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Editor’s word

Recently i went back to school. IT feels weird coming from the office setting where one has to deal with bosses, subordinates, deadlines, projects, overnight in the office, begging in the finance department to only coursework and teachers. It is a holiday. And a realization that the things which you think will make the world stop if you are not there actually won’t even make an owl blink. So cut down on your level of selfimportance, relax a little, sit down, lean back and enjoy this issue of the WorkZine. Enjoy Businge Abid Weere

POETRY EDITOR Talkative rocker

The EA clique
By Kris Nsabiyumva


’m an East African. Well, I’m the citizen of an East African Community Partner State, so even though my homeland’s location is more central than Eastern, this whole EAC makes me an East African. I’m blessed to have been to all the 5 States that make up the EAC and to have places I can call home (homes of relatives and friends) in 4 out of 5 of them (anybody want to adopt me in Tanzania?). I’ve lived with other fellow East Africans, worked with them, befriended them, argued with them, partied with them, so I’ve had the opportunity to study our characteristics and behaviours quite extensively I’d say. I’m no psychologist or sociologist; I’m just a guy who enjoys observing people and imagining things like the personalities and the roles of each person in a clique of 5, if each of them was a representation of the people of one EAC country… Here is the product of my imagination:

Bizimana, the Murundi
Aka the joker… Put your guns down, or whatever you have to attack or acclaim me for this qualification which I’m sure you’re getting the wrong way! I don’t mean it in a bad way! All I want to say is this guy is always in a (apparent) good mood whatever the weather; always smiling; always cracking jokes and trying to cheer everybody up; never with a care in the World… so some may find it difficult to take him seriously. He gets along with everybody; even Mdee kind of trusts him a little bit more than the rest of the guys in the clique. Maybe it’s because he has this apparent harmlessness about him, and a thing for telling anybody who’s willing to listen about his problems; which makes him easy and fun to pick on (ask Njoroge). Bizimana comes from a very similar background as Rukundo – in fact, they understand each other better than they do with the other guys, but instead of being best friends, they’re more like rival brothers. It’s weird.

Njoroge, the Kenyan
Aka the leader. Not because he is smarter than everybody else, but because he is louder. He says what he thinks, how he thinks it, whether you like it or not; and in a professional context he’s likely to communicate using long oxford-dictionaries-structured sentences to impress the masses. He may sometimes come off as arrogant and bossy but he’s actually a cool guy with an excellent sense of humour. He is hardworking and quite shrewd when it comes to chasing the mullah – which explains why his mates often fear that he may be fooling them, in some way or the other. They still let him lead though, as he is most likely to know a thing or two about how everything should be done.

Mdee, the Tanzanian
Aka the silent one. I said Rukundo is an introvert, but this one takes the crown. He’s not very trusting and he’s pretty stubborn – okay, let’s say he’s very conservative. One of the reasons why he gets along with Bizimana is because they share the same taste for a laid back, stress-free kind of lifestyle. The others often blame them for “pulling them back” when it’s time to work… maybe, maybe not. The thing is, Mdee likes to consider all the options and consequences before investing himself into something, and being fully aware of his weaknesses (and a tad paranoid too), he’s the kind to make sure that all the safety measures are in place (and working) before jumping off the cliff (a lesson Bizimana could learn from him). Oh, and he doesn’t quite get along with Njoroge. Although he’s quite wealthy, this chap is not much of a show off (unlike Njoroge, hah!). A bit shy (though anything but weak) and awkward at times, the man is actually very peaceful and probably has the biggest heart of all his friends. They could actually learn a thing or two from him about living together in peace and harmony.

Banaange, the Ugandan
Aka the pillar. She is the one who holds the clique together. Caring, loving and friendly, they all love her. Hardworking and street smart (and she’s not afraid to break the rules), she’s not the kind to just sit and wait for a salary at the end of the month: she always has a ka-thing on the side to bring in more mulah… Mulah to what?! To partaayyy – yup, the expression “work hard and play harder” was invented by her and for her! Although Njoroge and Bizimana claim to be party animals, Banaa is the life of the party; heck she’s the life of the group! You’ll often hear her cracking jokes (and lightening up the mood) while Njoroge and Rukundo are busy being serious and pressing the group to work.

Rukundo, the Munyarwanda
Aka the ladies man. Always neat and organised, saying the right things at the right time, self-confident and rarely complaining, this man scores highest with the ladies *looks at Banaange*. Howerver, he is a secretive guy; it’s quite had to put a finger on what he is up to. On the outside, he has everything going for him; on the inside nobody knows. He’s an introvert; the kind of guy who likes to keep his business “in-house”… kind of like an Indian, come to think of it! Hah, Mr Rajesh Rukundo! One of his main qualities is his science of speech. Oh he talks well, and he knows how to use this skill to gather the necessary information to move up the ladder. Yup, this jamaa here is ambitious; an aspiring Njoroge!

The upsides of UMEMES Power cuts


Jason Ntaro

he other day a long time ago last week I was on a boda going through Ntinda. So there we are, boda fighting to climb an infant hill while screaming in gear one. Boda rider silent focusing on this uphill task. Me listening to music oblivious of it all then the rider starts cursing and I catch a few words when I remove the earphones (I cannot write in Luganda...translate to luganda): "Idiots, idiots idiots! One day I will just knock them with my ka boda"! He had seen them! Those that bring the electricity bills! "I am going to call UMEME and tell them to remove their poll and take their useless wires and I buy a generator". He stops. Then I think wow he is thinking of a solution and not just grumbling and sitting on his hands...that would be dangerous for a boda man! Imagine him sitting on his hands and riding the bike. I digress. Digress, one of those words that make sentences look cool! Anyhow, then he starts again: "But then fuel is expensive! How will I afford fuel for my boda and the generator? Do you know how much charcoal is? I cannot eat, I cannot work! My wife will start complaining that I am unserious if I get a generator. Ah! I am tired"! Following this in-depth conversations where I could only say 'aha' and 'eh' a few times, I decided to sit down and write down the upsides of these planned unplanned power blackouts 1 2 3 WZ

Clement Atwooki every woman's got her 'me time'!". So I leave her there to kneel beside the puppies and check them out. The next sequence of events could only have been planned by a James Bond Dog Unit (JBDU). She gets into her house and stands beside me. When I do not take the hint, the air changes unbearably, a sharp pungent smell hits my nose. No questions asked. Nature takes its cue. I stand by the door and look in. She lies down about two feet from them looks at me, looks at them, looks back at me. A dog smile lingers on her face and then she blinks. I could swear she blinked one eye, the left one! WZ WZ

My whacky neiba.

