Wanted: Scrabble buddy

For years I kept thinking it would be nice to own a Scrabble game set. For years I kept postponing or forgetting about it. There was a time I was very passionate about it that I told whoever asked (including a few who didn't) that it would be an ideal gift if they were thinking of getting me something. For years, nothing came of my hints (I really should polish my hinting skills, or learn to be really pushy) but eventually Mr. Adam did the right thing and bought me one a few months ago. I was over the moon. It was not my birthday or any special occassion (those he has started forgetting-forgetting, shame on him, and I be too proud to remind him. I mean, the guilt when he finally remembers that he forgot an important day is well-deserved and satisfying for me.) so I really was pleased.

Now, I have the game, but I have been reduced to playing solitaire scrabble because he is usually too busy or uninterested to play with me. Or maybe he does not want to lose the game to me? He is usually very enthusiastic about playing Chess and he always beats me at it. But he knows that when it comes to word games I'm on the roll. Could it be all about the famous male ego?

Problem two is the little mintling who is growing quite an ego of her own. I can't do anything without her figuring she should be part of the picture. So a scrabble game is only so until she ambles over and turns it into a game of counting or roll-the-tiles or put-them-back-take-them-out-again.
So, nowadays it's twilight solitaire scrabble for me because I have to wait for her to go to bed, and then I can pull out the scrabble board. While Mr. Adam pokes around in his laptop and files, I sit on the floor with my scrabble.
It's funny how when you're not competing seriously, the good words and big marks seem to come easy. But it's not funny not to have a scrabble partner.

On the bright side, I'm loving the mental exercise (Hi, Ariaka, I have not forgotten).

Today's kids say darndestest things

Minty (to 3-year-old Matthew): Are you happy?
Matthew: Noooo. I'm matthew.

Minty ( after narrating Sinbad the Sailor to 5-year old Dan): And that is the end of the story.
Dan (gazing longingly into a blank space): Is there a Part 2?

Michelle, 3 and a half years old: Auntie, I tell you something. My mum wears pampers.

This ring finger on my right

I do realise this is a second post today in a drought-stricken blog, but I am feeling a bit concerned about a matter of great national importance. Members of our Parliament are worried about a swollen ring finger on the right hand of President Yoweri Museveni.


You see our visionary leader (It's a good thing that his vision is intact since it is not his eyes that are swollen - though many have observed that he is quite fond of bulging them during his lectures - and since he himself once said that doctors had warned him to tone down his schedule or risk blindness) has allowed his vulnerable side to show by wearing a plaster for more than two weeks now. I heard that the spicy piece of red vegetable has been on the trail of the finger that grew into a chipolata and now is 'the size of a sausage' (these last being their very words).




What is the point of this post? I have a request for all you analysts, experts, quack doctors, witch...I mean which doctors and conspiracy theorists: What do you think happened to that little (admittedly now large) finger on the president's right?



I know it was not a fish that bit his finger, because he did not himself go to Migingo Island to settle the dispute between Uganda and Kenya.

Personally, I became a bit suspicious after watching a skit on the comedy show 'Barbed Wire' when someone played the president ordering two of his ministers to prove their fitness by doing press ups.


When 'Namirembe' and 'Otafiire' fail to press even one up, the 'president' gets down to demonstrate his fitness. He shows several moves, suported on open palms, on bunched fists and even with one hand. Then he attempts to show how he does it with one finger...and collapses in a heap that only paramedics could uncollapse.

When five days later the plaster started appearing I wondered whether fiction had married truth.

So, people, hit me with your speculations.

Mucky Murphy's law

Have you noticed that the whiter your shirt/blouse, the more likely you are to drop ketchup/sauce/soup/curry of a brightly lumionus colour on it during lunch?

That's why I'm boycotting lunch today. I have an important appointment this afternoon and I can't risk staining my top.

When they start to grow

A teenage friend of mine was laughing about a baby in church who, after suckling at one breast, told the mother : “This one is now finished. Give me this one.”
Macline was so amused that a baby who can speak so clearly was still breastfeeding. I laughed along with her. But I shouldn’t have. My 20-month-old Misty still loves to nurse (notice the delicate choice of words) and is learning to talk. Recently she reported: “siyisht (finished),” after nursing at one side. She then turned to the other side and commanded, “eat,” with her hands already trying to dig around. I hope she will never get the chance to do that in public.

