Just passed by this flashy bus at the Entebbe Airport parking lot. The lads at my alma mater are having it easy. In stark comparison, in my day we were shunted around like cattle in what we christened “The Milk Truck.” No, that’s not me in the picture. For a school that was supposed to be grooming gentlemen and the country’s leaders, I resented showing up at girls’ schools and then having to emerge from the back of a truck. For that sole reason, I made an unshakeable resolution never (even for one time!) to show up at any girls’ school in my time at St Mary’s. Oh. Save for the time I showed up for “Social ‘90” at Nabisunsa. Or was it Namagunga? Boyo boyo, did this Christian boy have a good time! I did the Foxtrot. I “pulled” the SMACK Jabba. That day I was transported to seventh heaven. So much so that I moonwalked (while at the same time pulling Hammer strokes, in my hammer pants) to the Fellowship meeting room the next day, singing out my lungs (in cavalier fashion) MC Hammer’s “U Can’t Touch This.” That hit was off the chart-topping album “Hammer, Please don’t hurt ‘em.” I was only stopped in my tracks by the brethren (certified killjoys, those ones) saying the instant I had boarded the milk truck I had effectively “back-slidden.” Charge: I had “compromised.” That was my label for the rest of my time at St Mary’s. Except in the small matter of falling in love with a beautiful girl called Mona Tumwine, I purposed not to enjoy life too much when I joined Makerere University a couple of years later. You see, the same wet-blanket junta had extended their leadership to the Christian Union on campus. He! Ay caramba! Bitter-sweet (but precious) memories this fine transport has brought rushing back. So much for boarding the milk truck only once;-)