The artist formerly known as not a prince.
Because Toro is not like some African kingdoms you may have heard of in your past experience; in Toro you don’t just walk in with a ring on your finger and start claiming titles, no. They will want to look at you first, top to bottom, then say, Hmmmm, and, if you are a light-skinned American nigga named Chris they might say, “First wait before you call him Prince. Let’s first see how he works out before we go jumping to titles.”
So Chris Thomas became Duke when he married Ruth Komuntale and not Prince.
And that is the story all about how his life got twist turned upside down. He was never going to be a Fresh Prince. He was still a fresh duke, barely had time to ripen before he was plucked off the stem and cast aside.
I believe this ruined his life.
Granted, I do not know him well. I rejected all his facebook friend requests, back then when every other Ugandan account was receiving a blue dot notification that revealed itself to be Duke Chris asking you to like his page and, presumably, like him as well.
I don’t know him, but I presume he was a well-put-together guy. He was not riff-raff ghetto-stereotype crack-smoking baby-mama-juggling school-out-of-dropping coon like other light-skinned American Chris niggas (I know that not all of those attributes apply to your Chris, but that is only because he got money early. If they had left him to his own inadequate devices he would be in jail by now, carving out a legend as a fine purveyor of fellatio for glue to sniff.)
But I think Chris Thomas had it together.
After all, he got Ruth Komuntale to not only look at him, talk to him, talk to him again and eventually marry him, but he got the kingdom to let him do so.
I may know nothing about Oyo Nyimba except that we sit in the same posture, but I am certain that the Kingdom of Toro knows how to hire a private investigator to look up the bio stats of a dude trying to marry their jewel of a princess.
Especially under such suspicious circumstances as those afforded by the dude being a
light-skinned American nigga named Chris.
There is also the fact that he married Ruth Komuntale. I don’t know her either, but I can tell by looking, even with my admittedly narrow telepathic skills, that she does not need to entertain scrubs.
So Chris manages to get Ruth Komuntale.
Chris: “Say what? You African? Furreal? Like Zamunda and shit? Aw man! Can you beleeedat? Aw man! Mos da time round here when a bi.. I mean when a feeeemayle say she a African Princess it just mean she don’t be down wit da crack pipe or she don’t gi’ brains on da firs’ date. You a real princess?”
Okay, he probably didn’t say all that. He had to talk in a manner that convinced her that he would soon be applying to the Ivy League to study investment banking.
But Chris Thomas Komuntale is now in a Ugandan prison to answer charges of beating his kyane, after having been dumped by the princess and forgotten by everyone who every cared who or what he was.
I presume his facebook page is not doing massively well.
How did it come to this?
I have a pretty good guess to make, but I am not allowed to write long posts, so I will keep it for the next one.
I leave you with this photo of an animal.