For no special reason this night was special, as I watched the crowd.
Oh couldn't but stop and see the wealth of a nation...no, it was the cemetery...it was the life in the streets of Kampala.
DISCLAIMER: The people in this post are by no means a representation of Kampala as a city.
And there I was,for no special reason...noticing the things that have skipped my intuition for a long time.
The crowd full of dreams...some attained,some pending and some living with unfulfilled dreams.And all of us taking on this journey of life.
Men and women in no variance running through life.On this particular night...youthful people a little somber at the loss of a national AFCON qualifier game.It had to be tonight...The passion written on the jerseys they wore.The day had finally come to an end.
As I made my way...home these streets became so alive than ever before..why had I never seen this all?
The lame beggars...that brave the discomfort of the night on verandahs...I almost bumped into their wheel chairs..parked safely near their hard paper beds...the night has set in for them after a long day of begging on the very streets that provide the safety of the night.There, they lay having a rather shabby meal of snacks that do not guarantee their health to be wowing...I stop in my stares...and my mind ran to the most unlikely thought...they are brave men and women...life may have not smiled on them with fortune and their pain may have reached numbness but these people are in so many ways a blessing...if you stop and realize that you are just about grateful for that home you go to.They are preachers of hope and comfort...they are reminders to us that we are more than fortunate
Then my heart hears the screams of the street preacher...for some reason this night has more male preachers than the ladies... they probably have been out here since dawn and right there, in the heart of the city they proclaim the near judgement of my soul...my heart skips a beat knowing so well that their words reckon meaning to me...In every second that goes my heart is reminded...that anytime could be the final.
Overwhelmed I feel, but more concerned for the preacher that in his need to bring many to Christ his voice is lost in the crowd...The anguish on some faces is far piercing...the stories I eavesdrop on..to my suprise say little of the people I see...empty faces,smiley faces, a lot with indifference...just plain nothing to them.
And Alas!!!Vegetables fall!!! A lady...a street vendor running off with what's left of her merchandise and after her are well-built men in Yellow...it finally strikes home the KCCA officials are at it again.Night hunt downs for people selling vegetables on the "clean streets of Kampala"
As the street children rush to pick the oranges and other fruits that have fallen...my heart breaks for the vendor.Another loss,yet the day looks like it has come to an end...how will she retire today?Is there looming hope in such a business...does the later hold promise than the former?Even I can't give her the answer.
So I tread on to my destination-home and I carry the joy,the fears,the pain,the agony and the hope that is deeply rooted in the life that treads on the streets of Kampala...The night is far spent,Maybe tomorrow will be great day for the lame beggar...or for that fearless street preacher...or maybe the sales will be great for the Street vendor and the crowd might have some emotions to touch and feel.
Am just a passer-by but I live each moment as I go through the Streets of Kampala.
Oh couldn't but stop and see the wealth of a nation...no, it was the cemetery...it was the life in the streets of Kampala.
DISCLAIMER: The people in this post are by no means a representation of Kampala as a city.
And there I was,for no special reason...noticing the things that have skipped my intuition for a long time.
The crowd full of dreams...some attained,some pending and some living with unfulfilled dreams.And all of us taking on this journey of life.
Men and women in no variance running through life.On this particular night...youthful people a little somber at the loss of a national AFCON qualifier game.It had to be tonight...The passion written on the jerseys they wore.The day had finally come to an end.
As I made my way...home these streets became so alive than ever before..why had I never seen this all?
The lame beggars...that brave the discomfort of the night on verandahs...I almost bumped into their wheel chairs..parked safely near their hard paper beds...the night has set in for them after a long day of begging on the very streets that provide the safety of the night.There, they lay having a rather shabby meal of snacks that do not guarantee their health to be wowing...I stop in my stares...and my mind ran to the most unlikely thought...they are brave men and women...life may have not smiled on them with fortune and their pain may have reached numbness but these people are in so many ways a blessing...if you stop and realize that you are just about grateful for that home you go to.They are preachers of hope and comfort...they are reminders to us that we are more than fortunate
Then my heart hears the screams of the street preacher...for some reason this night has more male preachers than the ladies... they probably have been out here since dawn and right there, in the heart of the city they proclaim the near judgement of my soul...my heart skips a beat knowing so well that their words reckon meaning to me...In every second that goes my heart is reminded...that anytime could be the final.
Overwhelmed I feel, but more concerned for the preacher that in his need to bring many to Christ his voice is lost in the crowd...The anguish on some faces is far piercing...the stories I eavesdrop on..to my suprise say little of the people I see...empty faces,smiley faces, a lot with indifference...just plain nothing to them.
And Alas!!!Vegetables fall!!! A lady...a street vendor running off with what's left of her merchandise and after her are well-built men in Yellow...it finally strikes home the KCCA officials are at it again.Night hunt downs for people selling vegetables on the "clean streets of Kampala"
As the street children rush to pick the oranges and other fruits that have fallen...my heart breaks for the vendor.Another loss,yet the day looks like it has come to an end...how will she retire today?Is there looming hope in such a business...does the later hold promise than the former?Even I can't give her the answer.
So I tread on to my destination-home and I carry the joy,the fears,the pain,the agony and the hope that is deeply rooted in the life that treads on the streets of Kampala...The night is far spent,Maybe tomorrow will be great day for the lame beggar...or for that fearless street preacher...or maybe the sales will be great for the Street vendor and the crowd might have some emotions to touch and feel.
Am just a passer-by but I live each moment as I go through the Streets of Kampala.
