ANAGRAM OF A GAZING EYE

Make-over in the making

2011-12-12T21:01:00.000+03:00

Top notch CEO's and brand strategists sit in the boardrooms of their companies thinking of new products that will most likely or not at the creat a shift in the market. In similar but not the same move, THE ANAGRAM with its one man board has made a strategic decision to move to a new location.

The reason for this strategic move was probably highlighted in this post. This will most likely be the last post with the next post at the new home. The board of The Anagram is grateful for all the support offered by readers and for all the comments. They are grateful to Blogger for the service rendered over the years.
Content on www.mumakeith.com will be uploaded in the next few days.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Listen; the trees and water are talking.

2011-10-26T17:32:00.001+03:00

The water slaps the edges of a dry concrete wall creating a mark that slowly fades away after a few minutes. Every minute there is light water wave slapping the same wall. Inside the wall, men in orange overcoats and plastic like looking covers on their heads. Armed with wheelbarrows, iron bars, metals and steel the men work to add concrete for the wall to thicken and strengthen. Like little worker ants down below the ground that slowly build their empires creating castles to live. Obviously the forces of human nature trample on them to distort the way their way of life. They are the small ones and because man is such a bully, his wrath slowly drives the little ants away and they simply cannot retaliate. The ants only once in awhile invade peoples’ homes and sift through tonnes of crumbs.

These ants will soon be deprived of simple vegetation

The men with overcoats have are struggling other human beings happy. The men with their shovels, spades, cranes and caterpillars scooped land to divert the natural course of the river. This is a river with history and serves over five countries. The needs of human beings just like the ants are growing thus the utilisation of the vast resource to meet their needs. Lighting, computers, Smartphones, coolers, gaming consoles and movies are the needs. The men have to succumb to the pressure of human nature that has endless demands that are mostly likely never going to be satisfied. Even industrialisation has its demands, energy, energy and energy. Need I repeat that? The water has made its voice heard by refusing to increase but reducing. It has refused to evaporate and be part of a more stable ecosystem. And who is complaining of drought, scorched earth, dry water wells and shrinking rivers. Water is talking but no-one is hearing as the myth is that “water doesn’t talk.”

This is a well in my village that no-longer fills to this level because rainfall has rebelled against us

In a small forest sweaty bare chested men with large see-saws singing happy life songs as they cut trees into small timber to sale on the local market. As the moon slowly sets in, trucks exit the forest with timber to sale to the real-estate dealers in the big town. On the other side, Charcoal prices have been souring making it lucrative business for a population where economic hardships have become a headline in the local media. A fertile nation like Uganda with over 30million (It is more than this) people, then their energy demands need to be matched. Soil erosion, mudslides, exhaustion, roofs flying off houses, unpredicted but harsh weather patterns and drought is the voice of tree talking to a dead end.

Some of the trees planted by our family in the village

Little known to the active men and human nature is that their actions will be met with vast environmental misgivings. The energy demands by human nature often growing and depleting natural resources like water and forests have vast consequences mostly unknown or that they have no control over. The conflict between energy demands and the eminent challenges of Climate Change however that notwithstanding this crossroad has created more confusion than solutions. Solar Energy and other energy sources that clearly less harmless to our environment to mitigate the likely challenges of climate change, are still viewed by some as weak. Unknown to many, the despair of some, the environment has already reacted with changing weather patterns but what is more concerning, is that I see no urge or oomph to avoid the wrath of a rebelling environment.

The young (backspace) scribe

2011-09-14T13:42:00.002+03:00

Its a rainy morning. The muddy road from the house is like a potato ground yet one must find his way to the office. No matter the weather, situation and trouble, one must be available for work. After a horrific and dangerous motorcycle ride, one arrives at the office, opens the morning papers, reads emails, replies and dashes off to meet a source. The source will in one way or another come be late. Since the source is late then all other daily appointments need to be adjusted.

After meeting the source, it’s time to make a few phone calls to verify and give the story some more flesh. The calls will be turned down or endlessly referred to someone else.

“Call me back in 20mins' and then 20mins later 'I will call you back'. And they won't. So you have to go through the same process again and again until a response appears.

For others you will send an email and they will ignore or bluntly tell you “I did not receive the email” or “I have been too busy to reply” yet they hold fancy phones that they flash around in public.

