Mwiine Daniel🇺🇬

it's incredible that at 384,000 km, we'll still be able to communicate with the artemis ii crew with a delay of 1.3 sec in relay thanks to nasa's deep space network your telcos cannot even achieve that latency between your iphone 17 in kitukutwe and a 5g tower in kulambiro

artists think that enactin' the copyright law alone's goin' to magically solve their money problems, lol havin' the law is a start, but part of what'll render it effective is creditin', which most of our artists don't know about or deliberately refuse to do a true and fair copyright law requires that every individual who contributes to the composition and sound recordin' of a song is credited and paid their royalties accordingly if someone co-wrote, arranged, engineered, or mastered a song, they get credited and paid their share many of our artists have always refused to credit the people behind their albums and songs, except a few also, i hope that the new law, once signed, allows producers, mixers, and sound engineers to receive royalties collected from sound recordin' usage for instrumentalists: guitarists, drummers, keyboardists, vocalists, it's a bit different under most copyright frameworks, playin' on a track doesn't automatically give you a compositional copyright or royalty stake they are often just paid flat fees and cut out of future earnings the law will also mean clearin' samples properly our artists have always lifted samples without a master use license or an interpolation without a mechanical license, which is infringement and a lot of 'em have gotten away with it for far too long big name artists acquirin' songs through work-for-hire deals and ghost-writin' arrangements without creditin' the original writer, while it's perfectly legal, it should also end the upfront flat fees is also one of the real robberies in the industry worldwide you allow to get paid ugx 500k to produce or write, the song blows up and generates billions, and you're entitled to nothin' more because you signed away your rights for that one payment producers and writers must seek for percentage splits to be agreed upon before song/album release it'll help everyone to earn proportionally as the song generates income, no one gets robbed of their share of a hit they helped create lastly, proper creditin' will streamline awards with accurate credits and metadata, we'll know exactly who's behind the work: the writers, producers, engineers, and they should be nominated and awarded alongside the artists in the relevant categories​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ adios 👋

Game theory teaches: never enter a game you haven’t studied, never reveal your strategy until the incentives are locked, and never play to be liked, play to make the rules irrelevant by building leverage.

A “computer” used to be a job title. Then a computer became a thing humans used. Now a computer is becoming a thing computers use.

i've a feelin' that maybe we were tappin' on the opus 4.6 the us military was usin' and then dario took it off after trump's tantrum 'cause this thing we've right now is the dumbest ai model i've ever used 😒

had a session with the student developers at @gdgmuk this afternoon we built a simple distributed multi-agent system called ai course creator we created 3 agents (a researcher, judge, and writer) and an orchestrator to build ai courses usin' gemini #gde | #buildwithai

It’s official, we will be in Kampala, Uganda, from 7th to 11th October 2026. For 5 days people from across Africa and beyond will come together to share, learn and celebrate the Python community. It has always been about more than just code. africa.pycon.org

We’re looking for speakers to share insights on Python, AI, data, web, open source, community, and more. Are you first-time or experienced speaker? We encourage you to apply and inspire Africa’s tech ecosystem. Deadline: 16th. 04.2026 Link: africa.pycon.org

We’re live today with Makmot Johnson (Full Stack Dev & Founder, Renegade) diving into AI in Web3 — how AI is transforming dApps, smart contracts & digital ownership. 🗓 Today ⏰ 8:00–9:00 PM 📍 RSVP: tinyurl.com/bwai-ai-in-web3 Don't miss this one 🕐

We are live tonight. Make sure to RSVP

PyCon Africa 2026 CFP is OPEN! Got a Python talk, workshop, or story to share? We want you! 📅 Deadline: 16th.04.2026 🔗 Apply: ug.pycon.org/2026/talks/sub… #PyConAfrica26 #CFP #PyConAfrica

Here is a 12+ hour video on @FastAPI by yours truly. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed creating it. youtu.be/TO4aQ3ghFOc

claude's down and half of the devs cannot center a div 🙂

one must be an irredeemable fool to launch a war against persians

Long thread alert 📌 What you are about to read is a true story. It is narrated by the man himself. The names,places and specific dates have been carefully adjusted for privacy reasons.

