Open Letter To The Hustlers Out There

Gimme just one more line.

Gimme just one more line.

 

To the thug life Gs on the streets.
Sharraut, man.

I heard about the harsh economic times that have befallen you guys and the grim realities you cannot escape, what with employment opportunities being scarce and all.

I heard.

So sneaking around parking areas at night to pry side mirrors off our cars, seems like a good idea, in fact may seem like the only idea at the time.

Unemployment has become itself, to translate directly from my mother tongue. You tried to get a job as a bank clerk but your social studies degree does not get the same respect in the banking industry as it does back home in your village. They offered you a mop instead but you had too much pride.

You did not go through all that university, all those riots and teargas and random loveless sex and adulterated Ā marijuana (which is what we assume constitutes campus life these days) so you could get a job which, though honest and honourable work, you could have qualified for straight out of SSS.

You are out on the streets because out here if you go on strike because you can’t pay your bills on time, that’s what happens.

You need income.

So you steal the side mirrors off my car.

I am not judging. Just letting you know that I am fine. Got home safe.

You must have been worried, knowing how vital side mirrors are to Kampala drivers — they are even more crucial than a clear and transparent windshield. Because in this city, being able to see the bodas around you is more important than being able to see the road in front of you.

It’s fine. I waited until late in the night and drove home through light traffic.

I may not have a set of skills that make me a nightmare to people like you. I will not find you.
But, in a twist of surprise, what I do have is money.

So I will just buy a new pair and go on. To work. At my job. Where I serve my employer. Yeah.

Does it sound like I am rubbing it in? Does it burn? A little?

Well that is because I am kind of pissed off, a little bit, at the inconvenience you caused. Especially considering that if you had been a bit more far thinking…

That car you vandalised. It was quite dirty. Covered in what can only be Najjera dust and mud.

Don’t you see? That is opportunity.

That is why you can’t get a job. You lack vision.

You steal the side mirrors, that car will feed you once.
But if you stick around until I get back and we negotiate to have you wash it for me every day where I park, then it will feed you until Mamerito tarmacs my road!

See?

Vision. Foresight.

Let us change our mindset, change the way we think, emancipate ourselves from mental slavery and free our minds.

And leave each others side mirrors alone.

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