The notebook crisis is mounting. It’s about to become a full-fledged national issue. I think we are going to have to strike, too.
The notebook shortage that has hit Ugandan bookshops, I mean.
It’s affecting us intellectuals, the kind of people who often have clever ideas and thoughts that they need to jot down on paper. Our thoughts are far cleverer than those that you need to type out as status updates. I don’t mean to sound snobbish and superior about this, I don’t want to come of as if I believe that our sudden brainwaves are necessarily sharper and keener than those of people who don’t carry notebooks, I don’t want it to seem as if I am saying we are collosal geniuses with minds that tower above those of the average.
But that’s exactly what we are.
Now, a number of us have become used to a particular brand of notebook, one that we purchased at Aristoc booklex once or twice a month, depending on how many clever thoughts we had in that period and how fast the notebooks got filled up.
Then, last month, tragedy struck. Aristoc stopped stocking the things.
I was distraught. I had no idea what to do. I fell into such a panic that I ended up buying this hideous piece of shit.
I came to my senses though and found a less flamboyantly gay notebook. I found one that you will not look at and assume that it is full of cartoons of unicorns and evening dress designs and the words “Justin Beiber” written in cursive with love hearts dotting the ‘i’s.
But there is a problem. It’s bright green.
If I end up with dumb ideas, you know who to blame.