Captain began shrinking. Slowly. Mercilessly. He became thin. Scales deepened. Cracks appeared. At night,he whispered of creatures crawling under his skin,heat inside his bones,itching from within. Doctors could not explain. Blood normal. Organs normal. Tests negative. By mid-2016,the towering Manchester United fanatic who commanded mangoes and boys became a fragile thin brown zebra. Eyes hollow. Voice trembling. Pampers full time. Could not stand. Could not perform as a man. No child. Nothing. We ran to every hospital in Uganda. Even Aga Khan University Hospital,Nairobi. Tests negative. We prayed at Kakandes,Kayanjas,Bukalango,Kiwamirembe and even Watoto guys visited him multiple times. Loud hallelujahs. Anointing oil that could fry eggs. Nothing changed. We sold everything. Friends contributed money. Everything for Captain. The man who moved lorries of pineapples was now being moved in a wheelchair. On 19th March,we admitted him to Rubaga Hospital. He would not die unloved. At 6 PM,a Musoga man visiting his sick wife looked at Captain and calmly said,this one was bewitched. Have you tried traditional doctors? We laughed,exhausted. He insisted. Called his man from Bucoori,Busoga on loudspeaker. The native doctor spoke immediately: “I see Bernard. Deep pain. Bewitched by a jealous village mate through Eagle Lager beer. The jealous man disappeared immediately. Too late. Early Friday morning he will die. The one who bewitched him will return eight years after the funeral as a mad man because he broke the rules.” We froze. The name was real. That man had vanished for years. Friday morning came. Captain left us. The fruit general. The grasshopper tycoon. The Eagle Lager scientist. We buried him with tears heavy enough to flood a village. Just last week,15th February 2026,eight years after Captain died,the very village mate who vanished reappeared. Mad. Roaming. Talking alone. Repeating the same sentence: I bewitched Captain. He is on my head. He died. He laughs while saying it. He cries while saying it. He shouts while saying it. Alert: Anyone who says witchcraft is not real is a witch. Period. This is a true story. No filter. No fiction. And I am the one telling it shamelessly.

THE “PASTOR’S DAUGHTER” WAS ACTUALLY THE PASTOR’S HIDDEN VICTIM I am Kyikwabanga. I met her on a cold Tuesday,6th March 2012. She introduced herself as Kahunde,“hard-softie”. It was at Silver Springs Hotel in Bugolobi. I had gone there to apply for a job. I was briefly unemployed and nervous,wearing a shirt I had ironed twice to hide its age and shoes that squeaked with every step. I was rehearsing confidence in the lobby when I accidentally ran into her in the washroom. She was adjusting a crisp white blouse tucked into black trousers,heels clicking softly and a gold heart-shaped key holder swinging from her belt loop. It was the kind of key holder that screamed she had control of everything,literally and figuratively. I asked,casually, “Excuse me,are you one of the administrators here?” She turned and smiled, “No,I am here to see someone.” I smiled,bold, “Well,maybe you can share your contact with me then. Might be useful.” Her eyes assessed me,sharp and playful and then she gave me her number. That moment was the beginning of everything. She was about 5”,chocolate-skinned,glowing and confident. Her eyes measured the room,the people and me before smiling. She moved with a calm assurance that suggested the city itself had to follow her rhythm. A week later I saw her again in Kitintale. She worked as a purchasing manager at Tuskys Supermarket (now Portbell road supermarket) opposite Petrol City. The same building housed Diamond Trust Bank where her boyfriend was a manager. She mentioned it casually as if the titles were irrelevant to her choices. I started visiting Kitintale regularly. I would arrive early,pass through Kitintale Market for a cheap plate of food at 2000 shillings and a cup of white porridge with milk for 200 shillings. By evening I would relocate to Its Here Restaurant,order a small bottle of Rwenzori at 1000 shillings and sit there performing elegance while waiting for her shift to end. Every time a white Toyota Brevis pulled out of the parking lot,my heart jumped. That was hers. She lived in Mutungo at Close Villas Apartments,near Sipapa’s home. The first time she invited me I noticed clean balconies,well-arranged parking,soft lighting and intentional order. She did not need to show off. She lived independently and confidently.

