The silver lining on the Uganda Cranes’ dark cloud of defeat is that since our exit, peak-hour traffic jam has eased quicker than the pain of a stubbed toe. Previously, the sheer volume of football fans bottle-necking the suburbs neighboring the Mandela Stadium on match days felt like the wildebeest migration in the Serengeti. That’s not to mention the gridlocks which would’ve made driving in Manila seem like a relaxing countryside cruise.

The Razor Wire Vault combines pole vaulting with a touch of survival instinct. Athletes are required to successfully clear 8-foot-tall razor wire obstacles using a wooden pole, while evading a rifle-wielding antagonist. Whereas the Teargas Dash is particular on physical requirements for enrollment, Razor Wire Vault cuts across. Yeah, you bet that damn razor wire will cut right across your flesh!

Unlike before, where you dealt directly with a sunbaked traffic officer who hadn’t had a sensible meal the entire day, you’ll no longer be able to haggle or negotiate your way out of a speeding ticket with the promise of lunch for him. You’ll henceforth be dealing with the Intelligent Transport Monitoring System (ITMS) and its multitude of hawk-eyed cameras.

The authorities, in a moment of sheer disbelief, and perhaps afraid that the monkey pox scourge would have a field day, had to close the store due to overcrowding. But that’s the sugarcoated mainstream version of the story. The backstory is that the irate local traders and manufacturers whipped up some high-end African voodoo—proudly sponsored by the top-notch services of a Nigerian witchcraft merchant—in a bid to destabilize their Chinese competitor. And from the looks of it, the African ancestors are working overtime.

After a decade-long illustrious career, Joshua Cheptegei hangs up his boots gloriously at the tender age of 27. That might be more inspiring than the entire contingent of 500-plus leeches—commonly known as MPs—and a half-century-old shipwreck government of seniles that seem to be allergic to retirement.

As diplomatic tensions rise between the two nations, we’re left wondering whether the UK will eventually invite the Ugandan government to talk through the matter at a good-old English tea party, complete with delightfully baked cream and jam scones; or maybe—just maybe—Uganda will invite the UK government to a rolex fest at State House, Entebbe, where they’ll have a polite conversation and tactfully resolve their differences!

At its most basic level, love is an intense feeling of affection. On the other end of the spectrum, it’s that overwhelming feeling of rejection that’s sure to leave your sanity hanging by a thread. If, like myself, you’re watching from the sidelines, Valentine’s day is the vehicle that will take you on a grand tour across both ranges.

My major problem with the visitors came during meal time. You know that point when the guest wants an additional serving of chicken, but there’s none left in the dish, yet there’s a piece on your plate? You, my friend, had to involuntarily sacrifice that juicy chicken wing!

Postcolonial Africa has largely been the playground for the western world in the aspect of scrambling for, partitioning and exploitation of the continent’s vast natural resources at the expense of its citizens. With the emphatic arrival of the West’s nemeses, Russia and China, at the poker table, the landscape may have been altered for the better.

I have great confidence that, henceforth, there will be more billionaires joining Elon Musk in exploring the vastness of outer space than there will be that dare to even board their own super yachts, lest the ghosts of the Titanic invite them to dinner without warning!

Henceforth, the Ministers will naturally be inclined to splash cash at their bodyguards without stopping to count; and will regularly tell their protectors how they’ll always love them. Also, like their masters’ little brats, the bodyguards’ kids can now finally relish a sausage fest at every breakfast and enjoy freshly-baked bread with Nutella spread on one side and orange marmalade on the other.

In this game, you emerge winner only and only if at the end of the day your vehicle’s suspension didn’t get wrecked. Or, if you didn’t meet and greet an on-coming car, head-on. Or, if you were lucky enough not to miscalculate and plunge into a roadside trench along with the Boda-Boda rider you ploughed into. Or all of the above!

That said, as a rule of thumb, whenever insects are dragged into any discourse in Uganda, it’s important to realize that money has either changed hands or is about to! Explains why when the story about some lad selling grasshoppers on an airplane emerged, my suspicions quickly heightened. In this nature of situation, the insects are usually scapegoats! Never mind the irony!