It took "GRACE"

This week started out on a low for me, as the year winds down, it must have hit me really hard that a lot of the things I had set out to do got barely done. Most of them, died in conception while others died in their manifestation. 

My prayer topics which were my goals this year, where rooted in Isaiah 50:4 " The sovereign Lord had given me a well-instructed tongue, to know the word that sustains the weary.He wakens me morning by morning,wakens my ear to listen like one being instructed."

This key scripture was meant to be a foundation to my dreams and purpose through the year 2015. Yet my speech gave me away a lot of times, it  was not seasoned like salt,to instruct and encourage the weary. I managed to "labor" through morning devotions but through a lot of conviction, I realized I was missing God's great hand on why he would stir me up in the morning to his presence. I was not listening like I was supposed to and if  the foundation was not holding, then the goals were not shifting. 

Life can be so planned out and we forget God's hand on the things that he wants to accomplish in us.While I reflected on the year and while I battled unbelief and self doubt. I found myself standing on two doors, like how Noeline Kirabo says "the bridge of a breakdown or rebirth" I had to decide whether I would doubt God and his ability to see me through many more days of life or to trust Him with all my heart. It is easy to believe when everything is going our way but for the very first time I was choosing to believe when all around me, things were not going my way.

The masters scholarship, I had prepared to apply for was closed, the other two scholarships that I was planning to apply for lacked very vital documents,I had fallen out with two of my friends. And there I was,, frustrated at the fact hat life was not going as I desired it to go. But now, I see the picture clearly, Christ can satisfy me not these temporary delights. It felt more empty giving up Christ than giving up these desires.

In grotesque, I hoped that I could give up on looking to God and struggle through it all with my own strength. My friend Manzi, says there is no such thing as God, He(God) is rather an invention by the British imperialist (He has his many reasons). I think there is God, otherwise Ethiopians would not be Christians or anything else, for they were not colonized.

Today, as I sat reading from Grace Chun's thanksgiving topics on her blog (http://blogracechun.blogspot.com/), I realized that I was missing the bigger picture.Yes, everything can go the other way, but there is a lot that went right for me through this year. Yes, the trials were there but so were the good times.Reading the book, "Crazy love" by Pastor Francis Chan: made me realize through the words of the little Missy, Brooke Bronkowski in her essay," Since I have my life before Me" She echoes the truth that,"Oh, I will have moments, good and bad, but I will wipe away the bad and only remember the good.In fact that's all I remember, just good moments nothing in between, just living my life to the fullest." 

That truth jolted me back to my reality, I held my head high and saw the cross, in my face for a while. I do not know, what Jesus looked like, but his story is powerful, I see it change me everyday. Maybe it might sound like a fallacy but I believe in the good it has given me. Life is always going to be hard but the Apostle Paul, says it doesn't compare to the glory that awaits us. I might not be certain of  heaven but I am certain of the power that hope gives on this journey. And I am going to be thankful for that and everything in between.

It took Grace reminding me to read the Francis Chan books, it took Manzi, to bring me back to questioning my belief in Christ but most of all it took Little Brooke's child-like wisdom and the many thanksgiving topics on Grace Chun's blog, to look back in gratitude and jolt me back on my feet. 

I am writing my own thanksgiving topics, I am celebrating the life that has been re-birthed in me, I choose the rebirth instead of breaking down. And I know, I might forget this truth but I plan on remembering it's purpose each time, I ran into the hole of ungratefulness. And it only took Grace..God's grace and My dear friend Grace Chun.

WILTING SURVIVAL: A Soul Demise

Today, she stood at the doors of her life and she observed a pattern that had for so long trailed her existence. She thought of letting it all go, yet she did not.
She heard her gut give way, the outflow of her being was crushing yet she polished it up for the next day.
As she read the final lines of man's intellect and as the words gave birth to cynicism and doubt, she rubbed his name off her heart. He was poison in every way, a good man who would cause her death. He trusted his knowledge and forsook love. He thought less of the Gods surrounding the earth. She buried him there with many other dreams she had mastered to bury.

The year was winding down, yet in retrospect she saw her dreams fall in shambles. Everybody said tomorrow was a better promise than today, yet tomorrow was always no different from the today she travelled . There in the  presence of life, she was caught between what was and what would be. Her heart had given up on many people but to survive, people had to be there they said. So she walked off in despair and in desolate hoping that in the absence of what was, she would create her own haven.
The other day, she closed her heart from touch. She blocked out any potential ability to be seen as in need of love. So now, she wears her heart in hardcore garment, hoping that a little selfishness will redeem her.

How it grew so dark? We all do not know! How we all missed it was a question of whether we ever cared enough to reach out to her. Between the cracks of her reality,  she saw her dreams crashing yet she stood tall. The routine of life, brought comfort to her reality. She must have felt the emptiness creep in every passing hour yet even still, she kept going. She was the evidence of a life that weathered the storms. She was going to make it someday, somehow. Her dreams, had a life of their own. Through moments of passing they survived, they went on with her as though soldiers on a journey. She will make it to the end, her quiet determination proved itself strong.

A moment ago, she had her dreams challenged. She almost gave up, in the moments when the journey was at its peak.Anxious in the wake of a pending reality, she almost fazed out her push for life. I saw her strive, I saw her, swallow her tears deeper. She should have cried, yet she didn't. She had every right to break down, yet she didn't.It was going to tear her up yet she didn't mind. She missed it, she failed to see it but despair was eating up her humanity. If someone could save her, then the redemption would change her. But to her...no hero was named.

