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Showing posts from August, 2014

The Highs and Lows of being a Foodie.

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One of my proudest moments ever was when my Mum felt comfortable enough to leave me alone in the kitchen and not keep peering over my shoulder, giving me tips and being helpful yet somewhat annoying. God bless her. This may seem like an everyday occurrence but what made it all the more momentous for me is that I was making lunch for my Dad. My late Dad was particular about his food.  Not that he was difficult. It’s just that as he got older, his tastes changed. A lot. Frequently.  So it became a challenge keeping up with what he liked or could not stand the sight of.  Being in the kitchen was never a chore for me.  I love food and hold the grand title among my siblings, bestowed on me by Mother Dearest, as The One Child Who Ate Anything and Everything Placed On Her Plate. I wasn’t that child who carefully separated each and every sliver of onion from the rest of the food (my sister Asiimwe). Or the child who baulked at the thought of drinking milk or eating any vegetab

Ugandans- Never To Be Instructed

Uganda is the only country I have ever been to where you will find instructions in the toilet. I’m not talking about the ‘if you sprinkle when you tinkle, please be sweet and wipe the seat’ variety.  Oh no.  Not for us the ‘we aim to please, so please aim straight’ slogans. In Uganda, we get full-on, diagrams-included, What To Do and Not To Do When You’re In The Loo. I’m not going to bother attempting the diagrams, as I’m sure many of you have seen them before.  Not only that, but I struggle to draw a convincing stick man, so I shall spare myself the embarrassment. Some of the instructions I have seen that have stayed with me include: 1.        Do not squat on the toilet (includes diagram of man/woman adopting pose not unlike one adopted when using a latrine or a toilet with serious hygiene deficiencies) 2.        Do not wash clothes in the toilet (includes diagram.  I mean, REALLY?!) 3.        Do not fish in the toilet (includes diagram of man/woman, compl

Of Wobbly Bits and Letting Go

I consider myself lucky to work in an environment dominated by men.  Not because I don’t like working with women, or because I enjoy being one of very few females in the area, but because I am often privy to some interesting male insights on life. I recently got into a heated argument with my colleagues, who were saying that one of the problems with women is that once they are in a relationship, they tend to let themselves go, putting on weight and no longer dressing to impress their men.  As one not-so-wise colleague of mine said, ‘’Women expect men to change when they are in a committed relationship.  Men expect their women to stay the same.’’ Let me explain. It’s not like we girls bag the one and think ‘to hell with my figure and for good measure, let me start walking around like I got dressed in the dark.’’ Not at all. There’s something that happens to you when you meet the one who you feel is The One.  You relax.  You breathe more easily because you can stop worry

Women- The Most Complex of Creatures.

I got back to work after a few days off last week and was amused to hear that my co-hosts caused outrage on air when they described women as crazy, simply because we sometimes say ‘Nothing’ when asked what the matter is, yet there is clearly some burning issue (not the UTI kind). Imagine the following scenario: Girlfriend: (Sigh.. huff and puff... side eye of death thrown in boyfriend's general direction) Boyfriend: (looking up from his copy of The Kampala Sun) What's wrong babe? Girlfriend: (sigh) Nothing. Boyfriend: You sure?  Nothing at all? Girlfriend: I said nothing's wrong. Boyfriend: Oh.  Ok. (shrugs, buries face in pictures of Sheebah Karungi's cleavage) Fast forward two hours later, when she has finally cracked... Girlfriend: You don't care about me!! I was upset and you didn't even try to find out why! Boyfriend: (incredulous) But I asked you what was wrong! You insisted that everything was fine! Girlfriend: Yes but