Forget the acquittal of the three Chogm ministers - like you expected otherwise?
Forget the ever-deepening debacle in the Office of the Prime Minister with revelations of ministers there travelling nine times in one month to one country at the expense of one bunch of taxpayers; it could have even been 50 times for all I care and still beer would remain same price at the pub.
Forget that some hitherto unknown chaps in the Public Service ministry are worth more than the hairs on your head - let's say each hair denotes a million bucks!
Forget the nauseating conduct of Tinkasiimire and Nebanda and by extension Ecweru, in that committee of parliament the other day; would be surprised if they had behaved otherwise. Forget that President Obama won a second term to the chagrin of Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu, more than Mitt Romney.
Just a moment, did I hear that some woman named each of her twins born on that day Obama and Romney? I wonder how she chose who among them would be Romney; I guess the darker one is Obama. Anyway, I am talking about the real event of the week here; the demonstration by wives of the police.
Their beef? They needed electricity supply in their houses and shacks that they call home in Naguru and Ntinda barracks. This made very good watching. With saucepan in one hand and pestle in another, wearing their usual multi-coloured garb and hair gear comprised of wrinkled scarves and improvised hairnets made from mosquito nets, they mobilized to march to parliament and appeal to fellow woman, the now indomitable Rebecca Kadaga, to 'look into' their matter.
As with all processions, gatherings of rowdy characters and the like, the police - this time, their husbands - swung into action. Let me say, there was no tear gas deployed, neither were there baton-wielding cops ready to grab and press breasts to subdue their victims.
There was a great show of love and care because to diffuse the two-day demonstration, it was about making peace, and love perhaps, and then having all grievances attended to, including a pronto connection back to the national electricity grid. The women had scored against their husbands. Trust the power of a woman!
But this left me burning with one question; what if it was the husbands of police women that had gone on strike? What would be some of the reasons that would compel, say Nabakooba's husband, to join a group of others like him to demonstrate? Because yes, all these female officers we see have husbands or at least soulmates and these soulmates too have grievances, some so deep.
Once the female officers told the IGP of sexual harassment from their male counterparts; this should have been the right springboard for their husbands to match to Parliament in protest - I am still wondering what they would hold in place of saucepans and pestles. Geezer, put yourself in a situation where your wife is a cop, what do you think would be your issues? Here is my dossier; where is yours?
1. Wife is working long hours and days, moreover far from home.
2. When she returns, she is too tired to even chew a banana to paste.
3. Often she will be reeking of pungent substances like tear gas mixed with a day's sweat and dust.
4. The family is spending more on soap and detergent to keep her snow-white uniform clean.
5. She can no longer speak in whispers or even hear my whispers because she is used to whistles and car engine raves and when not by the road, she is being yelled at with commands from nani, the commander!
6. I am hearing news that she will be transferred from traffic to guarding strategic installations, moreover at night only; when shall we....er...er?
So, wait for the day the hubbies of those she-cops hit the streets. My worry will be the venomous manner with which the male officers will handle them. We wait!