Sugarbabes

Have you ever dialed a number and then realised it was a wrong number and hanged up?  Well such a message was replayed as prank call with a heavy african accent. If only I could find a way to share it here for audio effect!!  But just imagine you are hearing it in that accent as you read on this conversation... 

BTW you scammers out there betta watch out.  There unto ya really BIG TIME. Cause you see, the war in the middle east has not yielded enough CASH.

Yes: You,

You ***!

You think I don't know

Your number was on my here phone!

You Idiot!

If I catch you, I will destroy you!

I will make sure you will never walk again.

Do you understand me?

Listen,

I, I know where you live

I know your number,

And I know your name,

When I catch you

I will smash this through your head!

You hear me?

I will take a hammer

and break that stupid skull of yours

You ***!!

Idiot

Watch when I finish You.

Hhmmm...

You ***!!!!

A cousin of mine had a rather shoddy time with the Emirates airline.  She was travelling three weeks prior to me with her little one who is just turned 5 with them.  Now in comparison to a lot of other notorious airlines one would definitely be hard-pressed to find fault with such a well reknown airline such as Emirates.   But fault is what my cousin's experience bore fruit and when you listen to her account - you will realise its not my normal surly self just nitpicking.  

I will do my best to narrate what my cousin related after she had recovered from this plight.  On route to Ug,  Emirates airline stops off at Nairobi (yes - notorious Jomo airport!)  to pick up some transit passengers. BTW this stop is not highlighted in the airline scheduled itinerary - one might soon understands why though! 

My cousin is seated on board anxiously anticipating any 40mins from then she will be landing on Ug soil to the jubilation of her close relatives and friends who'd set out earlier to meet her.  Shortly the plane starts to taxi off the runway with a few hesitant coughs and jerks, protesting at the prolonged journey no doubt!  After a shortwhile, the engine decides it definitely is not going to be cajoled into the air - something gratefully picked up by the pilot who decides to inform the passengers.  Only he deems it necessary to leave out one important fact - the technical problem is not going to be fixed in the foreseable hour which he tells the passengers.  Anyhow, my cousin, along with the other passengers soon get to realise this after waiting in the "boarding" lounge for 4hrs. 

They are offered options:- flights on other airlines - for a fee of course at the going rate of a single flight journey or to pay for a visa to enter into Kenya whilst they wait for a flight to be laid on for them by the Emirates.  By this time the passenger list is dwindling - some have decided to use their cash and pay up to get on other flights those who can't are paying visa entry in to Kenya - out of their own pockets of course and not Emirates.  Now it's at this point, my cousin along with her little one is getting irate and understandably pissed off (- well not my little niece).  I can safely say she looses it infront of them and no doubt looses her lady-like composure.  Unfortunately this does not argue well with the Kenyan airport officials (spoilsport that they are!) - they decide to penalise her instead. 

Whilst the other passengers are given access into the arranged hotel laid on by the Emirates (something that is not disclosed to the passengers at the offset btw) my cousin is told she is going to spend the night at the airport - as she was, nothing is offered her either, AND wait for it... because of her young kid, she is told she is damn lucky she isn't being thrown into jail to cool off.  Another fellow passenger soon got to find out how welcoming the jail was though. 

So it happens, my cousin spends the night with her 5yr old on a cold chair at the airport terminal of Jomo.  No airport official from Emirates or otherwise cared to check on her or other fellow passengers of their welfare.  No one from the airline bothered to notify any waiting relatives or friends at Entebbe of the delay or reschedule.  In fact were it not for my cousin and some other passengers persistence the following morning in banging on each and every booking clerk at the terminal; they would most certainly have been left stranded at Jomo airport for a lot longer.

 Now I don't know about any of you people - but I found her experience actually very unpalatable for such an airline as Emirates that spends huge amounts of dough in adverts that they should treat a passenger with a young child let alone any passenger in such an appalling manner. My cousin was so traumatised by the whole experience I doubt she will be in a hurry to fly Emirates let alone go through Kenya again.  

One wonders Emirate Air - IS IT CAUSE I IS BLACK?

