A pro tourist
I just want to professionalize something that I already am, because who still doesn’t know I’m a tourist?
Driver of a military troop deployment truck
This is much better (read safer) than taking up active combat roles, the coward that I am.
Dancehall bright star
The reason I want to be a musician is not sing about guns and girls and ganja like most Dancehall artists do. Those are dancehall dark stars – like Vybz Kartel.
I want to sing so that I can teach the youths to organize and centralize, because my part of the music will deal with mostly youths. I want to teach them that there is re-education after education, and that meditation is higher than education; to choose right over wrong; good over evil, and life over death.
And self-esteem to the fullest. And self reliance. And self-thought. Don’t worry about the obstacles and turmoil and stumbling blocks because that’s a part of the struggle.
Keep the mentality up there in terms of the positive thinking.
I want to be a communications manager for a large and colorful corporate organization like the Imbuto Foundation or Akagera Business Group, or Bank of Kigali like my senior colleague Sir-Ken Agutamba who recently ‘fell in things’ at BK.
I call Agutamba ‘senior colleague’ and ‘Sir-Ken’ because that is how the dude likes to be addressed. Agutamba does not tolerate being casually stripped of his hard-earned media reputation.
Alternatively I could do with my own own arts and media production company and manage my own team of artists and creatives the way that Hope Azeda takes charge of her cubs at Mashirika.
Azeda is definitely not a lion and neither is she a lioness, so why am I here accusing her of being in possession of baby lions at Mashirika?
Well, she has two sets of cubs that will in due time take the mantle from her when the stresses and strains of organizing the Ubumuntu Arts Festival eventually take their toll on Azeda: Team Genesis and Team Alpha.
A pro gigolo
Allow me to school you about this alarming trend of otherwise able-bodied young men that I now want to emulate.
We are talking of the ragamuffin boys with dreadlocks and a T-shirt and jeans and a backpacker who head to the gym first thing in the morning and stay there for the better part of the day, while the rest of us rush to our different hustles for money.
Why do these dreadlocked and cigarette and marijuana-smoking youths head gym-wise while the rest of the world is off to slug it out at their mundane jobs?
Because they are professional gigolos and gigolos don’t hustle for survival in the same way that we ordinary men folk do.
A gigolo’s first commandment is to look good at all times, both in terms of their physical appearance and how they garb. So a sleek six pack has to be aggressively nurtured in the gym while the rest of us toil away on the job. Biceps have to be enlarged and emboldened. The torso and limbs have to get tighter.
Technically, a gigolo is open to romantic trysts with any woman as long as she satisfies his sexual and financial fantasies. The reality on the ground is however a little different:
All the African street gigolos I’ve met have their eyes trained on a particular type of woman that I’ll not name so as to avoid legal issues.
They perceive these women to hold more liberal sexual attitudes, to be fun and thrill-seekers, and that they have deeper pockets.
The typical street gigolo almost always spots dreadlocks, and that’s simply because they believe their preferred type of woman loves only men with dreadlocks.