Dec 14, 2010

Note from the skies

From the clouds I can see shinny little rooftops (Atleast that’s what I see). Staring through a window the size of Kobe Bryants shoe I also see a tail wing (I stand to be corrected on this). From this level am thinking it’s the future. The future of which if re-incarnation is to be believed I will have to take part.

From the skies there is so much comfort. Ofcourse it’s pretty scaring when there is turbulence. I would predict in the future we would refer to those as speed bumps. Yes am serious. Our cities are so crowded, the traffic and sea of ever changing human nature. Up in the clouds, I feel like settling on one of those clouds, holding a note book and scribbling down the chapters of my book. I slowly take my mind off things and human nature that tends to evolve. My brilliant little mind spins into action.
View of clouds along the Rift Valley. I wanted to sit on one of them.

The skies a littered with round shaped clouds and on each I see human beings wanting to stay away from the dirty, filthy, noisy and rusty cities. There is silence in the clouds. Time to think and time to read.
Then very soon in the future, families start moving to the skies. The rich can afford constructing in the skies. There are estates beginning to litter the skylines it starts getting choking for those who were silently trying to read.

The rich own private jets that take them to earth where they have their offices. The skies are littered with airlines now and they need to be regulated because there is so much traffic since the rich and powerful have taken to the skies. The peace that I had picked from the skies has now been taken away again. Now worry comes back, thoughts make a return and deceptiveness takes centre. I am now off to find a new peaceful place where I am not suffocated by a none-reading generation.

It’s time for that big decision. Taking on a new challenge, a new job and this is because where there was no happiness. And Until I find it, the sky will not be the limit because my dream is further than that.

Now Playing

Home - Goo Goo Dols
The Catalyst - Linkin park

Dec 9, 2010

aargh!! No Freshlyground

The freshlyground tour of East Africa was put off late yesterday as people in Dar-es-Salaam prepared for the show and I hate to say this. Its off.
Local organisers say its still on but a chit chat on their website says that tour is completely off.
For reasons beyond their control. Yah Beyond my control too now I have to re-plan my weekend.

They also tweeted this BAD NEWS FOR OUR EAST AFRICAN FANS: Our concerts in Tanzania, Uganda and Kenya (8, 10, 11 Dec) have been cancelled... 

Now am out of here. They are saying maybe next year. Is there an album launch somewhere this weekend?
Even Phat fest is on Friday. But Why? 

I still have my playlist with some do-be-do..... :) 

Dec 7, 2010

Freshlyground for Uganda concert

Yet another live concert in Uganda and this time it is one of my favourite African band, Freshlyground. Another African act from the South African band, Freshlyground. They will be performing on the Ugandan stage on 11th December 2010. The show comes just a week after the American Jazz saxophonist Bobby Ricketts performed in Uganda. Earlier the same organisers Bohemia Concerts brought West African music sensation Salif Keita to the Ugandan stage too.

Freshlyground has seven band members that are from around South Africa, Mozambique and Mozambique and are usually referred to as an afro-fusion band. My favourite album is Nomvula for mostly the songs: Do-be-do, buttercup and I am the man. Do-be-do is one song I keep singing along while stuck in traffic or in order to feel good. Once you listen to it, please let me know what you think.

They have worked under the Sony BMG Records which shows how good they can get but most of all is their performances with the now deceased Miriam Makeba. They have also worked with the “todi” song sensation Oliver Mutukdzi plus the famous Femi Kuti. Now for a band that started in the early 2000’s this surely shows how good they are.

Ma’cheri their 2007 album is also quite interesting with my favourite Arms of Steel, Baby Tonight, Pink Confetti and Fired Up. In 2010 they also released another album called Radio Africa and ofcourse not forgetting their very first album Jika Jika. They have done various tours around the world and coming to Uganda lets hope the show will be worth it.

The challenges have be limited (or no) publicity these Bohemia concerts have had over the months, the lighting for the concerts has also been a little poor and finally my hope is that the show doesn’t get postponed like the Bobby Rickets show.

“We chose this band because that is what the East African community want according to the research we did. We have opinion formers who we send questionnaires when determine who next to bring and 65% of them said they wanted to some of the songs off world cup records and Freshly Ground with their Waka Waka were on top of the request,” said Desire Julia K Barugahare from Full Circle the local organisers told me this week.

She also added that for the festive season, let East Africa region should be merry and end the year in good merry mood.

“It is going to be one of those shows that they will remember for life and a good cap on 2010,” Julia added.

Freshlyground will be performing alongside “Deodato Siquir from Mozambique” and tickets will be sold for Ushs 80,000 in advance, 100,000 at the gate, 150,000 VIP from Uchumi Supermarket (Garden City), Quality Supermarket (Ntinda), Victoria Supermarket (Bugolobi)Cafe Javas, Good African Coffee (Lugogo). So be at Theatre Labonita on 11th December for this concert that I am optimistic will be fantastic.

Nov 23, 2010

Scribe in Transition.

Take two. This blogger has been inactive for while. Not because he has a writer’s block but because the paintbrush cannot work on the keyboard. Take another two. Grab a napkin and simply wipe that face of the sweat brought about by the smoldering sunlight. Someone once told me that a bold head can be as a result of the scorching sun. True or not true. The latter is what you should believe. Does this whole paragraph make sense? Take two.

So, this scribe is taking a break from this whole journalism thing. The one and a half years he has spent in this field well, his bank account is in the red. Yes. In business, if you are in Black then it’s good but in the red it means the business is struggling and probably has debts or its value has dropped. (You will need to write that down)

 It’s a tough decision but at times some decisions have to be made. Life is about choices (Its also a cliché by the way) and staying alive in this world is also required. Spending long days, nights and energy patching up that story so that East Africa gets to know the opportunities within the region.
This scribe is now in transition for now. He needs to survive. His social life went to the dogs, he worked too much and all for tiny piny peanuts that always came two months late. Life has to go on. The last few months have become very intense and a decision had to be reached. Take two.

Yes. He quit his job. He is now working a volunteer writer for the same newspaper atleast until the end of the year. For that he knows that he is doing because he has passion for what he is doing and what he loves. But does this put food on the table. No. Christmas is a few weeks away and he cannot even do shopping for anyone in the family. A slave to his job has deprived him of that which he deserves. So he will be leaving. Taking that break will probably present better opportunities that the job had deprived him of.

The theory (it cannot be found in any book) is that this dude believes he is worth more than what he has been offered and when one says media managers may be responsible for the current trend Journalists turnover, it is so true. It may look like pride, but this dude believes that he is way too young to suffer yet there are opportunities around him that are willing to recognise him for what he is worth.

Oct 26, 2010

"Take Me Out" by Atomic Tom LIVE on NYC subway

 They lost their instruments!!!!!!!! But then they used the Iphone Instruments to play this song.... :)

Sep 29, 2010

Away but BRB

I will be back to blogger and Twitter on Monday 4th October. I have been and still away on Holiday somewhere..... Hill Climbing, bird watching, reading, this waterfall....

