Ki Mwana Pablo,
This is your man Golola Moses, the international world champion of Uganda.
Thank you for your lugubrious letter. I keep telling people that I’m not a joking subject that’s why UNEB is scared of adding me to their syllabus. I’m sure my name will be an answer to one of the questions in Social Studies in the next PLE.
The Chinese say: “Beware of what you wish for.” When I saw the coffin that was paraded for my burial, I immediately called Uganda Funeral Services to book flowers and professional mourners to be on standby. Unfortunately, I didn’t tell them that the suspect would be eliminated in less than a minute. My opponent had been whisked away by the time the funeral service providers arrived.
I later saw AfandeTugume on television saying funny things. I don’t know whether it was his accent or he meant it but instead of saying: “The match was unfair”, he said: “The match was an affair.” Now my girlfriend wants to call off our kwanjula because of his statements on national television. He was demanding for a re-match.
I have no objection as long as he has clearance from both Mulago hospital and IHK proving that he is mentally sober. That blow could be still travelling to his medulla oblongata, that is why I need a medical document signed by Dr Ian Clarke. I trust bazungu reports only.
By the way, I was interviewed by BBC, CNN, and Al Jazeera. They were all wondering whether I was related to Idi Amin the knockout general. I’m thinking of early retirement because I might kill someone at this rate.
My energy is now volcanic; it keeps erupting. I fear that if I look at a woman today she might experience a miscarriage before she conceives. I have to handcuff myself on my bed before I go to sleep because I fear I might kill Golola Moses. I had to win the fight because it was at Freedom City.
Freedom is my middle name. When the colonialists heard about the birth of Golola Moses, they immediately granted Uganda independence. I visited an Internet cafe with intentions of finding Afande Titus Tugume’s whereabouts since he was rumoured missing.
No sooner had I entered the computer cafe than all computers showed: “New hardware detected.” All external hard-drives in the room crushed. I’m so afraid of Golola Moses myself. The man is a robot.
Thanks again for the letter and dedications. I listened to the songs and enjoyed them, especially Kung Fu fighting by Carl Douglas. A good turn deserves another; I would like to dedicate to you all songs in Lingala, Kwasa kwasa, and Awilo Longomba languages.
Yours the hammer,