Older tomorrow

And the year passed like a stroke of lightening. It’s still hard to believe that tomorrow I will be a year older. But logically today and tomorrow make no difference. All the same I will bask in the excitement of being younger today.

But honestly, I don’t know what to feel. For the first time in my life I haven’t made such a big deal of this birthday business. My girls were calling me the whole week wondering what’s the plot in vain. I can’t explain this, coz it definitely isn’t me. No party!
Now I am really scared that this age (which is taboo for you to know) hasn’t been taken in well by my system.

When dad called me in excitement, as usual to be the first one to deliver a card and foot the cake bill it suddenly occurred to me that am weird this year.
Problem is I feel ordinary and doubt that tomorrow will change anything about me.

Oh the other thing though is that am getting closer to the big 3 ooooo and that is not funny at all, fancy being referred to as being in late 2 ooooo in a couple of years. Then the menopause starts hitting in the big 4 ooooo. I dread to even imagine this whole thing

So i have decided that instead of throwing that much needed party, am gona party with the gals tonight till dawn. If you catch me around Kyadondo Rugby club I may come off a few drinks.
And then I will go buy that hot, dear pair of shoes I show along Jinja road with the cake kala the Oldman loves to give. But shhhhhhhhh don’t tell him…

Oh and its fools day but hey far from a fool.think the opposite.(When mum cried Labourrrrrr…dad must have raised his legs and said ‘oh its fools day’ only to be rushing to the hospital the next minute)

A man is A man

And I will die to that statement. Power or wealth you name it, a simple glimpse of thigh power can have a man lose his senses. True and annoying this fact is. But then again with such intense levels of testosterone, who can blame them.

Every time I see one of them Executive directors, MDs or Ministers throw their weight around, am thinking… ‘Man for all your pomp behind it lies an untamed beast’. So generally who can blame Mahogany for living up to his testosterone levels. I pity those who think he should resign over such a thing.

What irks me though is how carelessly he does his business. Surely if you must cheat can’t you at least be smart about it and have control over your Nakku’s. A man who gets caught is absolutely unforgiveable.While I don’t vouch for cheating I believe that if you must do it,atleast don’t go about it unsystematically.


Anyhow back to men and testosterone levels, I remember this sixty something Ambassador of one of the African countries who wanted a piece of me. In all his pomp, air conditioned office and wealth; the damn man was all but a boy begging for some.(he wasn’t even cute)

Boy was it disgusting every time he flashed his crooked smile, and made promise after promise of being able to take good care of me.
Apparently, I was worth a lot as a young lady so he was taking it upon himself to be close to me and pour the luxury of holiday trips to South Africa, London and anywhere I fancied. Then week end pocket money (which he gave that day of about 200,000)

Believe me that was tagged blood money by the gals and we spent it on shoes, bags and a wild night out just in case it had juju . Then the winning promise was that he could pay for my masters degree cash on spot for the whole year or at intervals, basically my choice….


And you blame women who fall into the lion’s den?

The catch got closer when he mentioned flying together to South Africa but on different flights or sections (poor me was to be in economy while drank champagne in First class), check into different hotels but meet later. Whatever was to happen there after I dare not imagine.


But then even before all that, he suggested that it would be nice to visit him at his house the next weekend to give him company because he is lonely. (his family enjoys his country men’s tax money abroad) But apparently after taking an HIV test from his specially recommended Doctor since he takes his tests every three months.

When he saw the shock on my face, his excellency was quick to mention that his regular tests are not sex related but coz one can get HIV from anything including Salad. Can u imagine… And there we were getting shocked when Zuma opted for a shower.

And that sealed his fate, ABSOLUTE NO! Silently I agree, but the moment I walked out of his door was the last he set eyes on me. Forget that the blood money was stashed away in my bag. It was time to RUN without looking back.


So much for men of power and booty.

The end;at long last

Phew! So that Venezuelan soap Woman of my Life did have an end after all. I was beginning to think that we might have had to wait for a whole year.
It was also too abrupt I must say, for just when I was getting carried away during that episode, the strip flashed across the screen warning that it was the last episode. I would have wanted to see the marriage life of the newly weds.

Yes! I must admit amid the frowns of many who thought nothing of this lip synced soap, that I had grown to be an ardent fan.
My instinct the first time I watched it back in the day when it had just begun was not to waste my precious time on such second hand acts.

Then after a year I started watching it occasionally for luck of a better option. When the drama with Barbarita’s imprisonment intensified so did the number of episodes I watched. However the stagnation of action made me backslide a bit, only to get back on track some time mid last year.
While I managed to continue going on about my business the days 8p.m. did not catch me in front of the scene, one of my friends would actually cancel an appointment to watch the soap. At times she would park her car at the nearest restaurant with a television set and enjoy the show.

They say soaps livened up housewives’ lives in the fifties and sixties in the West where television was popular.
These lengthy films were dabbed soaps thanks to their original sponsors who were often soap manufacturers like Colgate Palmolive. Familiar scenes and plots with emphasis on family life, personal relationships, emotional and moral conflicts sustained the audiences.

Today, they continue to dominate day and night schedules. I think women just like drama.If it is not Woman of my Life or Cuando seas Mia it is The Young and the Restless, Desperate Housewives, Days of our Lives or The Bold and Beautiful. The list of options is endless. World over, women are simply hooked onto these soaps.