Oh Baz amma be reading the whole new domainwhatevername you may call it but the Awesomeness is yet to hit me. Bookmarked it like Tumwi did. And Tumwi, am still trying to ingest Blacula so am staying closely away from your latest post............. Hey els, you know I cant wait to be back. (I have your sandwich in exchange for some pictures) . World Peace forever..... :). Then there I was reading Observer on a lazy Tuesday evening and I saw himself The Rogue King........with Nigel 5..... Dude kudos kudos......  Brother Nev......I was there too..... Did you see the pixels by DT? Then there I was. I  was reading Sunday Vision on Tuesday....(weird huh) and then I saw, her self...... Darlyne with a byline on the Bayimba International Festival of the Arts and then am like huh......ok.... so warrup.....and then I read..... (No mention of Rachael K). or and then some dude called Harry II something something something, thinks the Uneven were not worth or worthy of an arts performance.... Or well they do..... FYI Bayimba is an international thingy...... Yah, no time for ranting....
Ouch, Rachael has been getting all the negative publicity but the question is can she really sing? I think she tries....atleast way better than Mya of BLU-3 its now BLU-1. So I asked Lady Sinister whether Rachael K can sing.......and all she could say was............. "I'd rather hold a used Napkin or Pamper than listen to........."
Truth be told (cliche) I did not ask her, but considering the intro to her latest post, then I made my own little conclusion.............. The Stories of Things Yah am also excited about African Writers but am worried about African Readers and a generation that is totally not reading.....(true story).
Enough for now. Need to get back to this 1500 piece please stop distracting me.....

Back to Black - Amy (who) Winehouse.....

Sep 14, 2010

Miss Not

To read more logon to  


Sep 2, 2010

Mein Traum

                                (Aero Beach Entebbe  sometime last year. Picture by Me)
When I look at the orange skies while resting in the sand on a Sunday evening at the beach, I ask myself.
Why is the sky so beautiful?”

In my mind I find this had to answer so I just keep staring. When I start dreaming I never want to stop, because the dream is as beautiful as the one I am seeing. If only I could Leornardo Di-Caprio walk into my room and plant a dream/idea in my brain, then things would be less like they are now.

Clogged in thoughts of the clichés that “Dreams can come true,” is something I am less likely to believe these days.

I have no Choice but to say, one day I will dream and this dream will be real. I will touch it, feel it, grope it, hug it, spin it and most of all I will know that it is true. But before that happens I will just keep dreaming.

Aug 19, 2010

A scribes' fortune

Young, energetic, a dreamer, ambitious are some of the few descriptions can define this young journalist. Growing up he often took clippings of his favorite writers and columnists, placed then in his file together with the old stamps and old money he used to collect. Taking mid-school fence jumps to go and buy a copy of the days Newspapers. Clutching onto the "Fourth Estate by Jeffrey Archer." A book he read over and over. He is looking forward to the professional career and once it started it didn't look like what it is, well atleast not on the surface.

There is whole murky world in the media . What you see in the papers, watch on TV and listen too is the sweat of some highly underpaid journalist. Journalism became his interest after during his O'level when he couldn't mix chemical components.
( C + CH = CH2) hmmmmmm

He then focused on becoming a journalist. 8 years down the road he is now in the industry but if you very well know the phrase "things are not as they look" then you will know what happens. Journalists have come under pressure for not digging deep and for being lazy. But if anyone knew what goes on in the industry then they would want to return and gulp there own words.

Journalism is about working hard and loving the job even when you are not paid. Having your name written against a story is something to be proud of. But then the blood sucking work is very hectic. Journalists are not supposed to receive handouts from anyone but in our industry they do receive the handouts (brown envelope). This is an envelope that compromises you. But why would they take the envelope. Because they have had their hands burnt, they are earning peanuts. Some have gone to the extremes of begging for money from whoever it is that wants publicity. Others remain patient and actually love the job they are doing. Others are used and dumped after they haven't been paid for months.

It takes a patient person to grow to become a good journalist. A celebrated one. Its not about the CNN award or any of those. Its being respectable and knowing you are good at what you do. The young man who sleeps for 5hours, spends his time researching is treated like some piece an unknown citizen.
Often there is so much journalists do and they go away without being appreciated for what they do. The information they dig up from there sources is hard to get but do people want to know that.
The boy has been in the industry for 3years now and he has seen what goes on and what happens. The best grow to become very respectable journalists, others buy their way to the top and others cannot take the heat so they jump out and find alternative sources of income.

A journalist thrives on optimism because he knows no matter what he will get a story. That optimism explains the patience that runs in the blood that he waits for the time when things will work out for him.
Being livid doesn't help and he tries much not to be. We live in world where consumerism is on the rise, well unfortunately this life the young journalist will not afford. He will probably go buy a movie from some cheap place and spend his weekend buried in some books. His social life is inactive he attends and event only if he is invited to one.

Staring at the desktop as he types story after story of the rich men in Kampala, CEO's and the private sector institutions, he wonders how long he can stand this. He however looks at the people who are influential to his life, and knows the whirlwind will come, the tornado will scratch the ground and leave it bare but he might just manage to keep standing. So every night before he goes to bed, he knows that there will be a morning where he will repeat the same routine until this one day he get an opening.

He knows that his misfortune is somewhere, but can he be that patient for it?

Aug 15, 2010

Not again

World shut out, dreams thrown out and yet again it has been blown. The sleepless nights, as he slowly turned the pages and expected to start a new chapter in life. This chapter has to be deleted. Again. Wiped away. The morning was jolly as he knew the next day would come with its fortunes. He hadn't felt alone in a long time and he wanted to keep that way. He has been happy for things have been working out. Expect for that job that doesn't seem to pay on time.

The morning is plain. He has been awake. The birds have suddenly not woken him. He has been awake. He is tired from his sleepless night. His neck hurts each time he tries to turn it around. The whole day he looks jaded and out of sorts. Everyday he is awake, he thinks about the princess. Up in the castle. He supposed to go get her from up their and bring her down. So he can be the prince. This however wouldn't describe his sleepless nights.

He thought he had ceased his opportunity, until a tiny little mistake changed everything. All that time he spent working out how it would end just faded away. He watched the papers burn and go up flames. What a waste. They say things happen for a reason. This he wants to believe. Hope has been his drive but its gone now. All the hard work is stuck in the ventilator and squeezing itself outside.
And as the sun sets on that Sunday evening, his dream has gone with it.

Aug 9, 2010

Limit on Human Mating

It was a bright Sunday as I did my laundry. Samsung phone Radio tuned to the BBC. The details of the show. Very interesting topic on the Communitariansim. We have people we call heroes. They alter the state of being by doing the most noble of things. In this particular segment of the show "the forum," one of the panelists is asked in 60 seconds to suggest something that they would want to do to make the world better.

"My 60 second idea is to limit human sex to two months per year. The human species is one of the few species that mates all year round. And here are some of the benefits of reducing the mating seasons to the two warmest months of the year.

1. It will promote better health. Human babies will be exclusively born in the warm season and winter related problems among newborns will not occur.

2. This will help to reduce anti-social behavior. Spend Saturday night in the city centre, and you will see alot of attention seeking behavior that is to do with attracting individuals of the opposite or the same sex. limiting this anti-social behavior to two months will be a major relief to society. Do you know how our society will be with 10 months to focus on how to improve our society without any interference from our LIBIDO. 

3. The two months would then be turned into a massive carnival and all kinds of joy for those who want to participate in it." German musicologist Dr Daniel Mullensiefen
Seriously this would be a big ask. No sex for 10months  (unless its virginity).  This is very unrealistic. I Imagine Padlocks would have to be made to keep people away from sex.
How would one suppress sexual urges? That would be making us like animals yet we are humans.

Annual mating season for Humans. I would Imagine billboards carrying adverts of the countdown to the Mating Season. Then the carnival being arranged like a concert that would usher in the two months of mating. Very funny.By the way it would also boost on sex tourism. People would save money and travel to the place they want to celebrate their Sex carnival.

We would probably see Sex Strikes led by Sex activists who would demand for the return of the normal mating to return. We would also get the Sex Crackdown Unit in the police and the intelligence.
But this wouldn't work. Just Imagine it for one moment. Its just too funny to be a realistic idea.

