Hello UK Ugpulse members! I am addressing the UK guys because this post is more appropriate to them or at least those who can hover across from other parts of Europe!
A string of Ug artists headed by Paul Kafeero, the gorgeous babe Winnie Munyenga, Titi, Lady Aisha, Mulindwa Muwonge, Kacapizo, Chance Nalubega, Nkambwe and others in addition to stand up comic acts are coming to town this August month.
Those of you in North London, be there for 25th August @ La Royale, Banqueting Suites, 819-821 High Rd, Tottenham, London N17 8ER. Never been to this venue so cannot comment.
Guys in the SE don't loose heart! Your show is coming to you on 26th August at The Classic Chillie Room, 28 Upper Tooting Road, London SW17 7PG. I would've loved to be there with you people, but I'm gonna be in the motherland where it's really going down. I much preferred this venue from the ones used in East London, though the stage is a bit tite.
I hope the organisers don't get too greedy and overbook as they usually do!!! And PLEASE, improvement is called upon on the organisation front so as to sustain out interest in supporting our homegrown "produce".
Oops! tickets £20 - are a bit steep though fellas (yii banange mulekele awo okunyaga banaffe mutyo - ekyeyo nga kitawanya!), though to see these number of artists in one live performance I guess it evens it out (grudgingly admitted...)
For more info: check with Buganda Centre at www.bugandacentreuk.com
http://uk.news.yahoo.com/27072006/344/hundreds-escape-landslide-tube.html
Well folks - I'm one of those persons that this headline represented. My rant on daily commuting with the london transport network came to a head yesterday evening. I'd left the office early, to have my hair washed - little realising this was to be a wasted errand. Mother nature had other plans and had I held out a couple of days till the weekend, the fee to the hairdresser might not have left my pocket in exchange for mother-nature-freebie. It had been so hot over the past weeks that carrying a brolly let alone wearing sensible shoes to cover the feet was not deemed necessary. My flip flops were just as good to counter the effects of getting heat blisters. Before long though, blisters were the least of my worries to the feet as wading through puddles of rain water and fighting to look dignified were paramount. Come to think of it - not even a brolly would've helped with the winds moving faster than any man-made vehicle at the time.
So there I was all doled up from the hairdressing salon, hoping to catch the eye of all things male that went by me to reaffirm that I did look worth the trip to the salon when puff - first the winds changed the smoothly coiffed bob to disarray and the rain made mince meat of the whole effect. I was just fortunate I guess that the bus stop wasn't far from the salon even if I had to board it with a carrier bag over my head much to the amusement of the driver if not fellow travellers.
BTW this salon near my workplace is a godsend - now I can nip in during my lunch time to fix up my hair, nails ... Before that, unless you were European, you just had to wait for the weekend to fight it out with the sistas as no Afro-Carib salon existed within the 500yards let alone, 3miles radius of my workplace.
Salons for us black persons are very entertaining social arenas I must admit - though I guess not having spent much if at all any time in a european salon I am probably not best suited to compare. Still the differences are very obvious. In the European salons, the prices are advertised so u know full well what you are paying to get done before your butt hits the chair. You also know that if they don't do the job to your satisfaction or agreed advert - you can take the matter up to the legal courts. In the Afro-Carib salons - (unless of some minor reputable ones), the price is given according to how well you can either haggle; or what mood the person dealing with you considers you are worth. Black people's salons are the only places where a hairstyle that takes a whole day (if not two!) can still get client complain that the price is too high. Yet very few would want a job of those hours and be accept a pittance. This is not important an issue to the client who doesn't stop to value the person that has been toiling to assist make them look beautiful; should still be the one to be considerate and accept the little being paid for the service! My favourite motto is - "pay peanuts, you get monkeys work." It's not uncommon for black clients to demand the best hairstyle and expect to pay less than the going rate. Having said this - there are some female stylists hell bent on working out their frustrations and jealousies on unsuspecting clients - perhaps that could explain why there is a growing number of male stylists in comparison to females!
Unless of course you had "Auntie" in her cottage industry biz operating in her council flat nearby where you took turns in the bathroom sink amongst all her else that cohabited in the little space. Either that or suffering back pain from prolonged bending over the bath to use the bucket. Then the gauntlet of having cold or tepid water to wash out was another thing to contend with, because Auntie had to make sure heated water was not over used lest her electric/gas bill came back too high. Tepid/cold water rinses are fine - in the hot climate. They are just not very welcome when it's freezing both in the flat you are having your hair done in addition to going back out in the cold after it's finished. So this salon is indeed a welcome respite!
This short story is in memory of my elder siblings who lost their fight to HIV related illness (RIP) and for all those out there in the world that have been touched by the loss of their loved ones due to AIDS.
You can never tell who has AIDS! The phrase from the popular HIV awareness campaign advertisement replayed itself incessantly in Chandra's mind as she heaved herself through the huge double doors of the hospital's entrance, wiping her tears. Her steps were heavy, her head bowed. It didn't matter that the breezes blew warmly against her saphire-blue silk-clad form. She impatiently pushed a few stray strands of curly black hair behind her ear.
She had just left the doctors office and his counsel hadn't been all that inspiring. He'd chastised her for not using protection.
"Chandra, Chandra, Chandra," he said, narrowing his eyes disapprovingly and shaking his head. "I've seen too many cases of young unsuspecting girls like you contracting HIV. The men they get it from, don't have signs posted on their foreheads. They look just like you and me," he warned.
But he wasn't telling Chandra anything she didn't already know. She knew it by heart. That, and the whole hullabaloo: the use of condoms, the necessary frequent HIV tests and the prevalence with which HIV tests among young people nationally turn out positive.
