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Into the life of Ugandan Raggae sensation,Maddox Ssemanda Ssematimba

Known for his hits; Namagembe,Nakatudde, Kampala among others. Maddox is a Ugandan Raggae legend that appeals to all ages; young and old alike.It has not been a smooth ride, Maddox has had to maneuver a dark patch in his life to get up.The question however is; Do you really know Ssematimba? How does he spend his day? What inspires him? What makes him tick? AnythingGoes@Ntambiessie gives you a snick pick into the life of this legend.

Kid moments

A secret no one will tell you about happens at Youth Camps

This Sunday(last Sunday) My church priest notified me that the church was greatful for my service in Children church and was paying my dues to Namirembe Diocese Youth Conference 2016. The fliers read age between 14- 45yrs. For luck of better plot, i was geared up for the day.
My arrival at Namirembe Cathedral was greeted with the sight of a red n white King’s College bus. My inside squeaked with happiness. Yey! Fun time!

However, it was the sight of the other “youth” that drained the excitement out of my system. They…they were all hairless teenagers.Hairless! Others were barely 12 years of age! I died.
The boys squeaked with exited words only a boy in the prim of their adolescence would utter. I was appalled.
Did leaving cross my mind? Yes! But so was the money paid by my church.

At the conference site, the hairless teenagers made their beds eagerly as I looked on. I later reluctantly settled on a double decker that would be my bed for at least three nights.
I was able to go through facilitation in the disguise of a facilitator( which I plan to carry on)
I returned to my decker later, friendless(and not aspiring for any ) and sought refuge in my phone. I could feel the cautious curious looks periodically thrown in my direction by the girls but i continued in oblivion like I didn’t give a f**, which i didn’t.

It was when the phone battery died that my ear caught a conversation at the far end of the room.
” I had a friend who couldn’t eat without talking to her boyfriend.” Am like yii-yiii, what kind of jazz is this? “Don’t awaken love!” the voice continued “Love is too big to handle! Even the bible says so.” It emphasized.
“You see my problem was Men. I looovved mennn too much.Too much!

I stopped nibbing on the lollipop that my tongue had been emphatically oppressing, only stealing a nimb once in a while. I had to find a way to listen in between the hushed and raising voice.
I wanted to listen in to the jazz of hairless secondary school teenagers.

” I told God to take away my love for men but more came. It was like he was testing me.” The voice added
“I hated my phone because of men.But you see God is not a vain God. If your patient,He will give you a man worthy of your patience. A good man. Hez a faithful one if you serve him.
” Uhmmm… ok,not the kind of jazz i expected.

“But I see youth that are proud. Youth that do a bit of every Godly thing and yet miss out on the real blessing. Some lead praise because they are good.They have to be seen. Other people just simply stand and stare when you lead praise in church. They are just too proud.”

By now, I just want to stare at the face of the teenage girl saying this. I peep. Hihi, yes i peep. All I see however is a light skinned girl putting on a checked red and black shirt.

I hurriedly jump off the decker to check for my note book and note a few of her points.I don’t want to miss so I empty my bag when I can’t find the pen quick. I promise my self to re- organise the stuff the next day.
In a short while, I hear lights are about to be off. I ask for two more minutes and continue writing.

The girl being shared with opens up about her boyfriend. Her voice is lower, i can barely hear but am able to pick that she’s fighting with the love of a tall, big eyed, well kempt boy at school who has to bend to her height to speaks to her, and she goes waza wazooo.

Lights go off and i decide to write in the dark.
Advice follows, it says; ” Do you still give ministry the same time and dedication with that guy?”
“No”she goes.
“Well i bet you give him about 60% which limits your service” pray to get courage to leave him.
… It went on. Today I blended in better. In fact i like it. I’ve mingled with teenagers that play all instruments and even had my first piano lesson.Lol) The teenagers I thought adolescent lead praise and worship until my mouth goes ajar. I even participated in a competition where my group called Ruth sang a hymn and this was exactly the judges’ comment;
” Ruth, I’ve never seen a more uncoordinated team. You came here like a gathering not a choir.” I laughed. I had really tried… A boy from my church made it a point to notify me that my voice was as weak as Jjajja Nantale’s, an old woman in my church. I lost the humor in the situation I mean my soprano can’t be that bad!!! Nwe am still enjoying and happy to announce i saw some youth with hair.