It reminds of Janthan Swifts 1729 satirical short story A Modest Proposal. In the short story Swift appears to suggest in his essay that the impoverished irish might ease their economic troubles by selling children as food for rich gentlemen and ladies. 

Aug 5, 2010

When theives are among us.

Am dreamer and in the near future I look forward to having my own children running around the house.
Walking or driving the kids to school. Playing in the compound , shooting toy guns and going for birthday
parties at the neighbors.
Changing diapers, telling them off when they are in the wrong and talking to them about the things the Heaven
would clearly describe.

I am not yet a parent and maybe not so soon but am a grown up. Some nieces and nephews look upto and take me as someone responsible. They are always asking me about my job and my reply is always "work hard and you will get better a job than mine."
Am not saying I didnt work hard but just to show them that hard work pays. There is this specific niece (she actually looks like me) who always asks to many questions.
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"I need a dress for my birthday, will you buy me one?"
"Can we bet? You love your girlfriend."
"Why are you a journalist? Doesn't a lawyer or doctor make more money? My dad is doctor and he already has two cars. He is still young."

There are many more questions that my niece will always ask me and each time I have an answer. As a child I always asked questions.
Education is one thing and today I went to pick my niece from school. Am her guardian because her parents leave atleast over 500miles from Kampala. They stay in a rural area that doesn't have quality education. I know Universal education upcountry is really pathetic. My niece is in boarding school. Yes. Primary one. And its Sir Apollo Kagwa Old Kampala.

When I went to pick her up she had some fungi infection and her body and wounds. She had lost so much weight. She looked tired and really drained. I remember the opening term of the season when I took her to school and she was healthy. Spotless with no fungi infection. Smiling and she was pretty excited about school.
Children are usually excited about going for their holidays but clearly on her face I could tell she wanted to leave this hell hole.

On the day I took her to school, I paid alot of money at the School canteen that it could take her two terms to finish this amount of money. I left the Matron of her dormitory with clear instructions that if anything happens she should let me know. Unfortunately she never calls yet some airtime is one thing I provide. Am the one who makes the calls and she never told me that my niece was having this fungi infection.
My niece told me about the dirty shower rooms, rest rooms and the terrible food. The school fees unfortunately doesn't match the services these children receive.

My rant against Sir Apollo Kagwa Old Kampala is that they need to style up and stop reaping us off. The child's mother who is my sister told me that she is rethinking and will have to change the school.
"I want to go to Namagunga boarding school. This place they do not care about us," my niece told me.

Talking points:
Working on a new Job application

Some MJ song "They dont really care about us"


Jul 14, 2010

To leave Somalia or Not to?

Even the most vivid of descriptions may not explain the Kampala bomb blasts. But after all that happened the question resonating around the political circles, pundits and foreign policy analysts is if Uganda should leave Somalia or stay? So how did we get to Somalia?

In 2006, the Islamic courts union was ruling most of Somalia but was later ousted by Ethiopian troops. In 2007, the African Union decided a peacekeeping mission was needed to back the Federal Transitional Government which the Ethiopians were also backing. The Ethiopian Troops later pulled out to allow AMISOM takeover. Uganda and Burundi are the only countries under AMISOM arrangement in Somalia. Other countries seemed to have backed off.
The transitional government is neither in control or not, its just somewhere in the middle. The AU mission is not to liberate Somalia but to keep peace.
Somali Islamists then started threatening to attack Uganda and Burundi for their involvement in the affairs of the country. But do they speak for the whole country, I doubt that.
Over the past one year, instability has returned to Mogadishu with more ruthless attacks against AMISOM and the transitional government. This according to foreign policy analysts was a sign the Islamists were determined to get rid of any foreigner in the country.

Al-Shabab, the group that claimed responsibility for the bombings had been threatening to attack Uganda. Intelligence in the country knew there would an attack but they couldn't predict where.
The militia's top leader, Mukhtar Abdurahman Abu Zubeyr, accused African Union peacekeeping forces in Mogadishu of committing "massacres" against Somalis. The militant group also threatened it would attack Burundi and also said more attacks maybe coming Uganda's way.
Security has been heightened in the country in the wake of the attacks, there is fear among the people and vigilance is on the rise. The Somali community has already condemned the bombings. The community in Uganda has been reporting isolated incidences where they have been targeted by some locals. Its tense and there are no assurances from the authorities that we are safe. The work of terrorists doesn't mean that every Somalian is involved, or any Muslim.

Some people who are doubting that the Al-shabab is responsible for the attacks. There are various theories on who could be responsible?
- It could be a work of our own security forces, in trying to divert the international community from the 2011 election. However one would wonder why they'd decide to kill their own people.
- The work of the opposition to try and find ways of putting pressure on the government to withdraw from Somalia.
- The government trying to justify a change of Strategy and sending more troops to Somalia.
- The work of someone who wants this government out.
- If it was Al-shabab why didn't it target the 20,000 people in Nakivubo Stadium. Why did they go for smaller crowds if they wanted more body count.
All these theories however cannot be verified, even the claim from Al-shabab also looks vaguely put. Usually when a terrorist group carries out an attack, they claim responsibility immediately. This wasn't the case with these attacks.
Is it about time we withdrew our troops since the militant group threatened to taunt Uganda unless they leave Somalia? If we withdraw the attacks may stop and everyone here would be happy. It would clearly show that our foreign policy on Somalia backfired. With our already porous borders the militants may decide to abandon their threats. When our troops left for Somalia, did we ask ourselves why other African countries did not their troops? The answer is obvious, the heeded to the threats of the Islamic militants. But then if we withdraw will we have helped the problem in Somalia because we leave, the militants will take over Mogadishu and start running the country and this will solidify the presence of Al-quaeda in Africa. This will be a base and any ally of the United States maybe seen as an enemy, so if we pull out way may just let Somalia become a great threat to the regions security.
So should we stay? Withdrawing in the first place would be a political disaster to the NRM rule led by President Museveni. The analogy for us staying is that what if Tanzania had withdrawn from Uganda in 1978, then Uganda wouldn't have survived the regime of Idi Amin. Now withdrawing would mean we have abandoned what we started. But in Somalia we are not there as Freedom fighters we are just a peacekeeping force, so that eliminates the analogy. The Transition Government we are backing is struggling to also hold itself together.
Secondly is that we can stay there because we are trying to make the region safer but one would wonder why Kenya which is a neighbor to Somalia has no troops in the Country. We are carrying the weight of the whole region.
Withdrawing would mean we have handed the country (Somalia) to the Islamist militants who are not appreciated by the population there. It would be giving the people hope and then taking it away from them.
Uganda's role in Somalia is hailed by almost all leaders but why are they not helping. If we are going to stay in Somalia then we should have more troops from other countries or also allow it to become a UN peacekeeping force to allow other state actors from outside Africa.
If Al-shabab indeed carried out the attacks then mission should be changed from a peacekeeping and directly do the fighting so the militants can be eliminated. Again this is subject to debate. This would clearly justify why Uganda and Burundi should stay. After the Black Sunday attacks in Uganda its clear that the two governments are going to stay but it might be for much more than just peacekeeping.

All Ugandans want is to return to their lives as normal. Kabalagala suburb, well known for its hangout joints and party life would want to have its blossoming trend to continue. The assurance needed is safety.

Possibly related links 

Jul 12, 2010

Eleventh of seventh

The sirens, the wailing, the football and the bomb. The tale of lives lost for the love of the game. A tale of innocent lives having fun. I don’t even know how to begin this post. Emotionally, physically, and psychologically, people have been hurt. A nation celebrating Africa’s World Cup, a once in a life time opportunity and before they could even watch the winning goal someone decides they should go.

