Memories of Sosh, Horizon girls and transport money

My village ancestors have not been happy with me. They decided to confine me to the house this week on the pretext of healing. I observed the world from the lenses of the social apps. That is how I landed on a video of the Form Fours of St. Henry’s College Kitovu and Rubaga Girls. The two schools were holding a social function, aka Sosh, aka Prom party. It was the entrance that grabbed my attention.

Surely things have gotten inflationary over time. Contrary to the norm where the girls always arrive in a school bus, the girls arrived at Kitovu in a convoy of more than 40 sleek cars. The cheapest car on this convoy (which I understand was an anomaly) was some White Harrier. I wonder, will these boys even have a return function? But all for what? All for nyigos. The boys went all out to make a statement. The pressure is now on the Form Sixes, they cannot allow themselves to be outshined by these younglings. I already smell a helicopter somewhere, or some international musician. Do not joke with male egos.

Anyway, many years ago, the unfortunate happened to us at Kitovu. We became the first year to have a bull dance instead of a Sosh. You see, years before us, the Form Fours had hosted the Horizon Girls Campus to Sosh. The girls were a big contrast to the petite sizes that had been envisaged by these Masaka boys raised on posho, beans, ncereal and kata. While the Kitovu chaps fed on posho, the Horizon girls fed on chips, chicken, and burgers. In the subsequent school magazine, the Horizon girls came to be nicknamed ‘Jurassic Park.’

Poor us who came later had no idea that the girls had kept the vendetta. That one good time, the crimes of our fathers would be paid by us. Thus, we made the mistake of upgrading once again from the schools around Masaka to these Horizon girls. Everything was on plan. We even had the tag name #Sharizona. Sharizona was going to remake the history of sosh in Uganda. Back then, you had to have a Buzz event at your function. We had already activated these, and the function was slated for Saturday.

On Friday morning, our Sosh sponsor, aka Brother Luwaga (RIP), summoned us to an urgent meeting. Mbu the girls had switched off all their phones with a message from the head teacher. The message read; ‘we will not be able to come for Sosh.’ People, the pins dropped in Kitovu and could be heard as far as Nyendo, Lukaya and Kyazanga. It became as someone said, ‘the first moment in school history when a group of girls ate transport money and never turned up.’

But we were magnanimous gentlemen. We chose not to cancel the Sosh nor did we look for a backup. We chose to show up and have a proper men’s reunion. We enjoyed the bull dance. Okay, yours truly forged a sickness and went to nurse his heart break from home. Because I had over-prepared for my date, I had all the words to serenade her. Horizon girls banange, ani alibasonyiwa?

You see friends, that is why my heart has hardened over time. I fought battles as early as Form Four. Thanks to those girls who ate our transport money. But where are they now? It would be good to meet for a therapy session. We understand they were also healing from a past ill, but you do not heal by hurting others. (Okay it is not that serious!)

So back to the things around Kampala. Following from my walk around Kampala, I suspect I breathed in bad air. It could be from those public toilets at Constitutional Square or the taxis I used. Or the devil was not happy that on the same day, I visited both the National Mosque and Christ the King Church?

By the time you finish reading this, there is also a possibility that a friend who had convinced me to an Arua trip could get disappointed. The mind is willing, but the body is refusing that long journey. That Kampala crème should shootan episode nga one of them is flying from Kampala to Arua. Why have n’t the rich of Uganda (if they even exist), normalised things such as flying? They should motivate us. Because at this point, the rich in Kampala share in the same misery of the poor.

The only time the rich show a difference is with their sirens in that evening and morning jam. In other hours, you never hear those sirens. Why do they enjoy moving at commoners’ time? Mbu how will the commoners know that their Minister is back from work? People, I have also discovered that when it comes to money in Uganda, it is a social construct. All that matters is for people to believe that you have it. It is all in people’s minds. From now on, I identify as a Wealthy Tycoon with a ranch in Nyabushoozi. Okay commoners? Tenge Tenge!

Twitter: ortegatalks