Me Time

By Day vid

It is my custom to check on my dogs each morning. A ritual that they look forward to each day for they sit up and wag their tails, all five happy chaps. A week ago one of them had a litter of 8 puppies. Whenever I went over to check on the newly mothered dog, I would find it suckling its pups. It never left them. As I checked on the new mother today, she had moved out and was lying beside the door to her always open house. A peep at the pups revealed them hurdled together, fast asleep. I pat their mother thinking, "well,

o my neiba came back late drunk and I woke up to hear this strange conversation- Female voice! "Dick, whats wrong with you! Dont you know where the hole is? Put it in properly." So I got curious; Dick was like.."Honey I got it, itz allmost inside." Female voice again. "Now dont pushit harder...Dick you will break it...that thing is too weak." So I got up walked towards the door to see wat was outside..then I heard Dick say "Shuttup... and let me do my job" Ok at this point I put on the light, opened up and Dick saw me n he was like "oohh, Lemmy thank God, Man we r so high I can't put this key inside to open the inner padlock. Lemmy can you do it?" I was like "Yah yah Dick...whatever" So I opened for them... Do you know what was running in my head?? I need to shift from here what a night...




he first time I heard of the concept of a medical concierge was over a coffee a few years back in 2011. IT was one of those impromptu sessions where you meet people and start exchanging dreams and ideas. Most of those remain on paper and die out without seeing the light of even a candle. This idea was not destined to be one of those. The Medical Concierge Group became a reality about two years after that coffee. On the 2nd of August 2013, the company was launched with its first product; a medical call centre. The call centre is free service where anyone with a phone can call in with a medical problem and speak directly to a fully trained and experienced doctor. This removes the hustle of trying to get a doctor’s appointments which is usually a consultation for which you are charged a small fortune just to be told you should drink more water and eat more fruit. The Medical Call Centre provides free access to a Doctor, Pharmacist and other Health Professionals 24hours a day, 7days aweek at just the cost of a normal phone call. I wonder if they have a pakalast line. One can also text, post on social media or internet chat to access the medical call centre. The call may result into you getting an immediate solution to your problem, a referral to amedical facility or dispatch of an ambulance service. Their agents speak English and a lot of local languages. But what impressed me is that the Medical Concierge is more than just a call centre service. The idea has been developed and I could see the fruits of a lot of minds and effort that has been devoted to it in just two years. TMCG is taking a holistic approach to the medical industry. For both individuals and organisations , the

provide medical consultancy, health content development, EMS for events, Call Center Support for projects, ambulatory services, clinical services, software application development (within the health industry) and lastly a foundation which conducts an annual health camp for slum dwellers and street children. The Annual Health Camp is an impressive leap for a new company to engage in and fulfils a dire need of the society. About 500 street children attended the event on 20th July 2013 with necessary free health services like General medical checkup andtreatment, dental services, HIV testing and counselling and generalhealth education. Those found to require further medical assessment were linked to specialized medical institutions. Everything used was donated via wellwishers and through volunteers. Unlike many other eHealth and mHealth models, TMCG has business

model to ensure that the call center is profitable and sustainable and independent of government or donor funding. TMCG generates revenue mainly from providing Call Centre Solutions to Health Organizations working with large numbers of patients or in some cases health professionals and community health workers and developing mobile health content for public health campaigns. What I find particularly intriguing about this whole set-up is that access to health advisory services is now so easy. Apart from trusted elders with years of experience, getting to see a doctor in Uganda even when you have money can be hell. The long waiting lines , the tendency of files

The Medical Concierge Group can be contacted via 041-774-7000 or on twitter @TMCGLtd or skypetmcgltd or email

to get lost, the favouritism to the elite or special donors , the hard to fathom routine of the mostly absent doctors can turn a simple headache into a full blown tumour. I forgot to mention the mostly hostile looks from health professions who seem to you should be punished in some way for getting sick. Woe to you if you go to a public hospital. Even sadder is that a number of times you are misdiagnosed or simply told that the doctors don’t know what is wrong with you. TMCG is a needed step forward in bringing the health practitioners closer to the people who need them. Given the fact that almost everyone in the country has access to a mobile phone, it makes more sense for one to spare a few shillings calling in their problem other than going through the tribulation that is walking through the doors of a health centre. WZ

The Catastrophe Tennessee of Success Williams 1947
By Mulinya Mulinya

a turntable. Sincerity and kindliness seemed to have gone out of my friends’ voices. I suspected them of hypocrisy. I stopped calling them, stopped seeing them. I was impatient of what I took to be inane flattery. I got so sick of hearing people say, “I loved your play!” that I could not say thank you any more. I choked on the words and turned rudely away from the usually sincere person. I no longer felt any pride in the play itself but began to dislike it, probably because I felt too lifeless inside ever to create another. I was walking around dead in my shoes and I knew it but there were no friends I knew or trusted sufficiently, at that time, to take them aside and tell them what was the matter. This curious condition persisted about three months, till late spring, when I decided to have another eye operation mainly because of the excuses it gave me to withdraw from the world behind a gauze mask. It was my fourth eye operation, and perhaps I should explain that I had been afflicted for about five years with a cataract on my left eye which required a series of needling operations and finally an operation on the muscle of the eye. (The eye is still in my head. So much for that.) Well, the gauze mask served a purpose. While I was resting in the hospital the friends whom I had neglected or affronted in one way or another began to call on me and now that I was in pain and darkness, unpleasant mutation which I had suspected earlier in the season had now disappeared and they sounded now as they had used to sound in the lamented days of my obscurity. Once more they were sincere and kindly voices with the ring of truth in them and that quality of understanding for which I had originally sought them out. As far as my physical vision was concerned, this last operation was only relatively successful (although it left me with an apparently clear black pupil in the right position, or nearly so) but in another, figurative way, it had served a much deeper purpose. When the gauze mask was removed I found myself in a readjusted world. I checked out of the handsome suite at the first-class hotel, packed my papers and a few incidental belongings and left for Mexico, an elemental country where you can quickly forget the false dignities and conceits imposed by success, a country where vagrants innocent as children curl up to sleep on the pavements and human voices, especially when their language is not familiar to the ear, are soft as birds’. My public self, that artifice of mirrors, did not exist here and so my natural being was resumed. Then, as a final act of restoration, I settled for a while at Chapala to work on a play called “The Poker Night,” which later became “A Streetcar Named Desire.” It is only in his work that an artist can find reality and satisfaction, for the actual world is less intense than the world of his invention and consequently his life, without recourse to violent disorder, does not seem very substantial. The right condition for him is that in which his work is not only convenient but unavoidable. For me a convenient place to work is a remote place among strangers where there is good swimming. But life should require a certain minimal effort. You should not have too many people waiting on you, you should have to do most things for yourself. Hotel service is embarrassing. Maids, waiters, bellhops, porters and so forth are the most embarrassing people in the world for they continually remind you of inequities which we accept as the proper thing. The sight of an ancient woman, gasping and wheezing as she drags a heavy pail of water down a hotel corridor to mop up the mess of some drunken overprivileged guest, is one that sickens and weighs upon the heart and withers it with shame for this world in which it is not only tolerated but regarded as proof positive that the wheels of Democracy are functioning as they should without


