People who have a hobby of traveling to different, mostly new, locations or sites, tend not to be limited by regaling accounts.

And, that's why the tribesmen known to me are right when they say 'okutambula kulaba, okudda kunyumya' except that this saying, like many similar ones in that language, has a rib-breaking finishing sex-oriented phrasing, many don't know about.

The first term holidays for school-going children are running out which is why, maybe, the affected holiday makers are vying against all odds to outdo each other by enjoying the last days of the season to maximum limits.

Have you seen them at happening places in the evenings or at beachfronts during day time? If you haven't, maybe you have seen some of the photographs in the brazen papers showing these teenagers going beserk at making merry.

For us who like to see things first hand rather than listen to lugambo some of which might even be lies, we are always on the look out for interesting rendeavous where people who know how to eat bulamu frequent.

You know, if you like to be close to miserable people you don't seek these out at say a funeral. Nedda ssebo, because, apart from a collection of burials these days where people kulasa kaboozi and run into guffaws, a burial is supposed to be an occasion fit for somber moods as you celebrate the passing of a person.

And of course if you want to see live human body parts on display, you don't go to a mosque or a church; no, you go to a party, a street carnival, a musical gala, a night club, may be a wedding, a get together but definitely not to a state function where their excellencies will be or one where the Kabaka is expected.

So, what am I driving at; you may be wondering. Well, patience remains the name of the game. Even certain tribesmen are known to say that okufubutukira ebintu osobola okujjula ebitayidde and by that they mean that if you are a man and you have an excuse of a penis, lwaki owujja akaseppiki kange?    

Okay, okay, back to business! It was this time, last weekend to be exact, when we landed a private invite to the Ganja republic for a very exclusive do where we were promised that those in attendance will be free to let down their clothing.

The meaning of that is simple; it's that if you had never seen human bodies dorning Adam's suit, that was the event to attend. Secondly, we were promised to eat ekikomando prepared by chefs who are ganja planters who had done it with a mixture of the ganja plant itself fresh from the garden where it's grown.

All that sounds wicked but to hell with it; certain things need to be experienced just like someone once tried to coax us into drinking beer because, he said, in heaven there is no beer that's why we have to drink it here. We disagreed with him and he had to give in but with an injured ego.

 Haa, ssebo, I would run out of space if I related here even half of what we were taken through that weekend while in the republic. True, a host of things may not fit to be mentioned in these columns but let's have a sampling of the not too frightening ones.

Well, almost all the wannabbe youths and wazee wa kazi (grown ups who don't behave their age) were there with everyone doing his/her thing. We saw wankers, real weird pussy pushers high on weed and tribes of spirits.

Without fear of being misquoted, Maneno tells me that he bumped into a group of girls who, when asked, considered it normal to pull down their g-strings, do a petulant workout on their pudenda which they had on show and, Maneno swears, you could see smiling v-monologues in different stages of excitement.

Forget the jinxed aged females who, Maneno tells me, like to say that all women are the same. Nedda ssebo. Mbu, when it comes to their rivers between, and especially to their tunnels of understanding, they are as different as a hawk is from a hen.

In the course of that weekend, we saw red-eyed young men and women with a wild and glassy look in their eyes, who had no compunction at cunnilingusing or fellating each other in public.

You only had to move around the cordoned off compound to hear or actually see couples or groups of people in a hissing frenzy while others cursed the sweet wild sensations sexual healing was wracking in their bodies.

Many could be heard swearing "Jah bless" as their bodies shot away love juices either manually exacted or coaxed courtesy of manipulations of their consorts of the moment. Aaagh, the things men do!

This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it blog comments powered by Disqus

< Prev		Next >