ROAD RAGE

The Rt. Honourable 2nd Deputy Prime Minister General (Retired) Moses Ali MP, (and your driver).

Dear Sir,

The next time you are driving behind a slow moving trailer on the Owen Falls bridge and you figure you’re in too much of a hurry for us ordinary mortals, do not, I beg you, attempt to speedily overtake in a 20km no-overtaking zone as you come off the bridge.

The next time you do so, and come straight at me, I. Will. Not. Move. Out of the way.

I will stop, as I did today and switch off my engine. No amount of hooting, flashing your headlights at me, waving me frantically to the side of the road or, wagging your finger at me from the front seat of the Landcruiser Prado that my taxes bought you will get me to move. You are neither the President nor Vice President, you did not have a police escort car like your self-important cabinet colleagues and you were not driving an authorised emergency motor vehicle (and I do not know of any Ministerial statutory order designating your vehicle as such) so, you do not have right of way over me.

You might not know this, but you and I once shared a urinal at the Law Development Centre, on January 30, 2008 to be exact …

GEN ALI

Standing at the urinal, holding my dick, next to the Right Honourable Lieutenant General Moses Ali MP, while he wheezed, grunted and generally splashed his piddle everywhere but into the bowl of the pisser, I felt, almost equal, if not in bulk, in stature, to the hunk of Ugandan history next to me. We both pay tuition, take passport size fotos for our library cards, line up for meal coupons at the canteen and have to write our own notes during lectures. Now if only the person grunting on the throne behind the cubicle door, if only that was the Right Honourable Lieutenant General Jim Katugugu Muhwezi MP, then my day would be complete.

https://degstar.wordpress.com/2008/01/30/gen-ali

… and let me assure you, once a man has ‘seen’ another man, there is nothing to be in awe of. And as for the policeman in your back seat, the one who made that hand gesture village kids make to “kokolima” someone, tell him to grow up already.

Today I moved. But only after yelling at you to lead by example. And only because I had my wife and baby in the car enroute to a well earned celebratory dinner. You were lucky that I was in a good mood.

The next time you are in a hurry to find your evening tea still hot, why don’t you do what the rest of us do … leave the agricultural trade show early enough to beat the Kampala traffic jam(s).

Next time … next time you will see me!

Your humble servant,

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ROAD RAGE

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