his winter marked the third anniversary of the Chicago opening of “The Glass Menagerie,” an event that terminated one part of my life and began another about as different in all external circumstances as could well be imagined. I was snatched out of virtual oblivion and thrust into sudden prominence, and from the precarious tenancy of furnished rooms about the country I was removed to a suite in a first-class Manhattan hotel. My experience was not unique. Success has often come that abruptly into the lives of Americans. The Cinderella story is our favorite national myth, the cornerstone of the film industry if not of the Democracy itself. I have seen it enacted on the screen so often that I was now inclined to yawn at it, not with disbelief but with an attitude of Who Cares! Anyone with such beautiful teeth and hair as the screen protagonist of such a story was bound to have a good time one way or another, and you could bet your bottom dollar and all the tea in China that one would be caught dead or alive at any meeting involving a social conscience. No, my experience was not exceptional, but neither was it quite ordinary, and if you are willing to accept the somewhat eclectic proposition that I had not been writing with such an experience in mind and many people are not willing to believe that a playwright is interested in anything but popular success—there may be some point in comparing the two estates. The sort of life that I had had previous to this popular success was one that required endurance, a life of clawing and scratching along a sheer surface and holding on tight with raw fingers to every inch of rock higher than the one caught hold of before, but it was a good life because it was the sort of life for which the human organism is created. I was not aware of how much vital energy had gone into this struggle until the struggle was removed. I was out on a level plateau with my arms still thrashing and my lungs still grabbing at air that no longer resisted. This was security at last.

I sat down and looked about me and was suddenly very depressed. I thought to myself, this is just a period of adjustment. Tomorrow morning, I will wake up in this first-class hotel suite above the discreet hum of an East Side boulevard and I will appreciate its elegance and luxuriate in its comforts and know that I have arrived at our American plan of Olympus. Tomorrow morning when I look at the green satin sofa I will fall in love with it. It is only temporarily that the green satin looks like slime on stagnant water. But in the morning the inoffensive little sofa looked more revolting than the night before and I was already getting too fat for the $125 suit which a fashionable acquaintance had selected for me. In the suite things began to break accidentally. An arm came off the sofa. Cigarette burns appeared on the polished surface of the furniture. Windows were left open and a rain storm flooded the suite But the maid always put it straight and the patience of the management was inexhaustible. Late parties could not offend them seriously. Nothing short of demolition bomb seemed to bother my neighbors. I lived on room service. But in this, too, there was a disenchantment. Some time between the moment when I ordered dinner over the phone and when it was rolled into my living room like a corpse on a rubberwheeled table, I lost all interest in it. Once I ordered a sirloin steak and a chocolate sundae, but everything was so cunningly disguised on the table that I mistook the chocolate sauce for gravy and poured it over the sirloin steak. Of course all this was the more trivial aspect of a spiritual dislocation that began to manifest itself in far more disturbing ways. I soon found myself becoming indifferent to people. A well cynicism rose in me. Conversations all sounded as if they had been recorded years ago and were being played back on

interference from above or below. Nobody should have to clean up anybody else’s mess in this world. It is terribly bad for both parties, but probably worse for the one receiving the service. I have been corrupted as much as anyone else by the vast number of menial services which our society has grown to expect and depend on. We should do for ourselves or let the machines do for us, the glorious technology that is supposed to be the new light of the world. We are like a man who has bought up a great amount of equipment for a camping trip, who has the canoe and the tent and the fishing lines and the axe and the guns, the mackinaw and the blankets, but who now, when all the preparations and the provisions are piled expertly together, is suddenly too timid to set out on the journey but remains where he was yesterday and the day before and the day before that, looking suspiciously through white lace curtains at the clear sky he distrusts. Our great technology is a God-given chance for adventure and for progress which we are afraid to attempt. Our ideas and our ideals remain exactly what they were and where they were three centuries ago. No. I beg your pardon. It is no longer safe for man to even declare them! This is a long excursion from a small theme into a large one which I did not intend to make, so let me go back to what I was saying before. This is an oversimplification. One does not escape that easily from the seduction of an effete way of life. You cannot arbitrarily say to yourself, I will not continue my life as it was before this thing, Success, happened to me. But once you fully apprehend the vacuity of a life without struggle you are equipped with the basic means of salvation. Once you know this is true, that the heart of man, his body and his brain, are forged in a white-hot furnace for the purpose of conflict (the struggle of creation) and that with the conflict removed, the man is a sword cutting daisies, that not privation but luxury is the wolf at the door and that the fangs of this wolf are all the little vanities and conceits and laxities that Success is heir to—why, then with this knowledge you are at least in a position of knowing where danger lies. You know, then, that the public Somebody you are when you “have a name” is a fiction created with mirrors and that the only somebody worth being is the solitary and unseen you that existed from your first breath and which is the sum of your actions and so is constantly in a state of becoming under your own violation— and knowing these things, you can even survive the catastrophe of Success! It is never altogether too late, unless you embrace the Bitch Goddess, as William James called her, with both arms and find in her smothering caresses exactly what the homesick

little boy in you always wanted, absolute protection and utter effortlessness. Security is a kind of death, I think, and it can come to you in a storm of royalty checks beside a kidney-shaped pool in Beverly Hills or anywhere at all that is removed from the conditions that made you an artist, if that’s what you are or were intended to be. Ask, anyone who has experienced the kind of success I am talking about— What good is it? Perhaps to get an honest answer you will have to give him a shot of truth serum but the word he will finally groan is unprintable in genteel publications. Then what is good? The obsessive interest in human affairs, plus a certain amount of compassion and moral conviction, that first made the experience of living something that must be translated into pigment or music or bodily movement or poetry or prose or anything that’s dynamic and expressive— that’s what’s good for you if you’re at all serious in your aims. William Saroyan wrote a great play on this theme, that purity of heart is the one success worth having. “In the time of your life—live!” That time is short and it doesn’t return again. It is slipping away while I write this and while you read it, and the monosyllable of the clock is Loss, loss, loss, unless you devote your heart to its opposition. WZ

Diary Entry 9
By DI Fez

Friends, Family, Foes, Mignons...etcetera, etcetera..howzit. I have been working out. i assure you, i have. But my problem is the treadmill...again! I have been considering taking an upcountry trip every once a week because, you see, i realise that you will achieve better results running from a lion than running on a treadmill. Speaking of which, if you turned around mid-run...from the lion that is, do you think it would screech to a halt and go ..."o-ohh!" And while we are on that topic, what is the best way to prepare a Lion meat stroganoff? If you were wondering the same are in luck.