HOW I ENDED UP DEPORTED I left Uganda on Wednesday 11 November 2015 for Abu Dhabi to work as a driver with Khidmah LLC through Middle East Consultants Limited. Their offices were in Muyenga,Kampala. The whole process took four months. I paid 5,300,000 Uganda shillings as a recruitment fee. The money I spent just coming to Muyenga for interviews could have started a small business. We were 23 people in the group. Mr. Kyalimpa,the recruitment and vetting officer,was huge,tough and looked like low-budget Kahinda Otafire. He briefed us like we were soldiers being sent to the desert to fight lions. His presence alone made you feel like he could bench press your dreams. Then there was Nareeba,one of the young male administrators at Middle East Consultants. He was a slow talker with a silver tongue. Some of the boys actually tipped him just to hear him explain things. Watching him talk felt like watching syrup pour over a hot pan,slow,mesmerizing and impossible to ignore. And then there was Gordon,the Managing Director. His white V8 Land Cruiser was so neat it could blind you. He was tall,lowkey and when he entered the gate of the Middle East offices,everyone had to pay attention. You could hear a pin drop. Gordon had a calm authority that made even the toughest employees straighten up. His office looked like a real-life Money Heist. Papers,cash,files and computers everywhere,with staff moving fast as if someone was about to escape with the money. Landing in Abu Dhabi was shocking. The heat hit me like a slap. Cars were blinding,skyscrapers reflected the sun and even the airport seemed to silently judge me. I spent three months training again as a driver. I ferried cleaners to and from work. My monthly salary was 1,800 dirhams. I saved every dirham like it was gold. Life was boring but safe. Two years later,I met my fellow Ugandan,Dickens,in Abu Dhabi. He told me he lived in Dubai and said life there was similar to Kampala. We exchanged contacts. When I had one month of paid leave,I went to Dubai,dazzled by its lights and music and its hidden bars by Africann called “obuyembe”. Dickens took me to “Akayembe”, where the air smelled of roasted goat and trouble. That is where I met Aisha,a muchotala from Mutukula. She owned massage parlors and that bar. She wasn’t even Muslim,though she pretended at first. She told me I could earn 4,000 dirhams per month in Dubai instead of 1,800. I quit my job immediately. My savings didn’t stand a chance. Overstaying my visa was a nightmare. Dubai without papers is not a vacation,it is a hide-and-seek game with police that you always lose. I ended up in prison in Dubai due to overstaying because when I quit my job at kidma,my visa wasn’t renewed. I spent everything trying to get out of prison. On Thursday 9 May 2019,I was deported. I arrived in Uganda with a broken Huawei phone,no shoes,a trouser without underwear and a Nike T-shirt looking like it had survived a war. For three days,I wandered the streets of Kampala,carrying luggage at taxi parks to raise money for transport back home to Ntusi,Lwemiyaga. From disciplined worker abroad to street porter,the fall was complete. Looking back,life abroad is not what it seems. Quick money is hard,illegal life is costly and home is where peace lives. This is how I ended up deported. Narrated by the late Mr. Zikusooka Banabas,who passed away at the age of 44 on 16th December 2025

whenever you see this random-lookin' code movin' around on your tv, it simply means dstv is tryin' to verify the device displayin' the content it's called a signal handshake or hdcp (high-bandwidth digital content protection) it was ceated by intel in 2000 to prevent recordin' of digital video over hdmi when you connect your tv to the decoder, they "talk" to verify each other and approve the display device if the decoder detects a weak signal, redistribution to another tv (or device), recordin' over hdmi, faulty hdmi cable, or even a drop in voltage, it sends that code to your screen the movin' code establishes the connection and checks if it's talkin' with an approved tv, that's why your remote doesn't work durin' that moment the decoder temporarily rejects the signal while it's busy verifyin' the tv once the approval is done, the code disappears..

#3 understand flax nnx, a neural network library that gives you pytorch-style classes and methods while compilin' down to jax's xla backend build a cnn for image classification with the same architecture used in real production systems #gde #jax kambale.dev/flax-nnx