Others will tell you how they cannot respond but will be quick to send you information on how their company has donated one computer (used) to a school. Huh!!!

By the time one decides to stretch, its 1pm which typically lunch time. By this time you have out spent yourself in terms of airtime (Blame the telecom companies), transport and drinking water. The day is more or less halfway so you dive into endless research material. There is so much information to read and only a few hours later its 3pm. It’s time for to some event/press briefing. You arrive on time but the event starts a after an hour (4:30pm). At the event you are showered with corporate jargon and numbers. You ask a question and it’s ignored or “Please note, that question is not relevant to this event.”

To make matters worse, you are "bull shitted" (Not sure whether this word is formal) and taken for granted by the PR agency. Take note that after a few days your phone will be buzzing off the hook, “where is my story?” someone from the PR agency will stalk your phone endlessly, yet you had not made promises.

6pm and it’s that time when people are going home. The editorial deadline is approaching and there is nothing to show the editor.

You ignore your meeting friends for the evening and decide to get some work done. You type away on the laptop and by the time 1,000 words are completed, its 8pm. Its dark outside and you are the only one in the office. Time to close-up, the cleaners have walked in the office. Time to shift the office your one roomed home.

As the office is locked up you realize that the tummy is almost empty. But while walking home, all the thoughts are on the incomplete work and the interview you have to do in the morning. You get home, only to be welcomed by a heat wave (backspace x2) darkness. The power distributor has decided that due to the shortage in generation then having power is a liability.

Since its 9pm, you rush to the nearest bar, plug the laptop power cable in the socket and type away. Hungry. At 10:30pm you decide to get back home. Back to darkness. You get a cup of tea, sip and bite some white bread. The alarm is set for midnight so you can wake up to do some work. You sleep (rather take a nap). At about midnight the alarm goes off. You snooze it for about 30mins. At 1:00am, the covers are off and back to work. Tick tock. 1am, 2am, 3am, 4am and then you slide in between the sheets at 4:15am. At 6am you are up to polish the story and 8am its back to the daily routine of a scribe.

“If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.”

Hashtag Kirya live

2011-09-05T17:15:00.000+03:00

He started waving to his fans and the screaming ladies did want the show to end. He offered his hand and there was a gold rush for it. They wanted to touch it, feel it and confirm whether he was ~~human~~ real.

'Maurice, 'we love you' some were screaming. 'take me home' others would say and 'please don't stop' others said. Maurice Kirya had put on such an electrifying/amazing concert which explains the endless screaming.

Fatal attraction? hmmmmm

The arrivals "lounge" at Serena Conference Centre was beginning to fill up with ladies and gentlemen waiting to watch Maurice Kirya #live on stage in Kampala. The ladies were ~~probably~~ looking good. Probably is an understatement. They were dressed for the evening Maurice. Maurice Kirya is on path to greatness. A path to success after years of hard work, scorning and determination. After the RFI award he won last year, Maurice Kirya went on a ~~world~~ tour of West Africa, to Paris and also the US of A (He performed alongside Jordin Sparks). Ugandans however would only get to see Maurice Kirya on TV, Arts concerts and the experience. #Kiryalive was his turn to give back to his loyal fans. Maurice has a huge fan base by the way (Watching from the sidelines most seem to be ladies after his heart).

Maurice doing his thing. Photo by Meltem Yasar

The Misubbaawa fame star, clad in a black jacket and black trousers, started in Rock Star style. The drummers, guitarists, and the lights seemed to be inviting a rock star. He is a rockstar in his own making.

Yes, he entered like rockstar and invited fans to move closer to fill the standing space. This made it look more of a concert rather than the corporate tables that usually fill that space. He had made a statement. One with no jibber and jabber of the corporate sponsors that like to take credit for things they have not helped as much. With the a very raised stage, one could tell Maurice was about to pull off one of the best stage performances. Once he was on the stage, boom and Slappadass (word picked from Urban Legend) prevailed. There was endless screaming, dancing and singing. The chattering on Twitter using #Kiryalive proved that Maurice had made his mark. Not only by singing but taking off with hearts many ladies. We are still trying to find space for him on the walk fame. A star on the Ugandan boulevard but we ain’t got one at the moment.