Step 1: while running, consider if you actually want to eat the lion. if
yes, proceed to step 2, if not...say a prayer

and run but not too far...blah blah blah...after all of that, chop it up, with what you may ask.....i told you, consider very carefully if you want to eat the lion because that means you have to put into thought how you will get to the actual eating part, anyhow...yeah after all that, chop it up, throw it in a pan and j....wait.... who am i kidding, i have no clue what am talking about. SO lets say we are running from a leopard instead. Read all the above stuff and replace lion with leopard. so we ffwd to

step 2: After having turned around and lion o-oh'd

you migh...wait, no. Ignore all i just said. I don’t know what am talking about! NOTE TO SELF: stick to the treadmill you lazy lass ONELove WZ

Step 3: put the skin will need step 4: if you in fact get to the turning around part

Memo to the Boss:
by Stephen Bungay By Stephan Bungay

Don’t Do My Job For Me
“Well done — but you must remember that you are now a corps commander and not a divisional commander…” It went on to list four or five mistakes Horrocks had made, mainly around interfering with the tasks of his subordinates. As Horrocks thought about it, he realized that Montgomery was right. So he rang him up and said, “Thank you very much.” Horrocks went on to become one of the most successful generals of the war.


n August 1942, General Montgomery arrived in North Africa to take command of the British 8th Army. Within a few days he began replacing the senior officers. One of his new corps commanders was Brian Horrocks, who had last seen action in France in 1940 as commander of an infantry battalion, after which he had been promoted quickly to leadership of a Division. Montgomery put Horrocks in charge of stopping Rommel’s last offensive in what has become known as the Battle of Alam Halfa. The British defenses held and Rommel was forced to withdraw. Horrocks was understandably pleased with himself until a liaison officer from 8th Army headquarters brought a letter from Montgomery. It began:

Fast forward to 2012.
I was running a workshop with the executive team running the R&D function of a highly successful Danish company. They were talented and doing well, but wanted to raise their game. We devoted one session to what they called ‘innovation briefs’. These documents define what R&D projects they want to carry out, assign responsibility for them, and give direction to the next level down: the project managers. The team had brought along a couple of real ones so that we could improve them. The briefs had a lot of good features. They gave full reasons for embarking on the project, the user need, the value created, the fit with the portfolio, and a technical

specification of the product, all on one page. The first thing that struck me though, was that the typeface was very small and there was a lot of technical detail about the end product, as if the product already existed in these executives’ minds and the job of the project team was simply to build it, rather than use their creativity to come up with an innovative design. I kept those thoughts to myself. Instead, I kicked off by reminding everyone of Prussian Field Marshal Helmuth von Moltke’s definition of a good directive: it should tell people only what they need to know in order to fulfill the intention. ‘Suppose you were the project manager,’ I said. ‘Which elements of this document would be the most and which the least helpful in allowing you to do a great job?’ Before long there was a consensus that a lot of the detail was not very helpful. It obscured what was really important and limited creativity. There were technical problems to be solved, but the brief specified a set of solutions. What if the project team were to come up with alternatives? Were they to be rejected? I threw in another question from the project manager’s point of view. ‘What choices do you think you will face during the project?’ I made up an example: ‘According to this, the new product has to create superior user value and be ready in 18 months. Suppose the project team were to come to you in 15 months’ time and say that they could enhance the value by a further 20%, but it would take another 6 months. What would you want them to do: create a better product or hit the deadline?’ At first they were split down the middle. After 15 minutes of arguing, the matter was resolved: they would go for hitting the deadline. The timing was critical. Someone commented that they had not been clear about that themselves before having the discussion. It was time for a break before dinner. I promised to continue this session the following morning. When we met at the bar an hour later, three of the group were missing. They were already working on a new version. They turned up for dessert with an air of exultation. The following morning we compared their effort with the original. The new one was a fraction of the length. Everyone preferred it, but there were some questions about the content. So we set to work. An hour or so later, it had changed again and everyone was happy with it. Someone said it was the best one they had ever produced. It was good for two reasons: it no longer specified details that the project team could decide on for themselves during the project; and it added some additional information on issues that had needed, but not hitherto received, resolution by the executives. Like Brian Horrocks 70 years before, they had been so busy doing their subordinates’ jobs that they had not properly done their own. It’s a mistake that’s all too common. In some companies everyone is doing the jobs of the level below. As a result no-one actually does the top job. Once you see what’s going on, fixing the problem is not difficult, though it can take some work — work well worth doing. WZ

The lovely empty office
By EasterKalenzi

What? How?
Well, I don’t know!! We had a thanksgiving on 28th July at my friend, Diana’s home. We simply wanted to thank God for having been with us throughout the journey. After a beautiful sermon and lunch that included meat balls. Side note: Harris had prayed for meat balls for minutes on end and thank the Lord I had ordered for them as part of the menu. I think we all gave him ours. I am not sure what the situation was in his tummy that evening but, I will leave it to your imagination. Yes, after the lunch we had a talk from a social walker. She gave us pointers on how to run a charity and then said we had grown and needed an office. Office? Ha! As in, we don’t even have any employees let alone rent. Well, she said we needed to employ someone to coordinate the activities and they would need an address. Up till then, I had carried out meetings at the ‘Chillies’ restaurant below my office and was happy telling people our offices were on facebook and twitter. Yikes! Growing up!



o, here I am at our office, yes, our!! It is so surreal, I am not quite comfortable saying it yet but yes, the little baby 40 days over 40 smiles has grown! We are crawling now

That night I went home and told mum about it. “Oh, I know someone who is moving out of an office near ours, you might want to speak to him,” she responded casually. Wait, what? She had no questions on how we could afford it, why now etc. Okay. A few days later, she travelled to Nairobi for treatment. I went on about my job and my life. One day, as we spoke over the phone she asked if I had contacted the tenants. Hmm, procrastination 411. I promised to. I think I did a week later. The gentleman passed on the landlord’s number and I also kept that for a while not sure what the plan was.

