where in Kampala is this?

I stumbled upon these interesting photos of Kampala in those days of our grandfathers. I'm young like that, unlike some of you who were in P6 already by 1960. Of course Baz I'm not talking about you. You are like us the youth of today (that is just a saying, not the title of that 1980s song by Musical Youth. Which I heard on the radio of course) and your latest Bad Idea had me in stitches.
Right, let's play a little game and see how many of us can identify which places are featured in the photos.

Number 1


Number 2

Number 3

Number 4

Answers in the comments section Priiz. Sanx.

The Obamamadness is still with us

Either Obamamania has refused to go away or some people just know how to make quick money. Ugandans love to party and any excuse will do.

Oh, well, at least I got to know that Blue Africa Restaurant changed names to 'Super Paradise' (how do you like the name, eh?).

Also, here's where I've wasted most of the Company's time today. I hope you'll understand why couldn't tear myself away from Cake Wrecks. With all my relatives, inlaws and outlaws, you can be sure I have seen some frightful cakes in my life. Maybe sometime I will do a cake wrecks special post on this blog.

Pix fest

This little mintling is quite fashion conscious.

Of late she has taken to sharing some of my stuff.

Here, she commandeers my boots. Even if it means getting a little extra help to take those steps.

I must admit she makes them look quite battered. Maybe it's time to let them go.

You may stumble and fall, but each time pick yourself up and try again.

Even if it means walking the rest of the journey with only one shoe.

Enjoy the weekend all you good people.

Shouted on the rooftops

There is this endangered species that is common in the Christian church, the species that have forced a past tense to become an adjective. Some members of these species, identified as the Marrieds, are sighted mostly around church buildings on Sunday afternoons. They hurdle together and whisper things that other species can only be curious about, and perhaps make a resolution to find their way into that circle.

Well, every once in a while the males and females of the species decide to meet separately, for better elucidation and unhindered discussion of certain gender-specific matters.

Sometimes some of the things that one hears at such meets remain with one forever. I have two examples that put the fear of Marrieds in my brave heart.

From the women's camp, somebody opened her mouth and delivered the lines that will just not get out of my head:

And the way they like IT in the morning! It's like they are always ready, yet you have things to do.

Only one person had the ill-timed judgement to agree, with an overenthusiastic "Owaaye!"

And from the men's camp, our agent, Mr. Adam brought back on a silver platter the following:

"The problem is that she insists on bathing with hot water at night, which just makes it..."

Sorry people, for some reason my mind has marred the rest of that line. I need to have the exact words lest I misrepresent, because I could fill it with any number of sad endings.

After that experience, you just have to make a mental note to dodge all the men-only or women-only meetings in future. Because after someone bares his/her soul, they will not be content until they have extracted a dangerous confession out of each one in the group. And like Minty and Adam compared notes, all the wives and husbands sure must have done the same. After that you don't know who is looking at you in a shiny new light.

I'd rather stay in the shadows, thanks.

Why Obama won: An African's speculation

Barrack Obama had many more Yirizis (lucky charms) than John McCain.




I'm just kidding. Apparently such paraphernalia were part and parcel of the campaign strategies of both candidates.

A Nsenene Chronicle

(Photo snatched from www.spaech.blogspot.com)

The Baganda call this month Musenene, the month in which, from ages past, the edible and well loved grasshopper (Homorocoryphus Nitidulus) literally fell from the sky. November is the main nsenene season, the other being April, when a swarm of the delicious locusts converges on the areas around Lake Victoria from the greater North.
The season was heralded by children and adults alike gathering round street light posts to catch the dazed insects. Mindless about street traffic, with eyes fixed on the zooming green and brown nsenene, many people put their lives at risk of road accidents. Those with bright security lights benefited from the juicy visitors that whirred by during the night. In the morning chattering children, many of them in school uniforms, would be seen chasing after the nsenene caught in the dew of the grass.
The insects would be caught, one at a time, and stuffed down the neck of a bottle or into a cup of hot water – either route being a point of no return.
Then the harvest would be brought home with much excitement, for the wings and legs to be twisted off, leaving only a slender naked abdomen and knob-shaped head.

These would then be stirred over a hot pan until they turned a deliciously crisp golden brown. Crunchy and somewhat salty, nsenene is a cheap source of protein, calcium, and unsaturated oils.
To those that have acquired the taste, nsenene is the object of undiluted greed for many Ugandans of all ages. A favourite joke is to tease a husband about finding himself on the receiving end of his pregnant wife’s tantrums if she asks for nsenene in the middle of the night, moreover on the wrong month.
During the month of Musenene, everyone was sure to get a mini harvest and neighbours would freely (maybe grudgingly too) share their catch.

Well, the romantic story of nsenene of old is no more.
Today most of the grasshoppers that make the long trip from the Abyssinian heights end up at commercial harvesting rigs set up by ambitious greedy capitalists who have monopolized the catching of nsenene.

Weeks before the first insects are expected, building sites with top floors are booked and leased for the sole purpose of catching the most nsenene possible. The ‘combine harvesters’ consist of rows of huge barrels fitted with shiny new iron sheets and crudely wired light bulbs. The fluorescent lights bounce off the iron sheets, at once attracting and blinding the insects. When they hit the iron sheets the nsenene slide all the way down to the bottom of the barrel, literally. Security guards are hired to keep watch, and sometimes live electric cables are wired around the area to deter thieves.
This way the monopolists lag home tonnes and tonnes of nsenene, and close out the ordinary people who used to get free ‘manna’ from heaven.
The commercial nsenene production includes wholesale trade in sacks of nsenene, transported over distances as long as 150km to the city in order to get the best price. At the market places like Nakasero in Kampala, vendors use ash to dewing the insects and set about selling them raw, fried or preserving them. To preserve nsenene, they are boiled briefly in water then sun dried to a crispness.
With the preservation, nsenene can be available all year round, rather than in the month of Musenene.
While this makes it possible to preserve, market and even export the delicacy, the natural balance has been upset.
Commercially harvested nsenene usually starts to smell as the live insects interact with dead ones in sacks loaded on cramped vehicles. This smell lingers on to the last. The quality deteriorates significantly with the passing of time. Sometimes at the onset of the season traders are not ashamed to sell last season’s nsenene as if it were fresh.
Many people cannot afford a dessertspoonful of fried nsenene – barely enough to satisfy a craving - at between sh100 and sh300.
The social activity around the collection and preparation of the grasshoppers is no more and I fear that a strong part of the Kiganda culture is died with it. There are old songs about grasshopper gathering, which no doubt are not being sung by the commercial harvesters.

I write this as I thank God for the handful of fresh nsenene popping in my mouth. I write as I mourn the way comercialisation has overtaken the rich tradition and taste of the versions we traditionally caught and prepared ourselves in days gone by.