How Premier Lottery Made Me Broke

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By Philip Matogo

Back in 1997, I was at home relaxing.

I didn’t have two pennies to rub together, but that was fine.

The movies and books I had at home were sufficient to feed my waking moments with whatever was cooking inside their jackets — VHS video cassette and hardcover book alike.

Plus, I stayed with my mother, so I had food for the belly too.

Looking up at the bedroom ceiling, I fanned my fingers behind my head and realised that I didn’t have to do anything but get fat or die trying.

Then the phone rang.

We owned a landline, so I had to haul my ass out of bed to answer it.

It was my friend Ronald. He told me he had a way to make both our pockets chubbier.

After listening to his spiel, I sprang out of bed and hit the open road… after getting some spending cash from my Mum, of course.

Kampala’s Get-Rich Scheme

On my way to town, I thought of Kampala’s latest get-rich scheme: Premier Lottery.

Back then, you’d buy a ticket for one thousand shillings, then scratch off the foil to reveal what you’d won.

Not being a gambler, I had never bought myself a ticket.

However, I watched in awe as the whole town, from top to bottom, hunched over and scratched to win.

In the media, smiling winners showed off cars, wads of cash and, in some cases, even land titles.

This was Ronald’s plan: get tickets, win, and suddenly all the hot honeys would realise that two broke homies actually had pulses.

It sounded simple enough.

Our First Taste of Winning

We bought one ticket each. It cost us one thousand shillings.

After scratching off the silver foil, we had both won one thousand shillings!

Never mind that what we had put in was exactly what we had gotten out.

Our appetites had been whetted by the mouth-watering prospect of winning mounds of cash far greater than what we had piled into this get-rich scheme.

So we bought more tickets.

Two each.

And got the same result!

We were two thousand shillings richer and poorer at the same time. But we chose to see the glass as half full and focused only on the richer part of the story.

We got more tickets.

Four each this time.

Again, we got what we put in!

Then we upped the stakes.

We both put in ten thousand shillings for ten tickets each.

This time, out of a total of twenty tickets, we won fifty thousand shillings!

Apparently, there were tickets worth ten thousand shillings in winnings, and we had five of them.

We were truly on a roll.

The Big Idea

“If we spend this 50k on 50 tickets, we stand a chance of winning the 400,000,000 jackpot,” Ronald said.

Back then — and even now — 400,000,000 shillings could take you from no status to king’s status.

So what did we do?

We first breathed in.

Then we decided to be sensible.

We called up some friends, borrowed an additional 50,000 shillings and decided to buy 100 tickets!

With a fistful of cash, we started discussing taking trips to Tahiti.

As soon as we got there, we imagined ourselves surrounded by swimsuit-ready belles at the beach and served cocktails before our cocks got some “tail.”

We could feel the wind blowing granules of sand into our eyes as we were blinded by a shared love for the finer things in life.

Millionaires Before the Money

Walking along Kampala Road like we had 200 pounds of muscle on each arm, chiseled chests and favoured holiday spots in the most crucial pelvic areas, we headed for the Premier Lottery offices in slow motion.

Our swagger gave us the air of millionaires.

In our minds, prices suddenly went up in stores as soon as attendants saw us passing their shops.

Everybody could tell we were going to be rich, so why not milk us in advance?

Buying our tickets, we deepened our voices to the cigar-enriched baritones owned by the rich and infamous.

Then we doffed our imaginary hats at everyone who was about to witness our rags-to-riches transformation.

Then we started scratching.

Feverishly.