Today, the eight of March in every year is the day we celebrate as International Women’s Day. It is on this day that we remember the invention of the woman so many years ago.

Since women were first introduced into society, they have become an invaluable and integral part of our lives and it is only fitting that we celebrate them with a public holiday.

The modern woman who you see today is the culmination of centuries of upgrades (known as “rights”) which have transformed the state of womanhood drastically. Initially women were mostly labour-saving devices which tilled the land and cooked the hunted food and also served to generate babies which were used to re-supply society with men.
However, due to the application of rights and the discovery by science that women have brains too, we have been able to exploit women intellectually as well as physically to the general betterment of society.

The advancement of women has brought great benefits not only to women but to society at large. Even today we have such paragons of excellence in their chosen fields as Hillary Rodham Clinton, Madeline Albright, Condoleezza Rice and other powerful women who are not in from the US government!

Unfortunately the struggle is far from complete. There is still a long way to go. We need to destroy the enemies of women’s emancipation. By that I mean, seriously women, Paris Hilton is not doing anyone any favours. Just remove her from women. She’s embarrassing all of you.

On a more local front, there are many chicks who you see and think, “This one is a waste of rights. She should shut up and go back to the village to peel potatoes for the rest of her life.” Many examples of such chicks can be found faking accents on radio.

Those are my thoughts on Women’s Day. Happy Women everybody!

Previously on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. Prisca, a diminutive linguist from Lira, is back to snatch money from Alan Kasujja. But first she must answer his cunning riddles.

Baby Class questions were as easy as we have come to expect. Easy as pie. I wouldn’t be surprised if a question like this appears one day:

Where does one take a dump? a) In a properly equipped lavatory. b) In the office c) in a taxi d) on Kizza Besigye’s big head.

As she ballet-danced through to one million shillings we were able to notice how Kenyan her accent was. Now, this is not in itself such a terrible thing. Some of my best friends have Kenyan accents. It’s just that it suggests certain things about a person’s upbringing, you know, calls certain aspects of it to question.

Like, for example, we begin to suspect that she wasn’t here when certain things were happening. When Ka-Suge (I thought I had run out of nicknames) asked her who Uganda’s first female Vice President was.

The suspense music chimed and boomed and echoed like it was coming to life.

And we knew then that Prisca wasn’t from around these ends.

Well, she used a lifeline. Her second. Si she wasted one last week? (“Si” is what people with Kenyan accents say instead of “anti”) The fifty fifty helped her correctly identify the first female Veep of Uganda as Sensational Spe, and with that she leapt out of the frying pan and right into the fire.

For the next question was: Which waterfalls are also known as Kabalega Falls?

Kenyans don’t know this shit.

So Prisca had to use up her last lifeline. To be fair it was a good one. She called a friend who I think was named “Duke” and even before she read the options he had told her. It’s Murchinson. He pronounced it “Murshon” the way Ugandans do, so it shows that Prisca has Ugandan friends. She’s assimilating.

The worst seemed to be over. From then on it was easy convo, including Kasugar asking what is and finally letting me know how to pronounce “Haute Couture”. The linguist had to think about it. Alan tried to help by speaking a little bit of the French he knows. “Voulez vous couche avec moi?” he asked.

She might have reached over to slap him, but well, to reach Alan’s face to slap him you need to make the trip in like a vehicle or something.

The next question was: On which continent was the cocoa seed first used to make a beverage?

I know, right?

At this point Prisca was 2.5 million shillings in. She had no lifelines left. Add to this the fact that she is evidently a smart woman. She therefore opted to take the money and let the question go voulez vou couchez itself. She descended from the chair to applause.

Our next contestant was Nyote from Mbale. I will let Twitter-user @malonebarry introduce him to you.

The latest contestant and @kasujja pose for a photo:http://tinyurl.com/6labyap #millionaireUg

He sells ice cream for a living. It seems unfair to call it Baby Class when we just saw him look like a foetus next to Kasujja, so let’s just say he did his best to try to look like he was thinking hard during the easy questions, and did not shirk when Alan asked him about his circumcision.

However, he did not see this coming: Before he got to his 500,000 it was blam! In what month was King Oyo born?!

Kablayam!

Man I felt pain when that happened. Okay. Look. I know some people know, but some people don’t know and bambi he was in Baby Class and…

I felt heartbroken when he had to leave after getting it wrong.

And I’ve already forgotten what the answer was.

Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, the game show where a tall man asks questions and gives away money had three contestants this week, in addition to a plump cleavage that one viewer noticed bulging at him from behind the final contestant.

Let’s get into it.

Lubega was first. Lubega was educated at MIT, and for this reason we shall respect his conglomerate. All he did with the first set of questions was swat them away like they were merely bothersome flies flitting around inconveniently between him and his easy money.

After he had scored his sh500,000, the baby class round ended and Ringmaster Alan K-to-the-double-J asked: Which Area In Uganda is Famous For It’s Tree Climbing Lions?

There is a goat in Kireka that climbs trees. I’m not lying. They call it Apollo. But as for the lions, not everybody knows that. I do, but many other viewers were stumped.

MIT chose Ishara but it was out of the frying pan and deep into the fire. The next question was: Which Hollywood film showcases Ugandan Hip Hop Artists?

Do YOU know the answer to that question?

Exactly.