Local media, at the time concentrated on the football, there was no report on the blasts at the time they occurred. A media black-out. Self-imposed I must say as football was sought to be the issue. Not even our national broadcaster. Facebook and Twitter seemed to be the only source of information, as information trickled in. Our Televisions, very good at showing soaps also lacked in providing us with information about the blasts. The sentiment all over the social media is the disappointment in the local coverage. They could not even interrupt regular programming? I do not understand. You surprised? I am not.

As Kampala woke up to the news, it was all sombre. In the taxi’s I used in the morning after the blasts it was all quiet, when the taxi slowly glided down the hill near the National Hospital Mulago, people begun cursing. Near the Mortuary it was the same as people cursed again. No one wanted to talk about the blasts at the Kyadondo Rugby Grounds and the Ethiopian Restaurant. It was a sombre Monday after the horrific events of Sunday.

Each second that ticks, each minute that counts and each hour that we move through, in the back of my mind I tell myself it could have been me. Or you, or even that one. But it wasn’t like that. Whoever who did this probably watched these people slowly glide into deep sleep. Watched human flesh fly around and laughed away. They knew what they were doing. 

We were warned but the bomb blasts were a surprise, shocking, heart breaking and horrific. It happened. We saw it, we heard, looked at inhumane pictures of corpses helplessly resting in those plastic chairs. And who has the answers to explain the 74(number subject to change) dead people? I don’t know.
But there is one more thing, we still stand up, hold our handbags, clutch our briefcases and find our way to survival. We do not give up like that, we do not lay low, but we move forward for the optimism is the light that shines within us. Persistence lives within us.

Our pearl that sits in the middle of the African continent shall forever prevail. And then instead of facing down, we shall look up, look at the times we had enjoyed with our loved ones and we shall decide that those are the moments we want to live. And I shall openly tell that “enemy of love,”
“you have failed, for we still have life.”

 What you have brought to us is fear, and that we will do our best for I know it’s not easy.

On the eleventh of seventh I will though I’ll look to the skies and shout “FOR GOD AND MY COUNTRY.”

Jul 7, 2010

When a flower withers

He is saddened by the silence in the room. The echoes of his own voice blare around the room. He is silent. He is still. He is thinking. Endless thoughts of the flaws that his life has long surpassed. He remembers the jilting, the inglorious friends, the adventures and the love life that he always scored below the 20% mark.
"All this is history," he says to himself

The silence gets louder and louder but yet he see's people around him, he is embedded in his thought.s Only if she could eavesdrop, then she would know what he is thinking. She doesn't know she is the cause of his thinking. She smiles and continues to find joy in her life.

The skyline is lit with stars. There are less than those he saw when it was full moon. The day he made the wish to moon. The day he smiled alone, staring at the skies. 

He moves out of the room. Into the isolation of the hopeless and darkness of the nightlife. He walks in the alley of dry leaves and a well paved walkway. Facing the skies, the bats and owls rule the night life. He is focused on the Sky. 1,2,3,4,5........ he counts the stars. Even the shooting star is absent on the night. The night is silent. When he stops thinking, all he can hear are the leaves tapping the paved walk way as the chilling wind rules the atmosphere.

The streets are deserted but one place seems to be open. "The Broken Arrow" The bar with its rugged signpost that only reads as "Broke W" is his destination. 

The bar is not empty, because its full. No music plays in this bar. He enters and is welcomed by the sound of Cue balls at the pool table and Glasses of beer banging the table or kissing the lips of the people drinking. He doesn't care who is in the bar. He sits, head faced to the rugged looking waitress with an Irish accent. 
Its a beer bar so he has no options. First one is a gulp, 15seconds. Second one is another 20seconds. The third one is 40seconds and the other three he takes are 45minutes each. 

He is still thinking. Thinking about the flower that never was, the flower he couldn't sustain, the flower that can't survive autumn. His flower withered as he watched it. He may never get it back. Its gone.


Butterflies and Hurricanes - Muse
Addicted - Ryan Leslie feat Cassie

Jun 29, 2010

For the cause of the pink ribbon

On Monday, I woke with flash disk like legs. My legs had become stiff. The stiffness had come in after 10kms of a Marathon I had run on Sunday. Not that am unfit but being the busy person the job has put me through, it had become evident that working too hard had put some extra weight on my belly. The 3 packs which I had have recently been a one sack phenomenon. 

Back to the terminator legs of mine now. I actually did ran 3 kilometers non-stop and my aim was to finish first and get the membership for one year at Kabira Country Club. I wanted the membership to be honest but I could only afford to be a winner if they were rewarding for the first 100m. I was in the lead at that point. I lost this lead to a couple of people who had been practicing for the marathon (Its just an excuse). 
After 3kms, my tongue was out as a hustled and puffed to get my breathe back. The 3kms were composed of a downhill and a straight road stretch. Now you know why the first three kilometers were better than white water rafting. 

At this point I had consumed a bottle on Dasani Mineral Water. The uphill was a challenge, I couldnt keep the pace so I decided to walk. My advantage over some people was that my walking pace was almost a jogging pace of some.

After one complete kilometer of the uphill, there was another downhill, and just like Bekele does it, I did it. I was overtaking people and for this I was very impressed by my performance. Then another straight road stretch. I thought I'd make it but suddenly I felt a rock in my legs. They were heavy and I couldn't lift them off the ground. Another water bottle and then I was back to the walking. 

The build up to this race had drawn up some bitter rivalries with some very passionate runners. We put our arguments aside and decided it was time to race. I needed to beat my friend in this race to prove a point.
With 1km to go I could see my friend about 200m ahead and I told my self. "I can overtake her."
I increased my pace and I was closing in. 150m, 145m, 120m, 100m, 50m and then my legs felt heavy. She had increased her pace. She had finished 55m ahead. Sulkiness engulfed my face as I searched for an excuse for not beating her in this race.

The marathon was for a good cause. It was a charity run so eventually we were all winners. It was for the sake of breast cancer. Some ruthless killer these days. Ugshs13m ($5,663.01) was raised for the cause of Breast cancer awareness. For every runner Coca-Cola Uganda contributed Ushs10,000 ($4.35616). We were 13,000 runners.

The marathon was like the sequence of events of a how detection of breast cancer can be a complicated process. There is this lady I met. She has been diagnosed with the cancer and is now on chemotherapy. Her story is a very sad one.

A lump had developed in her left breast and this was after giving birth to her 9th child. When she asked the doctor, he told her that if it doesn't hurt then its not necessary to look at it. She believed him. But the lump kept growing and eventually the pain started coming. Next doctor. "its nothing, its just the usual breast pain." 
Then another doctor recommended another expert who was apparently out of the country. Then finally she made it to Mulago, Uganda's top government hospital. She went for the first test. No Cancer. Second test. No cancer. Third test. Breast Cancer confirmed but it was too late. Early detection is one thing experts have been advocating for but if the doctor cannot tell then this will remain a challenge.

A minister at the event said people should get married so that the women can check the breasts of their husbands and vice versa.  One can also do self assessment by rubbing around the breast area. If you find a lump then rush to an expert. Don't say I didn't tell you.

And by the way after the marathon I lost some weight.

Jun 20, 2010

News anchor business

I am writing this seated in a bar. Yes a bar. It’s the football world cup. Yeah!! The football World Cup. My but is placed on a blue couch with orange pillows. Am sipping tonic water with ice and lemon. Seated opposite me are lovers. Ok I wouldn’t exactly call them lovers but I think they are. If you were here you wouldn’t deny that. In a green dress with black weaved long hair, she is drinking a Smirnoff. She is facing her man who is in a green t-shirt and blue jeans. He is drinking a cold bell larger. They look cosy and comfy as she keeps touching his chest each time she laughs.

