These photos re-echoed the final week of last year. 30th December 2021. The objective was to get done with brickwork within January 2022 and we were right on track. The steel fixers led the way and Kingline Tower was indeed... 1/2
Hon. Ssegirinya, while appearing before Buganda Road Court via video conferencing in October 2021 (and on another occasion), displays his rotting feet that he attributed to torture. He was requesting to be released for treatment. His mother loudly wailed in court, pleading for her son. If the consciences of those judges are still working, they must be hearing the loud cry of that woman playing back in their heads now as they follow news of his miserable death while seated with their own beloved children.
Dear Judiciary, Police, Prisons, and ABOVE, you may forget these things, but your victims and their loved ones never forget.
Hey Abba Marcus Mayanja,
Let's keep it real - Without the name Mayanja, at 19 your opinion barely matters.
The Mayanja face & name you carry isn't just any name. It's the name your dad built through both his highs and lows in the music game.
This isn't me trying to put you down, but there's truth in "Omukulu tasobya" - it's about learning from those who've been there before you, atte ndi mukulu wo.
Look, putting your dad's business on the internet? Not your smartest move. All it did was get people talking about you while your dad is still going through whatever he's going through.
His health stuff? That's family business, not internet content.
Trust me, no amount of likes or comments will fix what's really going on.
Your family cares about your dad way more than any of us social media folks ever could. Work with them, not the internet.
Sure, posting might feel good for a minute, but it doesn't solve anything real.
Let's talk about your dad for a second - he's a legend, a creative and a stubborn lonely man. Just a guy who needs people.
Ask anyone who runs into him at clubs - they'll tell you how he just wants someone to talk to, to listen. Remember when you couldn't even get near Chameleon without dropping millions?
Now he's grabbing mics at clubs, singing for free. That's not just a performance - that's a lonely man reaching out.
Here's the bottom line, your dad doesn't need harsh words or internet talk. He needs love, especially from his own blood. The Mayanja legacy deserves better than social media drama.
Yours Surgically
#LoveSurgeon
It is US elections again and NTV is the station. We (Kingline Press Company) developed the analysis software that you'll be seeing on your screens. Since 2016, we are the leading Studio Analysis Developers.
Even after living in Kenya for many years, the amounts mentioned in corruption scandals here still leave me wondering, can a young Luo make money anymore?
As in,
Who are you?
What are you?
What the hell is you (stealing) for?
@DuncanAbigaba@GCICUganda@KakwenzaRukira Hi Duncan, well articulated ideas over there. We'd love to support your impactful voice by hosting https://t.co/yYaIHkcCF6 for free so we can always read more of these "hegemonies"🤠. Please do reach us if you're interested in the offer. David.
Excerpts of Liberia's 🇱🇷 President George Weah's Concession Speech.
#LiberiaDecides
I stand before you tonight with a heavy heart, but with the utmost respect for the democratic process that has defined our nation.
The results announced tonight, though not final, indicate that Ambassador Joseph N. Boakai is in a lead that is insurmountable.
A few moments ago, I spoke with President-elect Joseph N. Boakai to congratulate him on his victory and to offer my sincere commitment to working with him for the betterment of our beloved Liberia🇱🇷.
I extend my heartfelt congratulations to President-elect Boakai, his supporters, and his campaign team. May his presidency be marked by success for all Liberians, and may our nation prosper under his leadership.
Tonight, as we acknowledge the results, let us also recognize that the true winners of these elections are the people of Liberia🇱🇷. Through your peaceful and orderly exercise of your constitutional right to vote, you have once again demonstrated your commitment to the democratic principles that bind us together as a nation.
Under my leadership, these elections were organized with a promise to the Liberian people – a promise of fairness, transparency, and credibility. I am proud to say that, for the most part, we have fulfilled that promise. The Liberian people have spoken, and their choice will be honored and obeyed.
I would like to congratulate the National Elections Commission for a job well done.
However, the closeness of the results reveals a deep division within our country. As we transition to the new Boakai administration, we must be vigilant to the dangers of division and work together to find common ground. Now, more than ever, unity is paramount for the love of Mama Liberia.
