A SOULS’
SUPERMARKET OPENS, JOBS UP FOR GRABS
By Samuel Kamugisha
This
week has added four more wrinkles to my rugged face. Son has made it a habit to give dad a chance
to sleep with his wife. That’s cherished benevolence. Giving thanks to the
dowry payer perhaps. I’ve ordered my oval-shaped head not to let my mind
believe the tears of Parliamentarians. They’re crocodile tears. I’ve embarked
on a one-month fasting spree dubbed, “May the dad steal the foolish son’s wife pakalast”. This is in addition to the
slim possible season IV that I’m undergoing. I won’t break the fast till the
executive has disbanded the house occupied by a bunch of snoring stooges who
tremble at the sight of their treacherous dad- I doubt if there’s still need to
keep slimming ourselves to pay these
chubby tax gobblers. Aronda’s approval
ushers in a new dawn titled the “Impure quadrangle of the father, the son, the
stepmother and the uncle”.
At least,
this will break the monotony of the Trinity of vision 2040 Dictatorship that
we’ve been used to and I think our legislators are leading us into their
master’s Canaan. I’m not uncertain it’s not hell. Their approval gave me a selling
business idea, souls’ supermarket. One visit to Entebbe, one cup of tea with
the master, five years of soul rent as a
tenant. A little coins, lifetime ownership. Many of us can begin consultancy
firms and employ a number of jobless youths as brokers. The demand for these
souls will depend on the number of controversial issues in the majestic house.
No more unemployment.
For the
only man with a vision for this country and his accomplices, the ground is
fertile for those who hunted their animal to slaughter it and share the meat.
He can now make all the cabinet a military junta and announce a coup without a billboard-like
legal notice. Muhoozi will replace Aronda to represent the forces in Parliament
and will be appointed minister of Defence to complete the Vision 2040
Quadrangle. Members of parliament will soon be appointed by the president and
vetted by the son, his step-mother and his uncle (The Trinity of Vision Implementers).
LC Chairpersons will be appointed by the president and must strictly be soldiers.
We can also trust Brig. Nalweyiso and Gen. Salim Saleh to shoot the wretched
poverty out of Luwero using money sacks. Hope they won’t one day confess with
sweating tongues like the Nakawa SACCO-350 million thief, “I’m an old woman. I’m
baptized. I din’t steal”
The
Aronda-Kayihura combination has made me contemplate on how to seek asylum
either in London where I can join Renegade Gen. David SSejusa or Ecuador where
I can meet Assange, the Chief Wiki leaker. Countrymen, put your hands together
for teargas reloaded, more raids for letters, be them love letters or facebook inboxes. You’re safe with my anger because I express it
in my words using paper and pencil. For the tough-looking soldiers, their anger
will be exhibited through the gun fire. This is no barrel of laughs. Aronda’s
first assignment will be dealing with national identification cards. No card,
Panda gari. Relax, it’s only a pilot
scheme and money for these IDs will soon be swindled by Kazinda’s trainees. At
least, I can comfortably bet on this. We can for the mean time continue to use
our birth certificates (which 70% of us have no idea how they look like),
education documents most of which are available on Nasser Road. I guess those
guys will record roof-escaping sales owing to our high marginal propensity to
dodge procedure.
Before
we disband Parliament, let’s spare two MPs. Odonga Otto wants drinking hours
limited. Let all bars open at 5pm. One of the reasons is that overdrinking
reduces men’s capacity to perform their duties between the sheets. I hear some
women have threatened to take their husbands to court for sparing their duty of
picking forbidden fruits. Thank God I capped the bottle. The other one is the
arrogant Eddie Kwizera who wants retirement age lifted till death. He has at
least showed us that he’s a strong advocate of youth unemployment. Just keep
your fingers crossed for a bunch of more grey-haired-not-getting-any-younger
sleeping and snoring drivers of destiny. Dear, Allah, may they lead us not into
Hell on earth but if they do, may they have their share of brimstone flames and
gnashing of teeth for which they’ve worked inexorably.
The writer is the Deputy Chief Editor of The MAkererean
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