What is more embarrassing than walking around in public with your dress stuck in your knickers, asked a highly-valued and respected member of our Ugandan online community recently.
I say highly valued and respected because she is an inspiration; she is a source of national pride; she brings joy to all her fans, and on days like today, when some of us are stuck in a takeaway in the rain, and we had come to get takeaway because we don’t eat in people’s public restaurants because #StaySafe, duh, but now we cannot escape to do our social distancing bulungi because of all the rain; at times like this, when we have to run to the furthest, most inhospitable corner of the takeway– there is a corner there that looks neglected enough; I see cobwebs there and smell cockroach droppings and it looks like the part of the premises where nobody ever goes, not even to clean, so I deduce that if no one has been there, no one has put their covid there, so that is where I go to hide from possible infection– I have long sentences in my second paragraphs these days, don’t I?– so I run to that corner with my phone with the intention of watching Ugandan tiktoks until either the rain or the pandemic stops, and for this I am thankful to Martha Kay, because even though she isn’t alone in its initiation, she was pivotal in the starting of this gangsta shit. She alone is a watershed moment in Uganda’s modern history and one of the most significant of our compatriots.
I have not gone overboard with the praise. Game has just recognised game.
What I admire the most about Martha Kagimba is that she actually made money by being talented on social media. Do you know how hard that is? Have you seen how many talented Ugandans we have on social media and have you calculated the ratio of those vis the ones who have actually earned a single peanut from it? Kagimba is a unicorn, man.
What is more embarrassing than kapintos, she asks.
The circumstance described is known as kapintos (Citation needed) and occurs when the back of a person’s garment gets caught in their buttcrack. It is usually the result of not wearing underwear and then sitting kisajja on a bodaboda that then rides over humps such as those found in Najjera, Bugolobi, Bukasa, Mutungo, Nsambya and Kampala in general. Kampala roads are a series of potholes followed by a series of speedbumps. Kampala roads have speedbumps like popup ads on a copyright infringing website so kapintos has a high incidence among its boda passengers.
Speedbumps everywhere these days. Honestly I prefered the potholes of old.
Take the case of Naguru potholes, for example, which my car and I used to fall into daily as I attempted to drive to work. Say what you will about how vicioiusly you want them to go fuck themselves, but at least they offered variety and adventure and some amusement. Because they moved.
Yes, Naguru potholes used to move. One would be seen on the right side of the road in the morning as you drive to work, so you think you will dodge it on the way back, therefore, because you will be on the opposite side of the road. But no. It crosses the road during the day and is waiting for you in the evening.
They also multiplied, like amoeba and paramecium, and one pothole would quickly spawn all over the road with the result that, within a week, you have fourteen.
While generally caused through the process described above, it can also arise under other means. Some have achieved kapintos with trousers. Even jeans. Some have managed kapintos in their underwear alone, particularly boxers, while the outer garments are unaffected. Some, I have heard, even sustain kapintos in the front and there are rumours of a fellow from lower Makindye sides who has kapintos on the side.
You ask, how, Sway? But you don’t want to know the answer. The person who told me the story began to explain how the guy had two sets of testicles, one on each hip, and how these would catch the folds of… I stopped him before the trauma embedded itself too deep because wisdom is not the same as knowledge. Sometimes it is more wise to know less.
What, children, is more embarrassing than having Kapintos?
Let me tell you a story. There I was, a nice, chivalrous, kind-hearted civic-minded gentleman walking up Luwum Street one day, not even minding my own business because I was a journalist and it was my business to mind everyone else’s business. I wasn’t ogling people’s bums, I was being observant of society around me and the community at large.
That it just so happened that somewhere in the scope of my observation lay a couple of corporate chicks looking fwiiine was not reason to cast aspersions on my professional integrity. I was not ogling. I don’t ogle.
At least not on the job. I would ogle in clubs at night on my free time.
So when I noticed the woman walk by with the fold cleaving her two bums, it was not just because they were very nice bums. It was because they were amidst the societal environment I was there to observe.
But observing is not the only role of a reporter. Sometimes, when you see a problem, you have to speak out, so I felt it was my duty, and you understand, especially you, Dr Nyanzi, I felt that I could not just stand there and say nothing. It was my duty to speak out.
I made the completely innocent, benign and yea, even patriotic decision to say to this lady, “Madam, good evening. I am a local journalist. In the course of my duties on this street it has come to my attention that your otherwise impeccably balanced and resplendently-clad bums are being invaded by that scourge of fashion known colloquially as kapintos. If you are not from around here, even though, if I had to call upon my experience to make an informed guess from the shape of the bums we are currently discussing, I would say you are from Masaka District, the northern part, above Lake Nabugabo, but if I am wrong and you do not know the local term kapintos, then, what I am trying to bring to your attention is that your dress is creased up into your buttcrack. You might want to adjust it. Or not. That is up to you.”
So I began walking up to the lady. She saw me and began walking faster. I walked faster too, trying to catch up. She noticed that I seemed to be running after her and sped up.
Did I mention that she had been talking on her mobile phone and that this was a time when Luwum Street was notorious arena for phone-snatchers? Niggas were like Steph Curry on Luwum Street. They would snatch your phone while you were in the middle of a conversation and disappear like vampires before you had even finished lolling at what Bridget just said.
So that is what is more embarrassing than kapintos. Trying to tell someone that they have kapintos and getting mistaken for a phone thief.
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