To the members of the Mighty Coalition for Democratic Change, I understand that this is not the outcome we desired.
I urge you to follow my example and accept the results of the elections.
Tonight, the Coalition for Democratic Change has lost the election, but Liberia🇱🇷 has won. This is a time for graciousness in defeat, a time to place our country above party, and patriotism above personal interest. I remain your President until the handover of power, and I will continue to work for the good of Liberia.
Let us heal the divisions caused by the campaign and come together as One Nation and One United People.
~ George Manneh Weah, @GeorgeWeahOff, President of Liberia🇱🇷.
🎉🥳 Exciting News! 🌟 Kingline Press has reached a remarkable 8 years on Twitter today! 🎂🚀 We're proud of our journey in the tech industry, where we've pioneered cutting-edge websites, innovative apps, and game-changing software that have reshaped media presentation.
MY HUMBLING EXPERIENCE AS A ‘PLANNED’ KID
By Andrew Karamagi
This week, a screenshot of a WhatsApp message has been the subject of intense debate and commentary on various social platforms. In it, a parent is complaining about the decision of one of Kampala’s privately held elite primary schools to give scholarships to less-fortunate children. The author contends that their “high-cost and highly maintained kids”, for whom they pay so much money, are being mixed with ghetto/street kids without their consent.
The full message is more revolting. My unedited thoughts about this kind of thinking are unprintable.
The debate reminded me of a childhood experience whose results showed up less than a year ago.
I hope that that parent reads my story and picks something from it:
One evening in 2000 (I was then a Primary Seven pupil at Greenhill Academy), my siblings and I had just been picked from school when the doorbell rang.
From his kennel, Ravy the dog barked, with tangible agitation. This was the first learned signal to everyone at home that the canine had smelt a stranger.
“Someone go check out who it is,” my mother instructed. We hated being asked to go see who had called because it meant missing scenes from Power Rangers, Sunset Beach, or suffering the inconvenience of pausing a game on the PlayStation.
Such was our collective relief when we heard Rebecca, one of two house helps, run to the gate.
The visitor was let in.
“Mummy, nayenda kugamba niiwe [Mummy, he wants to speak to you],” Rebecca reported.
“Nooha shi? [who is it],” my mother inquired.
“N’omwoojo; yiija n’egaari [It’s a boy; he came riding a bicycle],” Rebecca answered.
Mom used her feet to feel for her sandals on the ground and walked to the patio where the boy was. A few minutes of conversation got us curious, and one by one, we abandoned whatever we were doing, and jostled for space in a sash window to catch a glimpse of the stranger.
He was a young boy, my age, most likely. Ravy was growling and stomping furiously in his kennel, baying for blood.
At the invitation of mom, the boy wrestled his huge Hero model bicycle (the one without gears) and rested it on its side. She brought him indoors and we hastily left the sash window, racing back to the living room where we were watching TV and playing videogames.
“Come and sit here…iwe Rebecca; omwaana mumureetere ebyokurya [Rebecca, bring food for the child].”
From the dining table, mom scolded us for ignoring a visitor and ordered us to stop what we were doing and come say hello. Reluctantly, with long faces, we ambled towards him and mumbled our quick hellos, eager to return to the fun. Chris, the gregarious one, hugged the stranger. The rest of us didn’t catch more than a glimpse of him, let alone offer firm handshakes. This attracted more scorn from mom.
“After greeting him, switch off everything and go take your baths!” Sulking, we obliged and made for the bedrooms and bathrooms. Our fury was palpable. This boy who didn’t look like us, who clearly wasn’t very well dressed, and didn’t understand the cool stuff we were doing had decided to come at this hour.
Later, after the boy had left, dinner was served and mom narrated the incident to dad. Apparently, he requested mom to let him collect our garbage once a week for a meagre fee. He said he needed the money for his school fees. My parents agreed to find out more about his situation and see what help they could render.
Listening to their conversation, we asked naïve questions about why a young boy had to go through all that. Where were his parents? Wasn’t it dangerous for him to ride such a huge bicycle? At what time did he do his homework? Isn’t it disgusting to carry garbage bags with smelly refuse on a bicycle?
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