Undo

I  actually was quite in a dillema before this news about the death of Michael Jackson popped the waves. I kept asking myself, for a long time now, how this man was going to re-invent himself and re establish his supremacy.

 

It felt quite sad, the way he was being dissed by the media, the way he was kind of lurking within his own shadows, afraid of the wild that once adored him.

 

On the death of MJ, there are/is no statement that can summarily act as the last word - to close this case-its much bigger than anything we can just forget.

 

For MJ, for Lennon, for Presley, for Marley, for B.I.G, we are going to just hold on and wait for the return of the son of man and the unveiling of Paradise, so that we can once again, get them to sing for us live.

 

We are going to talk about MJ for forever, at least some of us. There is nothing for me to say that can prove I am/was more of a fan than the next blog chap you will find. However, what my candid bathroom can testify to is that I have made several of those crisp MJ moves many times in my lifetime.

 

Many musicians will continue providing the missing link-outcrop music that reminds us of the king of pop.

 

And of course, In my playlist, the list of dead mens’ music has expanded. Several Kbytes added to the 6GB of music in the Dead Mens’ Section…This man will the join the likes of Hendrix, Lennon, one song by Selena, Miles, Presley, B.I.G, Tupac, Morrison, Marley, Joplin…

 

As a kid, my favourite scene in the videos was the when the zombies were dancing…well, Salute for the king and shout 15.

“…you cannot read loss only feel it…”
                                              Memories of a Geisha

Edwin called it dry mud, I didn't see the sense of his summation until we were deep into it. (The following sets of descriptions may be inappropriate but just imagine them applied to a dry place). The road was soggy, silted, patches of it were hard to ride through, and sticky. There had to be two or three revolutions to make a forward thrust. Of course you only felt it if you thought about it.

There was the possibility of stalling or even falling over, it certainly would be a soft fall, with a soil cushion spread wide out. It wasn’t a comfortable thought either so you were lucky not to harbour it. The motorbike struggled through the heaps of congealed soil…continually the thought of falling off the bike crept. I suggested I get off the bike so Edwin pushes it alone through but he insisted he could manage to go through…so I sat hapless as he wiggled the bike about the “dry muddy patch”. 

At the shops along the road, drunkards cheered us on, wavering high in their disability, they beheld us playing in the road, one even broke a piece of stick to come discipline us for being childish…I thought well…here we are…watching the roadside refusing to pass by the motorbike…its is like thinking of …the missing links in…a sequence of unexpected…interrupted…good music. 

We decide to stop when we reach a clearing. There is a hot wind swirling inside our shirts, I privately keep thinking it should bring relief, but it just perpetrates a hot feeling. We stop and sit under a tree shade. I lie on my back and I am overcome with the greatest of temptations-sleep.

I rise to a sitting position knowing this is the best way to avoid sleep now. Edwin too looks drowsy. Our water has run out. We have a ten-minute ride to town left but we can’t help sitting here quite. It feels happy here. The football fields of Gulu High School are litt ered in activity, kids in different groups playing football.

A chap comes by, “God help you,” he says. 
“God help you too,” we retort and continue looking and doing nothing.
“God help you,” he repeats. 
We stare at him wondering what he is up to, we reply thinking perhaps that he didn’t hear our reply the first time.
“God help you,” he says giving us a stiff smile. We look left, then right, then at him and he is still smiling. Saliva slides from the corner of his mouth and hangs in a long tail that is kept flowing by the open mouth.
“What do you want,” I demand.
“God help you,” his eyes are excited. He pulls out a sachet of alcohol (Empire), which he sips from and passes towards Edwin. He refuses but the chap places it in his hand. Edwin looks nervously around and thrusts the sachet into my hand. I hand the sachet back to the guy.

 He is still smiling. I whisper to Edwin that this man is not smiling and that he is paining. I give him 500 shilling to buy another sachet. He looks at me with an alternation of squint and big eyedness, and then pockets the money. After standing silent for a while. He thinks he finally recognizes me from somewhere. He pulls out 500 shilling and says he is going to buy me a whole sachet to drink alone

 “God help you,” he keeps repeating and the production of hanging saliva is increasing. The kids seated nearby are laughing. They call out to him by the name “God help you”
And tell him that he is very drunk. He tells them he is going Sacred Heart church for confession and that he is the new choirmaster.