I am on top of the world!!

If you are on top of the world, do you have to come down off the top in order to climb back up again? If you shoot for the stars and hit them, are there no more stars to hit?

Ever since I was little, people have talked about deciding what to do with your life. Back then it was – when I grow up, I want to be this or that. When I actually grew up, I even calculated how much money I needed to be able to “retire”. Then guess what? I actually became what I had always wanted to be and I even saved up enough to be able to decamp from the rat race. This was at age 32.

At the time, I told people that I had achieved self-actualization. Their reaction was to treat me with superciliousness. Reminded how no one knew who I was etc. There was much celebration when a few years later I said that I now had a new goal in life. A friend of mine told me that if I had really self-actualized previously then I would not have a new goal. But I disagreed and Maslow and his hierarchy of needs suffered defenestration.

Why do I have to do just one thing with my life? Why does doing all sorts of different things get looked at as searching for the one thing? Why does it have to be ONE thing?

I have always been able to identify patterns easily. I found that to quickly get a woman to bed, you had to make sure all her other needs or desires were satisfied. But this is not about her needs for all time. It is about her needs at that time. That means that what satisfied today may not satisfy tomorrow. For those still obdurate apropos Maslow’s pyramid, think of it as having to get to the top of the pyramid every time. So today she has no money problems, she is not hungry and is in a good mood. In that case all you have to do is make her feel respected. But tomorrow she suddenly has money problems that may impact her mood, but her boss was nice to her and so she feels really respected. So then you have to satisfy a different need.

Over 10 years ago, I found true happiness being able to come home everyday to this particular woman. Once my class and, later, my shift ended, I felt the excitement fill my heart at the prospect of seeing her face and hearing her voice. So every evening as I closed the back gate and she looked down at me from the bedroom window, I hit a star. Then I married her and we had a child, hitting several stars. This was now a new level of happiness.

In the meanwhile I was being paid well to be a programmer. I had wanted to be a programmer for a long time. I had even threatened to kill myself if my sisters did not let me use my inheritance to pay for my software engineering education. I remember how happy I felt when I paid the tuition. I had no money to my name immediately after that point but I was walking around like I was the richest man in the world. The happiness I felt when I finally found a job at McDonald’s was on another level. Then I came back to Uganda and my code was impacting real lives. The sense of fulfillment that brought was immense.

There is a long line of teachers in my family. My paternal grandparents and my parents were teachers. It is my destiny and desire to work in academia. While I was still being fulfilled as a programmer I got several opportunities to teach. When my name first appeared on a research paper, I cried. I cried because the joy overflowed. Then I was at Oxford University coaching doctoral students of Biomedical Engineering… If only my parents were alive to see that. My daddy used to brag in the bar about the secondary school I was in, am sure he would have taken out a TV advertisement about my stint in Oxford. Just that thought brings tears to my eyes. How many times can a person be on top of the world?

I have been truly blessed in my life. I had a box of cigars from Cuba that I used to turn to every time I was feeling on top of the world. That box had 10 cigars and eventually run out about 3 years ago. But the happiness is still coming.

It is my contention that in my life, I will continue to find happiness in many different ways. That is why shooting for the stars appeals more than Maslow’s pyramid. The universe is never ending. When you hit the stars, there are still more stars to hit in a galaxy far, far away.

So what is my purpose in life? What I can say is, its not just ONE thing. It has been many things. And I know many more are yet to come. Join me and lets count our blessings. Let us stop and smell the coffee. We have many lives to lead.

Am I a racist?

Right now I am in Istanbul Turkey on a consulting gig. I travelled here with a few of my Indian brothers and we are staying in a pretty posh neighborhood in Bostanci. So yesterday after working all morning and some of the afternoon, my Indian brothers and I decided to go out for lunch nearby. We did a search on Google and we decided on a Mexican restaurant called Ranchero. So we layer up and walk over. As soon as we stepped inside a waiter came rushing over to us shaking his head vigorously and showing us back to the door. The only English word he said was closed. But that cannot be true because even as we were being ejected other people were coming in and not all the tables were full either; and none of them was marked as reserved.

So I made 2 conclusions. One is that the waiter racially profiled us and determined that we would be ordering vegetarian options and those were not available. Or 2 that he just did not like the look of us. In both cases there is a tinge of racism.

What scares me is that I was not in the least bit offended. I was more irritated that we had to go back out into the cold and find another restaurant and thus lose time that we could have spent working. There is something definitely wrong with me because this is not the 1st time I have reacted like this to racism. I was on a bus in London when an old drunk man started making some racists remarks in my direction. I only realised I should be offended when the nice old lady seated next to me complained on my behalf. Then the driver threw the geezer off the bus. I remember being irritated by the fact that the bus driver stopped for a long time to throw the guy off and I would probably miss my train.

