THE SOUND OF SILENCE.

The times are changing. Change is always upon us no matter what and inevitably we always realize that time has nothing in common with a tortoise. A cheetah may be, although I cannot claim with much confidence that the latter can levitate, later on take to the skies.

On one of those cold city mornings, in a congested suburb east of the capital, I lie in one of those single room shacks that go for a quarter million a month, albeit being the size and feel of a sheep pen. I am haphazardly strewn on the bed, time check is about 7.30 am and am beginning to squint my eyes, beseeching them to make love to the light. My sister on the other hand is on her way out being the early bird that she is. The previous night, she had brought my nephew along.
He is barely three years old my nephew. At that age however, he can operate a Tecno tablet with much ease, select a DVD of his choice, slide it into the player and skip, forward or eject when in need. I told you the times are changing.

When my nephew finally bids farewell to my sister, he issues several curt commands.
"Bring me Yorghut from the supermarket." he says.
"And cold soda plus crisps," he adds.

At the age of ten, I barely had an idea that a place called a supermarket exists. I would have probably sliced my tongue pronouncing a single word for dried pieces of fried Irish potatoes and I cannot certainly say that I had tasted an artificially frozen drink.

You see!

What I and my peers knew was the feel of cold stream water on our naked bodies as we took a dip in the afternoon sun, having slipped away from the garden, away from the watchful eyes of our parents. What we really knew then was the angelic taste of cold yellow sweet potatoes, consumed with a sugarless cup of concentrated milk, fresh from mother cow's udder. A typical meal was sweet potatoes (unpeeled and in their natural state) alone, and on a good day, accompanied with a thick sauce of green peas...

Hell, I did not own a phone until late into university. If you did watch the full Back to the Future trilogy, You have a slight idea of how I feel.

I am in no way envious of the current generation and their privileges. in fact, I would pay several drops of my ounce plasma to get back to the days when we were just as guileless as new born babes. The time when entertainment constituted of ancient stories around the fireside about ogres and mythical monsters (am not referring to Apocalypse or The Joker). To those times when we roasted fresh cobs of Ebikyoori, like giant marshmallows (i have no idea what the latter taste like, like I told you, the times are changing). Back then, stories of three year olds playing candy crush or Fast Racing were stories reserved for the English Bible. Back then, life was amazingly black and white... but not any more.

Nostalgia is bad for anyone, even an armature blogger. May bee that's why I should kick you out of my head and bid you adieu. i remain yours truly, the man that gives sound to silence.

OF OLD FRIENDS AND NEW TRENDS...

Lately, I may be mistaken for a workaholic... I always leave 'office' late in the night (if 21.00 hrs qualify for late night). It's not the case anyway, because the last half of my Customer Service Advisory training dictates that i start at 14.00 hrs, basically it's an afternoon shift.

Yesterday as I was leaving the aforementioned office, I bumped into an old friend, he is not an old friend really, campus was done two months ago and this guy is my best friend. Considering however that I had not seen him in ages, I had to stop. Here is how our  conversation usually goes;
Him; You guy, Wassup?
Me: Wassup you guy?
Him: S**t is tight
Me: s**t is tight
We usually repeat the above for about five minutes or so and it is really our ritual.
Anyway I bid farewell to two of my colleagues who I was moving with and headed to the opposite direction. He dropped his bag at the Club amnesia security and off we went to Greasy spoon. It is a great spot and often in my best of dreams, it is always three am as I saunter, half drunk, out of club Amnesia, head to greasy spoon and order a steaming plate of gravy, white rice and fries... Those are the times.

This time round I settled for a cold bottle of Krest bitter lemon. The night did not begin to get strange until I wanted to get home. I would naturally jump into a taxi but it was late and I was about to halt a Boda Boda when he told me to use Uber. You can imagine the shock that registered on my face. It's not that I do not know this Uber animal, it only had never occurred to me that I would at one time order an Uber and it gets me home. When I think about Uber, my mind flashes to the streets of New York or to the Kenny Reeves movie ( which I didn't complete by the way).

Anyway I downloaded the application after hours of honest conviction from him. He ventured to divulge the information that I would get a 'free ride' which I also didn't think I would use the same night... Then the water hit the fan... he went into my phone and set a pick up location as I looked on dumbfounded... then they sent a message to my phone...
'PAUL IS ON HIS WAY TO PICK YOU UP... HE IS DRIVING A TOYOTA PREMIO NUMBER BLAH BLAH..'

You don't know who is coming to pick me up?, I asked to which he nonchalantly replied with a blithe 'no'. Then I  knew I needed more than just prayers to get through. Paul did arrive and I did board the car but what amazed me was the comfort.  A very clean vehicle it was with Congolese ballads playing, and the interior smelled fresh. All the while however I was worried... my pocket weighed about twelve thousand shillings and had I exceeded the budget... Well I didn't because I actually did not pay a cent, the first ride being a free one. Ugandans and freebies are a match made in heaven.

The catch is, I can keep getting free rides if at all Santa can show up with a list of people to use the app under my persuasion. I am certainly not sure when I will get to use the service again but all I know is  my dreams just got a whole lot more comfortable....