“You are funny,” she says each time she touches his chest.

Away from the two lovers as they have become a total distraction. Am supposed to be watching the football on the TV and so I find myself watching the World Cup again. Then another distraction, a light skinned lady walks in. She looks like she is pregnant. Yes she is. She looks like she is atleast. Goes to the couch sits, plucks a phone out of the bag punches its keypad and then starts talking endlessly. Then she waves at the waiter.

“Windhoek,” she tells the waiter.  Oh how I pity the baby. She is going to speak German when its born. Surprisingly pregnant as she is, she starts flirting with some men around the bar. Its none of my business so I’ve got to watch the football.

A few hours before, I was the news. Yes NTV at 9:00pm. The weekend bulletin that usually has no proper content but I was eager to know what was on the news. On and on I watch. Then at an instant, she keeps skipping and she keeps repeating the same words. A technical glitch? NO!!!! NTV Weekend edition is recorded news. It’s not live. NTV weekend edition is like a movie. If the anchor is not perfect the producer says “Cut.”

“And in entertainment news, Eminem has new album called recovery. On the album he features pink among others. A single from the album “Not afraid” is currently no3 on the billboard top 50. Silk and Wild reports live from…….” Before she can finish the statement the producer interrupts
“Cut cut cut”
“You ok? It’s Sleek and Wild. How many times are we going to repeat this,” producer tells the good looking blond like news anchor.

News anchors even on the best news wires are not always perfect, but when I watch NTV Weekend Edition, NTV eleven there is no glitch. The anchors are perfect. Not cool. This is recorded news. Do not be surprised if you find that even NTV tonight is recorded. I guess they should always place the word recorded in the top left corner.

Someone will argue that they have to offer quality but then how will the news anchor do better if she/he doesn't get criticism from the audience? I don't know. Do you?

Even some of our FM stations have recorded news bulletins. One I worked for, the dude would walk in at 12:30 and go to the recording studio. Records his news piece and then at 1:00pm the news goes on air. We would be having lunch at some joint as he reads the news yet he is seated next to me. It happens on almost all our radio stations. Did you know that Capital FM Uganda also records some radio shows especially during the Weekend?

Some FB comments on the whole recorded news on NTV:
“Ayayayayaya wondering what that looked like. Wat, they wanted to watch the match? lousy..”
“Always suspected that.nt suplised,dnt be shocked one day 2 kol morris on his 4ne &he answers while reading news.”
“Cut the guys some slack! One of their core values is to for once provide quality broadcasts 2 the ugandan audience. Look around at the other local stations live news broadcasts..the erors, hesitations en mis queqes are just overwhelming, Its why they would rather record en give u quality!” 
“the secret 2 being an African & living with minimal disapointment z 2 lower ur expectations o have non at all...”

Brother Nev.. I bend down on my knees and say a prayer for you to get better. The lord has surely answered my prayers.

Jun 7, 2010


 (Mona Lisa (also known as La Gioconda or La Joconde) is a sixteenth-century portrait painted in oil on a poplar panel in Florence, Italy by Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci)

I have always been dazzled by the way some people are able to express their thoughts and ideas in writing. Great writers that I would want to mention but I could not dare do. The different styles and choice of words used that make one want to keep ripping through the pages of the books. I am great admirer of creative writing that is fully thought through. When I look around me as I type this post, I can see a pillow, a bed and my very impressive super sound hoofers. Loud music is glaring all around my room. I’ve shut out the rest of the world.

A slight flash, and there I see Leonardo Da Vinci painting of the Mona Lisa. Well is my painting authentic? Ofcourse not. It’s just one I downloaded off the internet and just printed in colour after I’d read all about it. The real one is at the Louvre museum in Paris. There is something startles me about it though. The painter for me did a great job. Like the creative writer who will keep me glued to his critical and at times very satirical piece then this painting surely did get me thinking.

Am not artist myself, but when I look at the painting, the lady (Mary Magdalene according to the Secrets of the Holy Grail) looks like she is a studio. It’s like a photo studio, one which does so much airbrushing like the ones that all around us these days. Secondly she was posing, with long and curly hair. Thirdly is that her right hand was placed on the left hand. Then there is something about her smile. It’s brief and to the point. Finally is that I wasn’t there when Da Vinci painted it. For him, it was more than just a painting. It has so many hidden features according to various scholars. Did you know that when you look closely, and divide the face into half, one side is male and another is female? Today this is not my interest.

Just like am dazzled by this painting, I have been dazzled by “Mornalisa.”  I know that the last time I saw her, she had long hair, was seated in a chair and in photo studio. That last time was when I saw was when I looked at her picture in my wallet. In the “Mornalisa” picture, she has a gentle smile and her right hand is placed on the left hand. I look at the picture, because I know we can never be together.
Like I do not have the real Mona Lisa painting, I only have a picture of “Mornalisa” because fate has decided all I can keep is the memory of her. She left. Fate took her away.

Listening to
Hey, soul sister - train

May 18, 2010

In between the lines/sheets

This post is brought to you in proud association with the Tories and the Lib-dems
Blame it on my background, but I find Comedy from the US of A rather weak. I find it young and it lacks intellectual thought. This obviously is bound to raise some dust, no offence but I just can’t stand 20 minutes of that talk. I can stand Cosby and Jon Stewart but the rest is like listening to Lindsay Lohan try to sing or even Paris Hilton acting.

So, why do I hate this comedy? Because when I listen to whatever they say it never lets one think about the joke. So straight forward and is always aimed at someone. Blame my background but I just cannot stand it. There are these two comedians that I am beginning to hate. One is Brazilian who thinks he knows it all. The biggest joke of his life came last week when he decided to opt to have Lil’wayne perform at a concert instead of T.I.

Then the other one is French. He decided that after a fab year for the Dbanj’ didn’t deserve it and he opted to reward 2Face Idibia(who is he?) as artiste of the year. The same French comedian made it worse when he nominated Legion as the best movie of the year yet no matter how stale I found Iron Man2 to be, it was a better movie.
So, please do not ask me about these two comedians. They are not American surprisingly and that means Brazilian, French, American and Nigerian comedy is not funny. Just like someone pouring Acid/limewater/sticky stuff/cooking oil/crashed water melon/saltwater among others on your pretty face. True it hurts but why did this guy do it. Why did he pour what they called a herbal concoction on her pretty face. There two things involved:
1-    The truth
2-    Deception
Why I believe it’s the truth is that some guy has been charged with murder. So how will they prove that, if they find it was liquid water? I also have a reason why I believe it was deception? Maybe she was trying to steal someone’s man. Was she being genuine about her pain? Well atleast some two singing comedians didn’t think so. On the day the two got into the ring to fight her. They failed to knock her down, not even a single cut on her eye.

Time 23:22pm. I still insist I’d rather watch British Comedy than the American or Latino. Try listening without watching and you will be shocked that if some Latino Comedian starts talking and you will hardly laugh. Try that with British Comedy and giggles will be on the rise despite the language being the biggest barrier. It’s more complicated than you think. I wonder which comedy mode Africa would prefer? American or British? I’d say none. We cannot match any. We are not even close.

Listen or watch our adverts and some are not even worth a mention.