After singing Misubaawa (my favorite off the album), the lovely, beautiful and good looking Valerie Kimani showed up on stage. And in a lavie davie sort of way both Valerie and Maurice performed Village girl.

Maurice and Valerie "lavie-davie". Photo by Meltem Yasar

Maurice came back and constantly saying 'listen to this' before any song. Impressively almost every song Maurice Kirya would sing, the ladies at the front seemed to nail it by singing passionately. Maurice can be proud of himself, had pulled it off. The sound was great (for once I don't have to take a swipe at Silk Events). The lighting, the smoke that comes from the ground was also very timely. Maurice proved why he is an artiste.

Photo by Meltem Yasar

Maurice crowned this performance with the famous boda boda song (And his brother Vampino also showed up on boda boda with Valerie Kimani) which gets us to where we started.

Uganda Telecom (UTL) Commits to pay Airtel - Press release from Airtel

2011-09-01T17:14:00.002+03:00

Press Release

19th, August 2011– Airtel Uganda has announced new developments following
its decision to discontinue interconnection with Uganda Telecom (UTL).
After meetings convened by the Minister of Information, Communication and
Technology and Uganda Communication Commission to facilitate a settlement
of the dispute, a Memorandum of Understanding has been signed by the two
parties.

Mr. V.G. Somasekhar, airtel Managing Director said, “I am pleased to
announce to airtel customers and Ugandans at large that Airtel and Uganda
Telecom have now reached a settlement and agreed on a Payment Plan for the
outstanding debt. Subsequently, come Monday September 5, 2011 airtel will
stay its decision to discontinue interconnect services with Uganda Telecom.

Somasekhar also noted that it was a tough call to terminate interconnectivity

with Uganda Telecom as fellow Ugandans on both networks would suffer

inability to communicate with each other. “It therefore gives me pleasure to

have reached a settlement and airtel will look forward to commencing greater

relations with Uganda telecom,” he added

-Ends-

MTN Uganda increases tariffs due to "recent economic changes"

2011-09-01T13:40:00.000+03:00

MTN Uganda today circulated a press release that announced a change in in its tariffs. This may appear as an ultimate shock in the market and among consumers but the Telecom giant is here to make money and thus with increasing operational the company had to adjust. However do customers get value for money?

In the press release, the company announces that effective Saturday 3rd September, 2011 customers on MTN per second will pay 4 shillings for calls to MTN and 4 shillings for calls to other networks.

MTN Chief Executive Officer Themba Khumalo said that for the last 13years MTN's investments of more than US$1billion were supporting network infrastructure for close to 8 million subscribers.

"We have absorbed a number of operational expenses and ensured that we do not pass them on to our customers, to the extent that we even dropped tariffs by employing innovation in our product and service offerings," Khumalo said in the press release.

"In light of recent economic changes, however, the tariff structure is not sustainable for increased business roll-out. The industry is at risk of self-destruction to the detriment of consumers and other stakeholders. At the current rate investments in the sector will decline with the associated quality deterioration. We have a responsibility to protect Uganda’s telecommunications sector and ultimately the customers," Khumalo said.

He explained that over the past couple of months, the telecommunications sector has been struggling as a result of the steady increase in input costs.

“It has become very expensive to do business in Uganda especially over the past few months particularly with the depreciation of the Ugandan shilling by over 20%. The new tariffs will enable us to offset these costs and in so doing ensure that the business is able to be run in a more cost efficient and sustainable way, which provides more reliability of service for our subscribers,” Khumalo added.

Among the costs that the telecommunications firms incur are fuel costs, as all base stations are run using heavy duty generators. "The price of diesel, for example, has gone up from Ushs1, 500 a few years ago to Ushs3, 500 today - but we have avoided increasing tariffs accordingly," Khumalo said.

My Verdict;
1. When tariffs increase we also hope that MTN can improve its voice service. Dropped calls and poor network need to be dealt with so that a customer can also benefit. MTN needs to improve on service delivery if they are to justify any tariff change.
2. Price wars were always going to be unsustainable considering the operational costs involved in the telecom market in Uganda. It is very understandable when profit margins dwindle in the face of competition then survival in the market is the only option. Orange Uganda CEO Philippe Luxey once said that the current price wars are not sustainable.
3. MTN is probably the only telecom that is in profitability at the moment but as seen in the press release is the only one that is increasing its tariffs. Will others follow suit? I suggest they do because it doesn't make sense providing cheap services with no profitability.

