The bratty little boy with the filthy manners is an everyday occurrence here in Uganda. Familiar. Normal. All over the place we have Y chromosomes swaggering around mistaking for mere entitlement what is actually entitlement to several thorough beatings. But as long as they are below the age of 18, we just grind our teeth, curse their parents under our breath and secretly wish for the power to shoot flames, nice, unerring, fatal flames out of our fingertips. Otherwise we leave them alone.
But when the bad-mannered boy is an adult, when grown men act like naughty little boys, we the Ugandan public, let them get away with it. Why? When they are minors we have an excuse—it is already someone else’s responsibility to whup their butts, but when they are grown-ups, society cannot continue providing an enabling environment. Enough should be enough.
Today we are going to talk about Toyota Premios and the people who drive them recklessly.
Prost: Reckless driving is common enough, especially among people with expensive, powerful engines, people who are wealthy enough to get sports cars but are not smart enough to realize that there is no room in Kampala to try out those Fast And Furiuos movie stunts without killing several pedestrians dead. So, using the mush of rotten porridge their skulls contain which the cruel ladle of genetic fate opted to give them instead of intelligent grey matter, they hurl their tonnes of speeding metal over narrow and bumpy roads at us, because they are obnoxious and stupid.
Senna: But even though they are thus, they have a glimmer of an excuse. They are trying to have fun. Many of you would begrudgingly admit that you would do the same if you were given the keys. So though traffic police really ought to be empowered to shoot on sight, it is something that can be rationalized.
But not a Premio. You cannot do that with a Toyota Premio. Nah, bruh.
Vettel: You have to understand, public, that a Toyota Premio is NOT a fancy car. It is like Family Biscuits. It can look ostentatious and classy, when placed next to lesser foods, like mukene (Dear Subeditor, please do not translate that to “Silverfish”. Silver fish is an insect, not mukene. If you must translate, then Mukene is Rastrineobola argentea, in italics) or boiled cassava or hard corn, but the big picture shows us that Family Biscuits are not Haute Cuisine by any stretch.
Thus it is with the Premio in the universe of cars; the Premio is a box of Family biscuits. It has no right to go above 80km per hour and no right at all to cut people off, double park, speed or in any other way put on airs.
Hamilton: Now, once again, I do not condone bad driving at all. I just understand that when a person is immature and of low intelligence and is given a high performance automobile, some attempt to treat Kampala roads like a grand prix circuit will ensue. They are dense. They failed both geography and physics, so they don’t know where they are or how.
Andretti: But doing that with a Premio is not only stupid and dangerous and vulgar, it is also insulting. Insulting to all human beings, nay, to all primate species that you are one of us. How do you get run off the road by a speeding Premio? That is like being sexually assaulted by a guy with a two inch penis.