The AJ Chronicles

Monday October 5, 2009
8:19 am

Every weekend i go home to visit my nephew AJ.
he’s 4 years, 2 months and 1 day old now.
last weekend was no exception and this time i took him the PS2 LOTR as i continue my quest to turn him into a red meat eating, belching, nail biting man and not the sissy that hanging around his mum and her legion of female friends will surely turn him into.

i was mighty pleased to hear that a few days ago, upon being woken for his morning bath before breakfast, he told his mum that he would be bathing himself. that made me proud, my little man is manning up. then his mother continued the story …

…mbu he went into the bathroom and much splashing and piddling and pissing about followed. then there was a longish silence and just when his mother started to think that maybe the chap had drowned himself in his paddling pool sized basin, the bathroom door slowly creaked open and there he stood in his naked glistening glory with his eyes the size of gundi’s nipples and one of his hands on his butt cheek … then he whispered, in a stage whisper – boy gat drama – “Mummy, there’s a katuli in my bum-bum!”

Ko his mother, “wait for Auntie Chantal to come back from England and she tells you what that katuli is for!”

I died.

Peace & Love,
Julius.

i spied with my litto eye

walking along to class bright and early this morning and what do i see but a soldier in full uniform going the oposite way and pray do tell what was it about this soldier that made him stick out from the crowd well not much apart from he having a case a really bad case of the cross eyes wow now when did you ever see a cross eyed soldier the kinda cross where his right eye be looking at his left shoulder and his left eye be checking out his right shoulder i am not making fun of the man you see i got nothing aganist people with wonky eyes my girlfriend you see has got a mild case of the cross eyes used to be bad but the specs sorted that not that by being with someone who is cross eyed even a bit i am as if absolving myself of responsibility for saying nasty things about cross eyed people its just that you see i had like a daydream where i was the president and this cross eyed jammah was the sharp shooter who had a bead on the american terrorist who was gonna blow my shit up for refusing to let my east african nation become a poodle to the genetically modified food eating gender bending abortion loving capital punishment hating immigrant bashing collection of ignorant unwashed humanity that is the united states and before you say it let it be known that my mum is american by naturalisation not birth thankfully so there kati this clean cut department store name chanting Gap wearing strawberry blond blue eyed kiefer sutherland lookalike is about to blow my shit up must fire the minister for internal affairs how did this boy get his fertiliser bomb into the country the boy gon blow me up and there’s only one sniper who got a rapidly closing 5 second window to take this mother out its the cross eyed soldier tell me punk are you feeling lucky today?

Gye’mbadde

Law School
well actually, pre-law
law development centre
2nd term
2nd week

busy time a gwan

i love my girlfriend.

I love my girlfriend, so I do not kiss her or fondle her or in any way act towards her in a manner that will lead her to sin. Sounds like a bit of an oxymoron, does it not? I mean, you’d think that if I loved someone then I would do everything in my power to make them happy, even if that meant, yes, kissing them and all.

I want to be a DJ like Alex, play the guitar like Carlos Santana, swim like Ian Thorpe – no scratch that, I don’t want feet like his, dude got feet like a yeti – I wanna swim like … Jimmy Alemiga, be witty like Ernest Sempebwa, write like Frank McCourt, cook like Sam Patel and yes, drive like Sam Ssali. If Sam was driving today, believe you me, you would not have a Zimbabwean fresh out of his teens – Conrad Rautenbach – showing matures like Emma Katto a thing or two, like, a few hundred metres of dust. But more than all of that I want to be the best future husband to my girlfriend, fiancée to be exact, but she don’t know that yet (there’s the small matter of graduation, weaning her mother of her, asking her dad for her hand, and, a small chunk of sparkly carbonized coal).

So being a good future husband, current boyfriend, to my future Queen, my beautiful sapphire, my priceless … how blasé is it to describe the woman I love in terms of stones? Yeah I know, moving right on. Like I was saying, being a good man to my woman, means I must by rights deny her the pleasures of sin. Now we’re entering the twilight zone. What is sin and what is it that I doing would be classified as sin? I’ll tell you, kissing her. Yes, kissing her. And there you were thinking that I was going to say something really horrid like … gluttony, envy, sloth, avarice, pride, voting for the Movement and the other seven deadly sins. Mbu!

My faith does not encourage close encounters of the physical kind betwixt unmarried young ‘uns. My interpretation of my faith that is. I know … treading on eggshells and running the risks of alienating a friend or two here … people who don’t share my (newly) puritanical world view and by the way, some of them are more “conc” than I am. So there, the next time the worship leader goes like, “lets just raise holy hands and begin to praise the Lord…” you might want to ask yourself if those hands have lately been praising the Lord’s creation, gliding over a cheek here, stroking an upper arm there, hesitating at the point where waist meets hip , you get the picture.

The part that I don’t get is how you date, kiss, canoodle, snuggle, fondle, yada yada yada and … don’t get all the way to home base. I just don’t get it! (expln below) You cannot just be there chilling in the twilight zone without getting bored and wanting MORE! I don’t get it! That’s why there are so many young unwed parents in the church. You be there chilling after bible study or cell or fellowship or whatever, then y’all start kissing, then – after a few weeks/months of doing that – you just get to the point where she gives you a certain look or your hands find the f-spot or dammit dude, you’re just too damn horny to care that Jesus aint gonna be too thrilled so you … get your nasty on. And being the good Christian that you are, of course you did not have protection, you’re not that kinda person, so nine months later the white stork – is there ever a black one? – delivers a lovely bundle of joy. Now you’re standing at the pulpit looking out at the KPC central auditorium wondering, Pastor Chris next to you, his face a study in feigned pained disappointment, how it all came to this.

Therefore, in conclusion, I love my girlfriend and because I love her I will not put her in harm’s way, however much I want to just kiss her ohsosoft luscious cherry red lips. I have just one condition – who gives God conditions? That’s right, I do – I will be wed in a church that allows the Pastor/Reverend/Priest/Rabbi/Guru to intone these most magical of words, “you may now kiss the bride” at which point I will plant a smacker on her passionate enough to make Lady Chatterley herself blush like a ripe tomato.

(expln) I do not speak from ignorance. I speak from the pain of experience. Some demons are better left asleep or else, like Samantha in Sex & The City, you will have to feed the monster. Repeatedly.