Casablanca: My tale of forbidden love

I watched a movie that got me to realise that I actually do well as a good person. It's also goes without saying that I have real impeccable taste in movies because Casablanca blew my mind. Micheal Curtiz made a masterpiece in 1942 that just resonated with me. And as I was taking it all in, I remembered of something that gave me that scene from Morocco feel. It was set in 1941 during the Nazi occupation of France. Although it is important for you to know that Casablanca was in unoccupied France. I think the French colonies were referred to as that. Okay, I digress but for you to really feel me, grasp the essence of this story, then indeed to give you the plot to this great, love story.

Rick is a businessman in Casablanca who runs a prominent night club called Rick's Café Américain. It also happens to have this "Don't ask, don't tell" policy such that it is a place where all illicit dealings go down. A state of emergency is soon issued. Turns out, some Nazis were killed and papers of transit were stolen. High ups are called in and any suspicious characters are rounded up. Somewhere, somehow...these papers land into Rick's hands. And that's when things got interesting. A former lover of Rick's, Ilsa and her wanted husband Laszlo happen to land in Casablanca and need these papers to go to go to Lisbon from where they'd escape to America. Well, past love is rekindled, but then Rick lets Ilsa go just so that she might have a shot at a real life with Laszlo even when she offers to stay with him. He would never let her live a life where she'd be on the run. It would be an unfulfilled life. Or so I felt he thought.

Now my story is in the setting of 2009. I always saw this girl pass by my hall of residence. She had a good body shape, plum as they get. She always seemed to have a manga type hair do, one usually seen in the pictures of Aaliyah (R.I.P) where one eye is covered. She was so graceful in the way she walked yet she gave off this vibe that she could live dangerously.

So one day I decide that I won't only stare. I decide to get bold. I move up to her and ask what her name is....OK, I am not that bold, I asked around. Her name was Rachael. Her name still is Rachael. That really confuses me, it's a story in past tense but her name is still the same. Ooops, i did it again. I will try not to digress. Can't make any promises more concrete than than. Anyway, she turns out to be exactly what I thought. She was a bit of a wild card. Loved people, was funny, loved sport...she was my type of girl. So we get to know one another, I go to her place, we hang out. It was bliss in a twilight zone.

But life is not perfect. I got a text from an unknown number and it read, "YOU ARE MESSING WITH SOMEONE ELSE'S WOMAN. BACK OFF" Personally, I thought it was a message sent to a wrong number. So instinctively, I asked who this person was. The belligerent response shook me off balance. It made me wonder, maybe I need to know if this person might be talking about this sweet, sweet creature I was seeing.

So I asked Rachael if she is seeing someone behind my back. To which she responds, rather candidly, that she was using me to get back to her boyfriend apparently they had broken up, but there love or relationship was the on and off type. I was the fling in between. That cut me bad, it felt like I was a pawn in a game of chess. I had been used. But she happened to say that she had fallen for me, mildly though. And was willing to learn to love me if I really wanted to pursue something serious and not the usual varsity relationship that was bound to end in six months at best.

In that moment, it occurred to me that we both wanted different things. She wanted a relationship that was about the forever story. On the other hand, I wanted a daredevil for a girlfriend. So I told her (of course it was a lie) that I am not the kind of guy to get between two people who seem to really have something bigger than them going. So I agreed to let her go, because admittedly, she still really loved this boy.

They happened to make up, and actually got married two years after we were done with school. their's has always been a lovely story. However happy the ending is/was, Rachael remains the Ilsa to my Rick. It also beats me how it possible it it that I never got to know this boy's name. Sure I asked, but when no answer came, i let go of it. See that is a problem I suffer with since I seem not to have an eye for detail. Hope it materializes soon. I remember I was once put in Charge of overseeing an exam room. Turns out the kids in this room had all cheated. I was taken aback by my incompetence as an invigilator and how possible it was that all this happened right under my nose. Oh, sorry...I did it again. Anyway, we'll just call the boy Laszlo.

