Sep 28, 2009

Another Ugandan graduate

Dreams have come and others have passed by but I am still alive.
The next few days remind alot of troubles a child but then its a moment
I will cherish and live to rememeber.
On Friday this week I will be yet another Ugandan graduate.
Yet another one who will looking for the ideal job.

So please leave a message after the  tone.  I will not be available for some time.


Sep 24, 2009

BHH. And again I miss.

This is terrible. Am going to miss what would have been very first BHH.
So since I pondered on what to do while am on the bus on my way back from
my beautiful dusty home town. Gosh I wish I had traveled yesterday.......
Why not a poem to keep me having a reason wait for the next UBHH.
Cant wait to read the blogs of those who will and have attended.

This one has no tittle
Its red September
The sun sets over a
deserted waterfall,
The birds fly in the shadow
of the setting sun.

And there you are
Its a boring evening.
And you think.
Oh how beautiful.
And you think again.
Did I realy deserve this.

The beauty around you
is vast.
The birds, the flowers, the slow, sippy, flowing
stream with white ducks swimming on the surface.
This picture cant seem to get off your mind.
You appreciate. Then you try to enjoy the beauty
and embrace it.

But when you do, you are resented
and you tell your self:
This tree should have left me a leaf,
This flower should have left me very scented petal,
This white duck should have left a feather that you would
watch all morning,
This water should have left you a gentle flow
that you would watch you image,
And these birds would keep singing that
you would even dance.

Sep 21, 2009

A reflection that doesnt lie.

Some stories are very hard to tell. The explanation for this is that are ashaming, sad, horrific or even emotionally terrible. When you wake up in the morning look at yourself in the mirror, you see a complete person. One that could read or write. You can converse, ran around the compoud and most of all you have an education and knowledge.

At times a story becomes beautiful becomes you are emotionally involved, it touches your soul and evokes the tears from your eyes but all you do is watch. In many ways I find it hard to explain a story because it just has no explanantion. It is a lack of words, insults or diction that create a brain freeze. When we say we are noble, we hardly know what it means. When we make a difference in someones' life and appreciated we feel some pride. But what about when we claim we are being noble yet we are robbing in daylight and cheating.

I write this post while sitted in round house overlooking a lovely soft sipping waterfall. Its hush sound creates an urge for me to keepwriting. So I think hard as I try scribble down the event that had sucked me out of my skin. I felt a cold chill each time I persuaded myself to write something down. I would watch the birds and could hear them sing. I would feel like asking them,

"Why you always singing? Dont you have troubles?"

The chill would sweep in and I would then gather the courage because the skies were begining to ramble heavily and I knew that anytime the heavens would open and rain would just pour out. Quickly I begin to scrible down something.

Its a tale of a school started to help kids with special needs. A school designed to give hope to these unfortunate gifts that God hath set forth on earth. When such a school is set up you desire to believe that they are going to make a positive influence in these childrens lives but to your shock there is nothing to brag about. The school receives heavy funding from Donors and the Government. It clearly deserved to be very prestigious. The horror that sent me into disgust and anguish is that day when  we decided to go visit the school and see what happens. What I saw pealed tears out of my eyes. I watched this cook bring pineaples for these kids to eat (it was lunch time). They all sorrounded him like hungry lions, and instead of telling them to sit down, he poured them on the grass and you should have seen the swarm of kids eating from the grass.

The story gets worse as we notice the kids stink, the hair has a brown coating and the clothes look like the color of the earth. It is obvious the special needs centre is not worth it. In the compound is Water Tank that was donated to the school a year ago but upto now there is no water. A few hours later, (suck it up guys suck it up) a bell. The kids gather around and the  H/M tells them to start singing. Ofcourse they can. But one would wonder why you would ring the bell just to make kids sing.

It turns out "Muzungu" is around. Some british vistors had come to see the special needs school, so they take pictures of these children and leave a huge cheque on the table. Making money from the kids? Yes. The H/M will parade these kids and make them look stupid so he can get funding. But where does this money go? To him and whoever is in charge. He will boldly tell you how the school has no money to even set up a tank.

And then the rain. I will have to conclude this before the rain wets my paper. Its too windy and the ducks floating on the stream have disapeared. The drizzle is patting the leaves around and drop by drop the ground begins to get wet. I ponder and ask myself
is society a true reflection of what its government is? At times am prompted to say yes.
The rain is here.

This week I got my final results(applause) and grad is next week on 2nd. I need cake. I love Chocolate or Marble cake...
Listening to:
Asa's music......

Sep 15, 2009

Smoothie for you....