fun

My Terrible Horrible No good Very bad Dinner Day

I sit now at 2 am in the morning texting away. Its not every day that I write or talk about an incident when it has just happened (Unbelievable right? Well if it helps I almost can’t believe this statement too,hihii) but this evening’s incidences have surpassed my patience.  Mark the date; 19th /May 2017, my finalist dinner day.

Posing for a picture on arrival with my momentary date at The Metropole Hotel, Kololo.

It’s been 4 years at Makerere University so of course it is expected for someone to spend a little fortune on shoes and dresses on their finalist dinner, right? Well not me. I decided I would only spend exactly the official dinner payment. Reason? Simple; it’s a dinner not the day we go to heaven. Dahh… So I borrowed a dress, worked with a little jewelry and put on my old-still very good looking shoes to the party.

Me and my best girls pose for a group photo with our dates. I will even be modest not to say I cropped off the other out crew fellas.

Ohh by the way the story hasn’t even started yet. The real point here is I had a performance to do. A little latino dance (Bachata and salsa) that I simply wanted to do, no bigi just for fun. Four years done I mean… dahh (I never thought this dahh thing so cool until now so forgive the over use, dahh…) I organized my dance attire in time. A small round black dress to flatter me with a nice biker for decency’s sake. In short I was on fire. I mean Faaya. The dancing partners were a last-minute call so we had no choreography but not many people can differentiate a choreographed latino from a social dance so it was cool.

The bad begins

First of all the party was like a little PR event for the dinner sponsors. I barely listened to them. I was worried I hadn’t  given the performance songs in yet. In short we were not on the programme yet I had made dance partners travel. After settling this, I was told we are next to perform before I even put a fork in my meal. That’s when the already no good day turned horrible. When we entered the washrooms to change, I was all jittery and light hearted. My buddy Mo was even smiling when she said; “If my clothes are not here that’s where it all ends

Me; Hihi, now see you but me, heee I wouldnt even dare. Nkivaamu buvi My fears were shortly comfirmed. My nicely planned attire wasn’t packed! I was in shock.  Why not call it off like I had earlier threatened you ask?  You know stuff are usually easier said that done. It was me who had contacted our partners and they came without asking even for their transport.(They are guys used to a pay) I couldn’t possibly start acting out after their free help now , could I? I felt stressed and a pain in my tummy was constantly reminding me that I hadn’t eaten. After a long search. We landed on Mo’s dress. Now am 14kgs bigger than this girl and I had to fix in her dress. Like how more wrong can things go? With an effort from two girls,I finally squeezed successfully into the dress.  It huged my boobies like they were busting. I felt suffocated. The dress went on to torment my tummy in the same way. I look packed. Liked squeezed busting tomatoes and its not  all in my head. It’s the naked truth.  And that’s not worst part of it; the dress couldn’t tie so the zipper was open behind. And no, that’s still not the worst of it,  am was a pink floral knicker (At this point your allowed to use your imagery) without abiker inside.

Lecturers  pose for a picture with Andrew Mwenda

My lecturers and other media officials and sponsors were in attendance. . Now magine how it felt! I felt beat but couldn’t make myself tell the partners who came solely to perform that I wouldn’t.

After a whisper,my partner decided to take it easy on me (Note; Easy is not what I wanted, it was show off time.Do you get it?)I was able to relive myself of the dress shortly after the dance. By now my empty stomach had a burning ache but I couldn’t even eat. I just wanted back home.  The hotel cooks packed my food and desert in a foil and I was off.

As if the day couldn’t take a little pity on me, I was caught up by curfew. From midnight something I was given a punishment of waiting out till 2am to be opened for.  Could a day get any worse?  I still couldn’t eat. At 1 am something I was allowed in on good behavior. I knew my food will be spoiled so I woke  up my little sister to chew it.

