Last Night a Podcast Saved My Life

But first things first today’s the day.

Uganda Bloggers Happy Hour isn’t a club and is by no means exclusive to bloggers.  If you read blogs, love blogs, loathe blogs, want to talk world change to bloggers, have a crush on a blogger, have no idea what on earth a blog is or don’t really care, come to Mateo’s on Parliamentary Avenue this evening at 7 p.m.  There’s good beer, great company, an undercover book exchange and a chance to win a romantic getaway for two to Madagascar courtesy of …

Empty Journalists, Empty Reports

Self Promotion Alert:  Before you navigate away from this page, please read the post “Ebola and CHOGM: Exaggeration, Cover Up or Lies” that follows below.  Thank you!

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The Press Gaggle.  There’s a reason why they are called that.  And I don’t think it is a vote of confidence in their ability to do a professional job.

Today the Minister of Disease, Stephen Malinga, visited Bundibugyo with a group of the Usual Suspects – New Vision, Daily Monitor, WBS, NTV, NBS and UBC.  He and the journalists, together with some senior officials in his Ministry, flew into Bundibugyo aboard a UPDF helicopter.

       

While the government team appears to have been properly briefed on the situation on the ground, the journalists clearly believed their own lies about the magnitude – or lack thereof – of the Ebola situation.  They were afraid to approach the local population for fear of … I don’t know what … breathing in the virus maybe?  And they shared with each other their worst fears of contracting the virus, dying on the job and leaving their families in the poor house.  Stuffed in their pockets and camera bags were ugly white surgical gloves, which they didn’t hesitate to pull out until a group of children started shouting Muhyembe!  Muhyembe! (Ghost!  Ghost!)

Malinga played his part for the cameras.  It’s his job.  He’s a politician and has learned how to act like one.  For all intents and purposes, he didn’t say anything new.  He didn’t even pay tribute to the 5 medical workers who have died of Ebola by mentioning them by name.  But he knew what he had come for and on when the protective gear, the mandatory handshake with an Ebola victim and the required look of pain (or whatever that look was). 

And the personality-mad media didn’t know how to separate the trash from the truth.

I asked a couple of journalists whether they would like to spend the night in Bundibugyo with me to study the situation more subce I’m traveling towards the Democratic Republic of Congo early tomorrow where one Ugandan was beaten as he tried to cross the border on account of bringing with him death and disease.  Plus a couple of cuties I met from the medical sector are cooking a meal tonight to say goodbye to their staff who have been in the district for several weeks and I thought it would a really good opportunity to chat with people with an insight into the epidemic.  I even offered to buy lunch.  But no one was willing to stay. 

“Me to stay in Bundibugyo?  Shiya!  I am not suicidal.” 

“As far as I can see, the story here is done.  We know the figures and we have a few facts.  There is nothing more that the Media Center can’t tell us.” 

“Gwe are there even hotels in this place?” 

And off they went on the coattails of Malinga and back to Kampala.  Nothing new was learned.  Nothing important was gained.  Expect the reports to be much the same. Shallow and empty.  Just like the journalists who write them. 

UBHH Highlights of the Lack Thereof

He got a present from her mbu so he could smell like this. 

She’s back and so her laava finally showed up. 

She alone was a victim of age discrimination although he was there. 

She was looking pretty in pink and although she was a little late, it was great to see her. 

Contrary to popular belief, she is not a lion.  A cougar maybe?  And she is certainly not scarlet. 

He looked very tired although he said was on leave.  Maybe he should prolong the break for a month or two.

The love affair between him and his cell phone continues to grow and he continues to reject my advances.  

All together not a bad date with the blogren. 

  

The Lure of the Blogsphere

P.S.: Don’t forget December’s Uganda Bloggers’ Happy Hour is on today.  It’s at Mateo’s from 7 p.m. and will go on until some people get tired and convince other people to go for Rock Night instead.

December UBHH

Blog?  Read blogs?  Love blogs?  Hate blogs? Don’t really care?

Come in the name of love, war, bizarre conversation and really great beer at Mateo’s this Thursday at 7 p.m.

Wanted: Really Useful Friend

I need a new set of friends. 

I need new friends who know people that do things.  People that move things.  People that get deals that can make me a quick buck. 

Most of my friends are people I have known since I was grubby, skinny child with anger issues.  They either felt sorry for me because I was a misfit or fell for my damsel in distress routine.  They are useful types.  The kind that willingly offer a shoulder to cry on, fuel for my van and when I am really good, a meal in an expensive restaurant. 