Dear Grandpa

2011-08-31T17:05:00.000+03:00

As we sprinkled damp soil in the deep hole, tears dripped gently and had to glide down my cheeks. I watch the grave diggers gently pile soil on your coffin. The thoughts, the memories of a fallen hero, a friend, a teacher, a role model and grandfather continuously keep showing up. “You are still alive,” I try to convince myself. Hours earlier I struggled to make a speech. There were thousands of people at our home to say goodbye and I couldn’t talk about you. It was overwhelming for us your grand-children. We could not avoid it but think of how soon you were gone.

When we were young, we had a craving to visit your home every holiday. Your stories about our origins and the lessons we could learn from them. The knowledge and wise words you would offer were only for you. At your age, you had seen it all from the wars, the regime changes and the brutal/harsh treatment.

“You look out for yourself and the friends you have,” You would tell us. “Be careful, not all the friends you make have want the best for you. Some of them want to use you so they can get to a certain level,” you would caution.

I remember at your burial, that politician who lied about your thoughts on the current regime in power. If I am to remember your words and the clippings you gave me, you had always cautioned me to be careful with the current regime in power.

You specifically pointed out how agriculture was on the decline and you squarely blamed the current regime.

“We used to get more money from our tea estates when we had co-operatives. This government seems to have less concern for us,” You once told me.

Your stories on courage and the suffering you went through while reaching out for the people near Queen Elizabeth National Park. I remember your story on the encounter with a lion, an elephant and buffalo. There is that buffalo horn in the house. A souvenir for the achievement you had made after killing that animal (With help from two men).

The suffering and torture you went through when preaching the word of God in witchcraft infested area (Buyaruguru). How you were scorned, rejected, spitted at and at times received death threats. But you remained unshaken to the point that you eventually transformed that place.

Your faith was always an inspiration. You never abandoned God. You believed he had all the answers in this world. Even when grandma passed away, you kept strong. Your faith was also clearly shown in the disappointment you had for the church. You never liked how the church was very “secretive”. How reverends and canons were committing horrific acts of evil and yet continued to grow within the ranks of the church.

Your selfless nature was probably the greatest fruit that you had grandpa. You and grandma only had one child (My mother) but looking at all the people who had taken care of, you would have probably been one of the richest men in Western Uganda. You never loathed material possessions and all you wanted, was for people around you to be happy. You took care of so many people and they were all at the burial to say goodbye.

Thank you grandpa for all that you taught me. Each time I saw you and we talked, I learnt something new. I remember at a time when the teenage boy in me was about to end my academic lifestyle. You stood by me and got me a place at a High school. It was clear you believed I would change and become the person I am right now when some people had already given up on me. When I finally became a scribe, you were always proud of me and each time you meet people you tell them of your grandson who had become a journalist. Thank you gramps.

For the past few days, I have been thinking about you grandpa. Whenever I talk to my family, we seem to reach a consensus that you are alive. It’s hard to believe that you were placed six feet under. You were only diagonized with cancer last year and it is shocking how soon you had to leave us. There are so many cruel people who were always jealous of how much you loved and cared for us. In us you are still alive although we miss you greatly. You are irreplaceable in our lives.

The Kampala pedestrian

2011-08-18T13:24:00.001+03:00

A pedestrian can be defined as a person who walks on the roads of Uganda in general and Kampala in particular. Wikipedia and the Oxford dictionary have their own definition of a pedestrian but mine is clearly not far off. In Kampala people walk to work (Which until recently was legal - sort of).
There are those with motorcycles, cars (the Toyota's) and those with beasts (Audi, Hummer, Dodge). As a holy pedestrian, I am usually starstruck when I look at the cars people drive. (BUT: Where do people get the money to buy not-Toyota cars?). To the point; I will own a car sometime in the future and it will save me from the life of being a pedestrian in Kampala.

The Cover that is not: A pedestrian in Kampala is likely to fall or drop a smartphone in a manhole. There is someone in this city who steals the manhole covers. What are manhole covers used for? Welding gates and metallic doors? I do not know. But in these tough economic times these covers must be very useful.

