When Alexander Ndawula first went on air at 91.3 Capital FM Radio in 1995

Alex in his heyday Pulse

Gruff, bluff while huffing and puffing down the house of cards comprising the delicate egos of his listeners, he cranked the dials up to full volume with his trademark mouthful of a name: Alex Michael Felix Ndawula Nga Sunda, Mukonzi, Munyantos, Muchachos, Le Hombre, Owempologoma!

The whole town seemed to instantly lock into his groove, so much so that when Capital ‘fired’ him on the same cold day in hell in 2003 that the Vice President and Minister of Agriculture, Animal Industry and Fisheries Dr. Specioza Wandira Kazibwe was dropped, everyone was talking about Alex’s ‘sacking’ instead of Specioza’s fall.

Alex (right) with Lucky (middle) and Salvado Pulse

After Alex was “reinstated” in what proved to be a clever publicity stunt by Capital Radio, people instantly started wondering if Alex was bigger than Capital.

It appears Capital Radio’s stunt boomeranged to expose it as a one-trick pony riding on the charisma of a Disc Jockey who ripped up the rulebook with a practiced arrogance which led him to hang up on callers who mispronounced ‘shouts’ as ‘shots.’

Alex’s famous disregard for his callers became material for his program and made the listeners who weren’t calling in laugh out loud.

Even those who had their calls cut short or were blasted by Alex as he assaulted the microphone, yes even those, were happy with Alex’s verbal assaults in ways that reveal a masochistic streak amongst Ugandans.

He is arguably Uganda's finest DJ ever Pulse

This streak explains why we complain about everything we cherish.

We loved Alex’s arrogance, so recognizably Ugandan, because it seemed to hold a mirror up to a listening public which took great pleasure in what they saw and heard.

At the time, in my world, nothing seemed to go right, unless it rightly went wrong. I was so unlucky in love.

Then, thanks to Alex, my luck changed.

One Saturday night, I was home listening to the radio.

I was so broke that I even owed myself cash. Since I had promised myself that I would be loaded at that hour.

So I then tuned in to 91.3 Capital FM.

DJ Alex’s “Dance Force” was blasting club-friendly beats to offset the monotone sadness playing in my head.

“Guys, guys…tonight is the grand opening of the executive wing of Club Silk. I have complimentary tickets for the first caller! So stay tuned after these messages…” DJ Alex announced with his Smirnoff-soaked baritone.

I immediately perked up.

I mean, these tickets could be won by any Tom, Dick or Lukyamuzi.

So it was time to wet my beak in this contest, I said to myself.

I thus picked up the phone, and dialed.

To my complete surprise, DJ Alex’s voice crackled to life on the other end of the line.

He then told me to hold on. Then, a moment later, his studio music was turned a few notches lower.

“Okay, it seems like we have a caller…”

Alex then asked me my name and I got excited knowing that I was going to win the tickets instantly.

But, alas, that wasn’t to be.

Instead, in his usual over-the-top way, DJ Alex said, “You have to sound like you really want these tickets….show me why I should give them to you and nobody else.”

That meant I had to beg. So I bent my knees and started begging, desperately seeking those tickets.

But Alex wasn’t convinced and said, “I doubt you could convince a woman in that tone of voice….in fact pretend I am a woman that you really want….what would you say to convince me?”

Damn.

The idea of chatting up a woman in the form of Alex did not sound appealing to me.

I mean, what the hell was I going to say? I love the curl of your breasts under that masculine face, dear Alex?

Still, I needed those tickets. So I got down and groveled as I serenaded Alex like he was the singular version of Destiny’s Child.

Dapper Alex Pulse

However, my voice instinctively tightened around my words as my pride kicked in.

But, thankfully, sentences still ejaculated from my mouth; slowly, deliberately and affectionately.

Yet, Alex wasn’t yet done.

He got another caller on the line, a female, and asked her to rate me.

“Hmmm….he’s as if….he is oba….like he doesn’t want….let him try a little harder. Otherwise, I want to send my greetings to…” Alex quickly cut her off before she began listing all the names within her entire village.

I was a shade shy of slamming the phone down when he told me to “give it another try.”

However, this time, I came out swinging. And I sounded like some bedroom-heavy force of nature…vibrating with the loins of the gods.

That’s right; my voice had peeled off its restraints and proclaimed itself naked on the edge of crazy.

The tickets were thus mine.

I was told to hightail it over to Capital FM offices, on the double.

I left home at 10:00pm, it was pitch-dark.

Night winds howled beneath a moonless Makindye sky.

A chill crept over me, the whole place was deserted.

So I started walking and hoping I would get a ride along the way. My pockets were vacuums, but I knew I would find a way. And that way came soon enough when a glimmer of light approached me.

Soon, it intensified into the light of a car’s blinding headlights.

A lady driver was inside and she gave me a ride, in more ways than one.

You know how some parents say that their children were conceived to an R. Kelly song?

Well, I broke my virginity to Alex’s show.