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Proggie: Sleep late, wake up late, eat brunch

The lockdown is getting tighter and it is only 10 days down…as he counts down, Ian has chosen to write letters to his friend Tasha, sharing how he is getting along.

Dear Tasha,

I have lost count of the lockdown days, everyday feels like every day. Remember that event that always took me up… Blankets and Wine? Yes, it found me in the house. Except that it was not with wine, but with porridge. I have been holding up well, but the next days are beginning to look scary. As the President said, this is not just war, this is war on me, a humble millennial.

I must tell you Tasha, I have devised strategies to see me through these next days. Going forward, I will be sleeping late so that I can wake up late. Going forward, breakfast has been banned. It makes no sense to have breakfast at mid-day when lunch is about to knock. So, I have combined the two — it will be brunch every day.

You asked about the Subaru, it has been lying abandoned in the parking. This lockdown has humbled Subaru drivers; we thought we could fly, turns out, we had abilities to be parked for longer periods. Yet, if the coronavirus has got us this tensed up, what would happen if the next virus is a Subaru virus? When things get worse, I will auction the Subaru for bicycles and bodabodas. It is survival for the smartest.

Speaking of grassing, our celebrities have backtracked on updating their Instagram statuses. So did the slay queen association. The only thing to celebrate is the attention. Can you imagine ever since lockdown started, not a single girl has left me on ‘seen’ on WhatsApp? I cannot explain this spike in attention, but lockdowns have humbled us equally.

Gone are the days when people went from parte to parte. It is now house after house, bedroom to living room, living room to bedroom. Such is the newfound simplicity of life.

With jogging banned, we can as well define this as house arrest. When the lockdown is long gone and forgotten, stories shall be told of how we survived through the thick and thin. How we walked miles for love, how we ran our lungs out just to beat the curfew time. We shall speak of the times when the President gave the world 30 pushups, with each representing a year of his rule.

But we shall also lament of the corona songs, how they were about to kill us before the virus. Of course, the lockdown also came with a new phenomenon, a.k.a working from home. Suddenly, Zoom is the new normal. I have been struggling with the video until I landed on a new feature — the Zoom backgrounds. Now I can have an artificial background of a well-organised living room and get everyone on the all impressed.

I have also figured out a way to dodge the hard questions on these video calls. It is to blame a network fail. I am blaming my Internet provider, but above all, I have had to temporarily convince everyone that I reside in Bulindo. When it comes to technology fails, Bulindo is a worthy excuse.

But the one thing I will not do Tasha, is jump on the challenges. Each of the challenges has come out to poke bigger holes in my insecurities. This week it was the shoe challenge. For goodness sake, these are challenges aimed at dudes that run boutiques. I have one pair of black shoes to take me through Monday and Friday, then some casual shoes to balance me out on the Fridays and the weekends. This challenge I will pass.

Luckily the pressure was not on me for the Utawezana challenge. I still wonder where Kenya got this new greatness. I suspect that this girl Azziad must be from Ntungamo, and not from Nairobi. We must investigate further.

Finally, Tasha, I am regretting why I had to rent an apartment. Can you imagine everyone assumes that life is perfect for apartment residents? Some of us need that maize flour and powdered milk more than the vulnerable poor. They can create a new category of the ‘vulnerable rich’, aka the rich and broke. I have had similar cries from friends in Najjera. They have been hard hit by the lockdown.

But if you think Najjera chaps have had it bad, you must pray for the pastors. All the pastors in town have gone missing. One of the prophets booked a last-minute plane to heaven. The other pastor claimed that Covid-19 was a ploy to get donor money and has not surfaced from remand. You must pity the pastors; nothing is as hard as sheep tithing remotely. We may have to bail them out in case the lockdown is extended.

Till next week,

I remain yours, Dzaddy Orte

Dedications: Repeat it by Azawi, Zero, Zero, Zero by Bebe Cool, Stanlizer by Fik

Twitter: @OrtegaTalks

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