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Monday, July 24, 2006

designed for Kampala

I encroached on a reality. Of life that is rather slow paced. Of life that actually goes on comfortably beyond the city streets, beyond the mere thought that there will be traffic jam on my way home. Beyond the thought that today, I can go home early to watch smallville (yes…it got me this time) and not worry about that deadline. That my landlord can’t come after me because I just paid him six months advance and he looks broke already.

 

This is where my mind was...wanted to be...far away beyond the comfort of this road into a place with dusty paths marked out by the occasional vehicle tracks as parallel ruts...trailing overhang with bush. Where people stand to stare as an art form.  Where eating roast maize while sipping pineapple wine is an economic activity and where the easily offended are made the subject of brunt vulgarity by of indolent chaps seated on shop verandahs dreaming aloud. While the day is active the nights go by silent wierd, ain't all night that way?

 

It was late Friday; it must have been 2:00am. How else can I explain being awake alone? The night had the aura of night dancers prowling. Seated outside a hut in Katimba Village in Sembabule. What I pondered:-

 

Can I live without Internet? What about the coconut flavoured Ice cream Sunday evenings at Santos, Oh men! There is the bloggers too. And the chat buddies, The woman I share dreams with.

The TV I never get to watch, The weekly Swim at Pierre’s place, Beer and Rugby rowdiness, Alfonse plunging into long winded questions on nothing and everything.

An SMS from a certain individual who also has nocturnal habits removed me for a while to questions on reality. “Does reality really exist, or God?” It read, before I could even think about it,  it continued, "Oh to hell…Words without thought never 2 heaven go.”

 

 Anyways, Rain makes life breathe delight in Ssembs…it makes us breathe rage in Kampala when you have forgotten your umbrella. But is that tale behind the rainbow true…of it curving toward at a water source? Because this rainbow after this rain curved to hut I slept in. Easy, I was dreaming!

 

19:00 Posted in Stuff I cannot see | Permalink | Comments (6) | Email this

Comments

Yeah man, designed for Kampala. How about this; Designed by Kampala?

After four years in the Hermitage, I am running back to he city. Before I left it in early 2002, I was a nasty piece of work. Nasty with a capital offense(hehe). I was criminally unapproachable. Man, was I bad. Seeta had a calming effect on me. I am ami(swallowing with hardship)able. From the 14th of August, (racing to kampala with one month left of boyhood) I will be living somewhere in the environs of the city. Getting sinful, I do hope, taking in the sights of all the things you cry about in this blog.

So, anybody who ever loved me, come get me. I am available. And getting rather rich too!

Posted by: HipFlaskSwigger | Wednesday, July 26, 2006

I think i know why this post has so few comments. it is nearly overwhelming in its depth. it's beautiful. it has taken me nearly two weeks to be able to say this and i still feel like i'm not saying what i really meant to say about this piece.

Posted by: Iwaya | Thursday, August 03, 2006

Hey, HipFlaskSwigger, I can blow your cover in my dreams. Square jaw, very talented and a connoisuer for word, eheeheee. Gotcha.

Kampala, nah. We have been deflowered by the city. Lost contact with the world. We are the lost world. Ensnared, confused being devoured by dinasours.

Posted by: ARIAKA | Tuesday, September 26, 2006

If Ariaka wants to start fighting a sideways battle, I can out-broadside just about any intrepid whatsis on any day. Are you starting?

About the city, if you think you can run away from it, try living outside it for just about 50 kilometers and you will start to learn how much "de-flowered" we have become. Life does not stink. But on the realisation that we will never return to a rural ideal, you better start settling i. Get out you broom and start cleaning up your new home...Was it not him that said "Take my hand frog, lead me down cemetry raod...?

Posted by: HipFlaskSwigger | Friday, October 06, 2006

If Ariaka wants to start fighting a sideways battle, I can out-broadside just about any intrepid whatsis on any day. I am badder than Leroy Brown. Are you starting?

About the city, if you think you can run away from it, try living outside it for just about 50 kilometers and you will start to learn how much "de-flowered" we have become. Life does not stink. But on the realisation that we will never return to a rural ideal, you better start settling i. Get out you broom and start cleaning up your new home...Was it not him that said "Take my hand frog, lead me down cemetry raod...?

Posted by: HipFlaskSwigger | Friday, October 06, 2006

HipFlaskSwigger, given half a chance, I will be gone. Be gone from the city into the serenity of 50km adrift. Into nirvana.

Where I live ( and that is nearly city centre), citylings are conditioned to rest.

Sleeping connotes a bad feeling these days if you know what I mean. Ask Kags and his rant to the assemblage in Entebbe last week.

You would do well to read ARIAKA to consternate my point. We have developed safety nets to survive in this city. Surviving the jam, the foods, the rubbish, the pollution, the... Well you can as well add expletives every adjective for Kampala.

Now I have a plan. I will run from the city one day soon. Off beyond 50km to tranquility, stargazing, cow rustling etc. Again add some adjectives to life with ruralites. I will discover humanity, beauty, peace and regain my virginity.

Posted by: ARIAKA | Tuesday, October 10, 2006

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