The Splash; There are unbelievable tales of people who have suffered splash moments especially after a rainy day. Due to the somewhat poor drainage or poor road works or potholes, pedestrians get splashes. Of course it depends on who has splashed. For an ambulance or presidential convoy, it may be okay. The splashes may ruin your day and drivers usually DON'T apologise.

The body check; This one in particular I find unpatriotic. The people driving cars don't leave their huge vans to be checked yet the pedestrian will be subjected to two body checks. One at the gate and the other before reception desk. Yes. Some hotels do this. (I can prove this beyond reasonable doubt).

The Taxi; During rush hour (huh! Wanna be Kampala rush hour), the traffic jam is annoying (for those in the cars). A pedestrian holding a fancy Kataala phone hooked to Pakalast (Load 1k; talk all day), walking on a walkway is hooted at by a taxi or one of those drivers. The taxi driver is using a walkway. All the passengers in the taxi are not even criticizing the driver for using a walkway.

The bullet; My friend Rogue King loves to call them bullets. The famous Kampala "boda boda." The riders have no respect for traffic rules (Apart from the ones I use). They interfere with the flow/movement of pedestrians. I am very passionate about this one that I cannot say anymore about it. Except; Even at the zebra crossing and the traffic lights you are likely to knock a pedestrian who has right of way.

Optical non-nutrition; As a pedestrian I tend to peep or look at the people occupying cars. Its interesting what I get to see in peoples cars. Beautiful ladies are usually the center of interest. However this doesn't help. Its non-nutrition because it benefits the eyes only in the short run.

The boss; The pedestrian will be subjected to a ruined day if it rains. No rain coat and no umbrella or and no boots. You will either be later for work and the boss will fume or you will miss an appointment with a client. Client has a car and the boss too has car. boooom.

Shoe wreck; Shoes get older. The sole will peel off in a much shorter time. Enough said.

In these tough economic times, more and more people(Cliche; ignore once) have become pedestrians (Unless your car is a Vitz, Starlet or Duet or if your company pays for your fuel or you very rich or you steal taxpayers money). They have also become frustrated because of the conditions of being a pedestrian. They have to buy water, spend more on shoe polish, shoe repairs, new pair of walking shoes among others. Even for the ladies who have the love for high heels, they are only reserved for the office.

My pedestrian life is lovely at times BUT its below expectations. Someone needs to have a voice for people like us who pay taxes and face such treatment from fellow citizens.

baffled, astonished, worried

2011-08-09T18:19:00.000+03:00

Images from London's riots are unbecoming (Check oxford dictionary). The sheer determination by groups of youth breaking into shops and doing loot service. Its all over the news and the social media circles. Such events are usually scarce on the news wires. Looting and rioting have always been an African thing and rarely do we as Uganda even talk to psychologists on what is going on in the minds of the youth.
Baffled by the "gangs" the news anchors and commentators on radio, TV and Websites in England couldn't believe what their eyes had seen. I too found it hard to believe. I could barely believe the sheer helplessness of some shopkeepers and the police that was ultimately overwhelmed.

I am watching. Shocked. The riots come at a time when the free market is facing a huge task, financial markets tumbling, debt crisis in Europe, America losing its AAA rating, tough economic times in Uganda as we have a sugar crisis (sort of) and nose diving dollar among others.

Who can one blame for the events in London? Clearly I do not know. I have listened and read analysis from acclaimed experts and they have varying reasons for the looting. Ranging from social exclusion and the recent austerity measures by the Cameron and Clegg government. But why resort to looting, setting cars ablaze and stoning the police.

Even I can't find a reasonable excuse to loot.

Cremation; The Untold Story.

2011-07-27T15:17:00.000+03:00

I have always been fascinated by cremation. Yes the idea of having someone burnt and then have their ashes sprinkled into water (like in the movies) or left placed near the house chimney. Recently I have been analysing this issue and amazingly while chatting with a friend (Not the one you know). This friend explained that cremation means getting a body of human and then chopping the pieces and placing them on fire.

“Have you watched the videos on Bukedde TV where angry people burn someone during mob justice?” The friend tells me.

He further explains that this is typically what cremation about. Someone dies, they are burnt to ashes or someone is burnt alive. We further divulge into cremation and wonder what the whole point is. So it is from this we came up with the demerits and merits of cremation.