As soon as August began, I made up my mind to quit my job and it actually had nothing to do with the prospect of a 4040 office. My time had come. Mid-August arrived and I was unemployed. Suddenly I had time on my hands to ‘chillax,’ except not quite. Instead of balancing work and 40-40, I could do the latter full time but now I had zero resources and no end of month salary to look forward to. How about we eat,sleep, read a few novels and watch lots of movies, shall we? Yes, sounds like a good plan. As time went on, this office space thing

started to seem like a good idea, perhaps I could talk to the landlord and just see the place, for ‘just.’ I consulted members of my team. It was split, some thought the timing was right, others believed we had important things to sort out and I was, well, somewhere in between. I prayed about it, worried, procrastinated and then decided to let HIS will be done. I met the Landlord after a couple of weeks. In his words “Nga yakuwanye nnyo,” loosely translated to mean the current tenant had showered me with praises in my absence. Apparently he had been told I was a responsible person doing a lot of great work to change the world, bla bla so he pleaded for us to get the place at the same rate even if the landlord wanted to hike the rent.(Bless his soul) I used all the Luganda vocabulary learnt, inherited and forged to ‘beg’ for this deal. He agreed to keep the rent at the current rate, but with a catch, 6 months rent down payment. Lodamacy!!(Read Lord have mercy) I told the team what the situation was. The tenants were leaving at the end of September. Now to get these millions by then. Sigh. We needed a miracle.

The team decided that each member would loan 4040 a certain amount and then we would look for ways to top up. It seemed easy, until the pressure mounted and a few days to D-day, I did not even have half the amount required. When I realised putting pressure on people who had salaries and responsibilities was not going to yield much, I decided to think outside the box. I would just use the money the team contributed to

settle the other debts as we sort out our income generating projects for 40-40. The faster, the better. My dad pledged to contribute to the rent too and much as the Landlord put me on pressure, I did not want to do the same so I waited for him to read my mind. What do you know? On the day of the deadline, he did read my mind. He asked when the rent was due and I might have screamed ‘now!!’ He passed on his donation and along with a major contribution from one friend and a couple of other loans, I was able to carry these millions with me onto a bike and hand them over to the Landlord. Phew! If I was a drinker, some tequila would have been abused that afternoon but well, I think I made up for it with chai(tea)

What next?
The office needed to be painted, an M.O.U was drafted and signed. Over this weekend, Saturday to be exact, the Landlord called and told me everything was ready. I thanked him but after hanging up I started to panic. What in the world was I thinking? :/ Where will the money to pay back come from? What about the water and electricity bill. Furniture, no? All these things had troubled me before but now it all became even more scary. As a team, we had decided on the urgent needs and those that we can acquire over time. Do you know what I have from the entire list? A clock. Yes, a clock! I haven’t even bought a battery for it (Thank you Pesh by the way, it is such a pretty clock:) Well, Monday was not a good day and Tuesday was Eid plus I had a houseful of sick people so Wednesday seemed like a good day to ‘move in.’ I woke up determined but then I ran out of data on

the modem and had to house-sit at some point in the afternoon so I postponed to Thursday. At about midnight yesterday, my friend Leah called and said we should have a party for the grand opening. We laughed so hard knowing there was really nothing to ‘show,’ except the newly painted walls perhaps. P.S: If you want in on this party, you will have to carry your own seats,music, food and drinks. We shall provide the venue So today, I got up early, did a few chores and started to decide what to carry to the office. A plastic chair? No, it may attract attention in the parking lot. A mat? My mum works around here, she might be judged for her daughter’s strange antics. How about a nice lesu safely tucked in my handbag? That works! So I carried that I would love to share photos of this beautiful, spacious office which has such great ambiance but our office camera, I pad and other such fancy gadgets are yet to be delivered. Kalango/Announcement: If you believe in us and what we do and have some items that would fill the space we have here plus be of use to us including that table you are tired of but still has four legs, and works fine, give me a call. Okay even if you know nothing about us and have some ‘useful trash,’ one man’s trash is another man’s treasure That said, all official meetings shall be held at a restaurant of your choice for now but if you are a cool guy/lady, then you will realise that the clean floor can make for very comfortable sitting right here. Just like that, an ordinary day in

The Monkey's Jamboree
By Allan Brian

October feels like the day I moved out of home,without a bed, couch or money to buy food but at least, there was a toothbrush! Team 40-40, I think we can whisper ‘started from the bottom now we are here.’ (Whisper because our coffers leave a lot to be desired) but very soon we shall be able to sing out loud. To say I am proud of you and how far we have come TOGETHER would probably be an understatement, but I will say it any way. This year has been difficult but you have stayed close, keeping the fire burning and that’s something I do not take for granted and appreciate each day. You chose to be my friends but I choose you to be my family. This empty office makes even more sense being empty(for now) because we shall watch it ‘grow.’ Location: Sir Apollo Kaggwa road(Next to Multitech Business School) Bless you! Yours,¬ 40/40 Afande/E.D/C.E.O/NRM/ UNDP/WFP/GM/M.D/WHO/ UPDF etc WZ

The monkeys one day had a big Jamboree. Their leader sat up in the tallest tree And said with a chuckle, “My good fellow Monk, If you want a good laugh, just give ear to this junk. The teachers of men in a place they call ‘school’ Are training each youngster to grow up a fool. The kids run all wild and never get spanked. If our babies did that, their tails would be yanked. No well-mannered monkey dictates to his teacher, Beats up the policeman or shoots at the preacher, Poisons the baby, or kills with a gun, And then laughs and says; “We are just having fun!” Monkeys, my friends have respect for each other. We hand out no sass to our father or mother. The picture I have painted you’ll agree is quiet sad. But listen my brothers, I’m boiling mad. For here’s what they are taught-that miserable flunky, That creature called man, was at one time a monkey! An ape just like us, and what’s more if you please, He claims that at one time he swung through the trees. Fellow monkeys, I think this is going too far. We don’t envy their home, their wealth, their car. But when they will spread such a horrible rumour, It’s time for all monkeys to lose their good humour. So, come, you must help me prepare a big sign, Protesting that man is no descendant of mine. If evolution be true, then boys, we are sunk; For I’d sooner be father to weasel or skunk.” Adopted from Monkey Business by Dr. James McGinlay WZ

