Little Bro…brushes aside my sacarsm with such skill and grace that I almost feel embarrassed.



Episode Three

He Who Laughs Last

It’s a lazy afternoon at BLB 05, Glory Drive. The sun is warmly gliding through the clear sky and the birds are quietly perched in the trees, seeking refuge from the sweltering heat. Little Bro is in the living room doing home work and I’m in my room sheepishly swiping on my new Huawei smartphone. This Huawei is such an achievement because it’s an upgrade on those “chinese” phones with cringe-worthy names like “Xin Hua” or “SamSong”, those ones which have ringtones akin to the scream of an enraged bat! With a silly smile on my face, I’m humming that popular Kadongo Kamu hit, “Gyenvudde tebibadde birungi…”

Soon, Little Bro scurries in. He has a burning question.

“Ian, what is rusting?”

He catches a glimpse of the new phone.

“Oooh! Cool phone. Let me see! Let me see! Is it Apple? Does it have games? Where did you get it?”

Not particularly pleased with the untimely interruption, I reply sarcastically,
“I picked it by the roadside.”

Little Bro is unfazed. He brushes aside my sacarsm with such skill and grace that I almost feel embarrassed.
“Oh Lucky you!” he says. “You know, I had a smartphone once. It was…”

“What??” I interrupt. “Where did you get a smartphone?”

I asked, shocked, because it’s quite unheard of that at his age, Little Bro would be allowed to carry a phone, much less a smartphone.

However, he has a huge smile on his face which lets me know that I’m being had. But it’s too late, I’ve already fallen into his trap. 

“I picked it by the roadside.” he replies comfortably, picks up his home work and saunters out. I can almost swear I hear him laugh the universal evil laugh but maybe it’s just my mind playing tricks.

As the birds bask in the afternoon heat, at BLB 05, Glory Drive, House-with-the-black-gate, it dawns on me that Little Bro is a force to reckon with.



Episode Two


It’s Sunday, Glory Drive, house-with-the-black-gate. Little Bro is brimming with excitement; we are going for a Watoto Church Service. He loves Watoto Church so much and always makes sure I never forget to take him. “I love it because on the inside, it looks like a movie!” he told me once. 

Walking out on Glory Drive, we meet a gentleman with whom we exchange greetings. When he is gone, Little Bro asks who he is.

“It’s an Uncle.” I reply. An uncle not because he is our dad’s or mom’s brother but because that’s what we call any man who is close with our family, even neighbors and school wardens.

We soon continue on our voyage and meet another family friend with whom we exchange greetings. When he leaves, Little Bro asks who he is.

“He is an uncle!” I reply. 

Soon we are in a taxi, enjoying the trees and buildings whooshing by and the promise of a great worship experience. The driver is calm and he is not needlessly snaking through traffic jammed vehicles as though he suddenly thinks he is riding a bike. Being a Sunday, the road is deserted.

“Awo ku Total!” I blurt to the conductor once we reach the Total Nakulabye stage. No sooner have we stepped out of the matatu than we bump into another family friend.

“Hey guys! It’s amazing to see you!” Family friend exclaims.“How are you? This must be Malcom!”
He grabs Little Bro’s cheeks in handfulls as Little Bro smiles and grimaces in unison.

When the man leaves, Little Bro asks vehemently,“Who is that?!”

I realise the absurdity of the answer I’m about to render, but render it I must.

“It’s an uncle”

“Eh!” Little Bro exclaims. He can take it nolonger. “Uncle here, uncle there, uncle everywhere! It’s as if all of Uganda is our uncles!”
I grunt loudly in laughter and attract the attention of the nearby salon women.

“Well, your dad was a man of the people” I say and we continue to Watoto Church to meet our other uncles,aunties and siblings.



Episode One


It’s a stormy afternoon.Dark and drab. Rain is pelting iron roofs as though trying to unearth the secrets hidden within the walls beneath. Trees are swaying and groaning to the forceful tunes of the strong winds. Leaves are floating with reckless abandon, having left their fates in the hands of Nature.People are running aimlessly but with a singular aim; to find cover..both from the rainy assault and the gut wrenching bolts of lightening and thunder that have turned the sky into a mega discotheque.

At Glory Drive, house-with-the-black-gate, we are safely indoors but are nevertheless taking precaution. Windows closed, telly off, all electrical appliances turned off to prevent attracting a lightening strike. Little Bro is deep in his blanket, he says it wards off electric current from the lightening.

Suddenly, a sharp jolt trembles the house down to its foundation and sends shivers down every spine within. All lightbulbs and sockets  short circuit, the house is plunged in darkness..lightning has struck the house!!!

Little Bro rushes down to the living room with fear in his eyes. He looks around and we are all busy trying to figure out how much damage has been done. We r checking bulbs and sockets but have not checked the one thing Little Bro really cares about

“Guys!” He cries in anguish.“is the TV okay?”

This outburst fishes out much needed laughter from all of us. Tension dissipates further when the TV is confirmed to be okay.

“Is TV the only thing you care about?” I question Little Bro.

“No, but I can assure u without it, life would be worse than this stormy afternoon!”

Till the next joke…


ARTWORK by Andrew Roland Kamagara