Not Lame Afterall
By Melody Kasamba
“Every African heart beats with an innate desire to achieve something however small. A longing to embrace the tangible reality of an idea, desire, goal or perhaps a dream. What do you long for Uzelle?”
To be honest, I’ve never quite understood the director; she speaks on a weird wavelength. I avert my gaze to the tiny window. I can hear the boys screaming from the common room. They must be halfway through the video game by now.
“…Uzelle? Uzelle!”
“Sorry director, I got distracted small small. You were saying?”
“You and the culture club president will represent us in the ‘Inter-school Africa of my Dreams’ competition.”
“Wait, what?” I blurt out, knees shaking.
This can’t possibly be happening. I’m the school’s entertainment prefect not some snobbish culture nerd.
The director hands me a paper. “These are the guidelines. This year they want students to come up with new ways to conserve African culture and history using modern technology. You may leave now.”
How does African culture and modern technology even begin to connect?
By the time I reach the common room, the game is done. Suddenly, the last person I want to see appears out of nowhere, his dark wide nostrils under my chin for his lack of height.
“Hey bro!” Ongom shouts with his thick Northern accent. Some students turn and look at us in confusion. I feel like sinking into the ground.
“Don’t ‘bro’ me like you know me!” I’m standing over him — hands curved in intimidating fists — but he doesn’t even flinch.
Ongom rises on his toes to try and match my height, “I figured since we were chosen to partner in the competition I might as well call you bro. But clearly, I was wrong. Well, don’t worry. I already drafted a winning concept, so you won’t have to do any work. I mean, what sensible ideas could possibly ever spew from an entertainment prefect’s mouth?”
The audacity!
“Do you know who you’re dealing with?”
I can feel the heat radiating from my angry face. I could punch Ongom right now. “Let’s just get this done with and move on. Meet me tomorrow behind the library at break time with that idea of yours.”
“Just what I expected you to say.”
Ongom is such a pimple in the nose.
“You know what?” I answer through gritted teeth, “I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to prove to you that you’re not the only one who can draft a winning concept. I’m bringing my own ideas to the table tomorrow!”
My bed is a mess. There are pending assignments scattered all over it. It’s mostly to do with East African rebellions; Maji Maji, Mau Mau, and Nyangire. Then there’s the culture thing. What’s the big deal with African culture and history anyway? I mean times are changing and that stuff is not cool anymore. Well, I’m only doing this to teach Ongom a lesson. Let me just lay my head down for thirty minutes then I’ll try and figure something out.
Sleep is a really sweet thing. Especially when you dream of all the things you love. In my dream, I’m competing in car racing against Ongom and I’m winning. Everything is going perfectly fine. Well mostly, until the finish line turns into the Holy Spirit Mobile Force. I look behind me and there are mercenaries from Buganda kingdom. I’m caught in the crossfire with nowhere to hide. All of a sudden, I hear Lakwena’s voice telling me to smear a sticky concoction on my body. She says it will make me invisible and I will be able to escape. I look up and I see my phone swallowing African artifacts, cuisine, names, structures … even the pyramids. Suddenly I’m sobbing — for every item swallowed, I feel a part of me is lost.
“No… No! Stop! Please, stop!” I’m awake, sweating like a frog in water. So much for Lakwena’s sticky stuff. It’s 9 am and I am late for school again.
Behind the library, Ongom is waiting for me. I have no plan, but my pride won’t let me give in.
“You made it finally. I thought you were dead.”
“No time for silly chit-chat. Show me your concept.” For someone who has nothing written down, I’m really bold.
“You first!” Ongom insists.
I open my backpack and pull out the first thing I find — my history assignment.
Ongom bursts out laughing, “So it’s this bad?”
“I haven’t explained yet.”
“Okay humour me.”
“It’s an educative PlayStation game — ”
“Hah! Impressive,” he mocks through yellow teeth.
“One based on African culture and historical events. This game could be a game-changer. Imagine all your exhausting history and culture assignments summarized in a game. Take for example a game in which the events of the Mau Mau uprising are re-enacted. Most youths like fun stuff and we both know culture doesn’t cut it for most of them because of the way it’s presented. If we made these culture video games fun, then many who played them would pass related assignments and probably appreciate African culture more.”
Ongom scratches his inexistent beards. “Well as much as I’ve never found any assignment exhausting, I must admit that for an entertainment prefect, your idea is not bad at all.”
Huh!
I sigh, wondering what I would have said if it wasn’t for the dream I had last night.
“So where’s your concept?” I ask.
Ongom smiles and pats me on the shoulder. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Yours is better Uzelle. Or should I call you bro?”
“Certainly not. I still don’t like you.”
Ongom and I are seating in the common room coming up with ways to make the games fun without changing their storylines. We throw in some hurdles like building material thieves and sandstorms in the Egyptian pyramid game. All our history and culture textbooks are opened for reference. Good idea after a good idea keeps popping up. I never imagined African culture could be so rich. I guess it’s not so lame after all.
“Bro, did the director get to you too? What are you doing hanging with that culture nerd? Bro you’re becoming soft, men. Not cool!” Onek, the assistant entertainment prefect whispers in my ear.
As I listen to Onek, I realize how ignorant I sounded a few days back when I thought less of African culture. I hope our concept wins. It will be a dream come true, literally. In the beginning, all I wanted was to prove Ongom wrong but I guess the director was right — every African does have an African dream.
The big day is finally upon us. All students are gathered in the main hall. The director walks in with a tall gentleman. My stomach is tense. Bees are buzzing in my ears. The man says something. What’s happening? I see Ongom jumping to his feet and running towards me. He pulls me up and we walk to the stage. Students are cheering. The gentleman hands us a USD5,000 cheque. I can’t believe it. Our school actually won!
In December Ongom and I travel to China and present our concept to the team of video game designers. Within eight months, the casual games are ready. All schools that participated in the competition are given consoles plus the educative video games we designed. For the first time, Ongom and other culture club diehards walk into the common room to try out the game.
“Hi bro! Can I call you bro?” I shout patting Ongom’s shoulder.
“Finally, I made it to the ‘bro’ zone.”
“Yes, finally.”
Melody Kasamba’s piece came in highly commended at the Arise Africa Writing Contest.
About the Author: Melody Kasamba, a passionate poet/writer, recently made a drastic career change from laboratory bench worker to creative in her advocacy for passion-driven living. She loves to write about life in Uganda but often accepts the challenge of telling stories outside her comfort zone (love stories). Her passions extend to ballet and contemporary dance forms. She has a knack for intentionally singing off-key but is actually more principled than she shows.