1.    MTN Goal of Goals (very artificial). 90% of people I’ve talked find it pathetic.
2.    All Orange adverts apart from the one where a guy narrates a story of how he met this girl on a bus. Then all the Gyekiri shizzle is not appealing. It’s too stale.
3.    Give me a break UTL, the adverts are nothing close to appealing.
I’ll name the rest another day.Maybe they should pick a stem from Widhoek.

“We are coping western culture and are being influenced by it” – Honestly I think this statement is too ambiguous. If anyone tells you this, look him in the face and say, “You are funny, I love your comedy-like stunts,”
Why this answer? Because they deserve to know how we have failed to copy and paste, so we are not yet influenced. Especially politically, socially and intellectually. We don’t copy, we act terribly instead.

Now I’ll go grab myself a cup of Good African Coffee and leave you to read and think between the lines or rather the sheets.

This final part is for someone. You inspire me. For real.

May 5, 2010

@ 24

Quickly I scribble down the words, I listen to the speeches. What are they talking about? The economy? Politics? Business? Who cares?  I concentrate. Cannot blink, stare or afford to be absent minded. 30 minutes later the function concludes, I rush with my recorder to ask the main speaker questions. He listens. He responds. I ask. I record. We exchange cards. I leave.

30minutes later am at my desk, am sweating. 300ml bottle of Coke is staring at me. Am watching my keyboard, with my hands in standby mode while spread out on the keyboard. Am thinking of how to start the story. It’s like putting together gigsaw  puzzles of blue lit sky. I type a word and quickly I backspace. I type a sentence and delete it. 30minutes later I finally get my words in order. In another 30mins am all set. Next assignment.

This post is not about my Job. Its about me getting to celebrate my 24th year. Am still a novice.

Apr 26, 2010


Everyone gets to a time when they want something
To like, appreciate and love
Others wonder whether it will ever be so
Hoping that time will be
And Holding on to hope and the truth
That make life more bearable
So live through it – Your phase
Holding close to what counts most
And looking for what will last
Because like it or not
One day – Your cruise missile will hit
Till then
Enjoy your ride.

Post in response to this

Sleeping less, staying up
Doing the punching game on my notebook
I think, I wait, I dream in denial and happiness
I pray to God
“Oh lord let it be, grant me what I deserve.
God. Lead me to that decision which glorifies your name”
For this prayer is deserved of what I have been through.
I’d like for him to let me release the bird.
Let it fly in the blue lit skies.
For this gloomy face, I begin to hate this part.
That part of me that has fallen for that which God has made.
I am too sleepy. I need to wake up.

Apr 15, 2010

Karma is for real..

You can smell the silence as it sails past your door at 2:15am.
“I am scared. Scared of everything,” You whisper to yourself
You wish you could be somewhere watching everything happen.
“What if I hadn’t messed up?” you ask yourself.
Your thoughts fade into the sky up above and your imagination sets you into a state of silence. Even a whisper is too loud.

What if the sky was blue and it rained. Would the clouds have rebelled?
Would the stars strike because the moon is brighter?
Would butterflies complain that they are smaller than birds?
Would the stream complain that the river is large?
Or would short men ask themselves why basketball players in the NBA are tall?
“I don’t know. I do not know if any of those of are complaints,” You answer yourself.
You convince yourself that you are not complaining about anything.
You wonder what could have done to change the situation.

You try to remember your childhood. How you used to ran around, go for birthday parties, blowing bubbles, playing mum and dad, buying sweets, sharing, shouting at each, playing super Mario, running for the VHS recorder just watch beauty and the beast, Aladin, the princess and the frog and Animal farm, snow white among others.
All these are stuck in your memory.
“Where did things go wrong?” you wonder quietly on bed.
What did you do? What did you say?
You wish you could tell the world that no-one can create a cloud and add it to the skies.
“Am I revealing too much?” yet another question you ask yourself.
When you look at yourself in the mirror you see a reflection of what you did in the past.
The past seems so near like it has come to haunt you.
What do you do? What do you say? Who do you tell?
“No-one,” you answer
You take a minute. You wait, you think.
“Do they really have to know?” You ask yourself again.
But the heart wants you tell them. For deep down you know you can’t afford anything.
You resist any form of conviction and decide to move on.
“I will do this on my own. Besides I did this to myself,” you convince yourself.
And then you wonder whether she is interested in your drama.
Interested in a future where she has to live with you in your condition.
Whatever you are holding on to seems to be slipping away.
Your hands are shaking and before you notice there is shattered glass around you.
With your bare feet, you step on what is left of the glass. Slowly a red pigment gently sails out of the skin.
The guilt inside of you almost leads you to explode. You wonder if you are troubled.
You watch the world evolve around you. All the hope you had begins to diminish. You are tired of appearing to be your best. Pretending everything is ok.
You look like a stranded passenger in the middle of the Sahara, where the roads have been covered by the sand. From east to west, north to south, it is all the same.

Time check 2:30 am
You listen to the silence. All you hear are the mosquitoes craving to get inside the mosquito net.
The dogs bark at anything outside the gate, even a passing car.
You sigh.
You listen to the kind words of those who care. You listen to them in your thoughts. They are that loud.
“Move on. Move one,” are the words from those who are around you.
“To where?” you ask them.
All you do is talk to your own recording. Because everyone around is asleep.
You have become what you wouldn’t have desired to be.
You feel you are disappointed in yourself.
The optimism around you begins to become the feeling like the moon has appeared at midday.
You are on the verge of an anti-climax.
You count the raindrops. Each one that clutters the roof you count.
You are awake. You are thinking. You need a distraction.
Deep down you know things are going to get worse. On the surface optimism is written all over.

3:00 am
You switch on the DVD.

Apr 6, 2010

Through the woods he walks

A faint hearted soul searches for its comfort in the woods. Its dark and the sound of the ware wolves eases through his ears as he slowly clutches to his chest. The trees swing at the sound of the wind. The dry leaves fall off the trees at every footstep he makes. The moon has black patch as all seems illusive for his broken soul.

He knows good things are yet to come but there is something he must find. In the woods he must pass to make it. He remembers the Easter conversation with a 70 year old woman that will always stick in his head.
“Son, you look like you are troubled and need help,” The old woman tells him
He looks at the woman and ignores but she insists and repeats the same words three times until he decides to reply.
“Ok, now madam I am really not troubled and do not need any help. Am just in some rare state of mind,” he replies.
The old woman stares at the young guy dressed in black flare trousers and a Calvin Klein T-shirt. She laughs and giggles to herself.
“Son, you need to act fast before it gets late,” She says as she walks away.

All this he thinks as he tries to avoid the sound of the night. The bats traverse the woods and keep watch as the Owls are the source of light. He is avoiding the songs by Nightwish and Muse that seems to keep replaying in his head. He tries to think of some jolly times that always standout for him.

The look on her face brings back his smile. The sound of her voice brings back his confidence to move on. The time spent with her makes him want to keep walking. He chooses to keep the thoughts to himself and slowly scribbles a few notes about her on a leaf. A leaf that he leaves to fly.  Inscribed on the leaf are the words that surround his memory. The words of his future.  A future she is part of. A future that he is scared of because he waits for her to trust him. Something he must earn.

The woods get thick; the thorns skim through his skin leaving trenches. Trenches that lead blood out of the skin. The hyenas keep getting closer as the ware wolves get louder. He wonders why he did not take the bus. The bus would have been quicker. But he remembers the instructions he was given.
“Walk through the woods and inside you will get further instructions.”
Even if he was to take bus, he would be broke. He had worked for a month and he wasn’t paid. He had spent much of his holiday locked in his room trying to think his next step and getting worried about the future.