Her story is being told and I want to be there to see it end. Her death, we do not know but her life we will see unfold. The truth is she will live on and maybe find her soul's redemption.

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The dark tales of many of my damsels are reflections on life that I can only grasp through words. Not as real people but as real emotions.

LITTLE MISSY TALES

Little Missy, was full of life! It was an energy that came from a deep genuine love  that gave her a glow.She was a delight to behold.

Missy loved the far lands,she didn't know where that was but she hoped beyond all hope that  time will come when she would visit the far off lands. All the while,all that Missy knew was the little dusty road that closed off in her village, a few market days that her daddy would take her to and many days by the river that flowed through the village. As she found out that the heart can feel so much love,she also found out that the heart can feel nothing.

Missy's dad found love,not with her mother for she had known the story of her conception from the village folks and how her mother had died in child birth.

" Daddy had found love right next door, her name was Mama Kwezi, she was a very beautiful woman. The hills sang choruses when her feet befell the ground." that was Missy's description of Mama Kwezi.

The village folks started to envy the old man for falling in love with the  most beautiful mama in the village.Shestarted living with them,now a family of three.Just them, now Missy was sure she could get all the care and love she wanted from a mother,she ran every evening to the river to silently tell the stories of her new found love in Mama Kwezi,she would ran down to her only friend Tendo,who lived at the end of the river and together they would share about everything that was going on in the village.More often than not,they would talk about the city and the village boys that were promising the girls they were relating with a chance to take them to the city.

One November day,after a thrush of rain on the ground,Missy came out of her hut to smell the ground ;like most of us, the smell after the rain is magical. That day she learnt a new feeling,it didn't have any description.It was just a gut feeling that the heart can stop beating and yet one can stay alive. She felt numb to the ache and stiff to the jolt of pain that was beating in her chest. Across the yard in her father's hut,lay Mama Kwezi in a  pool of blood.Cold and near to death.Her slow whispers must have broken Missy's whole world. "Your father  doesn't love anyone,Your father did this to me" Those words made it impossible for Missy to speak for a long time,as Mama Kwezi gave her last breath so did Missy's heart. She finally could put a face to what her mother went through, the very reason that was taking Mama Kwezi from her grip.

"Daddy never returned and it was time to find a better cause to live,one that the village could not give me.It was time to visit the far off lands." she said as a matter of fact.

December left Missy more than an adult,she was different. She forged her way through the city and realised that it was not what Tendo described to her.It was far better than their little fantasies. The buildings were very massive and tall. They had iron sheets and never had she seen so many cars! She promised to tell Tendo all about it,when she got back home someday.She managed to get a job and also learned how to sew professionally. Missy beat the odds of life and learnt everything she needed to survive. For her father,she never heard of him ever since.

And then,something new happened! She fell in love. She never knew how one can gradually have a liking for another until it happened.It was different from what she used to feel for Daddy and so much different from what she had felt for Mama Kwezi. She loved them but not this much. He was different from the men from her little village.He knew his way and was confident in his strides.He taught her many things about the city and gave her a fairytale kind of experience. A few more months and she knew she would not love any other person that much,for her love had been give fully to Ssebo. She blushed everytime he said she was beautiful,he brought her her first kitengi and she wore it every Sunday to a near by Church. Ssebo made it impossible for her to think of anything else while she was with him. Until she started to hear people pity her. Missy had only listened to what Ssebo had to say, but now she had to learn what people had to say about Ssebo. Love can cause havoc,while Missy refuted all that was told to her,jealousy crept in at  the thought of Ssebo looking at another woman,the way he looked at her.Or much less the way he had taken her in his arms the day she gave herself away to him.She shivered through the months with fear of such a loss. She rehearsed all the nice sweet things Ssebo had whispered to her many times on their late night walks and on those beautiful sunsets most evenings.

After many months of denial,it happened! There in her own house she found another woman in Ssebo's  firm hands. For her it was now marked out, for her it was the line between love and nothingness. When she loved, she really loved. When she stopped, she just felt nothing after that, no remorse and much less hate.She just went into nothingness .And that is what made it different for her. She didn't feel a thing for her daddy and not for Ssebo.She didn't cry and she didn't even think of hating any of them. The reality was that in loving others, she had failed to make a line where she could start to hate.  The far lands, were no different to the little village she hailed from because they all taught her what lay between the thin line of love and nothingness...it was her.

 And Missy still goes through the motions of everyday indulgences, waiting for the next moment when she will love but as well dreading the moment when she would  feel different.

LOVE RAN BLACK:Tales of the town girl

See, she chose vanity over reason. And sometimes, she would forget what the mind had to say. But not so fast, let me tell you why she made such a decision.

There was a time, when she had  all that life could have possibly give. But one thing was a constant, there was always a deficit for love. No one was teaching her the right things and no one was changing, not even the ones that meant the best of things for her. She loved for sure, but she had a one way street going for her. So then, what makes it so hard for vanity to make comfort in her room?

The town girl, had seen the most of life, the town girl had always made room for her love and yet the evasion was taking longer than usual. It was just a matter of time before the walls caved in, there she stood unveiled to the fact that the people she once called friends were actually, vomiting venom of hate, anger and all that stands in the road of disaster. She was learning a new lesson: that people hurt and that the love so deep in the hearts of men was not visible in touch. The town girl grew cold with the touch of men, she grew cold to the love of friends. How was it possible that men could choose hate for love, how was it that hatred stood in the hearts made for love? That was the dilemma of the town girl.
The tears streamed all night for an answer to humanity's loss of genuine love and far beyond her hold, she learnt that to stand on your own was safer. She chose to live a life she could mark out, one she could find a destiny of no pain, no regrets. She chose vanity and a little of fun in the go. To find a redemption for the pain that hang in her heart.