On a much lighter note...you recall that weekend business at the movies brought to mind some experiences back in Ug.  No sooner had we qued up to pay when there was a power failure.  Imagine that - load shedding in UK!  The problem persisted well into the screening of the movie we were aiming to watch that in the end we were infact issued with handwritten passes to the cinema hall.  Also no electronic payments could be taken - so all those that had no ready cash just had to leg it back out - though the staff are pretty nifty with mental arithmetic.  So no freebies there.  It's little wonder some brudas  insist on walking around with wads of CASH eh! You never know when you might be in need of the cash as opposed to plastic.

Lastly... but not least, some weird news came by me the other day - and this is a plain fact not fiction I assure you!  Some man had taken to copulating with a hedgehog (or was it a porcupine?)as a cure for premature ejaculation only he ended up with a badly severed willy that required emergency surgery.  Whereas another guy in China decides the willy he'd been given in a transplant job hadn't gone done well with Mrs so he opted to have it removed!  What is the world coming to??? I tell you, the reality stories from ER could be those out of a sci-fi movie - some are too x-rated for me to even post here.

I have to end here less I loose track of what I intended to be doing on my project this evening. You see I  have made a committment to work on getting a job back home and boy is this more of a headache!  You see I'm a bit of an odd entity and I need all the eveness around to balance out my searches.  So Kaks maybe you will see me too walking around  the streets of Kla just like QC...the only difference being, I have yet to sample that GREAT CHAIR!

I was feeling so down this weekend. I can't blame it on the weather though - it has been miraculously kind to me of late not conspiring with the gods to make me pay for turning my back on it four weeks back.  No it's my usual grumpy self back to rear my pityful self seeking solace from any that care to give it - I plain just don't wanna be back at work, oh when do I hit the jackpot for that blooming lottery!

Fancy returning to the UK expecting grey and dull weather give or take a sprinkle of rain to finish off the effect - but no, beautiful sunshine and temperatures to rival those left back in Ug. Eat your heart out all you saddos keening to see me fight to get my butt back over to Ug!  No the weather is wonderful here and unfortunately I won't be able to show off my darkned skin to my colleagues even though I beat them to the post by genetics.  Actually showing off sun-tanned skin is not so cool anymore, what with the rise in skin cancer being voiced at almost every corner. Oh well, I'm sure something else will kick off.

It's back to reality when you wake up at the crack of dawn on a weekend checking to see if you are in time to make it to the bathroom before the kids beat you to it.  Being in a house full of females somehow teaches you to hit base before all else wakes up less you find yourself running late as the other is contemplating whether to tweeze or reapply that eyeliner the fifth time whilst hogging the bathroom.  But it was wonderfully quiet, kids are away so mummy can have fun!!  Haa fun my butt!!  Chores to get done which they'd left in their quick haste for their weekend fun - I miss childhood and the lost property department somehow doesn't have my memories in check to collect back.

It was with a welcomed relief when the offer to go watch a movie came my way.  Though on getting to the cinema guess what would happen.  Well, first it was a case of senility setting in where I'm concerned anyway, I just couldn't be asked what movie to watch.  Given a choice of 4 with the remaining 10 all being asian movies, one really had a task at exclusiveness. My brain just wasn't up to reading subtitles let alone in a jolly mood for theatricals.  My poor movie partner!  Of all hormone imbalanced females, they were stuck with me.  After sitting down for 10mins - (well, I had to, I'd been walking and my feet ached) I accepted to watch Black Dhalia.  I think it made it because of that lady on the front of the cinema magazine advertising it.  Blondes definitely do it!  After watching it, I am still not sure what the story is frankly about other than the fact that some crazy filthy rich people screw people around till death does them apart - in the literal sense of the word apart.  Maybe it was to advertise Johanssen at the peak of her acting ability to mimick Marilyn Monroe - or I was just plain out of it in the mental sense.

People I got this sent to me over the weekend and it cheered me up to no end.  Enjoy....

I did not come to England to take pictures of Big Ben or tour London Bridge. I just wanted to get paid and get even with those colonials. With a name like Ogundele Kayode Omobrukutu, I could not even buy a bus pass let alone open a bank account.