English + Mathematics
By Tendo Kiribakka While I was taking a shower yesterday morning I had a "lightbulb moment". et me explain. Often, I ponder my purpose - my calling or reason for being in the universe. I wonder what the point of my existence is, if any. I try to enumerate and quantify my individual contributions to society, art, science, mankind (womankind too!) and this enormous thing called Earth. The list is short, very short. And when I look at what other people have accomplished, my list might as well be empty. Yesterday morning I realized that actually, I am not so bad. Yes, I have not done much in this world yet but - like the Obama campaign in 2008 - yes, I can. I realized that to get the most out of myself I need to hone the skills I have naturally, to focus my energies and develop the things that come naturally to me, and - most importantly - to learn how to wield these things in a way that grows and magnifies my contributions to humanity. In Economics 101, eager but largely inattentive students are introduced to the concept of comparative advantage. The generally irritable, balding professor will explain this concept using terms like "marginal cost" and "opportunity cost". I think the professor deliberately does this to confuse the unsuspecting students in order to fail them at the slightest misuse of either term. At least that was the case at the institution where I did my Economics. The spite of underpaid old people. Let us assume you and I are neighbours. In addition, let us have fertile soils in our respective backyards. I like our neighbourhood. A neighbourhood is never complete without the resident weirdo. Let us assume we were both taught how to knit sweaters by the weird old woman across the street. She has a cat with feline heterochromia. The cat has eleven lives. I jog five miles every morning and I am great at tilling the soils in my backyard. You had a thing for the old hag so you spent more time at her place and got better at knitting sweaters than I did. We can both grow bean sprouts, our staple food, and knit our own sweaters for the unforgivingly bitter winters. All is well in our suburbia.


In fact, it is not. I should concentrate on growing a lot of bean sprouts and exchange the surplus for sweaters from you. After all you are only making your bad knee worse when you could be giving it time to heal by sitting down more and knitting sweaters for the both of us. Even if your knee gets better and you somehow lose that ridiculous excess body fat, we are still better off exchanging our products as long as we have different "relative efficiencies". Go speak to your professor. This is the concept of comparative advantage. My relative comparative advantage is my innate ability to comprehend the English language and Mathematics. In retrospect, I have always had minimal difficulty understanding these two subjects and I have generally scored highly on any measures of either. While fellow students rummaged through notes and examples I generally just went to class and then went for the exam. I did not always have the best scores but I generally put in minimal effort and still passed respectably. This is the foundation of my light bulb moment. You could practice a song over and over for days and perform it spectacularly in front of a crowd of your admiring peers. Great applause will ensue and you will be revered. Then a Beyoncé Knowles will walk on stage and perform the same song equally spectacularly; only she will be doing it for the first time, ever. A standing ovation will ensue and you will quickly be asked to leave the stage so people can take photos with Mrs. Knowles-Carter. When it comes to singing, Beyoncé has a comparative advantage over you. A couple of years ago I had to take an English language proficiency test called TOEFL (Test Of English as a Foreign Language) as part of a university application process. I registered for the test a couple of days before I took it, did nothing for a couple of days and took the test. I scored 115 out of a possible 120. That is about 96%. In fact, I learned English before I learned my "first language", Luganda. The irony. Mathematics. Apparently girls do not like it. I guess that explains why they tend to avoid me. Proof that I have a comparative advantage over you in Maths? As with the

Beyoncé example, one can reliably judge how good somebody is at something by the ease with which they apply that thing in practice. Arguably the biggest application of Mathematics in the last century is in computer science. In particular, computer programming. People that are good at Maths generally comprehend computer programming with more ease than those that are not. I have never been to computer school. I have no formal qualification in any computing field. I wrote my first program when I was thirteen. By sixteen, I had designed a Yahoo! Messenger-like chat client for the King's College, Budo computer room using Microsoft Visual Basic for Applications (VBA). In my first year at university I designed a standalone room allocation system for my university residence hall in Microsoft Visual Studio after discovering they were still using pen and paper. Students from the Faculty of Computing and Information Technology used to ask me for assistance with their assignments. Yes, me - a student of the Institute of Statistics and Applied Economics. As a result of reading their study material while helping them with their assignments I designed a social networking website that became popular with students of my university, and is still online to this day. For my university research project, I wrote a program that did n-way Analysis Of VAriance (ANOVA) on several statistical experiment designs. I am writing this from a hotel room in Nairobi where I have spent the last fortnight designing a tool to automate my employer's subsidiary's foreign currency reconciliation methodology. Shouldn't someone from IT be doing this? Probably. However my employer has correctly identified that fixing things with computers comes relatively easily to me. And I understand how the reconciliation works something they would have to teach IT. What then? If I can do all the above without carrying around a dictionary and with no qualification in computer science, what can I do if I work on my propensity to translate these God-given abilities into contributions to humanity? While I was taking a shower yesterday morning I realized there is something I can do in this respect. I spent most of yesterday researching my new found endeavour. I am doing it. Wish me luck. Each of us has a comparative advantage. What is yours? And how are you using it? WZ

s r a e y h c t i r Ou
By Charlyn Kentaro

here isn’t a lot that hasn’t been said about the health-and-wealth “gospel” and why it is something we should all be fleeing- fast- away from. Manipulating hearts that might be genuinely searching for truth.Twisting the God of the Bible to look like an ATM of health and wealth. Emptying the pockets of (mostly) not-toowealthy people to bankroll lavish lifestyles. Exalting our wants over God’s will for a righteous church to glorify Him and love others. Mixing the gospel with New Age spirituality such as “speaking life into situations”… …there’s nothing worthwhile to gain from listening to this false gospel, nothing at all. So why are so many being led astray? Well, this world is messed up and we’re all trying to make sense of it. We want to be happy. Give us a

sermon on how the God of the Bible wants you to prosper and not lack, to get the job you want, that house and car; how He heals every disease at our will, how He accepts you even as you continue to live in unrepentant sin; back it up with catchy phrases like “name it and claim it” and you’ve got yourself a following. But that is not the truth that Christ preached. It is not the truth which frees us. If you follow these teachers, you are staking everything you believe in on a lie. The good news is that God saw it all coming, as He always does. Peter warns us against being led away from the true gospel by preachers who” will secretly introduce destructive heresies, even denying the sovereign Lord who bought them”. He calls them “springs without water” who promise you freedom but are themselves still enslaved by their love for this world’s ways. (2 Peter 2).

