Chandler and Fraiser: The Lost Generation

Education is very important for the continued progress of our nation, especially now, in this time of global financial crisis, when we need to steel ourselves against the prospect of hardship that will undoubtedly follow when Sarah Palin and her VP-to-be Oprah Winfrey ascend to the White  House in 2012. You people, we need to make sure the next generation of Ugandans is fully educated so that we can survive.
That is only one of the reasons I would rather my kids stayed in school all year round. The other reason I am so deeply opposed to school holidays is that it means they come home.
On Saturday morning I sauntered lazily into my sitting room to have my post-slumber stupor suddenly shattered by a shocking sight. Two teenagers sitting in front of my television watching Bukedde TV and laughing.
Act 1: I said, “It’s hard to decide what is most wrong with this. Is it the fact that you are laughing as if you are watching a Kinigeria, yet it is the news that is on screen? Or is it the fact that you bastards have breached my security and found a way to enter my house again?”
Hi dad,” chirped Frasier, my eldest son. “It’s school holidays. Mum said she didn’t want us disturbing her inner peace…”
“She told us to go to hell,” added Chandler, my second son.
“So here we are,” concluded Fraisier.
Act 2: “Why are you watching Bukedde TV? You are both of that lost generation of urban Africans who are so distant from your roots that you cannot speak your mother tongue fluently.”
“What? We speak Mum’s language perfectly,” protested Chandler.
“No, I mean, my language. Your father tongue, if you insist.”
“What tribe are you anyway, Dad? The name Bazanye sounds Ganda, but you sometimes look very Congolese.”
“Especially those times when you hike your trousers up way over your waist and wear a loud pink shirt after you have been at that Smirnoff and Safi mixture you like so much.”
“Dad, are you a Congolese refugee posing as a Ugandan because you don’t want to go back to your own country?”
“Or do you just drink too much Smirnoff and Safi?”
Act 3: I repeated my question. Why were these rascals in my house watching the news?
“We were not watching the news,” said Chandler. “We were, like most of our generation, ignoring the news. We had been watching music videos before the news came on and were involved in a post-show analysis of Desire Luzinda’s latest pair of tight pants.”
“I was pushing the theory that, because it is physically impossible to fit so much hip into such small pants the conventional way, what happens is that the tailors actually sew the pants onto her…” Fraiser explained.
“I think that is just too facile,” countered Chandler. “Just because we cannot conceive of how it was done, does not mean it can’t be done. I believe that her hips are so awesome that nothing is beyond their ability. If they want to fit in hot pants, they will fit in hot pants. That is my position.”
“I understand where you are coming from, but I urge you to try to approach this question from a different perspective,” proceeded Fraiser.
Epilogue: I sighed. Maybe the future will be better if instead of sending our children to school, we send some of them, two in particular, to jail.

The Adventures of Chandler and Fraiser and the Further Adventures of Chandler and Fraiser are on sale in places here.