacular attempt) “Mwebale munonga… Erizooba, naleeta abaana bange… Maurrrin…” I ROLL MY EYES!! GOSH DAD!! MUST YOU?!?! Yes, apparently he must! I awkwardly stand up and smile as he laments on about how yasoma omubulaaya (studied abroad), and have a business degree, and cooks well, and enjoys cleaning and… HOLD ON A MINUTE!! ARE YOU TRYING TO SELL YOUR DAUGHTER OFF RIGHT NOW DEAR FATHER?! IT JUST DAWNED ON ME!! All these years! He’s been trying to market me for marriage! Trifling man!

#theawkwardmoment when someone else’s baby starts calling you mama after one afternoon of babysitting!!!! Ermmmmm hiiiiiiiiii! I’m young enough to be your old but still in the middle sister. I am NOT your mother. I mean it’s cute UNTIL said baby’s mother comes home and starts asking about how the day was and goes to hold her child and then the child denies her and requests for your loving tenderness!! TO ALL THE BABIES OUT THERE, your mothers shall refuse to invite me to babysit and give me money if she feels like she is being replaced by my finer sitter skills so do me a favour and STFU kid. Seriously.

The list of life’s awkward moments is literally endless! Feel free to post some of your awkward moment one liners in the comment space and make me giggle!
But if God didn’t provide us with awkward moments that would make our chocolate cheeks blush crimson if they could, where would he find his entertainment from?