Forgive me if Iam being over bearing here. Actually, I am breathless as I write this after a stiff chase trying to track down Maneno who had gone missing for the last couple of weeks.

You see, Maneno is not a crank, in the true meaning of that word, but sometimes he does cranky things that beats my understanding like this one you are about to read about.

I have just found out that some people are inexplicably difficult to pin down especially with regard to the things they do behind our backs. Did you for instance know that in each and every human constitution is a secret(s) one would prefer keeping locked in an inviolable metal safe and would like no one to know about it/them?

That's as true as the fact that you, reading this, are a product of certain efforts your parents made sometime back, hidden in some bedroom or a bush, sweating; some do. Talk about the mysteries in formation of human life. That time, a scientific metabolism got kicked into gear and wham, you came into existence.

Where we grew up, deep down there in the villages where freedom fighters would feel safe to start and fine tune their fighting gymnastics, we never knew, not until much later in the adult stages, what parents really do to manufacture children. In fact, it was considered a taboo for children to know these things which we later came to learn as very amusing and are a major pre-occupation of you, you and you.

It's in the same environs that Maneno became obsessed with the daily activities of fowls. Right from the time a mature cock jumps out of its holding pen at the dawn of a day, it crows in a voice heard over several hills to announce its masculinity and throw fear in the hens who panic nti 'ate lubadde..!'

That cock might peck here and there but will almost immediately start chasing around any hen(s) available for a few seconds' bonk.

Give it to the hens who, to ward off the assault, speed off in all directions making a helluva noise yet they know it's a futile attempt at escape.

But the determined cock knows that it will eventually outrun the hen, jump aboard it and, sinking its pike-like talons into the hen's body, compel the latter to expose her excuse of a pudenda into which the cock then dips its wick with a ferocity you use to dispose off a plate of matooke na nyama when you are hungry.

Throughout a waking day, a cock will repeat the chase, overpowering and ravishing all and any chicken it comes across.

The exercise stops at roosting time. Nedda ssebo. However sexually active cocks are, they never play sex when it's raining or even at night; quite unlike some of you who eat ekyeggulo, ekyomuttumbi, akokumakya and one for the road before you run out of the house to beat the incessant traffick jam to your work place.
    
Maneno is that tickled by the way cocks have field days in munching village chicken, with or without their permission, he at times wishes he was created a cock. Really! Stupid fellow he must be!

I recall one midmorning incident in the suburbs where I was renting accommodation on a row of mizigo. A male child aged about three was in the compound while his mother was inside the house doing chores.

Suddenly, the child started shouting at the top of his voice thus: "Maama,..maama, maama….." It was that eerie for the mother who rushed out the house thinking that something fatal had befallen her child.

But once at the front door, the mother jolted to a stop because indeed nothing at all was the matter with the child. She only saw that her son was dancing and jumping up and down in total glee as he watched a cock doing that jig jig only cocks know how to make after overpowering a hen.

A confounded mother looked on dumbfounded. Done with its couple of seconds bonk, the cock jumped off its ride. The hen fluffed its body as if to shake off dust and the cock's misdeed and may be also to declare to those around things like, "Nze sirina kyenkoze…" Seeing an end to the action, the excited boy cried, "Aaaagh, ejimaje…" The mother flew back into the house sincerely embarrassed.

Now, Maneno wanted to experiment at doing the very things a cock does in its waking day. When he told me about it, I warned him that Kayihura's boys would make meet of him accusing him of rape.

Quite undone, he insisted that somewhere,  there must be a place on this globe where a man can chase women into bushes or fields and 'eat' them without paying anything; after all, he argued, this currency of Kaguta son of Kaguta is so scarce and  he would need wheelbarrow-fulls of kisanja, I mean, akaja.

A bit concerned about Maneno's obsession, I remembered that somewhere in Karamoja district, there are still areas where a male can chase females over valleys and hills and feed on their pussies without anyone raising nduulu.

What's more, you do this without paying lodging fees or even paying anything to the women whom you can have as much as you want as long as your pelvis region has the drive to pump.

So, I have just caught up with Maneno who has spent over a week in Karamoja mbu on a mission to act out his obsessions. Did he attain his goal? Well, that's material for another time. But the way the fella looks, he is really worn out I have advised him to start eating molokonyi and drinking a good measure of its soup.
               
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