Kanyindo's Random Ramblings

So, news doing the rounds is that Golola Moses of Uganda (yes, you do have to say that in full every time) will be hitting our screens very soon as part of a reality show. Just when I’d gotten over the shock of Bad Black’s foray into the music industry, I’m hit with this. Cruel, cruel world! Turns out that Uganda’s answer to Jean-Claude Van Damme is set to star in a reality show featuring Japanese Kumite free style karate.  16 fighters will slug it out on the same day, with the last man standing taking the crown.  Please note, whether or not this is sustainable in terms of the entertainment factor is neither here nor there. Now, I’m not one to kick a man when he’s down (or up. Neither is Golola, come to think of it. But I digress), but I actually think that Golola would be better off starring in reality shows that have little or close to nothing to do with kick-boxing.  It’s not a secret that his last two bouts were marred by accusations of title-theft and embarrassment at th

It's my friend Rudende's birthday today. I met Rudy about three years ago when he came in for a voice test at the radio station where we (now) both work.  He said he was nervous and kept asking if he could go and pee, but to this day it is the best voice test I've ever heard.  We've been working together ever since. Now it goes without saying that Rudy is one of the craziest, funniest, most scarily-intelligent people I know. He also talks about farting ALOT.  But that's neither here nor there.  He's a brilliant radio presenter, a mad genius of sorts, and a great dad. Happy birthday, dude.  Here's to being older, wiser, and hopefully, less flatulent. Oh, and I came up with this on my way to work this morning... tee hee giggle giggle... ''Ode To Rudy'' (to the tune of O Christmas Tree) O  Rudende , O Rudende, Thy flatulent-self sparkles. O Rudende, O Rudende, A modern man-made marvel. You're bigger than my Christmas Tree And oft y

So everyone is making noise about the Eritrean football team members who have disappeared from the camp at Sky Hotel in Kyambogo.  Police have been able to keep their eyes on the team for the last two weeks- it turns out these chaps have major FOMO and usually vanish into thin air whenever they travel for sporting events. But somehow they managed to get past our oh-so-vigilant Police force. How on earth did they do it??!! Their vanishing acts are legendary among CECAFA officials. After the 2009 CECAFA Challenge Cup, the whole team pulled off a Houdini stunt- only the coach and another official arrived back in Eritrea after the tournament. I'm sorry but this is the funniest shit I've heard in a long time.  I mean, how do 16 grown-ass men just vanish? It's not like the Rapture happened or anything.  Unless only those guys are going to the great big football pitch in the sky and the rest of us are doomed to wallow in mud for the rest of eternity. The team's managemen

I recently read an article profiling African brand ambassadors and was dismayed to find there were no Ugandans on the list! There were Nigerians, Kenyans, South Africans, all endorsing a variety of products from drinks to cosmetics to cars.  And where were my fellow Ugandans?  Nowhere to be seen. Now, I know what you're thinking.  You're probably wondering which Ugandan personalities could possibly endorse worldwide brands?  But I don't think that's a fair way of looking at it.  I prefer to look at the lack of products suited to Ugandan brand ambassadors.  So I decided to come up with some suggestions of my own, in the hope that some corporate giants will take them on and help us outline UG a bit more clearly on the world map. Presenting:  Siima's Top 5 Ugandan Personalities Who Should Be Brand Ambassadors and The Products They Should Endorse. 5) Bad Black a.k.a Shanita Namuyimbwa - she made headlines when some white dude gave her lots of money for letti

So I came across this problem letter in the New Vision, from a guy whose girlfriend is pressuring him into marriage.  Something about her biological clock ticking (she's two years older than him) and preferring her eggs fertilized in the morning, not old and wrinkled by the time she's 30.  The poor guy is traumatized because much as he loves his chick, he'd much rather finish school first (he's in his final year) and probably sow an oat or two before settling down. I think this chick is being very unfair.  Didn't she know what she was getting into when she started dating a younger guy?  Expecting him to put his life on hold just because she's reached a certain point in her life simply isn't fair.  I've taken it upon myself to warn the fellas, at the risk of betraying my fellow women, and give you some inside information to prevent you falling into the same trap as this hapless dude.  Presenting: Siima's Top 5 Signs She's About To Pressure You I