This is the friend I am talking about

Advantages,
1. With the increasing inflation and spiralling dollar in the country, we came to realise that cremation saves one the price of a coffin and transport costs from the Uganda Funeral Services.

2. Cremation saves land. Investors in the country have been looking for land to put factories to assemble cheap Chinese goods. We do not have to burry people. We can always save the country and provide more land to investors.

3. Cremation saves on burial costs. Yes. At one of those investment club meetings, one re-known entrepreneur said that Ugandans seem to spend so much on burial ceremonies. So it should be a lesson from him that we can save that money and invest in other things that make people happy.

4. Broken hearts are not so broken. With cremation, the ashes can stay in the house. One can travel with them especially if getting over somebody is hard, then you haven’t lost anything at all.

5. During mob justice where the person is “cremated” one doesn’t need to find relatives of the robber who has probably killed to rob. Its saves time as time waits for no man.

6. Solves polygamy quarrels. If the dead person is a man, the different wives can get ashes and sprinkle or keep them. They don’t need to chop the person into various pieces yet there is fire that can burn him to ashes.

Demerits
1. The firewood or charcoal used to cremate people means that we forests are being depleted. Africa needs the forests.

2. We are wasting firewood and charcoal to burn dead humans yet we can use it to prepare food we can actually eat.

3. According to the Human Rights Commission, it is wrong to cremate someone. Every Human has a right to a humane treatment, so cremation of robbers is wrong.

4. Cremation creates unemployment. If people are cremated, the coffin makers, the Uganda funeral services and people who involved in death business will be put out of business.

5. Cremation is wrong. It’s not in the Bible (I am not sure as I tried to call, tweet and poke the Pope and Rowan Williams but they all couldn’t get back to me)

6. Cremation doesn’t let people move on. If you stay with the ashes, then it’s very hard to find another person to be happy or share your life with.

7. Cremation as proof of total disrespect. How do you burn a human being? It’s illegal and uncouth.

8. Ash capsules are pretty pricy too. If you are to place them in this capsule, then it may be as pricy as a coffin.

9. Cremation causes air pollution in cases where the person was heavily intoxicated. Yeah, this is true. In-fact I know a story. People who drink, smoke, depend on drugs and eat genetically modified food tend to cause air pollution when cremated. (The research findings on this could not be cited.)

During my discussion with this friend of mine (Who is Owen Wilson), this is all we could come up with. Although there are varying definitions of cremation, I think we have clearly explained a concept that we do not understand at all.

Green Lantern NOT the review.

2011-07-01T14:31:00.001+03:00

I am scared. Oh yes I have fear.

"look look, There is some Castle Milk Stout," he says in a rather beer hungry tone.

He says it with no fear. Meaning he is Green. Yes. He has some green face.

Then in the corner seated on a couch is another gentleman.

"Water please," he tells the waiter.

So this dude according to Martin Campbell this second gentleman qualifies to have fear. The fear for Castle Milk stout or beer to be on the safe side. But there is no safe side. Some energy sucking skull looking imaginative figure wants to use the gentleman's own fear for beer to take his soul.

He running away from the Castle Milk Stout and he is convincing himself that he doesnt need to get high. All the people around him are sipping some rich, dark liquid. He watches them and he seems like he wants to overcome his fear.

As he sips Rwenzori Water, a curvy and scrumptious looking girl walks in. She walks straight to the counter and orders for "Castle Milk Stout."

He stares(With his tongue popping out) as sweat smoothly glides down his face. The girl walks straight to him and asks.

"Can I sit next to you?"

"Yes," He says in panicky tone.

For the next 20minutes, he says nothing. To overcome fear number one. He walks to the counter picks a Castle Milk Stout. Infact he picks two. One for himself and the other for Blake Christina Lively.

But before he could get back, The gentleman in Green, the Green guy, the one without fear had already started livening up Christina. They were laughing. No. Backspace. They were flirting. Touching and by the end of the night ended up somewhere. On lantern perhaps.

The fearful guy had lost out to some dude who loves taking risks and his name Ryan Rodney Reynolds. Ryan had without fear taken a Milk Stout (Put Castle before Milk) and again without fear achieved a nice looking/amazing lady.

This other dude with all the fear. Walked away, head faced down, angry and cursing. The spirit of evil hand taken him over. With all the rage, he became evil itself and went into a destructive mode.