This is my story...., It took me 6 months to study the system, I still could not figure out my squares and circus's. I could not travel from Leicester Circus to Oxford Square without getting lost.

I was a YMCA (Young Money Chasing African) when I joined the FRAUD (Fine Rich Africans United in Deals). It took me 3 months to attain my ACCA (Advanced Certificate for Criminal Africans) and I needed an MBA (Major Bank Account) to do my first HND (Heavy Nigerian Deal). I arranged to meet this guy at Animal and Something, I mean Elephant and Castle. We were supposed to meet at 10.00am. I got there at 11.30am and he turned up at 1.30pm. He pulled up in a Mercedes 500SL with a private number plate - 419 ADE.

He was a definite Nigerian, he had it all - leather jacket in summer, air condition on full blast with his roof and windows down whilst smoking cigar and choking on his smoke just to impress me. Being a fellow Nigerian I was more than impressed. He introduced himself as Adepujo Kunle Babatunde and asked me to call him Ade or Babs. He spoke with a strong Nigerian accent but he messed the whole language up by slanging - he sounded like a Canadian born Chinese living in Germany and studying French.

I had not been in the country for long but I could tell that Omo (my man) was trying hard to be British. After hanging with Ade for about 2 months I became an OBE (Opportunist Bank Employee) and specialised in BBC (Breaking Bank Codes). Money was flowing and I wanted more so I did my PhD (Passport Handling Degree) and became an FBI (Fraudster Bringing Immigrants).

My status changed drastically...., I had a BMW 328i's convertible and a Porsche 911 with a private plate - 911 OMO and living in a council flat and signing on. I went to Moonlighting every Friday and drank champagne and danced to music supplied by DJ Pace and Skills. I became foolish - I remember one night I spent over a 1000 pounds on just champagne at the club and had no money for petrol so I walked home.

My downfall.... Greed and selfishness inevitably led to my downfall - I got involved with a CIA (Cash Investing Agent) and we did a couple of GMTs (Good Money Transfers) but he later turned out to be a CID (Cop in Disguise). I was under surveillance and I did not even know. I left the NHS (Nigerian Housing Scheme) early that morning with about 12 different cheque books to go and do my business. They followed me unto the high road and it was then it hit me that something was wrong. I could not leave all that evidence in my car so I started chewing my cheque books. I ate 8 before they pulled me over. They read me my rights and all that crap and all I could say was - OGA, water please!

Now how many of you have sat up on a given night at home during week days in Ug and started wondering what was going on in and around the nation of Ug.  Well this gripped me the other night in light of the load shedding that affected the cable network company that was serving the household I happened to be sharing.  It was actually a blessing in disguise - at least that's what I initially thought...  You see the host family were not keen on watching Ug channels at all.  I soon realised why... So when the power went off at the cable company and we were left with just the Ug channels to peruse through I thought GREAT!! now I can get to see some Ug programmes!  Well I did alright - starting with the news.  I opted for the national TV channel to hear the news.  On tuning in, I initially thought this was a comedy show - and wondered why the acting was restricted to a warehouse with just one actor.  Little did I know that this was a newsreader - the famous Mr Balle (I hope this is how his name is spelt).  Now one has to actually see this newsreader to believe what I am going to try and describe - and this is a challenge - believe me!!!

For those of you that have seen comedy scripts for Oliver in the Jamaican comedy series - get the picture of Oliver! Comparisons for those in the northern states of US, I can't quite get an apt scenario - maybe and only maybe - picture Richard Pryors. In all - it's a crazy cross between Oliver/Pryors and Kofi Anan - less of Kofi I hasten to add. 

Now Mr Balle by all means speaks impecable english - but hey guys, I was at the village and local entertainment came in the guise of our dear local village entertainers who barely needed a few shillings to put up a show under the influence of alcohol.  This is not to say they are stupid however - they just prefer to imbibe in too much alcohol as a past-time and consider all else secondary to living.  They have a point though in refusing to pay taxes - after all they hardly use the roads and have never been to any government aided institutions. This could arguably work for most Ugians come to think of it! 

