The enigma

There's a guy who fell on us with a bang from heaven. Actually, he's not a literal symbol of the big-bang theory since he spent five years in the jungle ostensibly fighting for our liberation. But five years is nothing compared to the decades Joseph Kony has spent fighting without signs of ever seizing power.

Anyway, it was 30 years ago when this guy hit the scene and caused quite a splash. Many of you were not yet born but now are married and paying fees for your own children. That's how long this guy has been around but remains, in his own estimation, quite a revelation to Uganda; the only vision-bearer and mission-hungry revolutionary who cannot go away like that when the country still needs him.

President Museveni has been in power for 30 years and still counting

That self-image would not have been farfetched if this was still 1986. That was the year in which the rapid po-po-po and raat-aat-aatt-ttttt of gunfire ceased after he toppled the military regime of Gen. Tito Okello Lutwa. He didn't even have time to change into a suit; he was still wearing his green-military bush uniform complete with a cap when he stood on precincts of parliament for his inauguration, and said words that struck a chord in the hearts of many and provoked some tears of joy. 

 "This is not a mere change of guard, this is a fundamental," the then 40-year-old Commander-in-Chief said. There was a moving realness about everything he said that day including how Africa's major problem are leaders who overstay in power. Today we all agree that he knows a different definition of "overstay" than the dictionary offers! 

Anyway, this week the General's 30-year reign was celebrated in colour in Fort Portal. I followed the proceedings in my living room, grudgingly admiring his ability to ward off those that have all these years been clamouring for the topmost job in the land. It doesn't matter how much the old man with the hat ages, his iron-grip on power continues to tighten and nothing seemingly is about to

shake him off.

Silk and steel

The more I watch the English Premiership matches the more I get convinced that success is dependent on how we play our hearts out. The winning magic is in blending a steely approach with silky moves. Steel represents hardwork and determination whereas silk embodies the aesthetics; planning your moves beforehand and executing them out on the field with beauty.

Practice makes perfect

The reason Arsenal hasn't won the Premiership trophy since 2003 is because it's more silk than steel, whereas Leicester City which narrowly survived relegation last season has this time  intermingled silk and steel, leaving pundits rubbing their eyes; hardly believing that the 'underdog' has so far lost fewer games [only two] and sits top of the table.

Another aspect that has preached a great sermon to me is how players train hard everyday before showdown. Those guys became pros and have stayed pros through commitment. For one's gift and skill to shine through, it has to be worked on consistently like a shamba boy sharpens his panga every morning before he goes to the field to work. Those reflexes and amazing stretches that goalkeeper Cech makes to keep clean sheets are practiced on the training ground. And every time I watch Ozïl's slick moves I get galvanised by our capacity to perform spectacularly when we feed our imagination and burst forth with action.

A great pragmatist and motivational writer once said there's always space at the top. Leicester City has substantiated this by showing that it doesn't matter how intimidating your opponent is. If you have self-belief and work hard consistently greatness will be your portion.

But when you slacken like Chelsea did this season, your place at the top will be snatched. This in essence was what King Solomon meant when he said, "A little extra sleep, a little more slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest-- and poverty will pounce on you like a bandit; scarcity will attack you like an armed robber.

Tell me what you want

Remember when you were a baby? Your parents attended to all your needs. They fed you and changed your diapers. Dad held you in his strong arms; throwing you in the air and catching you while you bubbled with delight. At night they bathed you with deliciously warm water and tucked you in; staying a little by your cot; telling you stories and singing you lullabies till you drifted into gentle sleep. They basically met your physical, emotional and social needs without you doing much.

We love to be doted on like babies but our needs as adults are more complex

That was then, and even as adults there's nothing we love better than being doted on, but you cannot expect your spouse to figure out all your needs, or start screaming and crying like we did as children to attract attention and affection.

In the book Getting the Love You Want, Harville Hendrix shares a story of a man who thought his wife didn't love him. Yet she did everything to please him, including learning how to ski since hubby loved skiing. When the therapist asked that unhappy husband to tell his wife one specific thing she could do that would make him feel more loved, he retorted, "If she's been married to me for 25 years and still doesn't know what I want, then she just doesn't care about me!"

Obviously this man was still living in babyhood; expecting his wife to figure out all his needs like his mom did back then. He had forgotten that he was now an adult with more complex needs than when he was a child. His wife was not his mother; she had her own needs too that he had a duty to play in meeting. All he needed now was to tell his wife what pleases him and she would tell him what makes her happy and they would know how to satisfy one another.

