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It’s not a Chips and Ketchup story. These tunes are punctuated with bouquets of cheerful noises that tell of a satisfaction so great! Livingston or Lumumba, the music never dies. The guitar strings are pinched so well, the ladies can’t help it. The moans will break at the bounce of each ball. To think these are the very children you see attending church at St. Francis Chapel, the mosque at the Main Gate and at St. Augustine…. some dressing in masks to hurry for fellowship at Phaneroo and Watoto, this truth is too hard to take in.

By the by, these cultural chants and songs sang by the men that stay in Nkrumah and Nsibirwa, as well as the boys that sleep in Lumumba and Mitchell on porridge nights and during morning jogs are such compelling energizers. The male cohort in Makerere can’t go to rest without proving a point.

Anyways, this is no praise. It’s rather a call of calm. Just somehow, these moans must be controlled. The university has been generous enough to provide free pink friends in each hall, Not to say that the presence of these can help clamp down on the noises, but girls should as well be honest, not to raise the confidences of these men so high. You can’t be tasting and feeling all the sweetness while the sweet is unwrapped.

The excitement and all… Passersby will jump or even stop a bit when they hear the sounds, but the proliferation of this culture is scary. Hall is no private. “Get a room”- don’t choose the hall room. By the way, the loud music thing doesn’t work. The month must be wrong- Christmas melodies have started too early this year.

 


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Claire Zerida

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