Another day’s mistake at E-Club
It was a day of many mistakes. My trip to E-Club began the previous day.
It was a day of many mistakes. My trip to E-Club began the previous day.
Having returned home past midnight, for the fourth consecutive day, (which could be a criminal offence in the new domestic relations bill) I looked at my wife’s beautiful eyes and found my mouth uttering such words as; “Darling, tomorrow keep in bed. I will prepare breakfastâ€.
But Syda Bumba, who will get my vote for the worst performing minister of 2005, switched off power and that is how I found myself faced with a charcoal stove, newspapers and charcoal, made may be of rocks.
And there is nothing on earth worse than lighting charcoal made of the least flammable wood. In all sincerity, I resolved to suggest to Salaam Musumba that ‘Stubborn Charcoal’ is a good name for a political party.
After squatting, lighting, waiting; squatting, lighting, waiting — the newspapers got finished and the charcoal remained as lifeless as the seatbelt law.
I poured paraffin on it and shouted ‘eureka’ as the fire flamed into an inferno.
But by the time I brought out the eggs and cooking oil, the fire had died out and the charcoal was black and as cold as death! That charcoal, I swear, could actually be used to extinguish raging fires!
As a quick-thinking fellow, I resorted to Muntu’s threats and a solution that you should never attempt unless you meet the following criteria: One, you are a complete idiot and two, you seriously believe church talk about a better world after death. I got petrol from her car!
The pandemonium woke up the whole family who voted to grab Kampala out of my hands and place it under the statehouse (read Mrs Rover).
I now believe a quote from the Police (which I am entirely making up) that charcoal ranks behind Chameleone’s Leone Crew and Boby Wine’s Fire Base Crew as the most risky menaces Kampala faces. (You thought it was Cholera, shame on you).
Anyway, to liberate my name, I had to take her out to E-Club, another day’s mistake. E-Club is a quiet an exotic place past Naalya towards Kyambogo. After the road to Valley Point, signposts direct you to the apartment on the hill. A sliding gate allows you inside a tarmac parking.
The house on the left explains why there are usually more vehicles than the patrons drinking at the bar. Beyond the live hedge is a green that spreads up to a covered place, which houses the bar. Beer, roast pork and goat’s meat are served at sh2,000 each.
The place is quiet, has soft music and nice corners for romantic souls. The toilets are clean and tiled, but the flushing had a problem, which the madam-owner of the place promised to fix.
When I told Mrs Rover the house contains resting rooms, which are self-contained, connected to the TV and go for sh30,000 (I got the info from the madam owner, I swear), she did not like the smell of it. She started behaving like many of you, asking many questions: “How did you get to know this place?†Answer: I am a Ugandan.
“Why do people prefer dark corners?†Answer: They are Ugandans. “Look at that couple in the corner! The man must be cheating on his wife!†Answer: He is a Ugandan. “Why is a girl that beautiful messing up her life?†Answer: She is Ugandan.
And you cannot enjoy an evening on interrogation, parroting ‘Ugandans’ like this, can you?
Ends
Having returned home past midnight, for the fourth consecutive day, (which could be a criminal offence in the new domestic relations bill) I looked at my wife’s beautiful eyes and found my mouth uttering such words as; “Darling, tomorrow keep in bed. I will prepare breakfastâ€.
But Syda Bumba, who will get my vote for the worst performing minister of 2005, switched off power and that is how I found myself faced with a charcoal stove, newspapers and charcoal, made may be of rocks.
And there is nothing on earth worse than lighting charcoal made of the least flammable wood. In all sincerity, I resolved to suggest to Salaam Musumba that ‘Stubborn Charcoal’ is a good name for a political party.
After squatting, lighting, waiting; squatting, lighting, waiting — the newspapers got finished and the charcoal remained as lifeless as the seatbelt law.
I poured paraffin on it and shouted ‘eureka’ as the fire flamed into an inferno.
But by the time I brought out the eggs and cooking oil, the fire had died out and the charcoal was black and as cold as death! That charcoal, I swear, could actually be used to extinguish raging fires!
As a quick-thinking fellow, I resorted to Muntu’s threats and a solution that you should never attempt unless you meet the following criteria: One, you are a complete idiot and two, you seriously believe church talk about a better world after death. I got petrol from her car!
The pandemonium woke up the whole family who voted to grab Kampala out of my hands and place it under the statehouse (read Mrs Rover).
I now believe a quote from the Police (which I am entirely making up) that charcoal ranks behind Chameleone’s Leone Crew and Boby Wine’s Fire Base Crew as the most risky menaces Kampala faces. (You thought it was Cholera, shame on you).
Anyway, to liberate my name, I had to take her out to E-Club, another day’s mistake. E-Club is a quiet an exotic place past Naalya towards Kyambogo. After the road to Valley Point, signposts direct you to the apartment on the hill. A sliding gate allows you inside a tarmac parking.
The house on the left explains why there are usually more vehicles than the patrons drinking at the bar. Beyond the live hedge is a green that spreads up to a covered place, which houses the bar. Beer, roast pork and goat’s meat are served at sh2,000 each.
The place is quiet, has soft music and nice corners for romantic souls. The toilets are clean and tiled, but the flushing had a problem, which the madam-owner of the place promised to fix.
When I told Mrs Rover the house contains resting rooms, which are self-contained, connected to the TV and go for sh30,000 (I got the info from the madam owner, I swear), she did not like the smell of it. She started behaving like many of you, asking many questions: “How did you get to know this place?†Answer: I am a Ugandan.
“Why do people prefer dark corners?†Answer: They are Ugandans. “Look at that couple in the corner! The man must be cheating on his wife!†Answer: He is a Ugandan. “Why is a girl that beautiful messing up her life?†Answer: She is Ugandan.
And you cannot enjoy an evening on interrogation, parroting ‘Ugandans’ like this, can you?
Ends