"Uganda is one of the few African countries where rates of HIV infection have declined, and it is seen as a rare example of success in a continent facing a severe AIDS crisis. Uganda's policies are credited with helping to bring adult HIV prevalence (the proportion of adults living with HIV) down from around 15% in the early 1990s to around 5% in 2001. At the end of 2005, UNAIDS estimates that 6.7% of adults had the virus. The country is seen as having implemented a well-timed and successful public education campaign." Chandra recalled from an opening statement on HIV in Uganda. http://www.avert.org/aidsuganda.htm
But theory is often quite different from reality - especially the reality of finding love. Chandra rationalised mentally. As she walked towards the hardware store to pick up a length of rope, her mind drifted to her boyfriend, Akim.
She had found "the one". He was handsome, intelligent and talented and unlike so many deadbeat men - well, at least those she knew - Akim had a goal. But that's not what had won her over. It was his sincerity, his sensitivity, the way he opened up to her about almost everything - his past relationships, his future plans, his love for her.
He was the one. Chandra was sure of it and she wanted to let him know how she really felt. She wanted to show him. She was going to show him.
Condoms? The thought had crossed her mind - fleetingly. She knew Akim. She'd been with him for an entire year. She trusted him. She always practiced the rhythm method so she was safe in that regard and she'd hae known by now if Akim was sick! Besides, why spoil a good night with a request like that? That would only prove to him that she didn't trust him - and she did.
She couldn't have found a better guy. They moved in together and had even fit into a comfortable routine. They organised their individual schedules so that their free time would always coincide. She was happy and nothing really bothered her - except one seemingly insignificant detail.
A few months after she had first slept with Akim, Chandra notices a slight discharge in her underwear. "Another yeast infection," she'd thought. But this one was different. Slightly worried, she voiced her thoughts to Akim, but he wasn't as supportive as she'd imagined. "I bet it's nothing to worry about. Give it a few days." She did, but it didn't get any better. In fact, it was getting worse. And the more she told Akim about it, the more upset he got.
"You are paranoid!" he said. Ther is nothing wrong with you. What are you saying, that I gave you something?"
That's not what I mean," she tried to explain. But that very day, to ease her mind, she scheduled an appointment with her gynaecologist.
"I never asked him to take an HIV test," she answered in response to her doctor's questions as he prepared to extract a blood sample."I mentioned it once, but there was never any real urgency to get it done."
She winced as the syringe pierced her skin. Damn the pain.She'd always had a phobia for needles and those were huge compared to the ones she'd used to do up Akim's torn pockets and missing buttons. The doctor's presence calmed her. In a few hours, she'd know what the problem was.
"It doesn't look good," Dr Shuram told her when she was back in his office later that afternoon, startling her. "Your blood tests revealed Chlamydia. That accounts for the discharge." She knew what that was. One of the disease that come if you play with fire was how the medical encyclopedia had put it. But that was curable. She let out a sigh of relief.
"We also found HIV antibodies in your blood." Chandra's eyes flew open. She caught her breath.
"Now, I don't want you to be alarmed," Dr Shuram tried to calm her. But Chandra couldn't hear him. She had broken down into a torrent of tears. Sobs racked her body. But it was too late for regrets. Chandra knew. She had come face to face with harsh reality. Akim probably wasn't even aware of his condition. But she couldn't think of Akim now. AIDS was her problem. How would she face her friends, her parents? Her life as she knew it was shattered. How was she going to live with AIDS? The answer suddenly came.
She left Dr Shurami's office, promising she would give him a call in the morning to reasure him she was fine. But she wasn't going to. She wasn't about to become another statistic or a burden on anyone for that matter. She didn't have to live with AIDS.
The sales attendant at the hardware store broke into her thoughts.
"Can I help?"
"Six feet of rope, please," she order, her mouth set in a grim line of resolve. The way she saw it, suicide was her only option.
Names of characters are all fictional, but the accounts are facts.
According to Beckerman, 1995, persons infected with HIV are seven times more likely to attempt suicide compared to their non-infected peers, preferring death rather than the physical and emotional torment of life with AIDS.
Hi & Welcome to all interested parties. I hope what you've read so far on Ugpulse has been a positive and interesting experience and that although I can be a bit of a verbal outlet, you can just click elsewhere and move no along the forums to other postings!
I am still finding my way around this blogs stuff, therefore patience is a virtue I ask those of you I-Tech persons. I am still crawling -
literally already making a blunder encroaching on Admin's space. I shall never live this down especially as it's the welcoming page!
There's a job advert I wanted to attach but as I'm still feeling around this blogs thing and don't wish to loose what I've typed so far, I will hold off and post it separately.
We seem to be experiencing a dry spell in the UK with temperatures sweltering high up into the 30s +. The positives of such beautiful hot weather are for us sistas to display all our goods to attract maximum impact. I've already had it repeated by male friends what a bonus this hot weather is when bikini clad beauties are everywhere one cares to cast their eyes or the fact that the daily commuting run is made bearable by ladies who all look fabulously sexy. Talk of commuting brings me back to the gripe that's leaving me forming at the mouth! I'm sure that I speak for the majority of Londoners who are forced to travel in temperatures higher than those cattle are transported in - some of you may remember kayola! Buses in London have reached 52degrees, while the Tube reached 47degrees. The difference with the Tube transport and kayola back in Ug is that kayola offers a sun roof, which in someways eliminates the gaseous exchange from those inconsiderate persons who use the sauna-like effect of the Tube system to ventilate themselves.
Still I'm drinking so much water my insides must be cleaner than an operating theatre - but boy doesn't one's bladder pay for it when stuck in traffic or whatever excuse the Tube driver gives depending on what takes his/her fancy!