You need the hand and the heart
Sep 08, 2011
THE Uganda Cranes finally spelt the word: GRAVITY when they swallowed two against Angola last Sunday, bringing our expectations staggering down an anthill to real ground.
By Hilary Bainemigisha
THE Uganda Cranes finally spelt the word: GRAVITY when they swallowed two against Angola last Sunday, bringing our expectations staggering down an anthill to real ground.
I took those two goals personally and that is why October 8 will find me in Namboole, armed with vampire teeth thirsting for Kenyan blood. Sorry Kibaki, wounded lions do not know neighbours. I would have called us ‘wounded cranes’, but that is not scaring enough.
And that shows how more determined than Libya’s anti-Gadaffi forces we are.
I am not sure if the stadium wont collapse under our weight then, but what I know is that we shall qualify. I also know that such optimism, especially in love, is fertile ground for massive heartbreaks in times of landslides, but I will remain stubborn; we shall win and qualify.
However, last night, I dreamt us qualifying and it was so cold and annoying! We had been thrashed by Kenya, but as we gathered in groups to cry, news came in that Angola had lost. That meant us going through for those who are used to Cranes calculations.
It was good news, but short on ecstasy. For the first time, I dreaded a qualification without a win. Yes, we should qualify, but for this to be pleasurable, we should win the match too. Qualifying and winning is as great a combination as winning your lover’s heart and hand. Either is never a comfortable situation.
It reminds me of this story in Mukono last year. It was a wedding party where the groom gave a wonderful speech about his love for his wife. And I want you to imagine yourself in the groom’s shoes because that is when you will feel the biggest impact of my Golola kick. Somewhere in his speech, the groom, who I will call Manucho because that is not his name and also because I do not like Manucho of Angola, asked his beloved wife to greet the visitors.
You know that whenever people are asked to greet guests or say a word, they do not follow instructions. Like this bride; she instead used the opportunity to say more about how much she loved her man. That was no problem until she held his hand and said - with tears in her eyes: “In the name of God I will love you, Massa till I die. I will never leave you, Massa, until I do not know mama nze! Because Massa, you took …â€
She was not allowed to finish because many guests present knew Massa as her former boyfriend who was rumoured to still be as full in her album as Condoleezza Rice was in Gadaffi’s. In her nervousness, she had confused names. What followed can only be described as dust!
The groom lost all his temper and the whole of Mukono is still looking for it one year later. But, as usually happens when stories come to this peak, I will stop there.
Manucho had won the bride’s hand, but not her heart. That victory is hollow, like Angola’s win, which may not see them through. That is what will happen if Uganda qualifies after losing the final match at Namboole. In love, victory is not in adding a name Gadaffi to Chameleone.
That, you know, does not last. When floods come, Chameleone is seen scampering to recover his Jose name even when he has to go through roadblocks of catechism classes. The best way is to walk down the aisle smiling like a soldier ant because you have your partner’s hand and heart. Having either is not fulfilling enough.
And thank God I have finished this column without talking about Mabira forest.
THE Uganda Cranes finally spelt the word: GRAVITY when they swallowed two against Angola last Sunday, bringing our expectations staggering down an anthill to real ground.
I took those two goals personally and that is why October 8 will find me in Namboole, armed with vampire teeth thirsting for Kenyan blood. Sorry Kibaki, wounded lions do not know neighbours. I would have called us ‘wounded cranes’, but that is not scaring enough.
And that shows how more determined than Libya’s anti-Gadaffi forces we are.
I am not sure if the stadium wont collapse under our weight then, but what I know is that we shall qualify. I also know that such optimism, especially in love, is fertile ground for massive heartbreaks in times of landslides, but I will remain stubborn; we shall win and qualify.
However, last night, I dreamt us qualifying and it was so cold and annoying! We had been thrashed by Kenya, but as we gathered in groups to cry, news came in that Angola had lost. That meant us going through for those who are used to Cranes calculations.
It was good news, but short on ecstasy. For the first time, I dreaded a qualification without a win. Yes, we should qualify, but for this to be pleasurable, we should win the match too. Qualifying and winning is as great a combination as winning your lover’s heart and hand. Either is never a comfortable situation.
It reminds me of this story in Mukono last year. It was a wedding party where the groom gave a wonderful speech about his love for his wife. And I want you to imagine yourself in the groom’s shoes because that is when you will feel the biggest impact of my Golola kick. Somewhere in his speech, the groom, who I will call Manucho because that is not his name and also because I do not like Manucho of Angola, asked his beloved wife to greet the visitors.
You know that whenever people are asked to greet guests or say a word, they do not follow instructions. Like this bride; she instead used the opportunity to say more about how much she loved her man. That was no problem until she held his hand and said - with tears in her eyes: “In the name of God I will love you, Massa till I die. I will never leave you, Massa, until I do not know mama nze! Because Massa, you took …â€
She was not allowed to finish because many guests present knew Massa as her former boyfriend who was rumoured to still be as full in her album as Condoleezza Rice was in Gadaffi’s. In her nervousness, she had confused names. What followed can only be described as dust!
The groom lost all his temper and the whole of Mukono is still looking for it one year later. But, as usually happens when stories come to this peak, I will stop there.
Manucho had won the bride’s hand, but not her heart. That victory is hollow, like Angola’s win, which may not see them through. That is what will happen if Uganda qualifies after losing the final match at Namboole. In love, victory is not in adding a name Gadaffi to Chameleone.
That, you know, does not last. When floods come, Chameleone is seen scampering to recover his Jose name even when he has to go through roadblocks of catechism classes. The best way is to walk down the aisle smiling like a soldier ant because you have your partner’s hand and heart. Having either is not fulfilling enough.
And thank God I have finished this column without talking about Mabira forest.