Many times I read the stories of alleged racism and I wonder what the fuss is about. I wonder why Luis Suarez was banned, I wonder why Yaya Toure called in the police. I can understand why my friend Henry Lukenge called in the police. This behavior made him miss his bus and that is just not right.

So what is wrong with me? And what impact will my attitude have on me and others? Does it mean I am racist too? I do know that I am prejudiced and I do perpetuate most stereotypes. But I also know that I posses empathy. As such, I always try to put myself in the other person's shoes.

That guy at Ranchero may be knew that he basically has racist regular clients, who may make our experience in his restaurant uncomfortable. So I should understand that calling the police on the guy will probably mean him losing his job and yet he threw us out for our own good. I actually have a racist friend (lol - that just sounds like "... some of my best friends are racists ...") that I always try not to subject to the company of white people as it would be unpleasant for all of us.

That chap on the bus was struggling to find work and had become an alcoholic and may be his job had been taken by a black educated man like me. Its probably easier to tell him to shape up, but as a humanist, I think its not right for me to be upset with him. I should instead feel sorry for him, rather than add to his problems by getting him thrown off the bus or calling the police. And lets us not forget the risk of missing my train.

But still, I wonder if there is something wrong with me...

Who is in charge of your destiny

So recently I read this article and I was totally appalled. For those of you who do not want to read it, I will summarize it for you. The author is basically complaining that he is not revered, and has thus not prospered, despite being above 65% of people in his skills, knowledge and integrity. He attributes this to the fact that with the majority of people being mediocre (in a place he calls the safe middle – 40% to 60%), they prefer to expend their energy on ridiculing him and trying to pull him down to their level so as to feel good about themselves. He was prompted to cry out when @cobbo3, a person he thinks is enlightened and sophisticated, made some comments that seemed to suggest he agreed with the status the world accorded @TimKalyegira. The thing that really got me was when he claims he has been denied so many opportunities that others less talented or less educated or less innovative than him are getting.

I am a big fan of football and many times people have used the expression the table does not lie. This is in reference to the league table and the fact that every team deserves to be where they are in the table at that time. So that guy @TimKalyegira is suffering because he chose a certain path. Other people chose a different path and it worked out for them. He cannot seriously expect the rest of the world to lift a finger to make things work out for him just because they recognize his excellence. We are all trying to get ahead, so it is only logical that some of our actions in trying to get ahead end up pulling others down.

Think about a mid-table team. No real prospects of continental football and no danger of being relegated. According to @TimKalyegira, when that team plays a team fighting for the title, they should simply lay down and loose the game. If that team, because of a natural desire not to loose, actually goes ahead and wins that game or even just gets a draw (night mares of @CPFC vs @LFC in 2013/2014 season), then @TimKalyegira sees that as the mediocre hating on the exceptional.

I consider it the height of arrogance when people insinuate that the world owes them something. I think @TimKalyegira is being self-centered when he asserts that the world should accord him a status higher than where he finds himself. Rather than wait for the world to accord him status, I think @TimKalyegira should take inspiration from other exceptional people, like Steve Jobs and Albert Einstein, and actually take action that will force the world to accord him his desired status. Nearer to home, @KagutaMuseveni went to the bush to ensure he was where he felt he deserved to be (all that other stuff about doing it for the good of Ugandans is hogwash in my view).

We are all selfish beings. We all expend a lot of energy to get to selfish ends. The sooner we realize that our neighbor is just trying to make it better for himself, rather than worse for us, the sooner we shall adjust our strategies to create win-win situations that will make other people our engines, helping us to get to where we want to be; rather than our anchors, slowing us down.

Which is your favorite child?

So I have 3 kids. I have been worried about the middle child feeling neglected and somehow being permanently affected by that. I am also a middle child of 3. I was not affected by middle child syndrome because I am an only boy. But my kids are all girls, so no chance of gender favoritism to help me out.

To guide me I mostly have my experience watching my parents raising us. I remember growing up; I felt that my sister’s got more attention than I did. My dad seemed so in awe of my elder sister and then of course he dotted on the baby. I just kept getting told how a boy or a man was supposed to behave. My mum on the other hand was neutral. If you messed up you got the treatment. It did not matter if you were the middle child or the baby. She was somehow also able to give everyone equal special treatment.

Then I watched the Carmicheal and Shane video. It was a very thought affirming video for me. As an allegory on life, it is brilliant. But I find that it is relevant for my dilemma too. The solution for me is to choose the middle child.

From the video the advice is to try and figure out which of the kids is more likely to make it and back that one. But I believe all my kids will make it. However the middle child is likely to fall through the cracks if I do not make a conscious effort to help her succeed.

So when I get into the house, I walk to the middle child and sit with her. When I get into their room to read a bedtime story I sit on her bed and read it from there. If I have a profile picture that is not the 3 of them, it will be just her.

