It finally came to an end on July 11, 2010: the much hyped prestigious world soccer tournament that attracted about 2 billion viewers who either directly traveled to Madibaland or watched it from the comfort of their homes.

The one that switches me on is the TV ad in which a man and his countless offsprings squeeze on a small wooden bench to watch Ghana score, and, enraged,  his wife asks whether they would only "eat football".
She also squeezes her bulky 'boot' on the wobbly bench and it tumbles under sheer weight, forcing the occupants to the ground, as soon as Ghana scores.

What would one say? It was a successful tournament, organised to utmost satisfaction with stadia embellished with the most artful touch and tone of architectural design: gifted hands!

Jacob Zuma rests well-assured that the billions of Rand did the job: high-tech stadia, hotel and recreation facilitates and the general infrastructure to international sophistry.

(Would it rub him in if, with jest, I added that he fathered his 20th offspring with a daughter of his closest friend by the time of this world cup?)

Have it Madiba!
He won the bidding, four years ago, to bring the World Title Fight to African soil, for the very first time in the history of creation.

He couldn't hide the ecstasy when his wish was granted by Fifa.

The world honoured Madiba for his statesmanship and selfless struggle that would see him spend 28 years on Roben Island.

He has stood for racial equality and dignity, broken bread with his former tormentors and sealed off that cruel history.

A world Cup tournament by Fifa to his memory is but a humble gesture that Mandela will add to his list of accolades, in his twilight hours.

He can now comfortably rest in his quiet life, having seen it all- the gruesome and then the beautiful. Happy 92nd BirthDay, Great Madida!

Of course we can't blame them for failing to take us to the trophy: The Black Stars.

Theirs was a commendable job against the obscure Central Americans (Uruguay) that fluked their way into the semis in the dying minutes of the game.

We can't wish away the curses of our fellow black brethren who had thought that Africa's moment had come to lift the golden trophy.

But, it was just a game; a landmark achievement had been registered and witnessed on the once Dark Continent.

By far it is the second historical feat to the black race, after the election of Barrack Obama to the Oval Office.

With or without the trophy, Africa wins in every respect.

Octopus  Genius
That an octopus predicted the outcomes of each game of The World Cup with utmost accuracy is a wonder of the century.

I bet the 'witch' who introduced the octopus idea this time round must be cushioning himself with enough dollars to take him all through decade-in and decade-out.

Talk of using what you have to "okulembeka" (tap wealth)!
That said, the Octopus Genius lends me a good money minting idea too.

With elections around the corner, and with each political animal (of course apart from the Kabaka) making haste to secure their political survival, the octopus could come in handy.

Our politicians, from the high table, are of a type who subscribe to superstition.

Here is how it would work: I would charge some Shs 50 million for reach prediction.

 And from our whopping number of 333 honourables, this would translate into an astronomical Shs 16,650,000,000 (sixteen billion six hundred and fifty million Kaguta shillings).
 
The only issue is that I would have to contend with various politicians in courts of law incase the final election result didn't tally with the initial prediction.

This would call for rigorous training of the octopus so that it does a thorough job, just like the World Cup octopus.

I think I would also need to sign an agreement with the 'clients' stating that incase things didn't work out as expected, no one would hold me responsible for their misfortune.

Alas, the octopus could trigger panic and alarm among the politicians. The expected could ultimately happen: steal the damn octopus!

Doomsday! Doomsday! Doomsday!
As we were celebrating the close of World Cup, the African way, some agents of hell visited death on us, killing about 100 people.

Al-shabaab, a terrorist outfit operating in Somalia and the Horn of Africa claims responsibility to the bomb- blasts. Al-shabaab draws fighters from Afghanistan, Iraq and Palestine.

They're not just ordinary Somalis. At least the suicide bombers had warned us before that they would attack us, and our security system seemed all-aware of this looming doom.

Uganda pays the price for its involvement in Somalia.

We went against conventional wisdom, and insisted on going to "keep peace", which peace didn't exist in the first place.

By his admission, the Chief Policeman contends that the terrorists took advantage of the laxity of our security system to pass unnoticed and wrought death.

As we mourn our losses and loved ones, this should serve as curtain-raiser to our security system that they shouldn't leave anything to chance.

Social gatherings such as churches and mosques should be subjected to rigorous scrutiny.

Imagine if a terrorist slipped in church, with bomb in pocket, how many people would he take along with him? Doomsday!

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