What happens next will send you to sleep.

Not Blogging. Moving soon.

2011-06-29T17:02:00.000+03:00

Its been ages since I posted anything here.Wait. Long since I posted. That is an understatement. Well I have a couple(Not a couple, more than a couple) of excuses. (Always have an excuse for everything. Backspace and remove the word everything and replace it with "not doing something".)

1. Got a new job. Yes. 2011 started in a not so cool fashion. I had quit my old job (despite the passion I had for journalism but was sort of not willing to get my ~~balls~~ squeezed for pennies). Unfortunately where I was headed for some PR work, things crumbled. Three months without a job. Then I went back to my old job just to keep my hands full. Then I got an offer which on paper looked attractive but with my experience and how much I was sacrificing, I turned it down. Just as I turned it down. An offer came in. Yes. I got the job at a Magazine and now I am settled.
Before I proceed. Need to go back and read what I have just written. Is their any reason I offered for not blogging. Nope. So what is the reason? I have been BUSY. Couldn't blink. Probation has never been easy and I needed to prove a point.
*wipes face*

2. Blame Twitter. Yes, I had never been an active user of Facebook and then Twitter came. I ran to Twitter. 160words and that was it. It was not that hard. So easy to find something to write. (Closes page and goes to drafts. There are so many incomplete posts). Well I must admit twitter had eaten into my blogging time. Once again. Not so good a reason.

3. Personal life challenges. This is an area vastly explored in some of the blog posts I have previously posted. Personal events tend to bring the hammer and dagger down my head. This could be a good reason. But then I could have blogged about it but I did not. Not a good reason too.

4. I am moving. The Anagram is supposed to get a new home and I have been shelving it for a while. The Anagram was supposed to have moved in May but I got caught up in some non-unexplained circumstances.

Yes. The Anagram will have be re-branding and securing a new home. Since 2009, this has been the home of the Anagram, but it is about time it grows. I have been thinking of writing a goodbye note now, but I am still thinking about it. (there is something wrong with the last sentence).

Well now I do not think I have reasons for not blogging more often. Then amma reserve my other words for the final post before The Anagram moves to a new location.

Now back to work.

That moment of fame with "Beauty of Rwanda"

2011-05-30T13:36:00.023+03:00

Salha Kaitesi is a mother, a wife and an entrepreneur with a passion of making a difference, especially to the women from the land of a thousand hills. Yes I said women. Don’t we all owe part of our lives to the ladies? Yes we do. The ladies are part of our lives, they have built most of what we are (atleast for me). We look to our mothers for so much and for me, my own mother inspires me. (Huh! Re-read that last sentence. My mother is my own. so why use own in the sentence. Not sure. To emphasize I guess)
Salha is one of the Inspirational ladies making a difference in a country she is passionate about. On one of her recent trips to Uganda (Yes, she visited Uganda) I had a brief chit-chat with her. Some maybe looking forward to a personal up-close with this lovely lady, well I did get the opportunity and used it. (Yes, she is happy, has a son and a man in her life). This chit-chat was with a lady who was voted one of the top 20 most influential African women in the diaspora. Salha is based in the United Kingdom and flies to her country Rwanda occasionally to work and visit.

So, what is Beauty of Rwanda? (Remember this is copyrighted. It’s her project. Don’t xerox her name already for your Fashion House or something)

You must have read that in the papers already. (She smiles. But I insist for an answer). Beauty of Rwanda is a business company that tries to make a difference to the women in Rwanda. We try to get these women out of poverty. (this is not an easy task by the way. Poverty has never been easy to kick out). This we attain by selling the hand-made crafts by Rwandan women.

Salha (standing from right) smiles for the camera with @djstui

“When did you start this project?” I ask. “When did I start the beauty of Rwanda you mean?” she asks. “Yes,” I reply.

I started it on 11th November 2010, and then early this year, March to be specific, I had this idea that people should think beyond the crafts. Thats when I came up with the "only one basket" campaign so that we can eradicate poverty for good. Coz’ when you say you are going to eradicate poverty, people start getting scared, we’ve got along way go. We can only play a role in poverty eradication.

How do you get the crafts from the women?

I buy them from the women in Rwanda and then ship them to the UK. They are then stocked and distributed to the people who would have placed their orders.

