I love President Museveni, the son of the late Amos Kaguta. This man, for all his short comings, might just be one of the greatest gifts from God to Uganda and who knows, humanity at large. I really admire the old man with a hat. He is one human being I want to meet before I retire to the dust. Mr President, if you are reading this, please extend the golden invite! Amen!
How I wish my great grandchildren read and take him seriously the way I did when I read about a French emperor only known as Napoleon the Great. Afande Museveni surely deserves his space in the pages of history’s legendaries.
First and foremost for his frankness! If ever a ‘frankometer’ was invented, he surely would be a victim of its accuracy. Here is a man who minutes after birth over 76 years ago, yes 76, resolved that his was mission domination. Rule till you please. Eat as much as your insatiable hunger can allow, even when your mouth is filled to the brim. Do all it takes to achieve that, and don’t be pretentious. Now, majority of our leaders are apologetically ambitious, Museveni is not. He is unapologetically ambitious. That is a rare trait.
For that matter we, poor wretched of the earth must be idiots indeed to keep following this whole unfiltered talk of democracy, rule of law and what not that the cattle keeper claims to stand for.
All these fall under the scope of mission domination and he who after 28 years can’t see must be an idiot indeed. Mujinga kabisa! Mzee is right, we are idiots!
You know, at times I sit on my bed and imagine the old man sitting on his own, pinching himself, caressing his disappearing moustache, and giggling to himself, ”Look at these idiots, they don’t get it. See how I play on their minds.”
Our short sightedness
Now, look at Kyankwanzi. NRM caucus spokesperson, Evelyn Anite found herself a hot potato on social media for delivering project 2016.
Poor girl, how I wish I was at the theatre to share a hankie. These things were planned way before she was born.
We stoned the poor messenger as the old man laughed all the way to his theatre of dreams. Again, the old man looks back, sips his local yoghurt and says, “oh poor idiots, they forget I hatched all this in 2005, in fact in 1986, actually 1979.” Mission domination. As the MPs clapped hysterically as though in nursery school rhymes replay, we cried at how, “they are selling their nation.” How do you break a gun and leave the man who pulled the trigger? A tool can only be a tool. And when Mzee calls us idiots we want to walk to work. Idiots indeed!
In fact, a fly in the wall has just whispered that mzee crosses his legs in the evening and watches civil society activists wear black on Mondays, scream before TV cameras about corruption and belches, “My goodness! These little idiots, they forget you cannot cure a disease by just cutting the stems.
“These are my roots, to cure the tree, ask the saw man to start with the roots. But they are only idiots.”
Surely thus far, 28 years and still counting, we have sealed the envelope of idiocy. Let’s toast as it lasts.