Omuvubuka, you laugh at the lion's toothless mouth, forgetting the same mouth can still swallow you.
Hear me, you who are young and think tomorrow is far!
THE SCHOLAR WITH A LOVE LETTER IN A MATH BOOK
You! In S.3, in S.5, in University Year One.
Your father sold a goat for your school fees. Your mother dug for your uniform. And you?
You have turned your textbook into a post office. You buy an iPhone to impress, but you're impressing Lumonde omwokye.
"Dearest Precious, I love you..."
You write love letters inside a Science book! The book that should give you a future, you use it to beg for a kiss.
You take your pocket money, not to buy a pen, but to buy Rolex and chapati for a girl who will leave you when she sees a boda with more fuel.
My son, listen: BOOKS FIRST, GIRLS LATER.
That girl you are chasing around the school compound - she is also chasing her books. When she passes and you fail, she will not wait for you. She will marry your teacher.
Focus. The romance you are looking for in the dormitory will come and find you in your own house, when you have a house.
THE JOBLESS PHILOSOPHER WAITING FOR MONEY TO RAIN
You are not in school. You are 23, 25, 28, 30. You wake up at 10 a.m.
You sit at the trading centre from morning to evening, saying, "God will provide. I'm waiting upon the Lord."
My brother, you think God throws money from heaven like mangoes. The gods of Nakibizi will not allow it.
Poverty is beating you like a drum, and you are dancing to it. You have no hoe, no boda, no skill, no plan. Only wishes. Wishes don't build.
God blesses the hands that work. Even Jjaajja Muguluma said, "He who does not work shall not eat." Ssemutundu.
You are growing old with an empty pocket and a full mouth of envy. You see your friend building, and you say, "He used witchcraft." No! He used his hands while you used your mouth. Omulevu gulinga steelwire.
Get up! Even if it's to push a wheelbarrow, push it with pride!
THE KING OF THE FLOOR MAT
Let us be honest now. Look at your house.
You sleep on the floor, like a pig waiting to be slaughtered for Yakobo Joints. On a tattered mat, covered with a sack that you call a blanket. Cockroaches salute you at night.
And yet, in the trading centre, you are shouting, "I want to marry! I want a beautiful wife!"
Where will she sleep? On that same mat? Where will you put her clothes? In that polythene bag hanging on a nail?
You cannot take care of one toothbrush, but you want to take care of someone's daughter?
A woman is not a decoration for your poverty. She is a helper for your vision. If you have no vision, what will she help?
Build your bed first, before you invite someone to share it.
THE RICH MAN OF THE BAR, POOR MAN OF THE HOUSE
Ah! This one hurts me most.
You get money. 200k, 300k, 500k. You sweat for it.
Then Friday comes. You go to the bar.
You buy beer for the whole village! "Add two more beers!" The prostitutes clap for you. "Boss! Big man!"
You go home at 2 a.m., staggering, and your children are sleeping hungry, eating dry groundnuts for supper.
Your wife has one dress, washed every day, while the woman at the bar whom you call "my sweet" wears a new dress bought with your children's school fees.
Listen to me, Kifuuta Oracle has spoken: That clapping at the bar is not love. It is business. When your money ends, their love ends.
The respect you get at the bar is fake. Real respect is when your child says, "My father bought me shoes."
Don't be a King in the bar and a beggar in your home.
THE 18-30-YEAR-OLD OLD MAN
You are 18, 19, 20-30. You already smell like a brewery.
You sleep on cement bags. You fight in bars. You seduce other people's daughters and then you urinate on yourself because you are too drunk to find the latrine.
I am not saying don't drink. Even I, your elder, take a sip.
But to drink until you become a pig? To drink until you lose your manhood? No!
You are too young to be finished. Your liver is still young, but you are killing it before it works for you.
A man who cannot control his drink cannot control his future.
THE BICYCLE RIDER vs THE SUGAR MUMMY'S PUPPY
I respect the man on the bicycle.
He wakes up at 5 a.m., rides boda, carries matooke, sweats, and comes home with 20k. Honest money. That is a man.
But you? You fear to ride a boda because "people will laugh." You fear to dig because "it's dirty work."
So you choose an easy job: to be kept by a woman older than your mother.
She feeds you. She buys you a shirt. She gives you 50k. And you become her dog, following her everywhere.
My son, leave old women for old men! That sugar mummy already has children older than you. Tomorrow, when you want to marry a young woman your age, your blood is already confused. You have eaten salt in two houses - the mother's and the daughter's. That is a curse that follows you.
Sugar mummy will sing for you a song that says: "You loved me even though you know I am old, yet you expect me to bear you children."
What family will you build on top of another family's broken pieces?
YOU - THE DIRTY YOUNG MAN
Now, this one. Come closer.
Your shirt is torn, and you cannot sew it. One shirt, one week, no washing. Your socks can stand by themselves. Your feet are black like you walked through charcoal. Shaving and washing the pants is your nightmare.
You wash your face for the public, but your boxer is a map of all seasons. Your hair is like a forest where birds can nest. Your nails can dig a grave.
How will you stand before a doctor? How will you undress before a wife? You are keeping ensekele and ebiku - jiggers and lice - as pets.
My son, water is not expensive. Soap is not gold.
Cleanliness is not for girls. Cleanliness is dignity.
When you are clean, even poverty respects you.
THE FINAL WORD - HOW TO MARRY
When the time comes to marry, and it will come, open your eyes.
Don't let your friends choose for you. Don't choose because of hips, or big eyes, or because she is from a rich family.
Choose character. Choose a woman who fears God, who works, who respects the gods of our ancestors in Kifuuta.
As our elders in Nyenga Njeru Buikwe say: Ofunda nomubi akwagala nga amanyi gwe musajjawe - It is better to marry the ugly one who loves you and knows you are her husband than the beautiful one who despises you.
A respectful, hardworking woman will make your house a home, even if she is not Miss Uganda.
And you - never insult a woman you have once slept with. Even if you leave her, leave her with respect. That is manhood. A real man does not beat his chest after breaking a woman's heart.
DRESS WELL.
Stop wearing those torn trousers called "balance" where your buttocks are outside. Stop wearing balance "kabulengane", a shirt that shows your stomach like a pregnant woman.
Dress like a man who wants tomorrow to respect him.
Youth of today, you are not a hyena looking for a toothless lion.
You are the lion itself!
But a lion must prepare. A lion must hunt. A lion must clean itself. A lion must choose its territory.
Stop living like a hyena waiting for leftovers.
Get up. Bath. Work. Study. Save. Build.
Your tomorrow is not coming. You are making it, right now, with what you do today.
Kifuuta has spoken.