He tries to remember a few things that make him smile. That Easter weekend where he had to take care of his niece never seems to skip his memory. He looked like a father. He recalls the day in the supermarket while shopping for the niece to get back to school. There he was with the niece and they walked the supermarket buying all she needed. Then he notices people looking at him and talking to each other.
“He is good father. He shops with the daughter,” some say. And then others ask themselves. “Did the wife die? Why does he shop with the daughter?”
He smiles as he listens to all these people. He imagines himself doing the same for his own children in the near future.

The darkness grows thicker. There is no light but all he has to follow are the eyes of the owls in various tries. He is bitter about something. Something he did and always regrets but wishes to move on. He must relive each moment in order to find out the truth and deal with it.

As he approaches the end of the woods, there is the sound of drums. He looks forward and the brightness seems to appear at every step. He races towards the light and the ground ahead begins to get softer. It gets sandy and there is a soft sound of waves slapping each other. The sky begins to clear and the stars begin to appear. He reaches out his hand to let the gentle breeze to flow through his body. The sudden taste of freedom. He has overcome his fear, the fear of consequences. He now he has to take the next step. A step where consequence is his largest fear.

Mar 25, 2010

Somone stole my baby

It a sorrowful month for me, as someone decided to take my baby. The baby was just over 1year old and was increasingly getting closer to my heart. I loved this baby that I would spend considerable time with it. The baby took time to remind me of memories long gone. What always appeased me was its memory. It could remember everyone that comes into its sight.

I had become fond of it and for anyone who would seek to take it away from me, I would refuse. It’s not that am going to wear black for it or spend a week to mourn its death. Life has to go on. But atleast without it, there will a difference in my life. On that fateful day I remember leaving the baby alone, in a rush to go and meet the president as he launched a book on the Ugandan Economy. The rush was to blame because that is the time I last saw it. I should have taken my time, but I got so selfish and forgot my baby.

I remember that day I walked into the room and could not locate you. I searched all around the room and people around me thought I was mad. No-one knew what was wrong. For a week I remained silent thinking the baby had crawled away and would bring itself back. This was a lie I told myself. The future had been compromised. I had lost it all.

A week later, the burning of the Kasubi tombs overshadowed the loss off my baby. My baby was somewhere unknown and I’d have loved it to keep dumbfounded memories for me to keep. But the baby was not close by. I placed an announcement on the notice board asked all the people around me but no-one seemed to know where my baby was. The more people I told, the more they asked about my Baby. They felt sorry but this couldn’t recover my baby.

Good bye Baby Junior a.k.a my camera. I don’t know whether I will ever get to see you again. Atleast you have left me with memories that I will never forget. I have lost all hope and do not think I will ever find a replacement for you soon. For each day that passes, I know life has to go on. The world is not waiting.

That picture is the place where we used to fetch water in my village. That water we would use to bathe and wash our clothes. This is strictly rain water. It’s natural water tank. We would carry yellow 5litre jerry-cans and bend-over on the edges to fetch water. I took this picture last Christmas but this water now stands still, with technology this water has been ignored.

Mar 18, 2010

Kasubi tombs... (backstory)

Inside the Kasubi tombs. These some of the irreplaceable valuables in the tomb. This has been the part of the integrity of the Buganda Kingdom for being able to preserve part of their culture. More than 200 years of history went into flames.

Buganda official Medard Ssegona Lubega described the fire as the "second biggest tragedy" in the kingdom's history.
"There are many men of our fallen kings lie in this house, which is now down to ashes," he told the BBC's Network Africa.
"It is something that we have built and kept and maintained for our children and grandchildren and many generations unborn."

Why I hate Number 3

3 are the number of people who are were shot dead at the razed Kasubi Tombs. 

The military opened fire after a crowd of people tried to block president Museveni’s convoy from accessing the cultural site that burnt to ashes.
The army spokesperson Lt. Col. Felix Kulayigye gave this explanation:
“Our soldiers deployed at Kasubi came under a hail of stones thrown by some rascals, They fired in the air in self-defence but, unfortunately, two people were hit and they died while five were injured.”
Gunshots rocked the area around Kasubi with highly charged protesters.Well as its a loss to Buganda Kingdom, it is also a loss to the country. So the whole country should be in mourning. Although not everyone is emotionally attached but I have visited the tombs and has beautiful. The scenery and art of the Baganda in this place was amazing. Its loss to Bugunda and Uganda also. Last night a friend of mine received this text message.
"Our Destiny, Culture and Norms is being destroyed. First its Kabaka, then CBS and now the Kasubi tombs have been burnt down......Gwe nga Omuganda Okozewo ki? Send this 2 others." (The bold means "What have you done as a Muganda")
This text is provoking.
This is because of the theory that the Government is to blame. Well as the inquiries into this fire go on, then it should be noted that people are suspecting its arson. The investigation should be able to find out the exact cause of the fire.

Supporters of Mr Museveni and Buganda's King Ronald Mutebi have been at loggerheads since riots last year.
They fell out after the king - whose role is largely ceremonial - accused the government of blocking him from visiting a part of his kingdom.
At least 20 people died in riots linked with that incident. And angry protesters and royal advisers have said they believe the tomb fire might have been arson.

The place is a designated UNESCO cultural heritage center, It was grass thatched and that meant in case of fire it would be razed to the ground. My wonder is where there is no water Hydrant in that particular area. Atleast this would have reduced the extent of damage.

The government has said it will re-build the tombs. But this may not bring back what was preserved inside the tombs. Life has to go on despite all these.
it is said that out the ashes rises something great! So don't despair that fast!

 Kabaka Mutebi wipes away tears during his visit to the tombs (Newvision)

There have 3 tragic incidences this year and that makes me hate number three the more. Buduuda landslides, Two students shot dead at Makerere University and then the Kasubi tombs were razed.

Mar 9, 2010

One more chance

The stars brightly beacon over the red lit sky
Over the trees the moon forms
Sending a ray of gray and orange
The round shaped orange moon appears
Its hope for a new night
The scent of the evening breeze sets the night in motion
Watching from a crowded sidewalk, he stares at the skyline
He is walking as people are all around him seem so far
He is focused on the red lit sky
Thinking of his conquest
He talks to the moon

His prowess is enchanted
But all he thinks about is his conquest
A conquest that remains his mystery
A shooting star appears
He makes a wish
A wish known to himself
He then smiles
Girl next to him smiles back
But she is mistaken, for his charm is not meant for her

It would not be her smile for he is thinking another
Another that he had seen a few months ago
One who has lit his smile and brightened his life
She has become the light that beacons in the skyline
She has created a lacework of orange
She has sent butterflies that always tingle in his stomach
She has become part of his thoughts
The part of his thoughts that makes him smile
Her pure innocence startles him
She remains the beacon of hope
That has become part of his life

As he walks towards the road he is still glaring at the skyline
It’s a night of restlessness
A night that everyone ceases
A night where darkness is day
A night where darkness rules
A night that he crosses the road
And there is loud screech
A screech of the light blue range rover
That sends him back to the roadside 

The man in the range rover lowers his window 
And points the middle finger to the young man
The one who had handed
Himself to the Range Rover
His fate purely unknown, but he survives this one
He recovers from his thoughts and his heartbeat can
Be measured by his inability to believe he has survived
But then he remembers
The wish
The wish he made when the shooting star appeared
“I would like to get the opportunity to tell her how much I like her”
He still had the opportunity.

Mar 4, 2010

What will the gun do?

President Museveni laying a wreath on the bodies of children killed by the huge landslide in Bududa district on Monday. (Picture From NewVision)

So, what is the gun for? landslides and mudslides cannot be shot at. I wonder what the gun signifies.