And they are living happily after her Andrea sabbatical. It serves me well to know that because I let go, two people are living the life. One that is fulfilled

A shot at Fiction

An epidemic of the mannequins has come over us leaving contamination in its wake. I consider myself to be a man in my prime age and considerably important. In fact, I cannot think of anyone more important than I am in my circles. Well, my boss and a few after him in hierarchy are not to be scaled here. So it still beats me, how small minded and pig-headed anyone can be if I made them aware of this notion and all they have in retort is, “Grow up”. I sometimes have the courtesy to reiterate, and this is usually met with jeers and sneers. I hate it when I have to make the same statement a third time. Usually I am left alone then. It is a good thing I am all grown up; I had zero tolerance for these slow minds.  

You are probably wondering why I am in a rather standoff-ish mood. It’s not that long or even interesting a story. I went to see a young lady, notably late, at a Makerere hostel and got into a fight with a gateman for not letting me in. But before this, I had tried friendly, smooth then kittu kidogo…nothing worked. I mean, this guy should have considered himself lucky to get pocket change from an affluent member of the community. So you can imagine how not amused I was when he still said “NO”. So I became a jerk. Flashing out my blackberry and calling Becky out in the cold, I made some hurtful remarks towards the askari, in passing of course. But that is not why I’m telling you all this. It beats me how much I cannot battle a simple mind to reason.

Same scenario about four years ago, I was the best. I have the feeling that if I had put my mind to it, I would sell a kabiriti(promotional low grade phones) to myself and God knows I hated those phones. I had the technique where I would throw this guy off course by talking about how these girls make us do crazy things, probably showing off a new pair of shoes and revealing how much I spent just to borrow the car I had rolled up with. After a few laughs I would be let in with a warning, “I’m giving you only ten minutes” and we all know how that would go. But that is not the case with the new me. I have a company car (thank God) and I do not spend that much on it. I have some classy but not new pair of shoes on and I do not know why, but I seem to have lost my charm when it comes to the lesser folk. Call it the battle of the classes and in this one, my far superior class is losing.

But I don’t need that. I decided she should come down and see me instead. She did. But due to my very aggrieved mood, I in many ways drove her back to her room so many points were not made clear. That only means one thing, I have lost my charm with the gate-men. Big deal. But the girls too!?! I find this most disconcerting. I am a good guy, why is this part of my life not working out much as planned? I do believe in karma but still do not get what I must have done to disgrace the powers that be. So as I sped off that night all I could think about is how lower than the simple people I felt after all that. I needed some gin in the system before I could shake off these feelings. I headed to Mango Groove in Bugolobi, got light headed and finally had a bit of fun with myself. But one thing is certain, I have lost my edge over the smaller men and I seriously need it back.

Love: A Valentine's Day Special

Love is not safe at all

To fall in love is to literally expose yourself to the most hurtful of things. you can be beaten, your can be robbed, you can lose huge chunks of money....but no hurt beats that of a broken heart. Happy, my ex is a huge testament to this. This girl had this notion that she fell in love with me the moment she laid her eyes on me. It even seemed very right that we kissed on the first we met. I am sure if it was not for my limitation on curfew back then, I would have been invited to her dorm room and in the least, get to second base. So easily did she believe that I loved her so much just because I said. She did everything in her power to please me. She gave me food, money, clothes, gifts and biggest of all....some really steamy sex. Yet she soon became annoying and I was sick of being around her. I miss Happy so much right now. She was easily the best girlfriend I ever had, yet I treated her so inhumane. I wish I would take all this crap back but it's done. I broke a heart, one which thought that a soul-mate had come in to keep her safe

Love might let you fall

Watching CI everyday makes me realise that most homicides that occur when people snap, are because of love. Yet even after realising that the murder occured because of an error in judgement and therefore it can be corrected by a plea of guilt and a lighter sentence, cover ups are made and victims somehow left to be villains by the very people who claimed to be in so much love. Love excessively and you will surely die.

