Mukono, I hate you!!


Dear Mukono,

I hate you.

You smell like feet. And not just the feet of the ordinary good-natured man. But the feet of a vile unpleasant man who intentionally doesn’t wash his socks.

I shall never like you.

Or your mosquitoes.

Or your witchdoctors and seemingly endless supply of mad men.

Or your nameless hostels. I mean you’re trying to direct someone to your hostel and the best directions are, “drive until you see me standing under a tree!”

How can you comfortably lag behind the world? How can the concept of full-time electricity still be considered a luxury? How can tapped water still evoke “eh mama’s” from your doe-eyed populace?

Have you no shame, you district, you- have you no shame? I am one of the most wordy people in the world but I could never aptly describe my hatred for you.

Let’s just say, if the world were a body, you’d definitely be it’s unshaven armpit.


R. K , without love


  1. Why are you looking at the outward instead of considering the Inner Angst that you must be, quite creatively I should say, feeling??? Look beyond the armpit and try to discover the heart.


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here