Lubega chose to go with a lifeline, while, from my seat, I googled and found a youtube link of Babaluku and his 14 incisors representin hip HAP the way he does under the title: Video Diamonds in The Rough, but in the studio, the audience was voting for Hip Hop Pilates, or Platypus or something– I can’t read my own handwriting.

Alas, Lubega chose to follow the audience’s lead to his doom. His excuse was he doesn’t know much about hip hop because he is not a young man. Well, neither is Babaluku…

Who would our next contestant be? Lil Sophie.

Now, I may have mentioned before that Kasujja stands towards seven feet tall, Those ends. Sophie was a tiny woman. She stood head to his waist and had to flail her arms upwards like she was cheering just to get to shake his hand.

She said she was a student at MUBS as she settled in for Baby Class round, the one where the 500,000 is guaranteed. ALL MUBS students owe money to somebody, that’s just how they be. You now know how  much she has.

They asked her which of a variety of sauces is popular in Uganda. Now, those of us from Javas know Mushroom sauce mostly, but Sophie needed to ask for a 50-50 lifeline to determine whether it was this or groundnut sauce.

And then when they asked her who, from a list of three ex Kabakas and another fellow, was a former prime minister of Buganda and she had to get another lifeline, we figured out that Sophie must be from outside countries.

A clever twitterer observed at this point that Kasujja’s legs are the only ones that ever touch the ground when they sit on those chairs. I have a photo that I will upload when I have more battery power.

Wee Sophie was doing well. She was up to 2,500,000, when Big Al brought out the next one. If she fails this, she would lose two million, he warned. She giggled. MUBS girls giggle nicely. That’s probably why they get people to give them soft loans so easily, and they have all this money to spend on mushroom sauce, so they  don’t even know what binyebwa are.

Her next lifeline did her in. They asked her how many cards are used in a poker game. “That’s all the cards, baby,” I beamed telepathically into the screen, but she didn’t get the message. Instead she called up one of those people we have all met who, even if they don’t know what they are talking about, will continue to speak with confidence, even when they are just making shit up.

He told her the wrong answer and I have never seen a face fall so dramatically any place on TV outside of Saborati.

She hopped off the seat and ambled sadly off, passing through Alan’s legs to walk off stage and plot how to use the 500,000 bob she was left with to kill the idiot who told her it was 37 cards.

The third contestant was a lawyer named Diana who had a bright smile and wanted to learn to use the Law for development while, just within camera shot, above her shoulder, an audience member’s bossom bulged at us.

Diana almost flunked out when asked what happens when the opposite poles of two magnets meet. She confidently smugged, “B. Repulsion.” I punched myself in frustration.

Kasujja had to do the “are you sure?” thing that he always does whether you are right or wrong, and this time, it is what saved her. “I know the saying: like poles repel, and unlike poles attr… OH! Wait! I have to change that answer!”

And so thanks to that Hail Mary shot, Diana remained in the game and will be playing on next week. When you shall find me here. In your internets, doing the recap.

Cheating is a revered art that should not be practiced by novices and slow humans. But before you scamper to your wife’s bedroom shouting “Wife, Mununuzi has said it’s okay. Am going out for a meeting with Dorothy”, this statement does not in any way condone being unfaithful to your sex partner but rather delves into the remarkably intricate mind of one O-level student who chose to violate the educational sanctity of his form two end of year chemistry paper a.k.a me.

We called it banging Kasasi.

I hated chemistry with an eternally voracious passion. There’s virtually nothing I knew about the subject except that if two people fell in love, it meant they had chemistry.

Every stream in our class had small groups that claimed they had access to the staffroom and knew what questions would appear in any paper. Membership in such groups came at a high cost unless you had the right qualities.

For instance, to qualify for the chemistry kasasi, you had to show a devoted decline of intellect manifested in your steady failure of the different mid-term tests.

Scoring anything above 40% in your last paper meant you were brilliant and had the capacity to pass unaided which interpreted to possessing the capacity to snitch on your cheating buddies. Therefore, bright dudes were considered diseased outcasts.

My poor record in the chemistry paper qualified me for the chemistry kasasi group fronted by classmate Bukutuka. Bukuts believed cheating was a gift passed on to him by older and wiser generations and it therefore earned him the right to be leader of the kasasi party (not to be confused with NRM).

He claimed he knew all the set questions and asked us to meet him after evening preps in one of the lonely classrooms.

He read the different questions to a group of about twelve very attentively brainless boys. We walked out after the meeting to laugh at our dimwitted pals who were wasting time reading hard for a paper we knew we would ace and spent the rest of the time just making noise.

On D-Day, we tightly folded the bu-pieces of paper on which we had scribbled the answers and squeezed them into our socks, shoes and underwear. We were extremely careful that the teachers who did the frisking were not in the least bit suspicious.

During the exam is when all the best tricks of cheating ingenuity were put to the test. The chemistry master was seated in one corner at the front with another student invigilator seated in the other. Every move was supposed to be calculated with paramount precision.

You had to make sure you were on the blind side of the invigilators’ angles of vision before pulling out your paper to commence the copying process.

Another stern rule was that if caught in the act, you never snitched on your buddies. The prospect of facing the consequences solo made one even more careful. However, all these rules would have applied if the answers we had on our pieces of paper were right.

But because you expect a happy ending, yeah sure we all passed the paper, the bad guy died, we got married to our pretty girlfriends, had beautiful kids and lived happily ever after.