I’m beginning to see the rapid changes I have to make now that Misty is growing. When she started walking she loved to put on my clothes and shoes. She would pull down a blouse and struggle to wear it – usually it would end up as a dress-shirt or a very interesting baggy short if she decided to put it on upside down, with the sleeves as the leg holes. If it defeated her, she would drag it to the nearest adult and demand to be dressed or the World Cup of tantrums would ensue. Then she would proudly parade around the house in her latest fashion conquest.

Here she is in her layered look:

long sleeved red tee, model's own

sleeveless red polo neck, Minty's

Striped vest, Minty's.

Katikiti Mobile phone, Minty's!

A number of times I had to dive for my underwear before she got any ideas. One time she succeeded in putting one on but I grabbed her just before she walked out the bedroom door. Now all drawers containing drawers, so to speak, are off limits.

Recently I was lying down on my bed, she was sitting on my belly and we were having several disconnected conversations. She reached for my hair, ran her tiny hand over it and said, “Smaaaart.” I thanked her profusely and lied to her that her hair was also smart. A few minutes later, my hands were under my head as we continued to chat. Then she reached and pointed at the pit of my arm and declared: dirty! Now she was the one lying. Just because my skin is darker around this area! Shyaaah! No, no, it was not like Mabira neither was it like a golf course. It was smooth as a squash court.

Back to the girl chat, I had to cut it abruptly when her hands made as if towards the Central Republic of Me. Was she following a certain theme here? What was she going to do there? I jumped up before she had a chance to execute her evil plan.

Now I am considering instituting a privacy policy. Those things of following me to the bathroom have to end. In fact, I toyed with the idea of a blanket ban on the bedroom but that can wait a few more years.

PS: just so you know I have some cleverness in me, but some mercy on you, I considered leaving out the 'L' in Republic.

The triumph of Temangalo

No he didn't. Oh yes he did. The president of Uganda ( and I still can't believe this) has made clear his stand on the controversial NSSF- Temangalo land saga. His latest cabinet list says so loud and clear that all you stupid fools who blew saliva on radio talk shows, who wasted airtime calling in to lambast those who used workers' money wantonly, who grew hoarse arguing on the floor and committee rooms of parliament, who spoilt your handwritings penning letters to the editors of various newspapers DON'T KNOW WHO IS BOSS! Hahaha.

What was that about 'he who washes his hands may dine with kings'? More like 'he who dirties his hands...' in this here cassava republic.
Just check this article from October 2008 about efforts to save Amama Mbabazi. And then check out the new entrants on the cabinet list. Educative.

For what it's worth, in 3000 words

A quarrel

An apology


And a Kiss



Been too long in the rain. Make that murky swampy bog. With a silver lining, if that is possible.

Thoughts in Brownian motion

Aka Random thoughts.

1. I want a break from work and yet I can't have it. I don't like the arrangement of having to work all through the holidays except on December 24 and 25. I want to have a sleep in weekend and an island holiday.

2. I have a feeling that the Serulanda Foundation will have their way inspite of the weirdness of their practices, and with the full participation of our M7. While the president instituted a comission of inquiry months ago, his government has at the same time been commissioning the investors and organising the legal framework under which the Lake Victoria Free Trade Zone will operate.

3. Reading about surrogate mothers in newspapers and the Internet is one thing, but knowing somebody who actually went through it is quite another thing. It hit me like a big block of ice when I heard that the beautiful young relative who had gone abroad for about a year, had actually gone to be a surro for her older sis. I should be touched by the whole giving thing, but instead I still feel chilled. I don't know why.

4. At what age do children learn to demand the bigger portion of everything? And where do they learn that if they screamed and kicked long enough you will eventually give in? Who teaches them to resort to endless nibbling especially when the cookie has become no more than the size of a pea? Is this an attempt to prolong the life of the swiftly diminishing cookie?

5. So on Tuesday last week Museveni and the LRA representative Nyekorach Matsanga meet and we are told the president agreed to talk to Kony one on one (on phone, by the way). Then on Sunday this week a joint Uganda-Congo-South Sudan force bombards the LRA hideout in Garamba. How interesting. Now if this is the same Matsanga who early this year reportedly wrote a letter to Museveni urging him to carry out swift military action against Kony, then I think the Tuesday meeting was about talking to Kony in the language of the gun.