And now a round of introductions. Deejay, track number nine, Ragga Dee’s Osana Onyanjule. Wikid! Nalumansi!

First of all, we have walkonby, a delightful young lady with a lovely personality. I nominate her for daughter of the year.

Next we have teti at seam-less. It is an honour to be the one to bring her to your attention. Please send gifts of money to my inbox. That is the best way to thank me.

For Cavalier, has moved from blogspot to Which is experimental.

And in other news:

Tusker Project Fame is another one of those tv singing competitions where people vote in the winner. Like American Idol. (I have to explain it for DSTv subscribers. They are behind the times.)

The last one brought Uganda great embarrassment, you may recall with horror, in the forms of one “Tony Rodman” and one “Melton Cephas”, a couple of Rocko Artis who gibbered in fake accents all the way from their auditions to their evictions.

Since Idi Amin, we have been trying to rebuild the reputation of our great nation, and have made great strides through the avenue of Reality TV. We are the ones who gave the word Gaetano, are we not?

But in a couple of short months these two shot us right back to square one. The level of laughing stocks, pity cases, and not even Maureen Namatovu could redeem our image. Probably why she didn’t even try.

Project Fame wasn’t all rubbish, though. We had Paul Nyanzi, the only Ugandan contestant who wasn’t afraid to use his actual Ugandan name. He was a good singer, too. Is a good singer. I happen to know that he has been working as back-up singer for people such as the Iryn the Siryn, whose music I love with a deep and abiding love.

Another contestant from the old Project Fame was a Tanzanian woman named Nakaaya. Nakaaya was bald-headed. In the sense of lacking in hair, suffering a follicular dearth, bereft of braids, lacking in locks, and if I may get very desperate for a pun, I would say there was “nothing much about a ‘do”.

Which is the most desperate pun you will hear this quarter.

But she looked good with her chrome dome; quite sexy, actually. And she had the legs. Nice.

It is with a touch of shame that I admit this—I remembered her for her legs and had completely forgotten that she could sing. It wasn’t until juzi-juzi when I was trancing out in front of my EATV that I caught her new video.

I should get this bit out of the way first: Nakaaya features none other than “Emmey” or M1, from dead prez.

You know, dead prez. Dead prez, only one of the most important rap duos of the decade! What about. If you don’t know them, you need to stop listening to Hurricane Chris or whatever and start listening to some grown up music.

Now that we have established that, I can begin to gush.

I freaking love this song! . And I don’t use the word “freaking” lightly. The subject is brave, even though its treatment is somewhat basic, but the singing, oh, the singing. The way she twists and turns and curls over the melody, the way she flows down my ears and into my soul, my very soul, makes me raise my hands to the sky and say thank you, Nakaaya!

Right now I am loving this song  almost as much as Nkuwechi.

(Update. I realised too late that the link to the song was wrong. My bad. I have corrected it now. Just in case if fucked up again, it is