If I was asked to name ten things I love doing in this straying land, I would start by giving three in their order of priorities and they are: praising God, my mother and sourcing cultural diversity. Sorry if you thought I would also mention talking to you. Apportioning time to cover these and a string of a few others which includes reading and listening to lugambo, is that daunting that I would have loved to spend a minimum of 26 hours a day while awake but wapi, the hours of the day aren't so stretched.

It's because of the cultural pre-occupation that sometime back, and for no less than a full month, I found myself buried deep in the land of the Bamasaba engrossed in recording with my eyes the goings on as Gisu young men faced the knife to register themselves as having come of age.

Very brave people these fellows are if you were to watch live the traditional men doing all that cutting of the foreskins off the young men's very frightened penises followed by 'sharpening' of the blood-dripping penises. In doing this, the Bagisu are fulfilling what is asked in a song of that tribe when the songsters cry, plead or demand, "Senga omwaana afanane babawe" translated to mean circumcise the young man so that he may be like his father.

Preceding the final day of circumcising the hitherto uncircumcised is a frenzy of forceful dancing, drinking bouts of local potent gins, ululations that go on day and night a brief of which can make very interesting reading.

But in the modern age, a recording of the festivities on video would be worth the bother. Oh, nedda bambi! I had forgotten to mention that during this season, the girls and women execute fine shows of wriggling their waists making you believe that if you took one of them to bed, she could with ease wriggle off your excited penis and swallow it up with her kind of mouth which swallows the wild arrow-like spermatozoa and feels very happy about it like happens to you when hungry, you get lucky and are served eshaabwe, ekikomando, amaleewa n'akalo or matooke na nyama.

But that's not all. The time we were in Bugisuland for this cultural function, we saw females, both young and old, looking as if their senses had abandoned them. They looked real wild and were particularly happy and willing to be sexed to whatever lengths any willing penile owner would take them to. This went to remind me of tribeswomen in the western region who, when asked for that which mungu alimpa kwa bbule, say, "Omushizya tayangwa." 

At that time, a couple of years back, I was a proud owner of a very vibrant groin and an ever-ready-to-strike missile of penile muscle. Faced with the challenges of the festivities and the wild, no, very excited females who were daring you to 'dance me!,' I remember that for the time I was there, I at least gladly indulged six of them and happy that I always wore a sheath or else my gadget would have either atrophied or grown real fat courtesy of the feeding I subjected it to.

Linda Wesonga was an immediate post-teenager and one of the girls I met there who entertained my groin and fed me on a helping of sexual healing. No wonder I left Bugisu a very refreshed chap. When I accosted her, I found Linda to be very brave, shameless, a sex flaunter and one who could challenge a man to a fight. Because, I prefer my women to be stubborn, and never go for those who are shy about themselves, I took up Linda on her challenge talking to her without mincing my words that I liked her and was determined not to rest before I tasted the maleewa between her thighs.

When she heard this, Linda went off in a bout of loud laughter while holding tightly onto my right hand which she subsequently drove under her skirts inviting me to 'see' how hot her kathing was. You may wonder why Linda wanted me to see her kapussy with my hand but this is because when she learnt that I was a muganda by extraction, she recalled that famous saying in our language which goes like: "amaaso g'omuganda gali mu ngalo" meaning that when invited, a true muganda man will never kufubutukira things but will first knock on the door while also calling out a 'koodi'or a seeking for permission to enter or hit base al shabaab style.

Linda was the last girl I played the groin tangle with that time because when I met her, I liked to meet no other girl. What else? I think she also ensured that I never had the strength to seek further for other groin partners because, while I prided myself on showing her that nakulira ku kidima, she is the one who showed me that she had stamina and ssebo, could the kagirl dance?!

When I tried to borrow a leaf from the west and do a kacapizo on her, she warded my efforts off ordering me get inserted after which she executed a perfected kadido I feared I would get out of the confrontation penisless; and that's no joking.

Linda had several other attributes I admired about her. Her kathing was so tight you could not access her vestibule minus a proper lubrication; good thing is that she was gifted with a flow of love waters you only had to touch her where KIM ( a social writer elsewhere in this paper) once taught me to touch, and, eureka! Another thing, instead of 'crying' this 'maama nyabo' thing I was used to, this girl would only giggle as if she was making a statement that instead of wrecking havoc inside her hole of understanding, I was merely tickling her. I had never, and since then, I have never met Linda's kind in matters of the sexexcercise.

Indeed, as some tribesmen here are known to say, "okutambula kulaba, okudda kunyumya."
(As related to us by Eric Magandaazi)
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