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Frobisha was well known throughout the neighbouring schools and even beyond! Unlike Chinua Achebe's Okonkwo in Things Fall Apart, his fame rested on the kind of smell his feet would evoke.
His feet were so huge that he had his shoes specially made because his size could not be found on the
market. That was many years ago, in secondary school at St Kagwa Bushenyi High School.
I remember how one day in a Literature discussion, a Bweranyangi girl was doing a preview of Alex La Guma's In The Fog Of The Season's End –a moving account about the blacks' struggle against Apartheid in South Africa.
As we shed tears at the horrendous exposition of torture in this gripping novel, Frobisha entered and darkness fell. This tall, dark basketball player confidently ambled in and sat in an empty chair next to where we were perched.
Clad in a navy blue trouser and a dirty white shirt that had not been ironed, he looked like one of the clowns in Mickey House. First, the shirt was too small for his athletic body. It had a huge collar held tight at his huge neck by a red, flowered tiny, and small knotted tie. These went down with flat soled, brown shoes and white dirty socks.
For some time, our discussion made its flow, uninterrupted like a silent river. And then this fellow launched his onslaught. If former Vice President Dr Specioza Wandira Kazibwe had entered, our protagonist would still be languishing in a jail cell. His crime? Oh boy, you were not there! The piercing stench that popped out after he had removed his shoes was unbearable. Tell you what, no sane man would survive the hellish, inhospitable filth that came with his act.
Time stood still as the stench clipped our noses. Our intelligent villain accompanied by a bevy of papers one of which was a Literature test answer sheet in which he had scooped 30/33 looked on undisturbed. It was on this day that Frobisha also nicknamed Posho Crushing Machine(PCM), consecrated himself as a distinctive carbon mugere (smelly feet and socks) whiz.
This lawyer in prospect thus made himself a name as a mischief-maker who had disenfranchised a whole section of discussants preparing for UNEB exams. The smell of his feet (or is it socks) was like the fart of a starved hag that has taken rotten roots for supper.
His feet had this heavy smell that could conquer the air like hell let loose. It was indeed a shame to see our guests finding some excuse to abandon the discussion because the nausea reverberated encompassing the room with more and more misery. This is how the smelly feet of Frobisha a.k.a PCM (Posho Crushing Machine) wreaked vibrant havoc indirectly dismissing our Literature discussion.
And recently, I was strolling around Makerere University when I met our distracter, armed with thin and thick volumes of unique genres of law books. And believe me, as I passed by him, the damn stench broke my nose. Seeing my discomfort, he fiddled with his phone until I left gloomy like an advancing storm.
Only then, I realised that Kazibwe was rightly riled by male MP's with smelly feet and socks... Puke, puke. Off to my hostel, I pinned down this tale of nauseating feet and smelly socks. It's sick!
Published in Daily Monitor, on February 16, 2004
His feet were so huge that he had his shoes specially made because his size could not be found on the
market. That was many years ago, in secondary school at St Kagwa Bushenyi High School.I remember how one day in a Literature discussion, a Bweranyangi girl was doing a preview of Alex La Guma's In The Fog Of The Season's End –a moving account about the blacks' struggle against Apartheid in South Africa.
As we shed tears at the horrendous exposition of torture in this gripping novel, Frobisha entered and darkness fell. This tall, dark basketball player confidently ambled in and sat in an empty chair next to where we were perched.
Clad in a navy blue trouser and a dirty white shirt that had not been ironed, he looked like one of the clowns in Mickey House. First, the shirt was too small for his athletic body. It had a huge collar held tight at his huge neck by a red, flowered tiny, and small knotted tie. These went down with flat soled, brown shoes and white dirty socks.
For some time, our discussion made its flow, uninterrupted like a silent river. And then this fellow launched his onslaught. If former Vice President Dr Specioza Wandira Kazibwe had entered, our protagonist would still be languishing in a jail cell. His crime? Oh boy, you were not there! The piercing stench that popped out after he had removed his shoes was unbearable. Tell you what, no sane man would survive the hellish, inhospitable filth that came with his act.
Time stood still as the stench clipped our noses. Our intelligent villain accompanied by a bevy of papers one of which was a Literature test answer sheet in which he had scooped 30/33 looked on undisturbed. It was on this day that Frobisha also nicknamed Posho Crushing Machine(PCM), consecrated himself as a distinctive carbon mugere (smelly feet and socks) whiz.
This lawyer in prospect thus made himself a name as a mischief-maker who had disenfranchised a whole section of discussants preparing for UNEB exams. The smell of his feet (or is it socks) was like the fart of a starved hag that has taken rotten roots for supper.
His feet had this heavy smell that could conquer the air like hell let loose. It was indeed a shame to see our guests finding some excuse to abandon the discussion because the nausea reverberated encompassing the room with more and more misery. This is how the smelly feet of Frobisha a.k.a PCM (Posho Crushing Machine) wreaked vibrant havoc indirectly dismissing our Literature discussion.
And recently, I was strolling around Makerere University when I met our distracter, armed with thin and thick volumes of unique genres of law books. And believe me, as I passed by him, the damn stench broke my nose. Seeing my discomfort, he fiddled with his phone until I left gloomy like an advancing storm.
Only then, I realised that Kazibwe was rightly riled by male MP's with smelly feet and socks... Puke, puke. Off to my hostel, I pinned down this tale of nauseating feet and smelly socks. It's sick!
Published in Daily Monitor, on February 16, 2004