So today she stands, alone but happy. Far from spiting tongues and vulture hearts. Far from all the pain that could not redeem her soul, for the love her heart desired.
Was she hurt? Very much so but she learnt that to let your heart open for more was going to cause her more pain than what she felt,she learnt well to guard her heart with reason, a little vanity and no regard for second guessing, she made a bed in making the heart feel a little alive in the things vanity had to offer. You know those things; manicured nails, a great smile, very expensive clothes, over the top hotels suites and more in the knowledge of this world.
The town girl did all that she could, to stay alive. She learnt the language of the city and she chose the adventure of the world. So today, no one can beat the town girl to the life she has chosen, for in it she found a re-birth.

Now she walks a journey I am starting to understand, don't blame her...life made her and so did the people in it.
 

REVISITNG CCEDU'S ROLE IN ELECTORAL DEMOCRACY: 1/3

Citizens' Coalition for Electoral Democracy in Uganda in the wake of voter engagement and electoral democracy joined together with other civil societies and made a coalition with a need of engaging the citizenry in the search for electoral reforms in Uganda in order to have free and fair electoral processes and elections. CCEDU through their many engagements with the citizenry in their two foundational campaigns: "Honor your vote" and " Face the citizens" compiled eight key reform areas that make up the Citizens 'Electoral Reform Agenda (CERA handbook).*

While the 2011 elections were deemed free and fair, one can testify that they were far from the picture of free and fair, given the impunity of many leaders, the arbitrary arrests, yellow journalism among many other atrocities that characterized the said free and fair elections. Granted that Uganda carries out free regular elections, CCEDU* through  the CERA handbook hoped to table eight important key foundations that push if not transform the electoral democracy environment of Uganda.

From the sidelines, I have continuously engaged and watched the proceedings of CCEDU and to track through the last five years, CCEDU has pushed for the reforms through a number of endeavors in the need for their realization before the 2016 general elections, among those were:

Parliamentary meetings held in parliament and committee meetings where they tabled the  CERA reforms in order to have them put on the flow of parliament. Also key note parliamentarians were employed to front certain CERA reforms individually before the 10th parliament.

CCEDU also distributed its own National ID observers to help monitor the National ID process that will then inform the National voter registry; to follow up on that exercise, CCEDU launched the "votability" campaign that helped to push the citizenry to check the voter registry to ascertain their details and polling station. Through the votability campaign, voter awareness and the role the citizenry have to play to ensure their votability or rather their ability to vote in the coming general elections. In that regard, CCEDU managed to make the Electoral Commission to push forward their deadlines in order to give the citizens/voters ample time to cross check their names and polling stations in preparation of the coming 2016 general elections.

Recently, the "Topowa" campaign was launched in line with the coming general election. Its emphasis being on voter awareness  to remind the citizenry that their vote counts at all costs and them voting was and will not be a waste of time. So indeed, "Topowa" as the vernacular word denotes is in a way a campaign to that reminds the people  not to give up their voting rights and as well not to give up their power to choose their next leaders.

CCEDU today is part and parcel of a monitoring and observation organization, that bring together 15 Civil Society organizations under the umbrella name; Citizens' Election Observation Network (CEON-Uganda) gearing up and getting ready to monitor the pre-election, election and post-election processes in Uganda ahead of the 2016 general elections.

Today, CCEDU stands at a marked line, in reawakening the role of the citizens in deciding who their leaders will be. In the need to understand such a cause, one needs to understand the CERA and assess its viability and its success towards delivery us beyond 2011 in our search for Electoral integrity and democracy. Join me as we, unveil the rest of this rewarding and effortful work.


*CCEDU: Citizens' Coalition for Electoral Democracy in Uganda was launched on 19th August,2009, as a non-partisan, non profit broad civil society coalition. It brings together over 600 like-minded civil society organizations to advocate for comprehensive electoral democracy in Uganda.
*CERA: The Citizens' Electoral Reform Agenda Handbook is a product of the tireless works of a technical team of experts who carefully studied the recommendations and proposals made by various election observe groups and individuals in the aftermath of the 2011 general elections.

THE DANGER OF A SINGLE MAN'S WAR

Have you ever found yourself at the center of strife? Have you ever found yourself at the center of a war you didn't begin and don't want to start or sustain? What do you do? Or rather what did you do?
Recently, I was awaken to the fact that not everyone desires peace as I do. My great insightful friend, Chelsea came with a reality truth that I was closing my eyes to.

As always, bubbling but a great voice of reason for me to learn from. She told me of a time when she stood at the other end of a never ending battle, one she didn't want to start, sustain or even end up in. Her disgust was in the dilemma of why one person would choose war over peace, isn't it more peaceful and easier to live with less enemies than with them? You see, the danger of sharing friends for her lay in the fact that, the other friend wanted all that Chelsea had., her friends and her life but above it all her job. You never change a person, much less their character and that is something Chelsea didn't know. So there she stood a victim of hate, anger and envy yet all she ever desired was the ability for normal conversation, a group hug and all that is not war. Through Chelsea's experience I have come to pick a few lessons on the danger of a one man war and how to survive one;

1. YOU NEVER KNOW HOW TO STOP THE OTHER PERSON
I mean the person who has declared war because all they want is a piece of you and at whatever cost they will drag you down with you. So be ready for a never ending war. For them at whatever cost, they will let the war wage on.

