Well it was that season again when Kampalaese get out the blankets and bring life to the statement, “…the green grass will be our bed.” From all legions of life they convoke in the lush greenery comprised in the gardens of the Uganda Museum.
As is custom, my sourjourn to Wines and Blankets, on a Sunday for wild and strange adventures, is laced with muttered ineffectual murmurings. A heavy head with a hangover enough for the fabled three men on a dead man”s chest. But I know that he frown of a goat will not stop it being taken to the
Ho ho ho and a bottle of wine. The costumes were wide and varied demonstrating an unparalleled industry and creativity.
The oral delights commenced with sone chappie who I cannot recall; not even if that recollection would save a dying grand mother or a wing man of exceptional ability. Then a series of energetic acts better appreciated by one who was paying attention. And finally the Afrigo band.
When Afrigo band came to stage I was suitably juiced to appreciate the madness peculiar to human being. A madness that enjoins them to shake from stem to stern like demon possessed being.
Ah! But I forget. There was a dancing competition featuring a white man, a white damsel and two black chaps. The white man and white chick took home prizes of a bottle of wine each….which dance they cannot in reality be said to have won. They amused the crowd with their attempts at dance mixed with some random kicks. Totally devoid of rhythm their combined antics can be readily replicated by any willing subject. One who carefully and without malice drops a handful of ants in the down a the tshirt of any fairly tickkish chap would be treated to this spectacle.
And while at that I diverted my attention to try a hand in photography. Till next time. ….