Returning to the newsreader however, I honestly don't think he ought to be infront of the cameras - it is an embarrasment to the national news team to have such a show that is intended to be serious. His skills would be best placed behind a radio station. Either that or get in some makeup artist to vamp up his image, sort out the news studio and get the sound system of the bloody news programme sorted out! It may also help to get the newsreader to check into an AA clinic in between sessions instead of the local drinkholes. Mr Balle - Speake Hotel does not have an AA clinic but I know a man who can help!

Another puzzle about the national Ug TV channel - why is the reception so bad??? I mean I know we are a dark race, but please!!! - I've seen plenty of light skinned persons on the streets to stop the traffic. Not that stopping traffic takes much doing. I mean have you seen the state of traffic in Kla!!  The difference between traffic problems in Kla and here is the road etiquette exercised here.  Actually one major downer I came across was the bad attitude commonly found - so much rudeness!!!! It's infectious to the point that I run into a chinese national at the airport on the way back who basically learnt that to get ahead was to push in at the front of the queu and shout out what he felt appropriate to get ahead.  He'd either been under the misconception of the colonial mentality of the brits that the louder you shout the easier you are understood by persons not speaking english.

You could spend 2hrs in traffic - though thank your god if it's not in a taxi!  These guys are notorious for not only doubling their fee (remember: peak hour rates of no time restrictions or accountability) but also deciding to spill you out when the fancy takes them.  Don't bother complaining when it happens, usually they've "worked" the cops and it will not get you anywhere - aside from being knocked down by the boda bodas while you strain to be heard. 

Though seriously - everywhere I looked I found something entertaining to observe or study - I realised why I didn't have time for TV!  There's always something happening around the corner and most of it doesn't require payment!  Though why Umeeme continues to send out astronomical bills to some households who go through days without power baffles me!  There sure are ghost recipients of this power that umeeme needs to get the exorcists out in force to eradicate.  Either that or subscribe to ghostbusters.  I realised something else - umeeme must be working hand in hand with all the major telecommunications networks.  I am certain of this!!!  Can someone explain to me how £5 worth of credit can only guarantee one 8mins of mobile connection within Ug? I tell ya - now I know why persons from Ug flash you to call them back, even when it's a favour they are seeking from you!  Though fellow sistas and bros in Ug, texting is just as useful instead of sending out those annoying flashes - learn to text people!  And you people in the telecommunications biz, work out a better alternative to the downright exploitation of fellow citiziens.  I am sure there's plenty your brains can do to stop squeezing people.

Talk of boda boda got me remembering something else I saw in the village yesterday.  I could kick myself for being slow to react in taking a photo opportunity to share with you guys.  Now I know boda-boda is now the basic and efficient means of transportation but this really took it to another level.  Driving back to Kla, this guy goes past us on a boda-boda carrying a calf - a (baby cow) straddled across his lap on a boda-boda!  I was not sure at first if I'd seen this correct so I asked my fellow travel companions if what I saw was correct! I mean poor cow - this could not have been comfortable for sure!  By the time I could get my brain cells to accept what was before my eyes, all was left was a distant speeding boda-boda with his passenger disappearing from the view of my camera.  This scene made me recall my disbelief when a fellow friend told me he'd seen a guy carrying a goat inside a box around Kla. I wonder if this goat was one of the contestants to the goat race everyone was talking about! Its no wonder these animals can't move let alone race once they get to Munyonyo.  I have seen better action out of my brother's goats in the village!

Having attended this goat race farce, I have two things to say for the organisers:  rename the event - it is not a race; and define Royal Ascot: Munyonyo may yet be renamed Ascot but as things stand it is very much Munyonyo and there's nothing royal about the event.  However much I scanned the attendees, I failed to see any royals.  Though you could say there were plenty of socialites wannabes in their skimpy costumes to rival the birthday suit.  This event is nothing more than a social networking event for commercial fat cats with the usual "pretty furniture" to make it appealing to the eye - I guess relaxation comes in all forms!  It was also quite an asian affair - I think Sudhir had all his entourage out to play.  I found the free food and drinks of course to be very enjoyable - this usually scores quite highly with me!  Pity the local police didn't stick around to arrest many drink drivers, unless of course they too were amongst those intoxicated!  Though the rain did put a damper to the evening chosing to put an end to the poor goat's torture - though I actually think its those watching that are tortured unless of course you've not wisened up to drink yourself to oblivion to avoid this fate.  I then learn that the goats which participated in the race all end up on a platter - fancy that!!!  That put to rest the mounting couple's chances of leaving a little one behind to tell a tale!