2. YOUR SILENCE IS YOUR BEST ALLY
You see, it is true, silence is golden and it could be the best weapon to rivalry and strife. Now for my talkative Chelsea we had to go about silence little by little until she mastered how to shut up. So, however inclined you are to say something, keep your mouth shut for whatever is said in anger is sure going to cause a spark for more battle lines.

3. KEEP YOUR PEACE
No matter what happens to make you mad, keep your cool. Its is very rewarding to see the face of the warrior when the person they aim their attack on is cool and composed even when they provoke them. Keep your cool and don't at any time, lose your temper while the war wager sees, maybe when you are alone but not when they are seeing.

4. PRAY ABOUT IT
Start to pray about the war that is lagging in the air, other than taking your burdens to God, it is easier to lighten up when you speak your thoughts out. More therapy for you than you could ever imagine. Pray, whenever you feel the burden raise above your heart.

5. KEEP YOUR SPACE FROM THE WAR-WAGER
Chelsea thinks it is cowardice to keep running, but I think that at all cost the only way this war is going to stay single sided is if you keep out of each others way. Let them be and give them a chance to re-energize for the next war ahead of them and you, you also need to refresh from all the negativity you have been surrounded by all day long.

That is for you to stand when the one man war begins, I for one, have seen a friend's envy turn into a determined desire to destroy me and my character but these few key points got me standing even when there was a storm rushing under my feet. At all costs, make peace not war.

MAN BY NATURE IS EVIL

Last week ended on a sad note, with the gun-men attacks and suicide bombing in Paris. The world was put in terror once more and the reality that tragedy will show up at anytime of our life was re-echoed to all of us once again. Between praying for Paris, one gets to think of all that life is.
Life can be a lot of things but one thing that sure looks overlapping is the fact that life is a sum of good and bad. One moment of joy coupled with a thousand moments of pain. it is like that all through life, until we breath our last and yet even on such a day, it is a tragedy for the people we leave behind.

But the question, why tragedy makes most of life, can only be explained in the nature and content of humanity, it is innate and we carry it with us. A good man once told me," You cannot tell the nature of man's heart just by the construction of one's face" he also said," Everyone is evil, the difference is our ability to contain  that evil with in us" 

Man by nature, is evil and callous and that has been a cause for a lot of the damage we have in the world. A man raping his own daughter is as bad  as a man shooting innocent people at a theater and as evil as one who chooses to kill another through black magic. It is all evil and it springs forth from the darkness man has within.
You are as capable of killing and destroying as is an eight year old. And that is the reality of the situation man finds himself in.

The cause doesn't spring from, a refugee crisis, or poverty(otherwise, the Arab countries would be at peace), it is not even about the inability to make peace. It is the nature of a man's heart.
Deep within,  man  has decided that the only thing that makes sense, is the blood spilled.It is in their life line that to see a dead person is more joy than anything. It is the hate they carry, the anger they bottle, the pain they've lived, the envy they have, the thrill in killing. It is in the joy they get in causing pain. And that is why tragedy is alive today and each day of our lives.
I am not in the mood to give  a solution to man's making. I would rather settle my heart in knowing, man cannot be all good, man has a level of failing that makes him from time to time a slave to evil. And whether it is me who is enslaved or another, man by nature is evil...the difference is in containing it.

A TOUCH OF BOTH WORLDS

Life is amazing,when you start to live above what society deems acceptable. I have seen life happens on either side, with the christian folks and with those that are called the"unbelievers" But I have found it intriguing that the christian folks are two timing insecure beings,they preach a love they cannot live out,a God they shame everyday and a spiritual life they only read about.The christian folk make a case of saintly that they can't live up to.I have seen christian folk make the bible just another book.
And then I have seen the ones they call "unbelievers" and for lack of any biding word or rule,they have used morals or any existing regulations to go through life.
They expect no form of godliness from each other,they rather expect you to be fair and good. They take you as you are and only desire that you can rise above the ranks of life,some wish you bad but others wish you good. They won't pray for you when you are sick but will make sure you are okay in any way possible. They will call you to go about things in life,talk about your life without pointing as much as a finger. These unbelievers love you when they love you and hate you when they hate you.
If you ask me, I like the ones called the"unbelievers" because they actually have a kind of selflessness that the Christian folk have. I am one of them....the christian folk and I am standing in the middle of such a hypocrisy.
We do it and accept ourselves as having a sinful human nature. We christian folks are disgusting sometimes(for lack of a better word.)

THROUGH THE EYES OF FAMILY

I am a step child and I am learning something new today. I have always felt the sense of entitlement to the things that belong in my father’s house. You know as a child you deserve some privileges and it is mandatory that you receive such—love being the most important. But for the very first time, I saw life through the eyes of another woman, my step mother. I realized how much I had missed the picture while growing up. I was all this time, trying to fit into a family that was never mine to begin with. I felt guilty of robbing the picture of family to my father’s legal family, but most of all I could now see mother bird’s point of view. I am impressed it is a picture, I adore seeing.  By default, all a woman expects from her husband is Love, protection, providence and fidelity. But what happens in the face that he fails at one of them if not most of them? While I am all grown up and know better than to throw dirt on my past, I finally saw the need for a complete family, through the details of my father’s home. I was stealing from this family and I was being on the offensive as well. All that they were as a family was what God intended it to be. It was never meant to be a picture of step children looming in the background. No one ever prepares to be a step mother, as much as any child to be a step child but what if in the need to be accepted by the people that sired us, we end up hurting the people who find themselves caught up in their husbands weaknesses?

