Daily Prompt: Believe

via Daily Prompt: Believe

What Happened To Uganda, The Country We Were All Proud Of?

The early 2000’s to which most of my age-mates and I gain our political knowledge were great times to grow up into.

The economy was stable, the doughnuts and food were cheap and sizable, education was cheap, we attended  public school thanks to a government that loved us, got to pay less than $10 dollars a term for quality education, electricity was cheap and seldom on leave.

We were really the pearl of Africa and there was promise for more glory

There were few cases of nepotism, we trusted our government and didn’t scrutinize government programs even though some sounded dubious, we sat through tiresome census exercises, went willingly for immunization, as far as the people were concerned, the opposition were a bunch of losers.

As kids  we endorsed government programs without actually understanding them-such was the trust we had for our leaders, anyone who critiqued our “Museveni” became an automatic enemy.

Every helicopter that passed in the skies was “Museveni” and we rewarded to the fading airplanes in the airspace’s with the humble yet noble gift of our voices singing “Amba Museveni” a praise and worship song dedicated to our leader that was no where within the acceptable values of entertaining  but we didn’t mind, we sang along out of sheer devotion to our President.

When in mid 2004 word came out that one of those public school we loved so much (Shimoni Demonstration School ) was going to be sold to an investor we rallied behind our president rubbishing the report as false and watched with disinterest as our parents suddenly became increasingly exasperated with the government.

Ours was not a rationale belief in what facts were available but rather a passionate hero worship of a man we had been told brought peace and stability by waging war on dictatorship and even though in the northern part of the country, a deranged general maimed the lips of his own kinsmen while claiming he was fighting to liberate them we held onto hope and believed in our president.

When a young member of parliament from Kampala Central dashed forward amidst criticism and stood by our parents protesting the sell of our beloved Shimoni, I finally came to terms with the fact that the government had sold our school and I had been betrayed as a child.

I grew sympathetic with the Member of parliament and actually liked him, I didn’t think that throughout his entire political existence it would be a fundraising ceremony for sympathy.

More than ten years past, with an ailing economy, a jobless youth that would rather commit crime than work, an abusive police force that that rewards hooliganism and kidnaps children for the crimes of their parents, and a legislature dominated by greedy individuals representing themselves in parliament and the government still celebrates to the victories of the early 2000s, it is then safe to ask what independence are we celebrating?

to be continued


It’s only for the rich and Famous

This is not a story, today am actually angry, from all the crap I’ve been reading online am disgusted with people, my hands tremble in the rhythm of rage as I type down what I thought would be a Eulogy but turns out to be a pathetic attack on views contrary to mine…

This week has been marred by two suicides, the first one involving famed designer Kate Spade on Tuesday and the most recent one being that of CNN presenter and Chef Anthony Bourdain just yesterday.

I may not have been familiar with the life of Kate Spade beyond the elegance of her hand bags but I knew a little more about Anthony Bourdain considering I was a big fan and I respected the man.

You see, for me he wasn’t just a presenter, he was the human incarnation of the Phoenix; dish washing in New Jersey, Cape Cod and finally as an Executive chef in Manhattan, he reinvented himself from a disturbed young man plagued with a “heroin addiction” to the grown man who excel preparing food and later at the unique skill of telling the story of food and culture..

With his award winning series “Unknown Parts”, Bourdain brought the world nearer, through his art, Bourdain sent us to Asia, and the Middle East, demystifying places and foods previously unknown, it sure helped that he was a chef, I remember thinking that there was no better person to tell a story than a person who could exclusively experience the phenomenon he told his audience about.

And for all my hero worship nothing, could have been as disturbing as the threads on social media and some main stream media articles that seemed to peddle the view that “money and fame is not everything”.

It was at that point that I felt a sort of anger if not disappointment, seemingly at the suggestion that Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain went through tough times that led to their suicides just because they were rich and famous..

Everyone suffers with their demons, stress is real, depression is freaking real, trauma exists, people suffer but their friends and family hardly notice because they wear an armour of strength and when they finally put their phones down and log out of social media or get off air, life is a shithole, people are lonely and broken but they put on a show for the world because out there em freaks care more about perfection than about how you really are!!

So instead of you sitting in your perfection and judging people because you think you can and while at it claiming that money, fame and success are not everything, get closer to people, offer them your time, go out and talk to them don’t only text them, hug them instead of sending emojis, be there for them, you never know what lives you can save by showing that you care.

