Friday, April 8, 2016

Sh2.6b To Eradicate Porn

I have never met Father Lokodo, (below) but he is at it yet again. Bless him. A few years ago if memory serves me correct, he came out guns blazing and tried to take on the world oldest profession – prostitution.

Speke Road, down by Post Office and other places where Prostitute hangs out, were raided. But no sooner had the police pick-up carted off one set to Jinja Road or CPS police stations, than another group of prostitutes filled the void. And somewhere down the road the guns stopped blazing and normal business was resumed.

While he is a minister and reports to the appointing authority – M7 that is, as a Father and I am guessing here, it means he is some sort of man of the cloth. That means he also reports to God. God must have appraised him and told him: “Father Lokodo, what on earth is happening in Uganda. You are falling well short of your targets. Do something.”

Father Lokodo didn’t need to be told twice especially after a berating by God. He swung into action, walked to Ministry of Finance and asked for sh2.6 billion. When asked what he intended to use the money for, he said: “A machine and software that can detect porn...”

Searching the internet, the only porn detecting machine I was able to come across is a memory stick. Hmm, sh2.6 billion for this (below)?

Porn I guess is almost as old as prostitution. When I was in my teens, it was much more illicit to watch porn than it is today. In the video stores, porn videos were hidden under the counter while magazines such as Playboy, Mayfair and Hustler were displayed on the top shelves.

But we still bought the magazines and we did look at the images as well as watching the videos. In my case and many others, we didn’t end up as pervs, though I will say that that the images of naked women in Playboy were very subtle compared to those in Knave or Hustler.

Porn is everywhere today. Once deemed to be a male preserve, women too are watching porn. Just about every girl in Mary Stuart Hall at Makerere University or in Akamweesi Hotel who has access to a DVD player, has a porn DVD. And it’s not soft core porn that DVD Hawker is hawking. He is hawking the hard core stuff.

People who are in relationships, when they retire to their bedrooms, I guess they engage in some form of porn. Father Lokodo is from the old school and grew up knowing that the word ‘sex’ was a dirty word. He is used to saying ‘copulating’. He is also from the old school that believes copulating should be done in the ‘missionary position’. ‘Woman-on-top, doggy, wheel barrow’ and so forth are deemed to be porn. By the way, I can almost picture him wiping his forehead of sweat and being in a state of collapse as he tried to fathom the wheelbarrow position.  

What we do in our homes is our business not so? If I want to watch porn and I am watching it with adults and in private, of what business is it to Lokodo? Will the porn detecting van and Porn Police stop outside our homes and mount a raid? If a couple are having three some sex in the confines of their home, is it anybody’s business? Will we also get raided?

I do however agree that there is a need to control porn especially from children but the porn machine, I doubt is going to solve the problem – unless it’s going to freeze the internet. But as parents, we have a duty to control what our children watch on their tablets and smart phones.

What Father Lokodo has not told us, is what constitutes porn. Mills and Boon, Jilly Cooper and Jackie Collins books, which just about every other girl read, have ‘sex chapters’. Would that be porn? A movie in which there are silhouettes of naked people, would that constitute porn? An R. Kelly or Lil’ Kim video perhaps?

If Father Lokodo couldn’t get rid of Prostitute, then how on earth does he intend to get rid of porn? Am not smacking him down. Am just watching for who knows, there might be more to the machine like being able to detect if we are having impure thoughts. Now that would be something else! 

Pictures: New Vision, Internet

The Melee At The Family Gathering

There is, something about family gatherings that brings out the best in us. While we look forward to spending holidays like Easter, Christmas, Idd, kwanjula’s and weddings with the greater family, it’s not a straight forward affair. We are supposed to turn up and make merry, but most times, we land with a plastic smile, stretching out one hand to greet while in the other, we have a ‘meat cleaver and jar of acid’ at the ready.

Years ago, I covered the kuhingira of Politician’s Daughter in the west. From the onset, there was not a hint of trouble. The visitors were warmly received, shown to their seats, served drinks and a bite to nibble on while Politician, sat in his tent with his family and looked on intently as Visitors spoke with the microphone being passed from Visitor to Visitor to have a say.

When it was being passed down from last Visitor who had spoken and back to MC, one Visitor didn’t hand it over to him (MC). Instead, he held onto it for dear life, stood up and started talking - except, it wasn’t kuhingira talk. It was a mortifying rant, accusing Politician of not coming to his aid when he was still Minister of Defence to stop his cattle being rustled.

Visitor sitting nearest to Ranter Visitor tugged at his kanzu to get him to sit down. It didn’t work. When MC tried to step in and politely wrestle the microphone away, that too didn’t work. It was when the audio was cut by Silk Mobile that the ranting subsided. The silence that followed was so chillingly deftly, you could hear literally hear a pin drop onto the damp grass. For the rest of the day, Politician swung an acidic look, it would have put the shivers up Vladimir Putin and got me contemplating leaving the function and driving back to Mbarara for a stiff drink just in case I got accused of not doing anything to stop the rant.

Last year, I was at Friends crib for a luncheon to celebrate his mother’s birthday. One of his brothers who I knew to be the family black sheep, sat in the corner – eyes all blood shot and drinking gin in silence.

I didn’t have to have affande Felix Kaweesi’s riot police training to suss there was tension and a melee was in the making. The moment the sun disappeared, Black Sheep shot up and hurled a bottle into one of the circles.

Before anybody had a chance to react, the first punch landed on Uncle followed by rantings of how the family estate was being run since his father’s death and that as musika, Younger Sibling had no respect for him. When somebody shouted out: “But you are just a waragi drunko”, the melee kicked off proper bringing the birthday to a premature close.

We were heading to Mbale in a hired coaster. When we set off from Shell Bugolobi, there was no hint of trouble. Indeed, drinks were being passed round, the music was thumping and jokes were rife - until we got to Namawojolo. There, Elder Brother in the joke theme, told Cousins Wife that the reason she had four sticks of chicken is because Cousin couldn’t afford to buy her a half kilo of kidneys. The joke back fired especially at reference to the half kilo of kidneys and it opened up bitter five-year-old+ wounds.

Sisters-In-Law vilified, screeched and scratched at each other while Brothers and Cousins traded slaps and punches. While all this was going on, I was up front with petrified Conductor and Driver who were intent on driving us to the nearest police post.

These days, moment I hear ‘family gathering’, I just don’t want to know. would you?