Growing up we all dream of happily ever after, two and half children and a Pickett fence. And there is nothing that brings us back to the reality of such wasted dreams as a child born out of infidelity. Here I was, looking at the photos that hung up in my step ma’s house and all of them, for her babies, the real members of this family. I could not bear the guilt of realizing the pain; it takes for another woman, to raise children she did not envision in her ever after. I thought of what I would do if it happened to me, I thought of the pang of betrayal and worse more, I remembered the pain of those many teenage years of mischief and cantankerous outburst. Oh the lot women have to bear. I saw a family, that has over the years been weighed down, by the weight of five children, all born out of wedlock. While we might be a blessing no matter how we showed up here, I finally feel the pain of any woman, seeing not one but five children that are not hers run around her home...her children’s home. They have to share with her children and get of everything her children get. It is not something I would look forward to. Yet she endured it all through the years, the humiliation, the bravery, the patience, all that a faithful wife endures. I did feel her heart tonight. I finally realized that, that was not my home but someone else’. It was for my step mom’s and her children and husband.

I am my father’s child but not one to rob another family of a chance to be happy and keep a picture of a full family, maybe it is not too late to let them enjoy that reality, how it should be, just them as a whole family. I would love that if I was married. We all never prepare for broken homes and when it comes our way, we are only hoping that those children will understand it, it took me a while but I see it now. A family should never be broken much less intruded on.

 

THE GRIP OF "ONLINE" #Ugblogweek

Time check 11:05pm and the sense of commitment to fulfilling a duty to people out there is overwhelming than I thought it should.
It finally dawns me, after reading and hearing a million times that we have become addicted to the internet every single day. When I first watched the video play out of internet addiction "Look up" video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYDDVUTbh10. I was appalled and uncomfortable at how easily our lifestyles have changed with the era of technology and the internet. I have partly raised myself through my teen years using the internet, after all there is nothing Google does not know. And today, my college friends will tell you, if a graduation goes without a student thanking Google then that graduate didn't know what the word internet meant. It is by far hard to find away to separate technology, social media, and all that 21st century idol worship of being online.

While everyone has said something about how we are losing relationships, touch and real conversations as time goes by, I am more worried about what will come after the age of social media, and all that comes with the internet. Here I am fulfilling a duty to a people that barely read anything that rebukes their way of life, yet I stand on the words from one blog I follow with heart,"My advice would be this – If you can bear the repercussions of defiance, defy! If not – conform!’ I can bear a little spite tonight(which I highly doubt is coming anyway)
" How about in the need to find a way to live our lives, we forget the things that made life appealing in the years before the millennial work of the internet and all the addiction to it. I miss receiving letters, I miss real birthday cards, not some digitally created softcopy things, if only after that I could remember to convert them into real cards. I miss all the afternoons of laughter and no smart phones to take selfies all through the hours.

Without seeming whinny, we are losing track of humanity, let me be the a zillionth person to say that, for in saying it, I denounce its grip on me. You see, there was a time, when instead of whatsapping, we actually would make the effort to meet people and talk over a decent cup of coffee or tea, which by the way could be cheaper than daily data. I remember having friends and being able to  just sit for hours and wind down an evening with just indulgence in each others lives. Friends were really friends, not internet buddies. I am worried for the future. I fear for the men and women that we will become. I am worried for the parents and how they will have to convince their children that actually their parents did raise them up. I am worried for the teachers, if they do not gain new knowledge, they  will have no jobs in the future to come. I am worried for the supermarkets, for they will either go online, or lose market to online shopping(am more worried that I won't have any girlfriends to go shopping with)
And just like that, we lost all ability to live as people, I pray for a legalization of robots for in them we will be able to mirror ourselves, void of all emotion and care. the future looks thrilling! But sadly, I don't want to end up in it, if we cannot learn to use the things at our disposal for the good of each other.
 Like use a whatsapp group to throw me a birthday party, call all my friends so you could surprise me, Use email, to forward me a great designed invitation that I can download and keep in hard copy. Instead of telling me you like me online, make a point to see me in real life and let me understand it better. There are many ways to make the internet a servant to our many needs without becoming slaves to its call.
Maybe we sometimes need to Look up.

GIVE ME A REASON #Ugblogweek #Poetry

Give me a reason to pen the beauty of life

When all around me is gloom

Give me a reason to pen about love

When men hold back with emotion and others let you live with apparition

Give me a reason to pen about friendship

When others are ready to throw it in the trash as soon as it becomes familiar

Give me reason to believe in forever

When forever ends before it starts

Give me a reason to pen the beauty of humanity

When even I feel a loss at what humanity demands

Give me a reason...one bold enough to make me pen on

The other day, I lost all trust in friendship

For it is hard to love a man that wills to throw away such a care

Yesterday I stopped to believe in love

For it is a chimera of the reality man is faced with

Today, today I woke up with a bare emotionless body

Void of all care and love

Not knowing how to say good morning to my two faced neighbors

Or even to my venom spitting friends.