Jesus tells us that we can know those who are false by their fruits. (Matthew 7:15-20). Anyone who is led by the Holy Spirit shows this in the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22) and those who aren’t bear a different kind of fruit - Galatians 5:19-21. I’m not saying everyone who teaches the true gospel is perfect, but there are those who unashamedly seek God for what He can give them and are calling others to do the same. Fame, if the sermons you hear every Sunday do not correct you, call you out, urge repentance, encourage you to preach Christ and exalt Him as a sovereign good God, you might want to start praying for your church! (2 Tim 4:2-5) Let us be like the Bereans, who weren’t content with just listening to Paul and Silas - they heard the message with eager minds, and examined the Scriptures daily to see if Paul’s message matched up. (Acts 17:11) Unless we do this, we won’t know any better if someone comes along with a false message. Christ said that His people recognise His voice and follow Him (John 10:7-30). WZ

By Businge Abid Were

Lewis swam with the fishes
fter the seventh beer, he started to talk. In his deep Scottish drawl , he slowly chewed on the words and let them out , one by one . “The outer Hebrides, ” he began , “that’s where we were. ” I pulled my seat closer. “we had gone on holiday, the whole family. The weather was good. Summer it was. The best summer we had seen in the last ten years and there was no wasting any drop of sunshine. ” A wistful look of golden remembrance stole over his face. His eyes peered into a past not really gone by . A silence stole in. I put another Stella in front of him. He did not touch it . “I convinced everyone to go scuba diving. The waters were clear and you could see through in some places to the green carpet floor. Different types of fish were darting around and I wanted to be one of them . ” He said as his voice became stronger. The whispers were still there but they were dying out . “Ma asked one of the locals about dangerous animals in the waters . Tony , that was his name, laughed and said ‘this is not Australia. This here is true Scottish country. Nothing dangerous in these’. That’s what he said, this is not Australia. And he laughed some more.” He paused; Took a a swallow. “We geared up . Water proof rubber costume,

flippers , and an oxygen tank . I intended to be down there for some time . I wanted to be lost in the seas. Drown myself on Scotland’s waters and forget about everything . ” He sets the empty stella down. “its beautiful down there. The colours are something else. Its whole world on its own . the fish kept whirling round us in an automatic game of hide and seek. We were in their world and they knew it.” A pause. He walks out into the cold night; we follow him. “I do not remember how it happened. I don’t know what I was doing exactly . I have been told that there are times when I seem to be in another world all together. It must have been one of those moments. One minute I was mindlessly following a school . the next , a sense of unease flowed towards me. I can only call it a sixth sense. I looked around and everyone seemed to be frozen. Looking up. I looked up . ” Another pause. “I saw it. A dark shape circling in lazy circles overhead. It seemed to be doing nothing . just swimming round and round. Round and round. Round and round. I should have been petrified. I wasn’t . I did not

think of anything at that moment. I just watched it. A shark. Tony later told me that he was thinking of jaws. Thank God I hadn’t watched the movie. ” Another long pause. “I felt a tug on my elbow. Scared; I whirled round. My over-activity imagination had gone into high gear. Had the merry-go-round shark been a decoy ? It was Tony. And the others. I hadn’t felt them swim towards. Tony pointed at a crevasse in the water. He swam off towards it . I followed. I don’t remember why I looked behind . but look behind I did. The shark was coming straight at us. And I was the last in the line. Frantically we dove for the gap. But I knew it was futile. The shark could outswim us all. He was the king of the waters and nothing could save us. In that moment I knew what fear felt like. A wall of it hit me from deep inside.i stopped swimming. I turned and faced the monstrosity flying towards me. And it was beautiful. The water was parting right infront of it. It was the sea itself made flesh. The powerful fins threw eddies in its wake . Its mouth slightly open showing off rows of white sharp teeth. This would be a good way to die. ” A light went

on in one of the windows. “Within a second it was right in front of me. I knew it was going to open its mouth and welcome me to the other side. IT didn’t. it just swooshed on by. Its slipstream knocked me around and it was gone. IT was like it had not been there at all. It was simply gone. We wasted no time in rushing for the surface. We could not even feign bravado. We had had a close call with a force of nature herself. We just got out of our gear and hightailed to shore. Since then I can’t enter even a swimming pool. That image of the shark coming at me will never live me. ” He then reached for his phone and sent me a picture someone in the party had managed to take. It was a bit blurry. But I could distinguish the tail of the shark asWZ it swam away. I wonder what I will get him for his 20th birthday tomorrow ; Maybe a copy of Jaws.

Of the Article
By Ivan Musoke

his one’s no good, move on to the next article. So there I was, standing by the roadside, waiting for a taxi. One drew up shortly and the ‘conductor’ asked me to get onboard. I gave the taxi a long hard look and decided against it, there was simply no space. Plus I was getting some nasty looks from the thirty or so passengers that were spilling out of the windows. “Some people are getting out.” The conductor attempted a pitch. He didn’t need to tell me this, I could see that for myself and I politely told him so. Muttering something under his breath about fuel prices, airtime taxes and my apparent snobbish attitude, he left. Wondering how I was going to get to the city I started to walk. I had absolutely no intention of walking to town, you realize, but I needed to create the illusion that I was making progress in some way. Suddenly, there was a voice, “Are you going to town?” I was perplexed. Actually that’s a lie, I was downright freaked out, so, quite naturally, I asked as a freaked person is wont to, “Father, is that you?” A brief pause, and then the voice came back, “Faza? No, boss. Its just me-a humble bodaboda cyclist without a spare helmet and a bad attitude. ” You need to understand that I was pressed for time and was undergoing a serious case of selective hearing. I chose not to hear the bit where he said something about having a bad attitude. I was not keen on the idea of haggling over fares, so I attempted an alternate conversation... “Man, these clusters of humps...we keep moving like this and I will not have kids.” No response. Not even a grunt. All he did was swerve a couple of times to avoid the inconvenience that was the smooth bit of the road. I tried once more. “Last night’s weather, awful wasn’t it? It rained cats and dogs...” Then he spoke. “Shaddup!” a cobra couldn’t have spat the words out with more venom if it tried. I thought I’d heard wrong, surely it was the wind playing tricks on my ears. “I said shut up! You know, as in, shut your gob or whatever. It’s not an effect of the wind playing around with what I’m saying. It’s all me. I’m telling you to shut up! I warned you though, I just happen to have a bad attitude. ” In the ensuing one-sided conversation it emerged that his wife had left him for two guys aptly named Katz and Doug on a rainy night. Her reason being that he had failed to play his part in the Make Babies Promotion.