We cannot forget those nostalgic days of Riviera and Sunset Beach. If there is any soap even men will profess to have watched for whatever reason, it had to be Riviera, right from the legendary bust on opening scene to the beautiful women and smashing men. A colleague to date nurses a desire to go to France in the hope of meeting similar women. I wouldnt have minded getting a glimpse of Stephan Nior's muscles myself if i could find them in France.

Now that that chapter is closed I can bet Cuando seas Mia is going to become more popular, after all,women just have to have a soap going on in our lives. (Diegos physic is not bad...not bad at all...l hmmmmm....)

Traumatized.

I have always wondered what that means when I read stories of rape victims or assault victims. To be honest, you don’t want to be there trust me. Ever since that infamous encounter with that son of the devil robber, I have caught myself looking around over my shoulder as soon as dark falls.

The moment I see a man a few meters away, my heart skips a beat and blood starts racing for fear of the possibility that he is out to get my bag. I have concluded that I am traumatized.
Pity I haven’t yet gotten time to go to those self defense classes.

Path to Holly wood.

Oh thats not me,just a scene from the play,Matanda having a confrontation with the nun.

So! I’ve got another acting stint and will be on stage this weekend starting tonight. Holly wood here I come, or must I look just over the edge and eye Ugy wood, whatever they called that thing that movie wannabes like Murder in the city were to be derieved.

Oh before Holly wood there is even that Nolly wood business. I sure hope that I won’t have to go through the Bolly wood as well, for I cannot imagine having to sing every single emotion I feel. Do they even kiss these days?
Oh! talking about kissing, I was shocked the other day when I saw the Nolly wood guys doing a real cool spit swap.(Quite a step ahead).

Anyhow so where was I! Oh yes, its going to have to be Broadway, am afraid. This time it’s a drama called Doubt a parable by John Patrick Shanley.One of those plays you have to put your whole into in order to grasp the gist.

If you are like the crowd that I met at Cineplex cinema the night I went to watch Casino Royale, (remember the flirty exchange in the train), you can forget about catching the humor in the diction of this play.

Never the less it is one that spurs your mental faculties in to wondering about the times you think the worst of others or simply doubt their actions.

This is the play review

A play this thoughtful, this well-crafted, this passionate is hard to ignore and even harder to resist. The real drama comes from how you, like the characters, deal with a situation that can't be fully understood because it cannot be interpreted in only one way.
When you're faced with a situation like this, for which there is no single clear answer, with whom do you identify?

The priest loves teaching and takes his faith seriously, but makes perhaps too many mistakes? The school's principal who uses all of her education, experience, and personal beliefs to come to a conclusion, and then sticks to her guns in order to protect the children at any cost? School teacher who can too easily see both sides of the question? Or, the pupil's mother( that’s me) who knows elements of the truth, but might let the consequences slide in pursuit of a possible greater good?

The most tantalizing question: Did he or didn't he? But what's the truth? We don't know. We can't know. Dramatically, that ambiguity is key. And that's the beauty of Doubt.
Theatre Review by Matthew Murray Talkin' Broadway- March 31, 2005
No doubt about it. This is the one play that anyone who cares about drama should see. The power of Shanley's writing had me enthralled. If anything, I was taken by the exquisite blend of humor and drama than before, and the play of emotions.

While this is a serious drama about complicated human and social issues, Doubt is simply ninety minutes of good theater, with enough humor to entertain and plenty of food for post-theater discussions
Elyse Sommer, CurtainUp

John Patrick Shanley's Doubt flowers from a conventional seed into an intricate vine whose tendrils go beyond did-he or didn't-he to nudge ramifications of faith, justification, and even the future. But there's nothing flowery about the exquisite clarity of this play.
Laura Hitchcock, A CurtainUp Los Angeles Review

case of the robbery

Self-defence class has been the only thing running through my mind this whole week thanks to an encounter with a robber over the weekend as I was taking a much-needed stroll. I still keep looking back and imagining all the possible things I could have done to break every bone in his body if only I knew how to.

He was lucky I could not replay all those moves Jackie Chan shows off in those films. I should probably watch more violent movies from now on and emulate those teenagers who cannot take their eyes off East African TV and master each blow and kick.

Unfortunately, I realised that moments like those simply pass in a flash. One minute you have your bag hanging comfortably on your shoulder and the next it is moving at the speed of lightening. If you are one for resistance like I was, be sure to land yourself a blow or two.

You can encounter muggers in the least expected of places, so it is important to be on your guard. They appear suddenly so that they can catch you unawares and shout at you then snatch your bag as you get over the shock. A month ago a friend had her bag taken by one on a boda boda. So ladies tuck your bag as far away as possible.

Better still beat them at their game by keeping your valuable items in your pockets especially if you wear jeans. I am still smiling at the fact that for some reason that day I had smartly tucked mine in my hind pocket. So as I sulked away at the loss of my possessions in the bag, nothing was more consoling than the fact that he had missed what he sought the most. I can imagine the look on his face when all he got were papers, cards, and all the girlie things in my little bag.

Never the less the answer I say to all this is self defence classes, so I am going to start planning on how to take on such misfits who are out to benefit from the fruits of your hard earned labour.
I cannot help wishing I had kicked his balls and poked his eyes out. And there is the mase spray that one I know seems to have. It would have probably done wonders to that man’s face.

Anyhow I bore my swollen ugly lips like a woman that whole weekend, safely in the confines of my house. I definitely won’t be getting lips anytime soon.