Love will take your time

I spent the better part of two years being an on and off boyfriend to probably the one person I can call the love of my life. Yet she took in all my bullshit and inferior ambitiousness. Ivy told her best friend Carol how sweet I was, how down to earth I was, how not full of myself I was. Yet all I told my best friend Mark was how I was full of Barley, how it was his turn to cook, how lazy I was to wash my sheets. She was a beauty, everyone worshiped her. I did too, but just not to the right proportions. Yet it is funny, I was madly in love with this girl but somehow I did not have a thing to show for it. I kinda woke up to these realities but soon fell back to my nonchalant ways. On top of all this bullshit, I also poisoned her mind with the things that I loved that she did not care about. I wasted her time. She might think different, but I have learnt to appreciate all the bullshit in my life as bullshit. Pride won't let me, but I would do everything different if ever she let me in again. But then again, dwelling on the past is shit. Here is gone.

Love is not easy

Brie is a good kisser. Yet something keeps telling me going any further might one day deprive me of that sweet, soft mouth of hers. She is funny, she gets me and interestingly she lets me kiss her on end. She is far away now, yet when I think of calling her, I fear two things. She might be feeling me so. Or, I might be the one doing so. But her kind of dwelling worries the crap out of me as all I can see are complications right ahead. Not her fault, all mine actually. I allow anxiety to rule over me. Doubt gets the best of me and I look at love as something that might end up not giving me the Brie that I know but instead give me a sad Brie that breaks my heart at the thought of me doing exactly that to her.

Love will break you

I told Merab that I would try to be her boyfriend. I also told myself that with the cheery personality, the innocence and the good sex, it wouldn't be a problem falling in love with her. I lied to her and I lied to myself. But my sweet Merab changed that day I told her I was bailing on her. She became entrenched in all sorts of dare devil activities and many times she came out crying. What beats me though is the fact that she never seemed to be angry at me. I would tell her point blank of my need for pussy and she was always more than willing to shove my process into her apple. She was the perfect example of a good girl gone bad. Sean Carter thinks when that happens, she is gone for ever. Well I broke her, I just wish I could trace her now so I could fix her.

Love is good

One thing is true, Love is good. It brings two completely different souls together and when the perfect fit takes toll.....fire works just. I await that day with positive anxiety and when I get my God sent, I just might never let her go.

Names altered to protect certain people's identity

Escapades of an infatuated man (Part I)

I met her on new year's day. She came in later on as the night's excitement wore off but mine was just starting, I could tell you that. A birthday party with an outrageously too sweet or nice a cake to be legal and a crowd more unforgivably uncouth and an ever pouring well of intoxicant couldn't beat the grande finale....a girl.

See on this night, I got caught by my students doing things I keep telling them not to do, and it was so much fun because they realised that behind this calm, collected exterior is a guy who is more human than they are. But that is besides the point. And quite frankly I don't see the point I was going to make when I wrote this paragraph so, moving along....

Laftaz was the scene. That yellow tape around the back directly opposite the loos. Strangely we did not mind, probably because we had decided to be chemists of sorts and herbalists and comics and lady's men and gentleman's girls if those are even words. Then enter the "GIRL".

You ever saw a girl who gets in and all she does is want to have fun. Well this girl was not one of those. All she wanted was to meet the guy who had the kush. Now do you ever get that feeling that you are being witch hunted and yet it was all just an innocent question? Well I did not get that feeling because all I wanted was to meet the girl. And when it happened it was magic.

We embraced like we had known each other for four years. then smoked weed like addicts and told each other stories that rarely made sense. And you know why? Because we did not really listen to the stories that kept slipping from our lips, we paid more attention to the stories that were being said in our eyes.