So I just wrote, because as surely as darkness looms

The joy of a new day is not far from view

It was hope, Hope that brought me back to life

Hope that tomorrow will be better

Tomorrow that man will be more genuine

Hope that times are changing

Hope that I was made to love

Hope that he will say something

Hope that I will want him back

Hope that I can walk away from rejection

Without being bitter

Hope that I can make better friends

Hope that it will all pass into a better reality

Yes, it was such a hope that I penned each and every day.



LITTLE ONE #Ugblogweek

I couldn’t sleep without giving justice to this day, I couldn’t let it happen. But between the joys of new babies, a Nalongo to dot on, I was brought back to a place of bliss; children always bring me so much joy. They always do. It got me scrolling back into many throwbacks, from the day I found out my darling friend was pregnant to the day she delivered.

So here is a throwback of a little poetry I wrote for myself but could pay a little congratulation to my power woman and mother, welcome to motherhood Mrs. Nalongo Nakato Bukirwa Juliet Ovon.

LITTLE ONE

 Oh little one

As you grow into a

Being, flesh of my flesh

I promise myself to love

You and behold you

To keep you from the

Misery of poverty and I

Will bring you forth with a

Future of a life better than mine

You will surely have the

Best father to look up to

And you will grow to fear

The Lord, because without

Him I might never have known the right choices to make.

So as you turn through my

Inside, do so with assurance

That everything will be all right

When you get here

And even if challenges

Come, I will be there to hold you

Because I am you mother.

 

 

 



 

 

 

ECHOES FROM THE PAST: Of women and the craddle #Ugblogweek

Come child, come and I will tell you a tale of a lady I know, a lady that rocked your cradle. In the business of the 90’s I had you and your big doll eyes that shone bright with eagerness made all my insecurities dull. I knew I was going to enjoy motherhood for a very long time. You were my pride and I was in awe.  You child, are the best thing that ever happened to me.

But you will forgive me, if between raising you and breast feeding you; I failed to cuddle you all day long. But I am proud that in raising a home alone, I had the best lady to rock your cradle. She was a beauty and quiet in character, a giant in size but that was the deceptive part of her, her size made it hard for you to be bullied but she was just a silent harmless lady. She loved you all, even your other siblings, she was more of a friend than a house help.  She loved us because we were the only people that opened our doors when she needed help. She told me of her story, long before she entered the city she was married but life was cruel that she saw her children and husband die in a difference of hours. They say, she was bewitched but she knows they died of a strange disease. Child, never judge a person’s life through the lens of your mortal eyes. The outward is always deceiving. No one took her in, until she came to our home.

Back then, when we had little to behold in our three roomed house, she worked effortlessly to make sure you had milk to take when I was away. She started the shop you see today. It was not big like this but it was a start for us. Oh Kezia loved all of you like her own. She called you Maaso glory because of your big doll eyes, only Kezia was allowed to call you that, the rest called you “gaalo”. It was your brother that first called you that, when I first brought you home and it stuck since then. And don’t be cross at him, he thought every baby girl was called girl. 
Ah, everyone loved you, but Kezia mothered you like her own. I remember her once telling me that she would have named you Angel because like an angel, the gods had sent you to her.  She saw you grow from a baby into a school going little lady.

Then she died, she went back to visit her husband and children’s graves and never returned. She died the same way they died. I was heartbroken, I cried for days on. She was my friend; she had taught me a lot as much as I had taught her. You know child, Life will bring many people along your path of life, be happy with everything they teach you even the bad things. Kezia changed me and also helped me love you better. When I looked at you, gleaning with excitement whenever you came from school, I saw Kezia’s big boast smile. She always waited by the door to see you leave to school and then would burst out in tears at how fast you had grown. She missed having you at home. So between the growing shop and house chores, she learnt to look forward to telling you all about her work at home. That was her way of telling me how her day was spent, through you child.

I see you and I know, I have made Kezia proud. I put you in a boarding school at a tender age because I could not find any one fit to raise you the way Kezia would.  I have made many mistakes with you but I have also won in many things with you. When I look at how far we have come, just the four of us, me raising you to love each other, I feel a sense of comfort in knowing that you are happy with what life had to offer. But don’t get comfortable child, Kezia always told me, to get up and change my life. That is a lesson I now entrust to you. Get up and change your life. If Kezia had wallowed in pity on that sad day when she lost her family, she would have never seen the beauty of life through our simple home. She would never have seen you live through life as a happy loved child.
That amazing lady made motherhood easy for me even when she left because I always got up, always.

MODERN DAY DAMSELS IN DISTRESS #Ugblogweek

The damsel in distress is usually a beautiful young woman placed in a dire predicament by a villain or monster and who requires a hero to achieve her rescue. After rescuing her, the hero often obtains her hand in marriage.                      
According to Wikipedia, this can be traced back to the knight-errant of Medieval songs and tales, who regarded protection of women as an essential part of their chivalric code which includes a notion of honour and nobility.[1]

In the wake of my feminist interests,Not that there will be any villains to slain but there will be many heroes to beget.I find my need to evoke the damsel in me,many times.I love being a damsel in distress,it reminds me of the softer character that makes a woman an interesting  part  charm. Owing to the fact that vulnerability makes the protector and defender instincts manifest in a man.
The Ugandan story of the damsel in distress could be  Nsangi and the ape. Remember Nsangi?,the one who was eaten by the ape and then a hero guy comes and cuts the belly of the ape and rescues Nsangi. In the tale,he doesn't get the bad ape immediately, it is after asking all the lined up apes,"Gwalidde Nsangi?" translated, Is it you who ate Nsangi? I guess not the kind of rescue in my mind as a damsel but a rescue anyway.