I do a breakfast show on radio.  Much as I love my job and have been at it for a few years now, sounding chirpy at 6am never gets any easier. To cheer myself up and get my mojo levels up to where I needed them to deliver a kick-ass show, I started Tweeting my crazy entrances into studio.  People seemed to like them and they've become a bit of a morning tradition- I keep challenging myself to come up with an even crazier one each morning. One of my followers on Twitter recently asked me to compile a list of my personal favourites from the past couple of months.  Who was I to say no? Maybe one day, I'll actually get my crazy co-hosts to film the damn things.  Until then, here we go. Siima's Craziest Studio Entrances.  Enjoy :) *grabs wand, dons fairy wings and flits prettily into studio*  *dons red leather cat suit and does the Oops I Did It Again dance into studio*  *bungee jumps into studio and executes perfect landing in swivel chair*  *grabs castanets and Flame

I wrote this a couple of years ago, came across it today and felt so nostalgic for South Africa that I decided to post it. 2.30am was an earlier start than usual, but something told me it would all be worth it. And as Monica, Caesar, Joseph and I set off from The New Vision for Entebbe Airport , the butterflies in my stomach defied the fatigue I was feeling. 5.15am: check-in time.  After making sure that the boys had their passports (Monica and I, being women, were obviously the organized outfit on this trip), and me having to lend Caesar a pen (sigh), we all checked in with no problems.  Having done The Morning After Show the previous day and not having slept the whole of Saturday, I fought sleep as we waited for our boarding call.  (Sleep won) Before I knew it, we were on the plane and in the air.  Monica, Joseph and Caesar were across the aisle from me.  I was sat next to two rather good looking young men, but the charm soon wore off when the one right next to me ke

A friend of mine started dating a work colleague earlier this year.  Or at least she  thinks  they're dating.  He clearly has other ideas.  Not only has she never met any of his friends or family (they've been dating/shagging for 6 months now), but he insists on keeping their relationship top secret- because of work (he says).  Yeah right. He calls her at odd hours, turns up to her flat unannounced and only hangs out with her at the dodgiest bars and clubs.  Where they are unlikely to bump into anyone they know. She thinks this is because, and I quote, ''he just wants to be alone with me.'' I know, right?! Personally, I am not convinced and have tried in vain to make her see sense.  So many times, we women confuse a man's actions and twist them to suit what we would  like  his intentions to be. We've all done it.  Even the fellas do it occasionally. (you know who you are). So I've taken it upon myself to point out a few things whi

Ok, I've had it.  It's time to rant. I am sick and tired of the malaise that has been used as an excuse for as far back as I can remember.  Africa Time. In case you are unfamiliar with this sorry excuse for lateness and general fecklessness, 'Africa Time' is defined by Wikipedia as ''a perceived cultural tendency, in some parts of Africa , toward a more relaxed attitude to time . This is sometimes used in a pejorative sense, about tardiness in appointments, meetings and events.''  I prefer to define it as the delay of everything one has to do, be it deliver a report, turn up for a meeting or attend one's own funeral, to no less than two hours later than the agreed time.  Almost all Africans have arrived at a certain destination, late, grinning sheepishly at whoever they have kept waiting and then shrugging helplessly while muttering ''Africa time!'' as if its something to be proud of. Then there's the other excuse- wh

I’m one of those girls who has a lot of men in her life. Let me clarify. I work in a male-dominated environment, and most of my friends are dudes.  It’s just one of those things.  Judging by this fact, it should follow that I know a lot about men and how they think.  So buying a gift for a male friend should be a cinch, right? Wrong. One of my girls was travelling to the States recently and was going to meet up with a mutual friend of ours.  I wanted to send him something, but when it came to deciding what to get, I was stumped.  What do you get for a guy? If you’re not giving him beer or food or a romp between the sheets? Fathers and brothers are pretty easy- a tie, a box set of his favourite series, that sort of thing.  But what do you get for a guy you aren’t dating? Without coming across as a) hinting that you want your friendship to develop into something more, b) stingy, c) unimaginative or d) all of the above? As a rule, I believe that toiletries of any

We met at our usual joint for our weekly catch-up.  I’d had a long day at the office and couldn’t wait to kick off my heels (figuratively speaking.  Taking your shoes off in a bar is not exactly the done thing...) and have a glass of red wine while chatting to my girls. After arguing about who had the bitchiest boss (Dora.  Her boss is the Devil Incarnate), the best hairdresser (Daphne. Jackson is a magician with curling tongs), the biggest loser-of-a-boyfriend (Agnes.  But that’s another story), and the most useless house-help (yours truly), the conversation turned to the inevitable- men. This wasn’t your usual, run-of-the-mill, all-the-good-men-are-married-or-gay discussion (true as that may be.  Sigh…).  Daphne had recently gotten engaged to her long-time boyfriend Amos, who seemed to be going through a crisis of sorts ever since he had popped the question.  You see, Amos is one of those… how can I put this delicately?-‘follically-blessed’ men. In other words, Amos is hai

