Hands up if you are not a prostitute
Sep 06, 2006
If I were Nsaba Butuuro, I would be hurling abuses on society’s ‘shock absorbers’ with such fearful names as Whores! Harlots! Prostitutes! (Our beloved state minister of ethics fights for public morals with a passion –– wait till he wakes up to scrub wine smugglers and drug traffickers).
Hilary Bainemigisha
If I were Nsaba Butuuro, I would be hurling abuses on society’s ‘shock absorbers’ with such fearful names as Whores! Harlots! Prostitutes! (Our beloved state minister of ethics fights for public morals with a passion –– wait till he wakes up to scrub wine smugglers and drug traffickers).
Parliament is now scratching its head on whether to print licences for sex workers. And as usual, pretenders and owners of the holier-than-thou attitude are shouting themselves hoarse at how low our morals have sunk. They have forgotten that there was a time when sex was for love and excitement. These days, atalina sente tafumita lindaazi (the poor cannot stick his tail in sweet things). That is why even Mabira forest has to give way to SCOUL to expand. The forest has to relocate elsewhere as proof that the era of progressive people, who know how to transform land use, has come.
If you look closely at the sexual land use, you will discover that it changed long ago! And this is not at Speke Road. It is everywhere.
For a man, getting a lover/ sex partner these days is tantamount to acquiring a volunteer to spend your money. When your motives are sexual, you must foot the outing bills, utility bills, improvement bills and Namboole bills. And that is just the beginning! It is only people my size, who may be allowed to advance into territories without littering the path with bank notes. Size acts as security and assurance that with patience, your milk will start flowing. Guys with ample size need fewer words than smaller colleagues, who need more innovation to get served. And because we are a prostituting society, they succeed only when they brag about the wealth they do not have.
Remember prostitution is having sex in exchange for material gains like money, wealth and other favours. Hmm! Is there anyone fit enough to throw the first stone?
And even after the sex, the guy punches the air like Massa during the Saturday Lesotho match at Namboole Stadium, forgetting that the woman has left a very huge straw protruding from his purse, through which she will access the wallet. Even if the guy is a diehard, he may not fail to get reminders about what now becomes his obligation – just because he played sex. “People say my phone is embarrassing, I need one with a camera.†She may also say, “Oh my hair, doesn’t it discomfit you?’
Then the dreaded SMS: ‘Send A/T of 20k dia’, ‘U hv 2 tke me 2 Serena’, ‘Hv bkd yr car 2moro whole de. Need full tank,’ etc etc
In the stands are parents and sengas cheering on! No, actually coercing is a better word. They force their daughters to choose partners according to their economic statuses. “What does he have?†they will demand to know. “Don’t disturb me for new shoes Lucy! Get a boyfriend,†they will say.
I once danced with some chick, who had no inhibitions about how close to me she could get. She accompanied me to my table after the dance. Later, I heard her friends advising her to go in for a kill because she had acquired herself omugagga (a rich man)!
This is prostitution, pure in simplicity. Sex in return or anticipation for money, wealth, booze, trips, visas, marks, promotion, jobs and other favours. Even for the men; I know many who would relocate their Shimoni if there was chance for making money.
But when the subject is sex workers, we all raise our voices in condemnation. We are just being pathetic.
If you have ever unzipped because the partner is loaded, don’t hide behind arguments; you are as prostitute as those who stand at Speke Hotel.
The only difference is that you are worse. They demand money once, you do it forever. Let only those who have not sinned throw the first stone.
Ends
If I were Nsaba Butuuro, I would be hurling abuses on society’s ‘shock absorbers’ with such fearful names as Whores! Harlots! Prostitutes! (Our beloved state minister of ethics fights for public morals with a passion –– wait till he wakes up to scrub wine smugglers and drug traffickers).
Parliament is now scratching its head on whether to print licences for sex workers. And as usual, pretenders and owners of the holier-than-thou attitude are shouting themselves hoarse at how low our morals have sunk. They have forgotten that there was a time when sex was for love and excitement. These days, atalina sente tafumita lindaazi (the poor cannot stick his tail in sweet things). That is why even Mabira forest has to give way to SCOUL to expand. The forest has to relocate elsewhere as proof that the era of progressive people, who know how to transform land use, has come.
If you look closely at the sexual land use, you will discover that it changed long ago! And this is not at Speke Road. It is everywhere.
For a man, getting a lover/ sex partner these days is tantamount to acquiring a volunteer to spend your money. When your motives are sexual, you must foot the outing bills, utility bills, improvement bills and Namboole bills. And that is just the beginning! It is only people my size, who may be allowed to advance into territories without littering the path with bank notes. Size acts as security and assurance that with patience, your milk will start flowing. Guys with ample size need fewer words than smaller colleagues, who need more innovation to get served. And because we are a prostituting society, they succeed only when they brag about the wealth they do not have.
Remember prostitution is having sex in exchange for material gains like money, wealth and other favours. Hmm! Is there anyone fit enough to throw the first stone?
And even after the sex, the guy punches the air like Massa during the Saturday Lesotho match at Namboole Stadium, forgetting that the woman has left a very huge straw protruding from his purse, through which she will access the wallet. Even if the guy is a diehard, he may not fail to get reminders about what now becomes his obligation – just because he played sex. “People say my phone is embarrassing, I need one with a camera.†She may also say, “Oh my hair, doesn’t it discomfit you?’
Then the dreaded SMS: ‘Send A/T of 20k dia’, ‘U hv 2 tke me 2 Serena’, ‘Hv bkd yr car 2moro whole de. Need full tank,’ etc etc
In the stands are parents and sengas cheering on! No, actually coercing is a better word. They force their daughters to choose partners according to their economic statuses. “What does he have?†they will demand to know. “Don’t disturb me for new shoes Lucy! Get a boyfriend,†they will say.
I once danced with some chick, who had no inhibitions about how close to me she could get. She accompanied me to my table after the dance. Later, I heard her friends advising her to go in for a kill because she had acquired herself omugagga (a rich man)!
This is prostitution, pure in simplicity. Sex in return or anticipation for money, wealth, booze, trips, visas, marks, promotion, jobs and other favours. Even for the men; I know many who would relocate their Shimoni if there was chance for making money.
But when the subject is sex workers, we all raise our voices in condemnation. We are just being pathetic.
If you have ever unzipped because the partner is loaded, don’t hide behind arguments; you are as prostitute as those who stand at Speke Hotel.
The only difference is that you are worse. They demand money once, you do it forever. Let only those who have not sinned throw the first stone.
Ends