Now that I have returned to the UK and perusing through my manual diary for excerpts of what I found intriguing or otherwise, I can start pouring it out here.  I just realised I was causing a headache doing a continuation entry from my first blog on the experiences I found on my recent visit to motherland.  Too much down scrolling can make one's eyesight go screwy, let alone repetitive strain injury to their fingers. 

Talk of repetitive strain injury, matatus/taxi driving is an art in itself in Ug!  On one hand you have a driver that has one of his hands glued to the horn with an elasticated motion of having the ability to carry out hand signals - at times not quite so appropriate depending on where you happen to stand.  The other hand of the driver - just pray it's a steady one to keep that steering wheel in balance should a pot-hole decide to compete with the passenger seating alongside him.  On this time round, I have to say, the audio in the matatus has been revamped.  On the odd occasion you will get to hear some interesting radio stations play out their stuff - may even be treated to prayers in islam should it be owned by a practicing one at that.  It's on such similar occasions that you may wish to donate personal headphones to the driver to restrict him to not sharing his audio reception with all fellow travellers, though come to think of it, the driver works hand in hand with the conductor and needs to keep an ear out to what the other is saying.  This is an art I tell ya!  Times I've tried navigating with my brother and that was a feat to endure - we barely made it to the destination without one of us wishing to finish the journey without the other!  Oh and while using matatus, never fail to notice that touting for business doesn't just get restricted to pedestrians in the direction the taxi is moving to - oh no, the taxi will even tout for those across the road in the opposite direction, sweep out any possible ones coming along narrow side streets, cranning his neck out of the moving vehicle to ensure nothing is left unturned in a drive to get passengers.  These taxis even reverse back to pick up.  The service is only as far as ensuring they fill up the spaces in their vehicle however.  After that you could be screwed!

Now service is a sore thorn I found in my travels.  Those of you that have seen a clip of Lenny Henry in one of his british sitcoms can begin to understand the differences involved between us fellow blacks in the service industry when you recall a clip where one goes to buy a toilet roll from a gas station which is manned by a black sista!  Yes service is a very painful experience I came across in and around some places in Kla.  It operates along the lines of: Do I know you; Are you somebody worth knowing; Are you white Do you have $/£ signs pasted on your forehead; or You are a man (if it is a woman serving):  then service will most likely be friendly and prompt.  If you don't hold a placard for any of the above lines - you are screwed in most places and if it doesn't happen initially as a welcome - you will definitely leave after being screwed up. 

You see I went to this quite reknown place on Kintale Rd after hearing so much about the food they have on offer. We'd been told this place serves food all day of all variety and after managing to frustrate my entourage searching for a buffet eatery place somewhere near Buganda Rd/Nakassero that I had earlier on been to, we made our way to this Kitobeero place. 

Actually, about the buffet I couldn't recall the address.  I think it is called mamba point or something akeen to that only my memory of roads in and around Kla is very bad - heck I needed an escort throughout my travels around the town and I still left Ug not fully confident of where what was!  So don't be surprised to learn that my entourage got lost trying to find this place I was supposed to have eaten at a day earlier when they braved out to follow my directions to it.  We did however manage to make it to the back of the State House - now that I knew once we were in the vicinity!  My childhood memory brought a few of the places back to reality but the driver wouldn't believe me until we were immediately infront of the building - she just assumed I was lost as before and kept on driving.  I've never seen her turn a car around at the speed she did when she realised my memory still served right!