I tried watching a movie which was unyielding so I drafted this story before sleeping but guess what;my buddies who were partying whole night (after party} somehow got themselves locked up in a room where I had to go rescue them. Shortly after Uganda Communications Commission(UCC) cut off my line. As in Reaaally????? Riyale….

 

 

fun

My encounter with Makerere University Tourists.

Makerere University is a tourist site. Yes, it is!
It’s been my typical slow day but lately I’d noticed some stuff are expensive. Like eggs, bread spread…etc Those used to be bought in my room by my Muko, but ever since my sister ceased to be my roommate! ahuh… am painfully aware one egg is a whole UGx400! Anyhow, I passed my complaint on and finally my Muko decided to indulge me (Merci). A phone call tells me to walk towards the University main gate to pick my stuff.
Well, I simply put on my shoes and left! When am in campus,I find a lot of high school kids. They are putting on black and white uniforms. I walk on but they seem too many am literally maneuvering through. I soon realise they are touring.
“Makerere is big but their bu buildings are old,” a boy on my left comments. I smile to myself. It’s not really funny but am mused. Never thought of the place that way.
“But I thought Campusers dress so nice,” My ear catches a girl on my right telling a friend. The hell! I sneer. Did she just refer to me to make such a conclusion? My silly stupid amused smile disappears immediately.

I decide to give myself a check and I swear I almost bust out laughing.
I looked at my feet-Impeccable. I just polished my nails. My eyes travel to my shoes- aha.my friend, the shoes I was putting on. haha, I was kinda swimming in them-no, they were not borrowed. I actually own them. My smile of amusement returns when I take a look at the shorts am “rocking”. My friend Naj, calls them a three in one; she says they are undecided shorts, three quarters and at the same time jogging tracks. She hates them. I love them. They are black with grey stripes in the side and a word.
It’s the word that is my father’s problem. He hates dem shorts too. They have a word “Kappa” right on the butt area which is exactly his problem. He says they call for attention to my butty (well, he doesn’t say it literally but beats around the bush. I just can tell what he means to say) God! He hates them. There is this way his unsmiling self squeezes eyes to just slits when he spots in them. And am like; uh-uh. I know you won’t say it so I might as well enjoy them at your quiet displeasure.
By now I have full smiling lips. My eyes leave the short for the top. HAha… It’s a floral pregnant looking cotton top capable of looking sexy if worn right. Surely these secondary kids should at least have noticed it’s pretty in its way, right? I mean even though it’s a floral top and am putting it on with a track looking pant and over-sized animal print sandals. Surely, they are all pretty attires in their capacity… Ok, what if I say their tourism site was my home. How about that? That would explain the dress code right? I also have my good campus days. I do! I mean seriously, I do. Perhaps they thought about that? Ok, maybe one of them did?
Well if they didn’t then maybe my hair said it all; I was in my hood. Ok, now unless these kids were not rational, walking with my unruffled hair, no tress of lipstick, or lip balm or even jewelry was enough indicator right? Problem is I hadn’t worn my blue Umoja slippers to clearly indicate I was in the hood.
Anyhow, I walked through the kids consciously suffering to keep my head held high.
Uff ! finally, the horror was over. Turning around the corner, I met other kids.Jeez! One can only take alot! They were like in five different Uniforms. I died. I looked at their uniforms and felt a little better; I knew their secret; I could tell they were putting on their best Uniforms. You see I did the same in high school. When it’s a school trip, I would put on my better shirt- the whiter one and the skirt that flattered me the most. Yey, I shared in their little secret- made me feel better knowing they were trying to please.
It wasn’t before long that I saw a bus. On it words read “ MAYUGE SECONDARY SCHOOL” My heart sunk. I had just killed a chance of a kid from Mayuge to see a replica of how a University girl dresses like. If one school was Mayuge, weren’t others Nakapiripiriti, Chepsikunya, Bukomansimbi, Nalyamagonja etc? Well, maybe they saw other better examples around varsity,I soothed my self. But I assure you I have my good days too…I swear I do. ohh, and Muko gave me my stuff.