- If you sing homophobically, you won’t sing in New Zealand, in short. Not if they can help it.
- LGBT Groups: No!
- But wait a minute. Are you saying you guys have to censor and approve every singer who performs in the country? Are you saying that only the people who support gay rights should be allowed to express themselves? Don’t you think that kind of contradicts the ideals of freedom and tolerance that you should be in full support of as civil rights advocates? Homophobes have as much of a right to express themselves as you guys do, after all.
- LGBT Groups: NO!
- Look, let’s be mature about this. He’s not Obama. He’s just Beenie Man. Really, so what if he doesn’t like…
- LGBT Groups: NO!
- Come on, do you think that just because Beenie Man isn’t going to perform at that gig that there will be no homophobia there? I can guarantee you that a lot of the dudes in the audience are going to be homophobic anyway. I mean homophobia is still pretty common…
- LGBT Groups: NO!
- And it’s a big festival with different musicians. Have you vetted the others to see what their stand on gay rights is? How do you know wakina Dizzy Rascal or Bjork don’t be like, “Fuck these faggot ass bitches!” in their trailers when their toast is burnt or their Mochas are lukewarm?
- LGBT Groups: NO! That guy dissed us and so we are not going to allow him to make money in New Zealand. NO!
- So Beenie has no choice but to cross NZ off his flight plan and come to dusty/muddy third world Kampala instead.
So, what should I do next? Should I continue posing as Sleek? Just for the hell of it? I mean, it’s fun.
- What can I do for you today, Mr Ernest Bazanye?
- First of all, I want to thank you for addressing me as Mister. You, Google, are the only one who ever calls me that. Everyone else is just like, Baz, or Ernest, or “Mere Ernest” or “Gwe kigayi tonquenzing kilabe”. I appreciate the respect. I just wanted you to know that.
- Your search – Gwe kigayi tonquenzing kilabe – did not match any documents.
Meanwhile, guess who I found blogging. Lydia Namubiru!
We shall begin this desperate attempt to fill up space by thrunking (Thrunking: noun. To just put kigafla fwa) pictures on this internet by placing my current facebook profile picture up in here. Below the picture is a comment also from facebook.
Facebook is an internet site which features various profile pictures and comments, each attached to a different individual who may or may not only be on the site constantly seeking validation and approval for his or her otherwise meaningless existence.
To those who have had the recent misfortune of hearing my incessant crowing about a flight to “outside countries”, I must confess now that the only outside country I was journeying to was Tanzania. Not impressive, I know, for we all consider Tanzania a step down in terms of urban sophistication from Wakirundannimilo Subcounty, Kooki.
The trip itself was horrible, fraught with perils and trials and treacherous hazards including my having to eat a rolex in Port Bell while I waited for a large an chaotic flock of nuns to get their papers in order. Port Bell, the entire place, that is, stinks of rotting leaves. And there is a constant hint of decomposing human in the air.
I shall not go on about the airport food and how exhorbitantly it is priced. I already mentioned that on facebook and for that was labeled a whoremonger.
I said “20k for buffet? This food had better taste like some sex.” Of course I was just suggesting my PG way that for that price, the food should give me an extraordinary amount of pleasure. Unfortunately my facebook buddies never miss a chance to run my self esteem into the ground so they spent the next twenty comments asking me what 20k worth of sex is supposed to taste like and suggesting that I was an experienced customer and therefore should know.
I shall not belabour the part about how I was stranded at the airport because the organisation that invited me to Tz didn’t pick me up, and how I spent all my money on theiveing taxi drivers and a nice but not nice enough hotel.
I eventually made it to Coral Beach, and decided that, well, Tz is not that bad.
For those of you who have Flash Players (which should be most of you, though I can’t speak for all staff of The Monitor, and that jibe is aimed squarely at Phoenixlulu) fire up your computers and behold the splendour that is Coral Beach Hotel.
Yeah. I was in there somewhere, in one of the luxurious rooms, surfing wireless all night for free and thinking, “I should be mad about not being picked up and all, but this is nayiss.”
Excuse my Ugandan accent, but it gets stronger when I am around other African accents. The lower half of Africa, I noticed from my interactions with my fellow workshop participants, pronounce nearly every vowel as “eh”. It is very distracting. Even the Tanzanian dudes do it.
Tanzanians are a mystery in many ways. How they manage to change presidents without guns is a matter of constant bewilderment to most of the rest of Africa, but this, too, will stymie you.
Yes, but what the hell does it do? Is Foma engine grease or toothpaste?