But now, I need a new kind of friend.  The kind that with one phone call can raise my stock profile, send me on a luxury holiday to Vanuatu, buy me a 2007 Jeep Wrangler and turn me into a dominatrix. 

I need the kind of friend who would have saved me from hours begging, groveling and pleading with the Kampala City Council authorities yesterday when they closed my office over a tax and registration dispute.

I need the kind of friend who would have told me what was going on last night when hundreds of police officers, military police and army officers flooded the streets of Kampala.   Everyone I called last night had no idea what was going on and my attempts to engage two military police officers who were on foot patrol went horribly wrong. 

ME:  (Giving them my 100-watt prize winning smile) Good evening Afandes.  How … 

AFANDE 1:  (Gruffly) Callyon Madam. 

ME: (Turning off my car engine, leaning out of the window and tuning up the smile to 200 watts) You seem to be very busy tonight.  I just wanted to say thank you for all the work you are doing to keep our city safe.  It is because of people like you that … 

AFANDE 1:  Madam, I said CALLYON! 

ME:  Your uniforms are nice and new and clean.  You very smart.  What’s the occasion? 

AFANDE 2:  Madam, dat was an odah.  Stati yowah cah anda callyon. 

ME: (Getting out of the car hoping that my fabulous figure would move them) I am just really interested in what the big secret is about your operation tonig… Aaahhh!  Mommy! (I scream as Afande 2 roughly grabs me by my arm and pushes me on to my car and Afande 1 tries to tear off my camouflage jacket) 

AFANDE 2:  (Shouting) Eh?  You!  What alla you doing in a inifomu?  Where alla you flomu?  You alla spy.  Who alla you playingi wiz?  Eh?  Hehhh! 

ME:  Daddy!  Somebody! 

AFANDE 1:  You are just joking with us.  We are going to take you to answer to Makindye. Mschhhh!  You are a muyekera!  Kneel down!  Lie down!  Don’t look at me.  Silly!  Tumbafu! 

Just in the nick of time my neighbor turned into our road off the main Entebbe Road, paid off the soldiers and rescued me. And now I am indebted to the one man I truly loathe. 

If I only had a Really Useful Friend, those bu-afandes would be behind bars having molten plastic dropped on their genitals every half hour. 

My Really Useful Friend would also help rig the Monitor/Michael Ezra promo so I can win the 140 million-shilling prize for the “Show Me the Money Challenge” or the 60 million shillings up for grabs for the Celtel/Barclays Bank/EABL Tupange competition.  

Maybe (s)he could arrange for me to reap from the CHOGM cash cow by landing me the deal to decorate Kampala ahead of the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting.   

I am sure I am up to the job.  All I would need to do is to cut down hundreds of banana trees (thanks to banana bacterial wilt those will be in plenty) and print badly-worded posters welcoming the leaders of Brunei, Kiribati, Belize and Lesotho.  It can’t be that hard, can it? 

Now, to get that friend … 

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Some Uganda Blogger Happy Hour memories from last night.   

It was my first since I ‘came out’ and I was impressed and disappointed at the same time.  

Another story for another day.   

Waiting with Bated Breath

Yay! 

UBHH tomorrow!  UBHH tomorrow!  UBHH tomorrow! 

(Editorial correction ;-) The above sentence should read UBHH tomorrow-but-one, etc, etc) 

I have so much to do before the rendezvous with the blogren at Mateos.  What to do … where to start … 

• Must buy a corset to save self from pain of constantly sucking in stupid expanding midriff

• Must visit Best Friend for tips on make up to give self Nicole Kidman cheek bones, Kerry Washington lips and Tyra Banks eyes

• Must buy comb to organize mop on head to look slightly presentable

• Must trim nails to remove the makakya from last night’s matooke preparation and squeeze in a pedicure to scrub off the enkyakya

• Must watch neighbor’s cat more closely since have been told to walk like that animal is to walk sexy

• Must Google AC Top 10 to sound modern, but sophisticated.  Must remember to copy New York Times bestseller list on hand to randomly shout out impressive titles if need arises

• Must learn where Darfur is, why Japanese Prime Minister resigned, if Nakapiripirit is in Uganda and whether Borat is really from Kazakhstan

• Must cram chapter one of “Dummies Guide to Opening Mouth” and must remember to pick up “Dummies Guide to Opening Mouth and Speaking” in preparation for October’s UBHH

• Must learn how to have An Opinion and Take A Position on things that self doesn’t care about

• Must call more attractive, clever look-alike cousin to be on standby to impersonate self, if self is overcome with fear

 Must go for UBHH … maybe.