Eh, my nephews and nieces, gather round. Let me tell you about Kato, the big man of Kikuubo. He had just made a killing in rice sales and decided, “Now I must show the world I have arrived.” So he went to the auction in Japan, clicked a few buttons, and bought himself a shiny hybrid car. No questions asked.

The car arrived at Mombasa port, gleaming like a bride on her wedding day. Kato drove it to Kampala, chest out, music loud, telling everyone: “See me, I am the future!”

But after three months, ah, the car began coughing like an old man with malaria. The dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree—CHECK ENGINE, BATTERY LOW. Kato rushed to the mechanic. The mechanic laughed: “My brother, this battery is finished. You need $2,500 to replace it.”

Kato fainted. His rice profits vanished like dew in the morning sun. His friends whispered: “Eh, Kato thought he was clever, but he skipped the wisdom step. He bought speed without clarity.”

From that day, Kato became the village warning. Whenever someone bragged about importing a hybrid, people said: “Remember Kato. Don’t let your profit die in the battery.”

Uncle Rwamiti’s Moral

“My children, a car without clarity is like a wife without a dowry—trouble will follow you home. Better to pay a small fee for wisdom than to pay a big price for ignorance. Clarity before keys, wisdom before wheels.”