Society today detests damsels in distress! They reckon that if it is possible, be just a damsel. We live in the wake of raising strong independent women(which is not bad until motive evolves) We now have radical feminists,others single able mothers who want nothing to do with the baby daddies.(for both plausible and unreasonable issues) We have made men out of women and made sure they reach the top in the air of "I can do what men can" And for sure we can, but without losing the soft side of us that makes us different from men.

Far from all cause to dish the super woman, I believe that the damsel in distress is not to evoke any change in the things we have accomplished as women, on the contrary it is to better them and keep a spark of mystery that makes women ignite the best in  men. To raise the protector instincts in men is to give to ourselves as to them and that makes our softness and gentleness echo their ability to defend us in all ways.
I'd love to call it,the winning card(not manipulative) For in motive we find purpose,the purpose in being a damsel would be in need to lift men up,to give them the "ish" that makes the mystery of a woman very scandalous so we can win in society and within us.

So maybe the damsel in distress is what makes the difference in our tale of heroes. Some win as strong women while others conquer as strong yet soft beautiful damsels.
I want to be a damsel in distress once in a while.

BEYOND DREAMS #Ugblogweek

Recently I was brought back to the reality that dreams can be challenged.As ambitious as I am and as ready as I am to take on life,I was brought to the realisation that sometimes things will stand in the way of what we are pursuing.I had the hope that applying for a masters scholarship would come by easy if I did all the necessary preparation. From getting all the documentation ready and all the little details in place,I was dumbstruck when all the doors to a masters scholarship that once seemed open,were far from attainable. I sat back as I saw the last effort of me trying to get into graduate school next year dwindle thin air.


But it was not without a lesson for me to learn.Dreams go beyond dreaming and trying to achieve them,there is alot of underlying work that works together to deliver us to our desired end.Paulo Coelho once said,"If you have a dream,the universe does conspire to get it attained" and while that might be true,there will be forces as well that will challenge our dreams and bring us back to the reality that sometimes things just don't go our way.Sometimes it is a case of my will be done rather than Gods will,other times it is just not the right timing and most of the times the dreams needs some more maturation.

Beyond our dreams, are forces that will teach us to prepare better and hope for some more but that lies only in our ability to accept a failure,pick its lessons and then go back on the drawing board and dream better and bigger.Beyond our dreams is hope not despair. And it is in always having hope that our dreams eventually show manifest.
I know it is not until disappointment comes our way,that we can appreciate the journey that others have walked before us. Don't stop in the tatters of your dreams...go on and dream some more.That is working wonders for me.

TOMORROW #Ugbloggerweek

The delights of tomorrow give us a bargain for today.
But I heard her speak of a tomorrow that made today bring a desire for it not to end.She said,the clouds in the morrow where dull,full of hail.She said the vision in that day was foggy and blurred by  bad luck.She spoke of a morrow I dreaded to behold.
The people in the morrow had gone emotionless and inhumane...they...they ate anger and shared hatred at their tables. I flinched in thought of their faces,she said they had stiff faces,stiff from never smiling and from all the bitterness.                       
 I wanted to go and see tomorrow anyway and lo and behold,In my eyes, tomorrow was nothing she said. Not through my eyes.
The sun though dull,shined,The sky was clear,The flowers bloomed,The scents of life washed over my insecurities. The people in the morrow were delightful to behold,she must have seen a different people, they had a language so warm! You could love them so easily,the sun made them glow,no air of fault finding folks in tomorrow. So I sat down and embraced tomorrow because whether the clouds closed up and the people became stone,my eyes were ready to behold a morrow that was better.
The delights of tomorrow gave me a bargain for today.

ABOVE THE MARKED OUT LINE

Today, I stood at the line of death. Not really the ultimate picture of death, but I have learnt that death has no second glances. I got stuck in the elevator at the Senate building in Makerere University. The panic that built up was more on the things I have not accomplished and the things I have dreamt of doing but held back. I thought of the boredom of rules that have held me captive and the unpardonable fact that I am stuck at surviving through life. I finally managed to get out before the electricity came back and vowed not to use the elevator of that institution again.

But that got me thinking about the limitations we stay locked in. The fear to ask for what we want, the procrastination we dwindle to and the put-off dreams we hope to achieve in the future. It was all there in the marked out line that exists in our heads and we cannot go beyond it. I have often told myself, "if it is to be, it is up to me", while those words hold a reality in my life, I find myself a lot of times, hanging by the line that society has marked out for me. The line that screams out this is how far you can go. I also always tell myself that, my dreams are my actuality but how true that has been for the past few months was tasted in that elevator moment.
It is true, that we all have dreams and ambitions and while not all of us have the ability to brings to pass all our dreams, we stand at liberty to make life happen. There I was standing in fear at the reality that a mediocre life is not a legacy worth leaving behind. So for you and me, there is an awakening, to break the status-quo of life and beat the odds. Many will tell you that, but the reality lies in doing something about that that you have heard. Work hard and walk above the marked line.
My friend always says, break the glass. We live with people that have reached the ceiling glass, cracked it and broken it open. They walk passed the marked out line and each day surpass the laid out passage of life.