 Nothing else really mattered at that point, well until the bouncer came in and busted us with the sacred herb. He threw us out and we were embarrassed to the pulp. I think that really mattered. I learnt something that day, that girl knew me and I knew her, but we were both too blind to eachother's actual persona that we just allowed this facade of the cool guy and girl to sweep us right out of reality. We were shit in real life without the meditation smoke.

I gave her my number, don't know why I didn't take hers. But one thing I know is I will await that call on my Salongo for another week and give up. Probably she caught on on the fact that her high made her see things or maybe get me a good android phone....she might have texted to my WhatsApp. Keeping all options open for her. Too much hope....it keeps us alive.

I get myself shot in the foot....always

I have been told I am not bad to look at, from a lady's point of view. But I don't like it when a girl says it to me. Because something inside me automatically turns its guns to whoever is saying these things. I try so many times to tell these simple beings that it is not a good thing to say to me, but they never listen. Then like it is instinct to me, I start getting attractions that are very strong and all I can think about is using my look and then the charm that I have somehow perfected to make them think that I feel something too and it is for real. Sometimes I have myself real fooled too thinking that it is exactly what I want.....long term even. But my mind plays this facade on me and on the people I am cornering. It becomes real intense as I somehow say all the right things.

It has happened not once, not twice. I even have lost count and come to think of it, it is happening right now. I am heavily attracted to a girl that I recently reconnected with. Yet I am in a weird dysfunctional relationship which in many ways seems to be over. Already did this to someone I really cared about and when I felt it was getting too serious for my liking, I withdrew and badly hurt someone who still has only good things to say about me. Yet I never learn. And although I am writing these words, I am still pondering on how to get this new girl's attractions to be more than just that, I want her to breath me, dream about me, think about me and even jerk off to me.....because it he is quite a bit of an obsession.

I want to taste her lips, skin, her "womanness" and all this is my mind lying to me and her. And I know it, but I prefer to go along because it keeps me feeling wanted. It is sweet honey and bitter bile all at the same time. I hate it so much. Yet I get real gratification from it. And it scares me. I am 26 now, and I have been doing this for four years with all these convictions about it lingering yet I have done absolutely nothing about it.

I have fallen away, fallen from grace. No longer the same, I feel like I am breaking, because I have broken many. Yet I yearn for it to keep me alive, its the only way I know how to stay relevant to people. I am ashamed of it and trying so hard to quit. But it is a kind of drug to me. I seem to relapse all the time and I don't know how long it will take before these beautiful creatures of God, these innocent women who are only looking to love and be loved will catch on.

I am not a good person. And it is a reality of my own device. I might need like a million years of therapy and hopefully I am delivered from all this some day. That is me if you need to beware of me. Happy new year people.

I go back to hell

I am heading back to school after all the proclamations i made on the subject of hate for the Institution. but it has become inevitable. You ever felt stagnated, low on ambition yet ripe with thought of where you could be? Or should be? Well, I am at that point in my life. And circumstances have forced my hand. I am as nervous about it as the farmers at Helm's deep were on the verge of battle against the armies of Isengard. For those who did not get that, its an analogy from the sights in Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. yet I am also hopeful. I wake up to the thought of it, stay awake in the night thinking of my schedules and spend most of the day hoping that I will find the new friend who will make my life change completely. The key word here being HOPE.

I mean, what are we without hope. I have always feared for what my life might become. I have always wrestled with a fear to be an utter failure. In many ways this reality is more projected on me than the alternate. Yet I dare to hope, dare to believe that there is more for me. they say that the night is only dark till its dawn. So I am not willing to accept that my fate is in this doom. One thing I know is I want better for myself, for my family and for those who will need me in dire times. I need to step up, get off my laurels and fight for a better me.

Varsity made me hate school. I studied more, I put my everything over there. Probably also explains why I played hard, but also might have been my undoing. I left with no honor and now I feel this might be the time to get even with that place. I go back to the place I called hell so I can realize the Utopia that I have always pictured for myself. I hope it works. And this new year, just might be my year of reckoning. So the big leaugues....here I come.