We can save ourselves a whole lot by being straightforward; hemming and hawing does not help. Know what you want and ask for it. As the saying goes, "If you do not ask, the default answer will always be no."

The greatest gift of all

The greatest and most precious gift of all is life. That's why we wake up everyday to go work even when we don't feel like it, pursuing further studies, getting married, raising children and pursuing liberty and happiness. The drive behind this is the preservation life to the best of our ability.

Every person is better alive than dead

So precious is life that we want to cling on to it without letting go. It doesn't matter how toothless and wrinkled and helpless age has made us, we want to live on. Even when we know death is the gateway to heaven; the place of everlasting bliss, we hold on to the breath of life hoping it's never stuffed out. That's why individual safety and national security is of such paramount importance that without it no regime survives long. Idi Amin was not despised because he was a dictator. He was abhorred because his hands were dripping with the blood of innocent people. When it became evident no one was safer, everything had to be done to knock him off his high horse. 

Many years later, the devaluation of life is back to haunt us. You have to get worried the rate at which Ugandans are dying in the night club, on the roads, at beaches, in electioneering; mysteriously and openly without anyone providing the answers and the justice. The latest victim, a musician with a colourful stage name Master Blaster, was shot dead at a night club and buried under mysterious night circumstances.

As usual the police sang its old song: "investigations ongoing" but it always ends there. 

As a country we need to get a grip about the value and preciousness of life and not toy with it anyhow. The great thinker Henry David Thoreau said, "Every creature is better alive than dead, men and moose and pine trees, and he who understands it aright will rather preserve its life than destroy it."

The deeper friend

Happy New Year, folks! I'm elated to be alive and kicking, bringing you my first column of 2016. For me the new year means starting afresh from the inside out.

I recently read an online article about a young woman who died alone in her house and no body knew until her skeleton was discovered three years later! I read that story again and again, asking myself what it must feel like to die alone like that and a whopping three years passing by without anyone ever knowing. 

If a man has no friend he may quit the stage

I concluded that that young woman had no friend in the whole world, or those purported to be her friends were fake; lip-service friends not the authentic ones that can take a bullet for you.

That tragic story gave me a reality check. I stayed wide awake that night wondering whether I've a friend I can count on. One who cares to call often or drop you a line to check how you're doing and goes the extra mile of visiting you in case you don't respond.

Whether I've that kind of friend is not the question. The question is, am I a true friend to somebody out there? Do I've some people I care about enough to stay in touch with on a daily basis that I would know when they are sick or struggling and be there for them?

I don't want to be the superficial friend like the friends of the single woman who died alone in her house and no one got to know until three years later. So my New Year resolution is to reach out more, know my friends in deeper ways than before.

Francis Bacon once said, "If a man have not a friend he may quit the stage." I think the great philosopher was talking about a  friend that sticks closer than a brother. Every person deserves such a friend, but we must first be that  friend before we get that friend.

The woman's handbag

There's a funny illustration doing the rounds on social media. It shows two books: the first is a very small book titled "Understanding Men" and the second is a tome with a pile of pages almost touching the roof. And it is titled "Understanding Women: Part I".

Natasha Museveni holds onto her handbag

You have to be a rare genius indeed to understand women. One thing that intrigues me most about Ugandan women is their determination to turn men into carriers of their handbags. Remember the picture of Golola Moses walking around carrying Sharon's handbag after her eviction from Big Brother House? Well, our women have since turned that into a modern fad.

It happened to me about a month ago. I went out with a beautiful woman and as we approached the venue she gave me her hangbag saying, "Honey, dear, please carry my handbag." When I asked if it contained heavy stuff that was making her arms tired, she gave me a strange look like I was an alien. She pouted and gave me a cold treatment the rest of that evening because I refused to carry her handbag. 

A few days later she gave me some unsolicited advice on love and romance: "It's not something to be embarrassed about for a guy to carry her woman's handbag, it's actually as romantic as opening the car door for her, and as lovely as offering her your jacket on a cold date."

Maybe. 

But it beats my understanding how a woman ignores the beautiful little purse in preference to one of those gigantic handbags Ugandan women love, then expecting me to carry it for her. I remember Joyce Meyer saying one thing Dave (her husband) insists on not doing for her is carrying her handbag. I'm like Dave; call me unromantic if you want, lady, but I refuse to carry a woman's handbag. It's not a cool thing for a man to do.