It was sad really. Surely by now everyone knew that the whole Make Babies thing was a scheme perpetrated by some sinister organization so it could come out and claim that German imported condoms were not doing their work. “Look man,” he went on, “I realize it’s not your fault, but you should have seen this coming.” With that he made a sharp right turn and we ended up in a field of maize that had previously not existed. “Do you know who I am?” he asked, his eyes suddenly looking red. Maybe they did look red as I jumped on, but I was way too preoccupied. Excuses aside, I had a nasty feeling I knew where he was taking this. My fears were confirmed. “I am a bad man. Not like R. Kelly or that BebeKool fellow. Cut me, I bleed...” I had to step in, this was getting inexcusable, he was clearly taking the piss, stealing lines from the Spiderman sequel, “What’s that got to do with anything?” He hesitated before replying, “I’m just saying, I have achieved Bad Man Status. Your attitude has angered me, so I’m going to make like Red San and Step On It!”. I was briefly confused, “On what, my attitude?” “Don’t be ridiculous, have you had a chance to look at where you are?” I took a long hard look around. I saw a couple of maize stalks lying on the ground. Other than that there was barely anything noticeable. Then it came to me, “Ndi Ku digi!” “Exactly! So, do you always accept rides from strangers?” He inquired. “Well, I rarely call them strangers if I have to part with some money.” I pointed out. And let’s be honest, the number of people on a first name basis with boda-boda riders can be counted on one hand…that’s missing a few fingers. I was starting to get concerned. Would anyone actually read this without occasionally pausing and wondering where the truth ended and how much of it was bull. Then he cut into my thoughts. “That’s actually a valid point. I say, were you done?” I was a bit confused, “With what?” “With your thoughts. I have this annoying habit of interrupting people’s thoughts...not that it matters to me anyway. I have a bad attitude and this has gone on

long enough. ” “What has? The ride, the utter foolishness of it all?” I asked hopefully. “That too, but I was talking about something else. Don’t you have a word limit? You probably do. So, if you don’t mind, I will go into monologue mode for the most part. I have issues, you see, big twisted issues. I wasn’t breastfed as a kid ‘coz my mum liked me as a friend...but that’s not it, I am as bad a person as you’ve painted me so far. Sure I’ve dragged you through this field, but I am like any other sane person. I pay my taxes by way of airtime and I most certainly don’t go around wearing banana leaves during spring in the United Kingdom trying to prove a point. I am, however, a cereal killer!” What I wanted to know is how I fit into this thing, what I asked instead was, “Isit possible that you have got this serial killing business all wrong?” “Boss, look around you! We are in a maize field, I have destroyed enough crop and soon as I’m through, I’m going to Burn Dem Down. That makes me a certified Cerial Killer!” “Or an utter moron,” I opined, “So what do you need me for?” I was getting really impatient and all sorts of asinine thoughts were setting up abode in my head. One of them had me convinced that this is how crop circles were formed...” “Sorry about this, the whole breaking and entering thing. I need a writer! We cerial killers need publicity. Without it we are inconsequential, useless and as unappealing as feuding artistes. Oh darn...we have come to the end,” “Of what? This tripe? This nonsense, the banter...” He cut in for what was to be the last time. “Of the article.” WZ

Happy birthday to
November 1 Abi Deus Ibrahim Kahumuza Paul KawonawoKakeeto November 2 CK Ceo Diane Busingye R S Magnificent Mimi RubaizaRonmichael November 3 Edgar Muzinya Jacqueline Nambatya Kabagenyi Bella KatalihwaMusitafa Kwame Awere-Gyekye November 4 BenonSetenda Joe Powell Maxi Milano November 5 Ahmed Hadji Enoch ElasuPrimon Syl Ivy November 6 Kabagambe Peter Musinguzi Abbey TiberindwaZakaria November 7 Malinga Ronald Twine Julius UmahTete Moses Otim November 8 Aline Fay-Chatelard Andrew Kabala Kryptonite Bingham BêllâmyMusë HasahyaGodie Matovu Ivan Festus Matthew Kasekende Moses Magogo T.johnson W November 9 Brian Baingana ImaanKichou Pro Kris Tamale Harry November 10 AfraApio Byaruhanga Franklin Kalema Nicholas MananaBirabi F Pang Tsang Sing Patrick Massa Birabi

Nakabuye Mariah Tumwine Moses November 19 Andrew Atuhaire Andrew Kasana Innocent Noxy Ivan Wamala John Quinn November 11 Mutebi Ron AlexandreLwamboChito November 20 ChikuLeandreLwambo Atyang Jimmy Joseph Ssebayiga Conrad de Lexuss KenethSululuAmooti Ondyer J. Joshua Nsingwire Fred Richard Levy PatoKam November 21 November 12 Birungi Maureen Elise Malchair Carol Mugisa MeoMeo Dylan Kiggundu November 13 MaghanSowande A. Keita Donald Agaba November 22 Hassan Higenyi ArindaBarnis Tink Sam DaudiNabaasa November 14 Jacque-doo November Jeff Kayonga Joyce Kityo Magambo Phillip Kimuda Mukwonga John Nangumba Brian Sozi One-Bps November 15 Tony Grace Mulinde MilegeAfrojazz November 23 Okwii Richard Billy Birungi PhilippaBogere Dominic Kamara Salva Robert Emmanuel Ineget November 16 Kaswarra Gonzalez Emma Geraldine Mukesha Kussy Harry Kwesiga James RockT'aiTsungAkaTimothyOkwi November 17 TugceVulas JamaldeanNsimbe November 24 Julian Mwine Brian Kawuma Tori Nakanwagi Colin Mukiza November 18 Elvis Hues Anthony J Kateeba Namyalo Brenda Hamira W Moses Sue Katamba Martin Mugi

November 25 BazSempebwa Michael Orech Okol Gera Peter Nkera November 26 EnohNdri November 27 Blessing Juuko Magumba David Mafabi Moses Mwebaza Mark Bangumya November 28 Akol Bob Ambrose David Ebau Doreen Adyeeri K Ssentongo Richard November 29 Geoffrey Mbaziira Ivan Earl Argarba KatutuAkiiki KittieEm Michael Bemba Sekiranda Olowo Steven X Turnmeonanytym Precious November 30 Brian Nyanzi GimeiNagimesi Sara ChocolatAkelly Tonka Lawrenze