I could have posted this on sunday night but I could not resist holding it back. It did not meet the minimum blogging standards. Before I could start typing and punching the keyboard I had to go through too much traffic. I was subjected to a security check and told to keep my hands up in the air or else I would be shot point blank. Then as the detector (avira antivir) was checking, a stone and then the smell of burning tires. Quikely I ran for my and set myself somewhere safe.(quarantine). And then finaly after all that I clicked publishand booom. The blogpost went to drafts. I scheduled. The reason I sheduled was because I was subjected to watch Federer be cleaned up by Del Potro at the USOpen. But how he got beaten up by a 19year old, I dont know.

The previous night while doing a tennis show, I abused serena Williams. "Woman better get your manners back, Kim is back and she iswhipping your (then the teeeeeeeeee sound)." I was whisked off the show and suspended by the radio station pending investigations. Well serena lost to Clijsters who went on to win the
title the next day. Atleast I know I wasnt wrong.

(Fingures stuck on the keyboard wondering what to type next). Those riots in Kampala well I happened to have been whiskedaway before things become hot.
"How could I miss, How did this happen to me, I hate it when I miss drama," I said to a friend
"What did you miss now?," He said
"the drama in the city and now I have to tweet," I replied
"What did your father tell you? Stay away from politics and this whole love for journalism. Its risky," He said as he handed me to three novels. The bourne betrayal, the spies of warsaw and The scarlatti Inheritance.
As I am trying to offer a reply then My message tone on my Nokia 6030. (twi-twi-twi). The message is from UTL and they have comfirmed my tweeter ID and now I can begin to tweet on UTL.  There was some information freeze until UgInsomniac and rk kept twitter updates. How cute. All went well until.

Hold on wait.
And Del Potro wins the Usopen. (that aint a funny joke). I cant give comments on my radio show because I got suspended (I was charged for abusing the person of a great tennis player. Serena williams)

So then I remember when I was a producer and could sing. I used to love one great song "Coz I gat high, coz I gat high." so then Last Night at the VMA's( I was there as Kanye) as the rookie taylor swift is accepting her award, I hustle and puff, grab the mic and:

" You know what, Beyonce deserved to win the award not this blonde looking chic."

Bang. I had dropped it. But then I remembered its "coz I gat high on benzene mixed with cocaine ice cream and a marijuana smoothie."
Oh sorry Baz, aint no such With victoria in victoria in Sychelles. And sleek remember to tell the grandkids what you used to drink please help me find streetsider, in this prison its kinda dark so I need some light. In this prison I was able to still write something for yz to read. And lulu a question: Do you ever listen to UBC radio Blue channel? some guy called GNL Zamba, GNL enzamba(get him fired). So then UgGal, I could take you out for Ice cream, Normzo is babysitting. By the way I can also make a rolex for those I do not want to mention here. Heaven, you still freaked out? TRP am so sorry about the post that disapeared.
Just realised this post is too long. Umm please if anyone can locate SERAKALZ.(she went of the radar. Did she get fired?)

And then you should have an emotional me apologise on the Jay Leno show. All this was after I realised what I had done.
"Am sorry taylor swift, Anything I can do to help you, you are so talented,"
Well its so sad that after the events last week in Kampala there is no-one willing to be responsible. Someone to get up and say
"I screwed Up and am sorry."

Disclaimer: I never listen to UBC blue channel, I was just tunning and heard this guy say GNL Enzamba.

Quote: Boldness is a mask for fear, however great - John Dryden
Reading: The spies of warsaw - Allan Furst.

Sep 10, 2009

Hate it or Love it. (the riots that suck)

"lock the gate now or you'll get shot," she said
As the sound of deafening gunshots rocked around the place.

"Am running to akamwesi, the tear gas is in my eyes ahhhhhhhhhhh," She wailed on
the phone as I tried ask to get home pretty fast.

The rioters
"We are even ready to sacrifice our lives for the kabaka. This government has done alot
to suppress our Kabaka," one lady said
(Chanting the Buganda Anthem. Ekitiibwa kya buganda)

When Heaven wrote something about things getting out of Hand because of the kabaka issue
it looked like perceived reality. The one they call the unseen reality. Riots around the
city of God. People got scared. Guns, fire and tear gas rocked the city.
These scenes are not of those of people yearning for a country but probably for
those who have their interests.

The outburst which at the Daily Nation in kenya was referred to as riots by "Buganda
Mornachists" come with realism befitting the politics of Uganda. The riots which
were somewhat long overdue and yes the Kayunga issue might have been on of the
causes but this that we saw wasnt at all appealing for the city of God.
So who is suffering. The President is in Enttebbe ummm the Kabaka is
probably seated in his Lubiri pondering on what should happen next.
"What have these people done?" he says or
"This is cool."
Well whatever happened in the city is not healthy for business but
for the politics of Mengo, probably they believe they have scored but
this aint the way things are supposed to be.
Whoever they are fighting for is not the Kabaka, it is probably more tha that
which we dont know.
He is getting a massage in Mengo or sipping orange juice but his heart could pounding so
hard that we could feel his heart beat.