By the time we got to the Kitobelo place - it was going to 2.30.  The venue was impressive alright, everything was in place as it should be except at this particular time of the day, they had no more food to serve. The staff that day have probably become accustomed to being in the first division that they've forgotten the basic rule: the customer comes first.  It soon became evident we were to be treated like it was us being done a favour to grace the premises (maybe I did look shabby after that run-around!).  My appetite gone but still feeling in need of some replenishment, I asked if there was even the chance of snacks plus we had a minor with us who was at the verge of fainting if she did not have something in her stomach.  Fortunately they still had a couple of samosas (6) which when divided amongst us all meant we all got one each.  I was told to wait for the goat meat which would be available for 4.30pm.  Somehow, I didn't see this as viable - my stomach cannot be dictated to in that way so we opted for the samosas and sodas.  word of advice to the management of this establishment: check your printed menus out before placing out to the clients.  It is all well and good to translate local dishes to english - so long as the correct meaning is what shows in the translation.  I really don't think who ever translated salads to grass saw it coming - maybe I've lost understanding of what muddo means in luganda!  I hardly think that my appetite would kick in to be served grass.  The place was very impressive to eat at - the service let the place down however.

Customer care is one area I found very lacking in many renowed reputable places I visited.  You got better sales care from Nakawa market stall holders or even Owino!  Perhaps though the guys in the latter places have a lot to contend with! The feel of the markets I enjoyed - here you really tasted the feel of the people in all their rawness no dressing up acts at all.  One thing I disliked was the ability for vendors to have resolved themselves to the very unacceptable dirty surroundings they operate their businesses in.  There's an air of passing the buck amongst so many fellow wannainchi.  For instance - accessing Nakawa market is an obstacle course in its own right.  The narrow rugged potholed path leading up to where the market stalls starts could be best accessed were a make-shift wooden plank be placed between the junction that separates the street level to its entrance.  This surely does not require LC intervention!  Now everybody has become accustomed to negotiating this obstacle course that my deliberations at balancing around it were found to be an entertainment to those who wished to observe.   I did grocery shopping here at Nakawa the very first weekend of arriving in Ug.  The atmosphere was fantastic if not chaotic in part, but I enjoyed it and will be posting some photographs of this shortly.

Having eaten at so many varying places to compare - I have to mention one place that impressed me very much in all they did varying from their presentation right down to service and their prices.  This is not located in a upmarket area nor is it in downtown either.  The restaurant is called Samba Restaurant.  All I recall is that it is somewhere at the back along the road leading up to the railway station.  They serve most of all the traditional local foods in a manner palatable to one's diet.  Having had persons from other parts of Africa with me - this was one local eatery that went down a treat for appealing to all palates at reasonable prices.  Grand Imperial buffets were fantastic - but so were their prices!  I had a craving for salads and this place is the only one I found to satisfy that craving - well perhaps the other restaurant was Mamba point albeit I couldn't remember the address!  BTW salads in Ug are restricted to just shredded raw cabbage with the varying addition of tomatoes or if you are lucky, carrots.  Though one has to really taste the cucumbers in Ug - they are really delicious!  I've been told it's a cultural thing to not favour salads in local menus provided.

Too much talk of food has left me short-winded!  I have to ask myself why is it there are no street bins around Kla? I had been feeling so ravenous for a bogoya that I couldn't wait to reach home to eat one.  Afterwards I was left looking around for a bin to deposit its peel, but ended up forced to throw it in the bushes.  It felt strange doing this - I kept thinking I'd be picking up a fine. 

It rained today and although i'm grateful for the decrease in dust which is the norm around the streets of Kla - virtually most things are covered with red dust, the mud can get to be unbearable!  Negotiating balance in wet conditions is bad enough without the worry of getting covered in mud as well.  I was thoroughly tempted to find gum boots to wear to town - choosing not to give a damn at what stares I'd pick up! 

On dry days you have to use a handkerchief to constantly wipe the dust off your face! Washing hair daily is a virtual reality. I don't know if I'd keep long hair if I lived in Ug - it would require washing and treatment on a regular basis. Either that or keep it covered up - maybe that's why moslem women keep their heads covered?  My hair went wild in the heat - very unmanageable and fine that I was forced to plait it in the end. Still it's worth visiting the salon on a weekly basis!  I love the pampering that's on offer especially the accompanying manicures and pedicures!  This is bliss!!  I was told the care I got was because I was too generous in the tips I was giving.Oh well - I'm a sucker for somethings I guess! 

Lemme get some dinner....till next time people...