I thought of all the ladies I have admired  instead of become. I thought of Julia Sebutinde, my woman crush of all time, Maggie Kigozi, Geraldine Ssali Bussulwa, Mother duck (who is the only female thoracic radiologist in Uganda) and many other women that have been singled out of breaking status-quo. It then dawned on me, I needed to get up and stop speaking but act.
But not just me, you as well dear darling, if life has opened possibilities for you, it is your turn now to soar and find a destiny worth recording down, May you be written about in books, May you inspire a little girl to dream big and may you leave a mark above the marked out line. Become the Most Valuable Player in the game of life, beat the odds, jump the hurdles, believe in yourself and listen to the journey's guidance.
It takes a heart ready to beat normal, to see that there is more to this life than what has been presented. They ought to be something more and  I am out to find it. May my spirit be never content with living behind the marked out line.

THE CHILDHOOD THAT WAS

My niece turned two years this week, and looking at the gift I had bought and the toys that she plays with, the I-pad game oriented gadget, the little child laptop for English learners and all that glamour. I was taken back in retrospect to a time when the banana fiber doll and ball was all there was to toys, to the tyre rolled for a car, that contained a lot of water inside for fuel and two sticks to maneuver it forward. To top it all, I remembered the nights of riddles and stories by the verandah in the night filled with magical African tales of walumbe and Nambi, of Nsangi and the great gorilla. The telltale of what the riddles meant added the excitement to the process of learning these African heritages.

Then I thought forward, to what technology had changed. With its many blessings it brought, it as well ended the evening camping by the front door, the discourse with the grownups who were the master of the stories, so much so that conversations with adults are now with much tension and suspicion. My little nephew could not even spare time to talk with me, he was far indulged in killing imaginary enemies on his game and the evening passed, with  little talk on how the gadget works. It must have been the stars that made the stories so magical, I couldn’t know because there were nights that were starless as well. The fire stove burning with dinner was a delight for the stories, inside the stove was always a stone burning hot for the bed wetter, they used to say it would cure bed wetting, ah they lied, for I must have ceremoniously done so much bed wetting up to my Junior high school.The stories were half the fun; the games took the other part of it. School was gone through in haste with the hope of playing with whoever was willing to play; it was far beyond easy play, games like: kwiiso, noble, bladder, kawuna, stuck in the mud, Nations call (you know that game, where we would have a country for identification and once you were called, you had to do your math to the next country) It was heaven in the early years of my life. While I would retire to bed very tired, I would always wake up looking forward to the fun at the end of the day.

 That is what, technology and fast growing internet has changed for the millennial and those that will come after that. We are cut short between the simplicity of the swing and playground to game station laden theaters for our little ones.                                                                                                            So I held out the Children’s bible for little Missy, hoping that would be a start for many stories, Very different from Wakaima and Wango but mind-intriguing stories anyway. There should be a start to writing African tales, such that even in the age of technology, our heritage is passed on to the little ones and even re-lived by the older ones. That in the presence of reading Jane and Peter, they do not miss the beauties of the hills described in Walumbe and Nambi. That while they won’t grow to have childhood friends who changed their mathematics by playing stepping stones, they can have friends they read with African tales. In retrospect, I write but as well, in pride I pen a time that brought me friends for a life time, memories to share with all that care to listen and above it all, an African heritage I hope to pass on.

 

 

THE MAN YOU SCRIPT

The man I script,

The man I pen,

The pen scribbled a face,

a distant yet visible frame,

 

He had a form of righteousness,

 not too much to make him inhumane,

he was more of a me that I saw.

 

An element of Africanism and black life heritage...

he was greater than the pen I held,

And my heart skipped a beat...and another one...

 

He was the man, I saw through my words. His face so real,

Man from a society of men with furnace hearts

with zeal to raise a man of utter warriors.

 

He had a rare intelligence,

that questioned the status quo,

he had a faith peculiar,

but not in the things I believed in.

 

Aye, he had me bound to the paper

for penning his image brought me life...

he was a picture of my heart,

The man in my script.

 

BECOMING A POLYGLOT

Stimulations of intellect come from many things in my life. I will read a book, not even the most boring person would want to read and still find myself living through it. I take the most unwanted Moocs ( I have not come to finishing any because of time) but I still take in something to push my brain to keep going. There is something about opening the brain up for new challenges and new experiences.

I still find intelligence the most appealing aspect of the human being.(take notes, dear men) And there I was, with my appeal for the next brain stimulating skill. I need to become a polyglot! It is fascinating and brain awakening to see someone speak more than one language. It should be something to have,so I started off my journey with a TedEx talk on the ability to speak more than one language and then I read as many articles on people that are polyglots and those that have met polyglots. The urge to be a polyglot is growing on me, so I have decided if it is to be...it is up to me. I am going to start on my journey to becoming a polyglot. But first, I have lined up languages that are easy to grasp and then ace them before I hit off with the harder languages. No, I am not going to learn Mandarin Chinese! but out of a need to have a variety without breaking down in the journey. It should be something worth becoming and I know, it has the ability of opening as many opportunities as could be.

But other than the desire to get there, I have learnt  life lessons through it all as well. It is in our power to make ourselves better. It is like adding value to a product, you keep packaging your life in such a way that, everyone  will want to have you. That is a great way to go through life making not only an impact but change for yourself and as many people that meet you.
I have also learnt a self-love that pushes me to be a better me at all times, it should be amazing to look out for yourself because no one else is going to. So now, I am off to start a journey of words and languages. I am off to see what the world looks like in other languages apart from English. It should an adventure better than the world I have come to know.