It's with great sadness we in Maneno's world here and now reach out to you our countrymen, particularly those of you who lost their loved ones in the heartless bomb blasts that went off that black July 11.

True, a lot of ink has not been spared discussing the unfortunate events at Kyadondo Rugby Club and at the Ethiopian village hangout at Kabalagala. But still, this could not leave out yours faithfully to commiserate with the bereaved and  at least, if nothing else,  say, "Sorry."

 
It was in the heat of celebrating the end of the much hyped world cup play that we received the particularly bad news that hell had broken loose at home and that parts of the country were on fire courtesy of the blasts. What infamy!

   This is also the day we found that the meaning in the kiganda adage going like 'Amaziga g'ente, ly'essanyu lya malembo' at certain moments fails to register.

I mean, how could  sections of the population elsewhere in the world jubilate at such a sad moment in our country's history. Yet indeed the masterminds of the infamy are understood to have jubilated over the incident on the internet, so we heard.
 
Since returning home, we have registered that the population in the city and towns, as well as at hangouts where people occasionally gather, is on high security alert. From Maneno's world, our contribution to this necessary alertness is that the population should be as suspicious of their surroundings as much as possible.

In fact, it hurts nothing if the people become suspicious of their own shadows. The stakes at hand are that high and like certain tribesmen known to me say, "Ew'omuti baba baseka nga ew'omugumu bakaaba" roughly translated to mean that the much adored courageousness can sometimes be detrimental as compared to timidity.

  But despite the drawbacks, life has to go on, isn't it? This is why we as well as the other joy-seakers, will continue to visit happening places just for the heck of it. I mean, it serves no purpose to live a bottled-in  life just because out there some maniacs are on the loose ready to visit untimely death on the innocents. All we are saying  is that 'to hell with those who kill the body but have no power of  killing the soul.'

And, in tandem with that thinking, we have come across a few girls at a city club who have given us some ideas on how to go about the country's bereavement. Post teenagers they are but they have something you may or may not admire. In a nutshell, the girls say that where there is death, there also must be life.

Translated into clearer understanding this means that life should be recreated to fill the gap left by the dead.

If you are still not aboard, we can simplify it further for you to be that while some nationals are mourning their dead, others (obviously including you, the courageous sections of the bereaved) must do the needful-moan! And that's not being heartless to say the least.

Marble and co (the group of teenagers earlier mentioned) were brave in taking us through the ropes of what's at stake.

They told us: " Start with us and sex us; we are clean and you are free to do live broadcasts on us; impregnate us if you can." Now, certain things are difficult to believe unless you happen to be in the midst of it all. This is why you may be forgiven if you don't believe this.

Maneno, always one eager to 'eat things' on offer readily jumped aboard the girls' bandwagon. He surfed three of them in a single night and did he love the experience! Like he told me, "Ebyo ebyaana biringa taapu" meaning that the girls are owners of an el-nino of love juices.

A coward that I am, I have not participated in this experiment preferring to invite you, you and you to the party. Others have enlisted, so why not you?
Dick Dickson and four of his buddies are themselves already on the warpath surfing live the young bugirls on the block where they stay having convinced them of the need to recreate what the al-shabaab dogs of war robbed us of.

We have created cells in several towns and sections of the city where the willing and ready males are real busy making a meal and a mess of pussies. Naye, what has surprised us most is the truth that has surfaced from all this experiment. It's that the bugirls love to no limits being surfed by different pendulums even in a single day or night. And the moans!

Bwana I had never thought that  girls know moaning and really mean business while at it. I mean, like that dance-crazed boy who dances that 'Stamina' record and shows you that he is really at it, these bugirls wriggle their poor waists to great heights almost giving a new meaning to what my grandfather once told me long ago. He said, "While it's the men who chase women around for a lay in the lilies, it's the women who enjoy most the sex sessions."

I will not allow you to challenge the truth in that statement because I adored and trusted the wisdom of my old man more than I adore and trust yours. Just you don't forget: the campaign is on and it's codenamed "mourn and moan." So, let all of you the able-bodied, no, the penile-abled, rise to the occasion and do our country proud. You have our support and even the support of …….you have said it; it's the support of you know who; it's him who called upon us saying, Buli awali ekinnya simbawo omuti.
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