It’s an African thing to take visiting foreign dignitaries to our homes

I was minding my business near Jinja-Kamuli highway when I saw traffic cops swing into action. They were acting so busy I thought a bigger person, that our President, was going to bless our good road.
Like a typical fellow from this side of the planet, I abandoned everything and ran to the roadside, competing with everyone else to arrive first out there. But I wasn’t the first, nor were those from my muzigo plot. The roadside was lined with all tribes of people.
Usually, some fellows would start by asking what was going on, but I decided to just find myself a vantage point and were perched in a way that… you know that posture where your legs and thigh form capital letter M while your thigh and butts shape up into a V that even the creators of the English alphabet would be envious of?
I completed it all by hanging my head on my palms with the elbows resting on the knees. Thinking of it now, it reminded me of those days of wading the dew early morning to squat and do serious push-and-groan business in the bush.
After a while, a white double cabin police lead car zoomed past with sirens and lights flashing. “Batuuse!” shouted a woman nearby. After two more police cars, buses with words that read like “Commonwealth Parliament” started speeding past.
I couldn’t believe it. I had abandoned everything to see a big man waving to me but now I was seeing buses whose occupants I couldn’t even have a glimpse of. What a waste! A big man waving would have at least reminded me that I have built enough castles in the air to be that big man or bigger.
It was only while cursing my day’s luck and getting up to return that I realised I was parading myself in my black boxers and a white vest. See, I had been washing my feet and brushing ekyankya (those cracks on the heels) ahead of a bath when the melee happened.
I still don’t know whether to forgive our Speaker who brought these buses and its passengers who couldn’t even wave at us or to just continue cursing myself for being so easy a bait as to fall for a police siren and people running about. Imagine there was NTV crew in the convoy of vehicles, what if Josephine Karungi – don’t ask if she even knows me, she is my fan – recognised me in that state?
Anyway, I have made peace with myself because I haven’t read a post about a blogger seen in his boxers on the Jinja-Kamuli highway. Or maybe they imagined I was from an early mu-summer burning leg hair in oversized boxers? Or it is that the keyboard warriors have focused on why foreign delegations are taken to Kamuli?
You should see them lift the hems of their skirts and jerk like malfunctioning timer belt of an Ipsum car as they go nyenyenyenye! It’s as if a few visiting MPs climbing a hill in Kamuli would make the sun rise from Kanungu.
Suddenly, everyone has become an expert on tourism, discussing where the visiting Commonwealth MPs should have been taken instead of Kigulu or whatever hills. Funny enough, majority of the folks recommend sites at their own heritage.
This is so Ugandan. What chance that if given clout they wouldn’t do what we are seeing? The self-confessed Leopard has been taking bigger visitors to his farms and home to show them cows but no one ever complains.
Maybe we should all encourage our political leaders to bring foreign visitors instead of going to the UN to pull money heists. They can take the visitors to mount whatever small hills exists in their village.
At least we haven’t heard that any of them is taking visiting dignitaries to tour their bedrooms.
The day I overpower the small angry gods standing in my way of becoming president, I will also take dignitaries to tour the forgotten Nebbi where they will learn the culinary delights of angara and how salting fish is better than freezing them and adding to the burden of global warming.