Mar 2, 2010

The letter to my newly found

Intrigued by the desires of my heart, happiness seems to have made the return journey. It had taken a vacation. It has become obvious that she is newly found but I will do my best to keep her away from sleek. So I have decided to write her this letter.

Dearest Beloved

This is the first letter I am jotting writing since we met in November last year. It was memorable and I remember us seated in the lounge waiting for our function to begin. The wait was worthwhile as we interacted and I enjoyed our chit-chat. I was impressed by the insight and sudden conversation you had triggered. I remember the chat about journalism in Uganda, and then when I told you I had some work to finish and you asked if you could type the  work for me. It was beginning to become enjoyable until the people at the function came back from their lunch break.
I remember our second meet at yet another one of those functions and this time we spent some good time together and still we discussed so much on the professional side. I deeply enjoyed the company and your calmness took me into extreme attention. Then I started listening to a knock in the heart. I began to have what most people call feelings. You could have noticed because I remember one day you asked me.

Why are you looking at me like that? And my reply was just a simple smile. You smiled back and shrugged it off.

The close relationship we are leading ourselves into has been characterised by texts, phone calls and e-mails. The complements, sharing and care we have been offering each other have made me question our friendship. I have been trying to know about you and so far so good. You have cared but I haven’t shown immediate interest instead I keep acting the gentleman.

I wouldn’t tell you am a slow guy but am taking my time. The scarf you offered me in the cold rugged and rainy Friday was special. I remember refusing it yet I was freezing, you insisted and I took it. Then I forgot to return it. It has been a companion because each time I want to bring it to your workplace I think about asking you out to lunch on a date. My scared soul lets me down on this road. 

Am taking my time but am told you won’t wait. I’ve been told to atleast show signals of interest so you don’t think am just a gentleman. This I want to do by asking you out on a date. I do not know if I can tell you now but am finding it hard to find the guts.  I don’t know if you like me but so that you know, I like you but it won’t be soon that you will find out about this.

For now I’ll live with it and please remember you are now my newly found love.

Please do not read this letter.

Always Loving


Good life - One republic.

the camel club - David Baldacci

Feb 24, 2010

Mushy, Mellow and Subtle (part two)

I made the choice to let the bird fly. I let it out of the cage so it could find its way. Did the bird actually want to leave? Well that I did not know. The answer is somewhere embedded in the birds’ thoughts. Sometime last week I was telling you a story of my secondary school sweetheart. One of the few girls that have managed to breach the firewall that is embedded somewhere close to my heart.  So, our days had become something everyone wished for. I mean whoever looked at us always wanted to be like us. It wasn’t that simple. Every evening at 6pm I had to switch on CNN or BBC for the students so they could get updates on the Iraq war and the media jargon that existed that time.

This time was rightfully utilised. I used to stand at the back of the hall and at 6:30pm she would appear. And then we would talk “pakalast.” Honestly I can’t exactly remember what we used to talk about. But we spent quite some time together. This was the only time she would probably get to see me as I was always caught up in some off-the-school duties.  Her innocence always kept a faithful drive. Our love life was characterised by daily chits and endless smiles that we offered to the world. We were the perfect match.

I truly treasured the moments and loved every bit I spent with her. However there is something about me that did feel like she was being cheated of true love.  Not that I didn’t love her but I felt I had cheated her of what she deserved. I was one of those guys who had some very stunning addictions apart from the Tiger Woods addiction. I was brought up like an English kid and very protected. I knew how to cover my tracks and was rarely caught in the wrong places. Innocence was just a facial expression. She didn’t deserve this for each time, each second and each microcosm I felt she was being cheated of the right guy.

I decided to call it off not because I had lost interest but because I needed to rediscover myself. The real I needed to be unearthed and I felt she had to go. I wanted the best for her that of which I couldn’t offer at that time. Rehab wasn’t the easiest of choices but what could I do. It was my only choice. She needed not to know. So I let the bird out of the cage, and she flew away. I let her move on and each time I heard she had met someone I never felt like interfering, I stayed away and let her be.

When all was over with my rehabilitation, I thought the bird would come flying back. But all I received was the hatred she had for me. In my mind, I blamed myself for letting her go, but the other part of me cherishes this decision. She is happy now and I have let it go. She always tells me that its now my turn to be happy.  I only get angry when she tells me that I rejected her, stopped communicating and did not like her. Sometimes I feel like telling her the truth of why I broke it off but somebody stops me. This is the one I have recently met.

Listening to
If my heart was a house - Owl city

Feb 16, 2010

Mushy, mellow and subtle (Part one)

Every morning I struggle to peal the blanket off my skin. My head spins and goes through the days schedule.
Its going to be a long and demanding day. One wakes up to the news that Mr Behakanira of J&M hotel had been murdered (oh sorry thats my theory). I notice that one Thaksin Shinawatra was here in Uganda unveiling a lottery company he owns. I remember the Ugandan Insmniac making a prior post on Shinawatra being interested in Ugandan Oil. Well he actually is here to take some pocket change from Ugandans. lets go gamble and enjoy the fruits that were shipped in from Thailand. In his interview with The Times he said that he had 10 goldmines in Uganda and offcourse revealed the fact that he some lottery licences. Some people in Thailand call him a fugitive and others love him. I remember watching those protests by his sympathisers on the streets of Thailand and they hostage the airport. He knows how to do trial and error.

This explains part my post. I was just giving my post a background. Not many years away from this 15th day of Feb, I remember the only Valentines day I got to celebrate. We were young. Very young with so much "love."

Some of may have been lavishing somewhere I was not. Well I was in the over-hyped days of my life. The days when being in S.4, I was a prized possession. Highly demanded and treasured by many self loathing females because of my gothic calmness. It was at this time that I met Marionah(not real name but the accroynm that combined both our names). Marionah is the only person in my life I have never written about. She is the one girl in my life I found with less error and her honesty and innocense I bestowed. Her dark skin, self giving smile reflected her intense generosity. We had met on the girl and scout camp but I shrugged it off as my love was not for finding the perfect girl but to stay away from them.

Then one night................ <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< I had been planning for this, there she was always smiling and all these boys in her class trying to win her heart. At 10pm its the end of prep and the boys are all camping around girls looking for goodnight messages, hugs and kisses. I watched her and then made my move. My very insightful and enchanting tricks. I had written her a chit. I was good at that and I trusted my power when I put pen to paper. She was quiet the next day. Then I went to stage two. I was a prefect and that meant I had to supervise lower classes. She was in S.3 and I was in S.4. I utilised optimumly. I Invited her outside her class and we engaged in a conversation. It all worked out. And a few days later we celebrated Valentines and that would be the last one.

All these were ordinary. We broke up rather amazingly. I dont know how but we just ended our relationship due to distance and she was seeing another guy. I was also looking out for this chic from Gayaza. But I remember her last words to me,
"If we break up I dont know whether I'll meet someone more than you and love them the way I did"
So a few years down memory lane, we hardly talk. I havent seen her in over 7years. And what can I say, she moved on. And so did I.

The fact that she said those words doesn't mean she didnt move on. She needed to be happy and in the Long Run I wouldnt have made her happy. She had moved on. Found a new place and new love. I too had moved and not looked back as I took all the blame for ending the relationship. Just like our friend Thaksin Shinawatra who has found Uganda a new haven, she has found her new haven somewhere else.
Her honesty however cannot be compared to that of Thaksin. So I would tell the guy that she is the best for him but then for Thaksin, I would say Watchout Uganda.

Valentines Day - Linkin Park
Try sleeping with a broken heart - Alicia Keys
Bleedin' America - Jimmy Eat the World
Forgive Me - Group one crew