But before you shoot me for favoritism, let me explain. Think about this as affirmative action rather than favoritism. Its like giving the plant in the shade extra fertilizer. It’s like putting an extra line in your advertisement saying, “Female candidates are encouraged to apply”. My middle child is getting preferential treatment because she has a natural disadvantage from being born in the middle.

I am not an idiot.

Beer ni bora!!

It is a warm Friday night. It was very hot during the day and I am grateful for the well-chilled Nile Gold provided by the dreadlocked waiter at Old Timers' bar. It is actually difficult to take the bottle off my lips as the beer tastes sooo gooood. 3 bottles later in walk these 3 skinny ladies in matching green outfits. One of them has a behind that cannot be real for sure. It has only been 3 bottles of Nile Gold so I cannot be seeing things yet.

Probably because I am staring so hard at her, she approaches just as I open a fresh Nile Gold. 

The conversation:

She says: Hi

He says: Well hello!

She says: My name is Heve and I wanted to talk to you about Heineken

He says: Very good Heve please go ahead

She says: Heineken is a very tasty international beer that will apply to your sense of style If you drink it you will feel international and tonight we have it at the promotional price of only 6k.

He says: (while looking around for hidden cameras because this is obviously a prank) but Heve, please explain to me why I would leave my perfectly chilled Malt sold at 4k and buy your pale lager at 6k?

She says: (obviously stunned by my technical approach, resorts to smiling and brushing the add-on to my leg and in so doing confirming to me that it is an add-on) Heineken is international and once you take it, you will realize that Nile Gold is so local

(so much for my vaunted sense of style then)

He says: I am sorry Heve, but I only drink Malts and your add-on bum is crooked. Are you lame? May be you should get rid of your international bum and foreign name and try a local home grown variety. I personally find them a lot more attractive.

She says: (Walks quickly to the bathroom to adjust add-on)

He says: Beer ni bora.

These Heineken people should really give these ladies better ammunition.  Who cares about feeling international when drinking beer? Certainly not the patrons of Old Timers' bar. Who is going to abandon the beer he loves and pay and extra 2k for a beer whose morning after he is not sure about? And skimpily clad ladies with artificial appendages will not make me give up my trusted malt for Heineken.

The Gods of Football

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So she asked a set of very weird questions at the end of the world cup 2014 final. “Why has Messi got a trophy when he his team has just lost?” “Why is Messi not happy when he has just got a trophy?” “I thought Messi was the best player in the world, how come he did not win the game?”

Now where to begin my darling…

Human beings have a strong desire to deify. A Ugandan woman who did not think she was horny, but who gets an orgasm from a man suddenly starts to worship that man. A football loving man who experiences pleasure as an Argentine man glides past his fellow professionals and scores a spectacular goal, will instantly label the Argentine a footballing god.

Please allow me to explain the god credentials of these footballers.

Consider Neymar, the star of the Brazilian side. The entire country’s hopes rested on his shoulders. One more straw would literally be the only extra weight needed to break this camel’s back. So imagine instead what effect a 75kg Columbian would have. The fact that Neymar only broke one bone in his back is evidence enough that he is a god. But since you want more evidence, please look at how they collapsed once he was out. Before they met Germany in the semi-final Neymar dazzled most teams and got rough treatment in return. Because they so worshiped him, his teammates responded by employing some rough tactics of their own on the opposition. That is what we call inspiration.

Now there is this chap nicknamed El Pistolero. True he has quite a reputation as a gunslinger, but he rose to almighty status once the British media decided to make an enemy of him. As happens, the universe decided that Uruguay would play England in the group stages of the world cup. Then Suarez got injured and from that point on the British media went to great lengths to portray him as a paraplegic who would be lucky to ever walk again. The entire British nation, including their silly football team believed the lie. I call them silly because some of them are friends and teammates of Suarez at Liverpool and should really have known better. So the match itself was like that movie The Usual Suspects. Jagielka, Stevie G and Hart were very generous as usual. And the genius mastermind was the ‘crippled’ Suarez. The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was deceive the world that he did not exist. Only in this case the devil was the British press and they were left screaming … Keyser Söze!!! And they were not the only ones. Italy also soon discovered that in Suarez, Uruguay had a player ready to fight TOOTH and nail.

When we were growing up as kids, no one liked to play in goal when we played football. So usually the fattest least mobile kid ended up there. This was fine for normal play, but as soon as a penalty was awarded suddenly everyone on the team that conceded it would scream “CHANGE KEEPER!” So I was not surprised when just before the end of extra time in the match between Holland and Costa Rica the coach Luis Van Gaal replaced his keeper. What was surprising was that for doing something that kids everywhere in Uganda do, he was declared a god by pundits the world over. Forget that he failed to win the game in regular time but spare a thought for the poor Costa Ricans for whom the antics of the dutch keeper Tim were a Krul end to their world cup.

