A CROSS-BREED, MY PICK

By Stanley Kimuge

I don't know why I settled for this title. But I bet am landing into troubled waters. Being a fourth year is just as risky a business as placing a loaded gun on your head. A few weeks and I will hopefully log out of this torturous 8-4-4 system.

For now I am damn sure of one degree. Don't ask me what it will look like. The other is still a mirage. I bet I should mobilize one lady to be my running mate before the deadline slaps my face. But where can I get her?


Well, after soul-searching, I felt a cross-breed would do me good. I suppose a hybrid of a village girl and a poisoned campus chiq is a perfect match. Of course, I would love to be inclusive and compromising.

I discovered village girls too just like campus ladies, have deep-seated lines of weakness. A campus chiq has wide experience; you can say best cooks in beds. On the other hand, my highly praised conservative girl lacks this skill.

A cross-breed would survive under any condition. She can accommodate the miniskirts (though I hate them passionately), but just like the Uganda Ethics and Integrity Minister, Simon Lokodo, I will outlaw where necessary. Modesty, as they say, works best.

Village or analogue ladies are hard to bend. They are the loudest drum beats. More importantly, they can suffer from obsolescence. Before I put a lid on the nib of my pen, I am awarding a tender to a Too-Low Company. Just like they drilled the hardest rocks, they can perhaps hand-pick the rarest of them all; a cross-breed.