Rest In Peace Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain

I pretend to be a Christian………. mm

So I started spreading rumors,
Told everyone and anyone who had a minute to spare ,
That I was a good guy,
I backed my own “fallacy”
So that way, I felt nearer to Yecu.
“love your neighbor as you love yourself”
That selfless man also called “Christ” had said.
And so I loved my neighbors,
Even though some of them never boiled water in preference of drinking mine, I loved them.
Even though most only invited me for supper,
only when the menu was infamous,
I forgave…

You see, Jesus had also told Peter one day,
That we should forgive 77 times, at least that’s what Mathew seemed to have recorded in the 21st verse of his 18th chapter
So forgiving my neighbors came easy,
And I felt like an upright being,
That kind that would walk into paradise,
Headstrong, bold and fearless,
deserving of a seat beside,
He that created the universe….

Then yesterday I opened Zuckerberg’s app,
Checked notifications; 56 of them,
He had followed me on Stella Nyanzi’s fave app,
He used a fancy name, something stinky,
Filthy and even phonier,
Phonier than Badblack’s English accent,
but I had my suspicions so I clicked him.

After pushing aside more than 30 photos of art pieces used as his avatar, I saw his face,
Long, dark and carelessly filtered,
He had a disgusting smirk on his face,
That very expression I had got the misfortune of staring at l
late in the cold nights when,
That which he took from me,
Was no longer there to play me,
Joel Osteen sermons in the dark of the night.

I thought about my black penknife,
The one I had held most nights in the,
Literate grip of a scout, waiting for the bravery ,
To slide the blade down his jugular vein,
To watch his brachial artery squirt out,
That poisonous thieving blood that ran his body,
I wanted to draw blood from his body,
I wanted to enjoy watching it stain his ugly green bed sheets and trickle lazily down,
The cement furnished excuse of a floor we shared,
I wanted to take credit for saving the world from a conniving thief,
I wanted to erase the pain,
I sought to flee away from the “label”
I didn’t want to be called “careless”.

At that point in time, Matthew 6:14,
didn’t matter to me,
You see, I didn’t want my Heavenly Father to forgive me, for my sins just because,
I forgave him,
I would have deserved my plight,
I just wanted him off the earth.
Colossians 3:13 was a scripture,
That I had no intention following…

It was then that reality dawned on me,
Am not a good person, I never was,
I never forgave like the good book said,

I had been too lazy to extend leniency,
Time had balmed my wounds for me,
I had forgotten but never forgiven.

*In Memory of Kenneth*

Today I walked through Kitgum town,
Saw someone wearing one of those,
Well fitted T-shirts calling for justice on your behalf.
I thought alot about you,
How you loved to fool around and play
In the outskirts of Kitgum town,
I recalled how the hawkers called you their own,
How they gave me a hard time when I came to pick you.

I found myself smiling. Even though deep inside,
I felt like I was dying, a lonely tear dared to desert my eyes,

In mimicry, another one escaped.

Again another one left.

It ran faster than all the others before it.
A few minutes later, others deserted too,
I was helpless, I know it seems careless of me, but I couldn’t keep my tears locked up safely.

I went down Memory Lane and drew a mental picture of you hiding from me,
frightened that I would punish you for stealing sugar,
My mind raced to another memory, more recent, more vivid. Two years ago,
You bigger, you excited over the big news,
A grandson for me and a heir for you,
A “win win” it was, we were all happy,
I felt old as you introduced me to him.
The little mischievous brat smiled at me in agreement, I pinched his nose like I used to do with you, he laughed, you laughed, none of us thought it would be this soon.
We didn’t think death would claim you as his groom, this soon.

Nor did we think they would forget you this soon,
That justice would trot at the pace of a lame tortoise,
We thought you would be appeased even in death,
Knowing that the due process of the law was observed,
Even when the politicians made it tribal,
I kept my silence. Held no grudges against your killer. Or his family.
When they came for “Culu kwor” we accepted them.
All we really wanted, was justice.

Two years later I still hold onto that grain of hope,
Pray everyday that while the world forgets you,
And the earth continues to rotate,
The one who created it doesn’t,
I hope that no mother never goes through my plight,
I pray for peace, I demand justice,

I hope for a better country, I yearn to be safe in it,
Along with my loved ones, friends, family and even my neighbors,
I pray for justice, because revenge is overrated.

The Mob is Never Right

They set your body ablaze and laughed at how fast it burnt, Someone said that your body and Petrol were made for each other, You wailed in denial, writhed in the pain, and begged for mercy, to your last breath you swore that you had not stolen the motorcycle even as the flames on your […]

Sabbatical Comes To an End.

Returned yesterday from my blogging sabbatical in which I went on a reading spree, suffocating myself with lots of writings and really enjoyed the quiet “Me and my books 📚” time as I call it. So I read a couple of awesome books from writers like Agatha Christie, Chinua Achebe, Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi, Ngugi wa […]