Talking about Dutch penalties, there was that one at the end of the game against Mexico. Jose Mourinho declared him the god of the dive, but Arjen Robben is a joy to watch when running with the ball at his feet. In the final minute of added on time, Robben raced into the box slaloming defenders like a downhill ski champ. He was having so much fun that he almost failed to notice the byline fast approaching. Noticing it in the nick of time, he stopped and attempted to ski uphill. Waiting for him was Mexican captain Rafael Marqueze who stuck out his big toe in an attempt to nick the ball. The next thing the world knew, Robben had collapsed in a heap and Huntelar buried the penalty that sunk Mexico. The inquest into that Dutch penalty will continue for a long time but here is what I have discovered so far. Robben takes a step to steady himself after the alleged contact but then he gets shot by the 2nd shooter on the grassy knoll; flying into the air like a redbull sky diver. That stuff gives you wings.

Back to the questions asked earlier. Unlike all the gods I have talked about above, Messi is like a proper big God (ignore his midget frame). The whole world believed he would stand up against the efficient German machine and lead his country to the Promised Land. So he was given the golden ball in recognition of his majesty. He was not happy because as a big God, it was annoying to be done by Super Mario, whose only claim to fame was as a video game character on old Nintendo machines.

But Messi should be consoled that even the one true God makes mistakes sometimes and messes things up. I am sure there will be a rainbow in Argentina for the whole week.

When I looked over I noticed She had dozed on during my monologue.

Lately I am having trouble sleeping

This week I have had trouble sleeping despite feeling extra tired every night. Regularly at 7pm having dinner, watching TV and the head starts to feel heavy. I can barely keep my eyes open and yet when I get into bed I am tossing and turning. I am struggling with the constant compromise between thinking and breathing.

It started on Sunday after Liverpool beat Manchester City in the most dramatic of fashion.

You see on Saturday as I walked through Rosebank Mall I was accosted by a white man. Yes, a white man run towards a black man in a crowded mall shouting “JUSTICE”, at the top of his voice. The problem you see is that I was wearing my Liverpool replica shirt and he happens to be a Hillsborough survivor. This week marks 25 years since 96 people went off to watch a football match and never came back.

But he did not let on right away that he was a survivor as he put his hand around my shoulder and started to lecture me about the history of the club that is Liverpool Football Club. He informed me of how when the club was just formed 13 of their players were called up to fight the Boer war for the British. How they chose to play a game against Leicester City before departing and they ended up missing the ship to South Africa. How they then had to take a ferry cross the Mersey to catch the ship. They sailed to South Africa and had to walk inland for days to catch up with the Boers. Arriving in a place called Spioenkop tired and hungry and were promptly ordered to take a nearby hill. They all died on that hill. Their cremated remains and the blood soaked sand from that hill were used to build the famous Spion Kop at Anfield.

Meanwhile a small crowd, attracted by the initial fracas, had gathered around us. Someone in the crowd started tugging at my new Samsung Galaxy Grand Quattro (my precious old one had been snatched from my hands on the streets of Kampala). I held firm, but I later learned he wanted to record the scene for me.I need to start being more trusting perhaps. But imagine this black man in South Africa surrounded by all these white people gawking.

As I watched Liverpool crumble in the early part of the second half of the game at Sunday lunchtime, I could not help but wonder if the players were feeling the effects of not having eaten lunch. I then remembered those poor sods that died, tired and hungry on that hill in Spioenkop. I found myself singing that famous song about dreams being tossed and blown in the wind and how we strangely were not walking alone; as I too was hungry (unable to eat before the game due to some very playful butterflies in my belly). Then Vincent Kompany sliced his clearance and Philippe Coutinho swung his right leg at the ball.

So yes, I am having trouble sleeping.

My time in South Africa is coming to an end. Could it be am suffering because I now associate this place with inspirational good memories? I don’t want to say that am falling in love. I hate the weather that causes temperatures to drop below 10 degrees Celsius in the mornings and evenings. I hate that my wife and my kids, the wonder girls, are not here with me. 

But I love my work mates. I love how a bunch of us goes out to the Great Dane or Kitcheners to drink most days. I love how they never let me win any arguments. I love how they are always asking the question why. I love how cosmopolitan and multicultural the office is. I love that South African women are prudish in public but every bit as Zuma described when he discovered that hot showers could prevent HIV infection. But I wont say am falling in love with Jozy.

I think I am going to need therapy when I return to Kampala.

When Coutinho swung his leg on Sunday and scored, I jumped out of the sofa with a star jump. My legs hit the coffee table so hard that I have been unable to wear shoes since.  As such I was unable to control my landing and ended up slamming my back into the arm of the sofa. As such it hurts when I take a deep breath, laugh or move my back in anyway. Obviously sleeping is uncomfortable…

Hang on...

I am having trouble sleeping…