The 1977 Beauty Contests were the best so far In Uganda

Abenakyo broke all records when she made it to the top five of the Miss World Beauty Pageant. The 22-year-old beauty also managed to bring home the first-ever Miss World Africa crown.

By Peter Gwokto via UAH forum,

The most pathetic excuse any one can use to distinguish enthicity in Uganda is skin tone or complexion. There are millions of Southerners who are darker than midnight – even darker than Besigye (who himself is past midnight). And there are millions of Northerners with light skin tone – whatever you Southerners rank as darker. It is better being referred to as dark skinned. This silly reference to skin-tone (something many of you have the audacity to term color difference) between northerners and southerners is the reason not a single Ugandan woman survives the first screening at the beauty peagent outside Uganda. Out there, reality strikes real hard when our national winner finds her chubby elephantine legs, shaggy door-lugging hips and her Cosby-wide nose will do her in on the first attempt faster than dessertfication of the Sahel. She just gives up on seeing the tall, red-skinned and white-teethed Himba girl from the most primitive part of Namibia, and the tall, dark and barely baldheaded Dinka or Shilluk from Sudan (just like Wek), the wirery Somalian girl with the skin-tone of an anthill, and the thin, healthy and voluptous-looking Wollof Senegalese. The common denominator for these God’s bits of wood is that they are as naturally beautiful as any species wants to be – this is God trying to outdo his own creation with another. Then, bring in the daughters of Labongo to deliver uncomprisingly thunderous results.

For obvious reasons, every Miss Uganda from the south or central is judged winner because she appears lighter than the northerner. The problem is that these southeners are selected by default (predetermined) instead of allowing Darwins theory of natural selection where the fittest is used to mean one endowed with phenotypic characteristics) .
To-date all the southern winners have been blowing it and ashaming the country for being booted on first attempt on a regular basis that Ugandan girls now fear winning the peageant show locally.

Folks, those swimsuits are not made for those famed Ugandan emfuta booties. Only Gadhafi used like them that way – and frozen, from Mountains of the Moon. There is a lot unmentionables to be discovered in these worrior female forms who once ruled Egypt. Now, I see all these todlers in the forum raisng eyebrows – of course, Nubians ruled Egypt for thousands of years until Alexandre brought pokopoko.

I remember as a young man (well, 14 is not really a young man in Uganda unless you are an alterboy) in primary watching a Miss Uganda peagent on tv at the Seargents Mess in Mbuya in 1977 (that’s one good thing with Amin’s regime; children were never killed or ‘safehoused’. Were it Kaguta’s time, this Acholi twit would be the youngest safehouse boarder for trespassing the barracks – at night). Guess who the winner was – Miss Karamoja, folks. Rosemary Nachuge, a student-teacher of Moroto TTC beat the crap out of the Namayanjas and Asimwes. That was the best peageant show I ever saw. The question periods were the most interesting – bwoyyy oh bwoyy ..! you should hear the Nalubegas, Nandutus and Karohoros murder English while Nachuge ranted it like it was her first languange. And she knew her geography, her history, her civics, her tourism, her Ugandan societies (unlike some MPs who graduate thinking Anyanya is a tribe in Uganda)… Please, ask UTV to rebroadcast this peagent and I swear you will believe what I mean. It was hosted at Silver Springs hotel. I remember it like it was yesterday. Above all, this K’jong UFO was da’bomb…! beeeeeeeeeeautiful, walahi…! For the cultural attire she wore K’jong soft goat-skin skirt embroidered with beads and cowrie shells and a beautifully beaded apron for the ‘front’ with red and yellow copper bangles – men were squinting so hard to see through the apron but were grievingly disappointed. The following day, my elder brother (kind’of father figure) actually took me to see and meet this K’jong – God’s last clay at a ‘muchomo firewoks’ at the home of then Min. of Info and Broadcasting, William Naburi. I was young with a bell-bottom wider than a winowing basket and got away with fluking many high-class parties.

Rosemary was – I still can’t describe her – was a goddess who surely fell from the skies – founder Kintu was just a fluker from Ssese island. The amazing thing is that not a single looser or tribe challenged her win because the proof was in the pudding folks – out in the open. I could have even been a judge and chosen the right one. She won high and dry.

Nachuge went back to finish school and teach but the next thing I heard – holie cow..! was that Maj. Abdallah Nassur was breathing down her neck as then Governor of Karamoja Province – I believe, at gun point. Well, he could have gotten away with it anyways because that time the Karachuna warriors didn’t have AKs and G3s yet. But I was the most-very disappointed studd.

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