There are some people who come into your life for a reason, for a season, or whatever. You just never question why because they just fit and it feels like they’ve always been there. One such person is my friend Kenny.  Totally unassuming, quiet, minds his own business, and is rather fond of strawberry yoghurt.  And weed. Don’t be fooled by his shy demeanour though- this guy is one of the craziest, wittiest, dirty-minded mofos I know.  Listening to him on radio you can’t believe it’s the same guy who was chilling with headphones in the corner just an hour ago. Working with him over the past (almost) 3 years has been a blast.  Not only have I learned so much from him, but he has become a true friend- always there with a word of encouragement, advice, and always willing to download something for me when the office firewalls are being a pain in the backside.  Not only that- he makes waking up at 4am and going to work on a Saturday soooooo easy. Happy birthday dude. Have an absolu

My Aunt Liz had  been pestering me for weeks to have lunch with her, and I finally relented last Friday.   The reason why I put off our meeting for so long is the inevitable turns our conversations take to the subject of marriage. Please understand that I love my aunt dearly.  But she has it in her mind that, at my age, I should already be married with AT LEAST three kids by now. So, we met at the restaurant and exchanged the usual pleasantries as we placed our order. “How is work, my dear?  Have you made peace with that boss of yours yet?” Relieved that she hadn’t asked about my love life, or lack thereof, I dived into this topic with gusto. “Work is great! My boss Is still behaves like the spawn of Satan but I do my best to stay out of her way.  I have wonderful colleagues…” “Male colleagues?” she interrupted.  My heart sank.  I could see where this was going. “Er, of course.  Some male, some female.  We make a great team…” “Sweetheart, you know

Its time I made the effort to become a better person. I’ve decided to join a gym. Before you ask, its not because I am seeking to remedy some physical imperfection, imagined or otherwise.  I am simply seeking physical and mental wellbeing.  In my constant quest to achieve Nirvana, I have tried countless therapies which guaranteed a more relaxed life, but none of them quite seemed to hit the spot.  A couple of unforgettable experiences come to mind… The first was yoga.  I must admit that I’ve never been the most flexible of people, but I figured that there would be a beginner’s class and I’d be able to take things slowly. How wrong I was. I paid the membership fee and went to my first yoga class.  Looking around the room, I started to panic.  Everyone else looked so lithe and limber that I began to ask myself what I was doing there.  Swallowing my fear, I forced myself to think positive when the yoga instructor walked in. Looking back, I know I should have walked

It shames me to admit that I was a difficult teenager. As in, VERY difficult. You know how that time of life can be- you’re in a bad mood for no apparent reason, slamming doors and being extremely anti-social.   Don't laugh. Camouflage was IN back then. And usually it’s our mothers who bear the brunt of it. I remember feeling that all my mother wanted to do was curtail my fun and happiness.  Deep down, I knew she had my best interests at heart.  Not that I would ever have admitted it at the time! So here I am, all grown up - well, almost!-, cringing inside every time I remember that surly teenager because my mother is the best friend I could ever wish for.  Now that I’m all grown up we sit and talk and laugh for hours.  As I’ve grown into adulthood, I realize that my mother and I are more alike than I ever imagined. The times we are together, which never seem long enough, there is always a lesson in it for me- whether it’s the best way to get the sap off y

I babysat my 4 year old niece yesterday.  It was without a doubt the most traumatic, hair-raising and heart-attack-inducing experience of my life.  But first, a bit of background. My best friend Claire has been complaining that since she married Duncan and had the baby, she hasn’t been out on a proper date with her husband.  The first time she told me that, I laughed into my (4th) glass of wine (she had stopped drinking in an effort to lose the baby-weight) and said (rather tipsily) “Ha!  Bet you miss the single life!”  She walked out of my flat and didn’t speak to me for a week. Narky cow. I was only joking. I wasn’t being callous.  I was genuinely trying to cheer her up, and bear in mind I had consumed the best part of a bottle of Argentinian Red.  But I was tired of my married friends, my aunts and my alcoholic uncle Brian (more on that later) making stupid comments about people delaying to get married and have children.  Claire, sweet as she is, had turned into a