So UG....just so sad

My friend James is an ardent party boy. So you can imagine my shock when he invited me to Bermuda in Wandegeya for a quiet evening of a few cold ones (that’s cool lingo for beer). But that’s not the point. We were to meet up with his mother. When we got there, she had gone on without us. Get this; she had a straw in her bottle. Who does that?
I’ve been in and around Kampala and the things people do can throw you off your course, it is sad. Funny thing is when you try to be square and tell them about the correct way of doing things, you are being a smartass…and no one likes a smartass.
Radio has not taken a lot of my time of late. Must be the busy schedule I have, if you consider sleeping at home busy. Back in the day, I used to follow Sanyu fm and they had a segment they called So UG. It stands for “so Ugandan” if I must add. They would highlight all these things Ugandans do without realizing how wrong they are. It’s only a pity that these things are socially accepted. During one of these segments, it was sighted that Ugandans ask for balance after a transaction instead of change. Ask for change after paying your fare in a taxi and you’ll be looked at with such disdain. I’m sure the whole time the conductor would be thinking, “what in God’s world is going on in your head?”
It goes without saying that this issue goes further than just misplaced wording. We now have new words that are only recognized by the Ugandan system. I happened to have done my school practice at St. Joseph’s Girls Secondary School in Nsambya (oh yeah, I’m supposed to be a teacher). I overheard some students in a heated argument although I cannot remember what it was all about. One of them stormed off but not before she asserted,” I’m conc-sure you are wrong!”  Well until recently, I was among those free spirits that thought I would get away with using ‘conc-sure’. Boy was I in for a rude awakening. I was publicly embarrassed by a rather annoying friend of mine and told to use ‘cork-sure’ from then on.
That’s exactly why I keep telling the people I hang out with to get themselves some white friends (read Caucasian, lest they call me racist). Now I’m one of those guys who pleasure themselves into thinking that my command of the English language is superior to many a fellow’s. So I decide to go out with Jeff, one of my very few Caucasian friends, who had just flown into the country. Drinks are all on him so it is as good as an open bar. I had the right to be obnoxious. I’m served with beer and it does not taste good. With all the arrogance I could gather, I scream out, “Oh my God, this beer is stale!” only for Jeff to cut in with a polite, “you mean, it’s flat.” Not to be a sour grape, I agreed. But it just took me back to the many times I had used ‘stale beer’ and how many of my friends say the same. Turns out the joke were on us. It is not a pretty feeling.
These scenarios are just taken to be common mistakes. Does anyone agree with me if I cry foul and call that the most outrageous thing anyone has ever said? It is a huge understatement. Mistakes are made and corrected, these are made and somehow life goes on. We mock and embarrass ourselves every time and this does not bother anyone in the least bit?! The complacency we seem to pass on to every generation is really unacceptable. It is as good as creating a new language. Joachim Buwembo a columnist with The East African (a weekly newspaper covering mainly east African issues) once wrote that Ugandans speak a language that is in many ways similar to English but is far from English. A classic of this language is the phrase, “you are dry.” It is taken from a Luganda word okwekaza (literally means to dry oneself), meaning many things according to the different situations one gets oneself into. I’m sure many of you Ugandans have used it before so to ask me to explain this is just wrong.
To me, the classic of all these is an out of the blue “Well done!” instead of the usual mugyebale. It is so unexpected that even the biggest culprits of this non formal culture are left aghast and wondering what they are expected to say in response. Enough is said, no need offending someone who might subscribe to this school of thought.
I know that a seemingly petty outburst from me is not going to change the way things work in Uganda. Besides, the world’s cycle has never changed due to a few mistakes made by some rather unintentional jibber jabber from good tax-paying people.  One would think I should know better, I mean, no one likes a smartass.