"this will not be allowed.... U have no right to intimidate anybody," the president himself says.
He says CBS was inciting the violence and telling people to storm the police stations. Well, culture vs
politics, it is. He is the one who restored the kingdoms but now the Baganda loyalists believe
he is doing more harm than good.
By the way on UBC radio last night he sounded terribly angry.He says that the mengo officials have
breached part of what was agreed on paper by the gov't and mengo.

Instead of Rioting for things like corruption we brace ourselves and riot for the one person
whose interests are not for this country. Just imagine a demo against NSSF. Imagine workers 
decide not pay NSSF money for like 5months......... Do these people even love this country? You see 
thats why they cant teach partriotism in class.

Over and Out.

Sep 8, 2009


Rain drops gently fall to the ground. They form little spectacular splashes. Gently the skies darken like a night in harlem. The splendor of the rain lets its self create the hush sound. The water flows and touches the dry ground. The scent of the wet-dry soil arouses the desire of one to pluck out the soil and let it down the throat. But you wait. The rain increases like the stones rolling downhill. The soil gets muddy and disgusting. You do not want to look.  

I recently travelled to the one place I call home. There is this amazing gift God sent us. The boy is around 8years. His story is horrifying. The boys mother is a psycho, dumb and deaf. But despite her situation someone took the pleasure of satisfying their sexual feelings on this woman. She got pregnant and gave birth. Apparently there is no man who could accept responsibility.

"Which man can even get aroused by such a woman," they'd comment.

She gave birth but who on earth would let her look after the baby. Well it actually worked for her. She never even had the time for the baby. It was about time something was done. The mother would wander off and comeback late in the night. The baby almost passed on.
The boy at 5months was almost the size of tooth-pick was taken by a good samritan who has proudly looked after him. The boy has lots of energy, he runs around the house and well the bad thing is he can't speak clearly and struggles to read and understand. Recently he was taken to a special needs school and they couldn't help. The teachers  would even do some work for him so that we would be impressed he is proggressing. They were lavishing in thy dimes.

Sometime this week someone sent him a Playstation 2 and said its my responsibilty to teach this boy how to play. Well i've tried and I must say it ain't easy. I've been trying to teach him some simple maths and english. Its very challenging. When I started tutoring him I declared to my guardian.

"The special needs school is reaping you off. Just do what you can from home."

She took the advice. I must say the maths and english aint going well but the PS2 is doing just fine. 
The boy despite his being different brings joy to our family.
Just like the raindrops make that difference on the soil. We too can me the difference in people lives. Just make sure you do not impose that difference, the other person may not like it.

Sep 2, 2009

Not cool being the wife

In life there is always that wish to have a family. To dream of a home with Kids dashing around and calling you Daddy or mummy. How about the wife who will wake up and kiss you on the cheek and tell you how much she loves you. How wonderful.

Its very understable how a wife will love the husband and even bare with him and look after kids she never produced. Right before this man met the beautiful wife he had relationships with two other women and got kids. Well a few years down the road he gets married and the wife kindly takes on these kids. How sweet, how kind and how noble. 16 years in marriage and then the unexpected. This same man brings a 13year old boy.

"This is my son, would you kindly take him up?" he says

"Did you ask me before you brought him?" she replies

Well the damage had already been made. She took on the boy. Life moved on. The man is married. Well he will wake up at 6am, get to work and at 10pm he gets back home. How amazing life can be. When he gets home, they kids ran around trying to find his drinking water. He doesnt want the T.V on and then shouts at them. By the way the sons have to untie the shoes. No offence but this is extreme. And then the weekends, he will say he is going to the gym at 10am and then will get back at 1pm for lunch. At 3pm he will go to the gym and get back at 10pm. well what a life. The wife swallows and takes life as life. She talks to him but there is just no change.
He never has time for the children but when one performs poorly he will first punish the kid and then make them read til' death. He is ashamed of his child when they dont perform well in class.

"Are you even my child?" He will ask

Then oneday the wife gets a phone call.

"Hullo, is your husband home?"a caller asks

"Who are you?," she asks

"Woman, your husband has a 1year old kid with our daughter,"the caller says

This is not all. She finds out there is also an 8 year old kid with another woman. What would she do? She comfronts him and all he says is:
"I would like you to Forgive me"

The irony is he never lets the daughters out of the gate.