The Twitfam at the Onlyonebasket event in Kampala. Picture from #FB

How are these products bought?

People buy online for now, although I would like to own a shop where I can display the items for sale. At the moment we only have online buyers. I would love to have a shop or a stall or any physical address that people can come to. That is my next plan.

Necklaces

Queue in a cliché question: Do you use twitter and Facebook?

(She laughs) ofcourse she had to laugh…… Who asks such a question in this era……?

I use both Facebook and Twitter for the business. Most of the Ugandans who came for our only one basket event were mostly from the twitfam. Twitter and Facebook play an important role for us especially in marketing and publicizing the business. This is where the story is told to many people at no cost. (Hold on, don’t you pay for the bandwidth you use?)

Earrings (via #FB)

How has the response to the "only one basket" campaign been?

The response has been good though it has been hard for us in some instances. It has been easy to sell and interact with people who know and feel they are making a difference. We have also been able to make the brand bigger than it was, but for the work we have done so far, I’d say it’s good progress.

Do you get support from people for the cause to move forward?

In Rwanda, I was able to get more support from Radio Stations where I was given free airtime to talk about the campaign. I also got free airtime on television and space in the newspapers. It has been overwhelming even from people like you. (She means me. You want me to repeat that. Yes. I also offered my support. One big family we are)

Need a caption here:::::: But the lady you see is @itsjust_afsa

Is Beauty Of Rwanda your full-time job?

I have a full-time job, but I do Beauty of Rwanda on the side. I have a 9am to 5pm job but in between lunch break and other breaks I may randomly get, I use that time to update the website, facebook and twitter. In the evenings I have to go to my family. At home I spend sometime with my son and when he goes to bed, I get my laptop and start working on the campaign.

Now these are handbags. Felt tempted to buy one for ummm. A friend.

How did you come up with the “only one basket” campaign? It’s a very catchy phrase. And I woud want to know how you came up with it. Its good.

Really (looks down and smiles), is it that good? I honestly don’t know how I came up with “only one basket.” I just thought about it and there it was. (then she shares something she had never told anyone. Hey don’t dispute. That’s what she told me. So prepare to know what it is.) I get so emotional when it comes to my country. When I am on a plane and it begins descending on Kigali International Airport, I always have tears in my eyes all the time. I don’t know why. I am overwhelmed by the people and the natural beauty that my country has.

So, only one basket is my epiphany, I ain’t kidding. I remember sitting in front of my computer and I started thinking beyond the crafts. I needed a catch phrase that people needed to get used too. And then the thought just came, (Imagine like how the amazing inventors came up with things like, Pythagoras theory and ooops back to the interview) only one basket in every household or individual owning one. Do you know what difference this would make? Consider the population of the world, with each one buying atleast one basket. Ofcourse this can’t happen, but we can definitely make a difference. I am so passionate about it that even when things are going wrong, all I know is that if one basket is bought, then one woman's life is getting better.

On the 5th day of number 5

2011-05-05T02:02:00.000+03:00

Paint brush in my hands, I smear a part of it on a cloth forming an undefined image. Little is known about what I’d painted, but all I remember was it was something dazzling. I watch, tilt, and admire my dazzling painting. I place down the brush, hold the cloth and hang it on my wall.

25 years ago, someone decided I should be born and there I was. The fine young man that I have become has been through taking the long walks on steep walls.

“Daddy, daddy I want to be doctor when I grow up,” I would tell my old man when I was so young and tender.

The struggles and negligence of a young man did not elude me; they almost swept me off the cliff edge. I almost crushed into the deep water flowing freely on the rocks bellow. The cliff edge was too sharp and slippery. It was very easy to fall off.

I made it passed the cliff edge and crossed to the other side. The other side was dark, with cruel sounds and thorns filled the pathway. In a corner was a clear path. It is used by many but they do not seem happy. They are complaining. Some are being pushed to use that path. They do not want.

I make the decision to walk through the thorn filled path. I bear the brunt and wrath of these sharp, piercing and skin peeling thorns. All I can see is a tiny light ahead of me. That is where I am walking too but the thorns aren’t making it easy.

There are distractions on the way. Finely shaped green apples, money hanging on tree branches and people who are walking in the opposite direction are some of those distractions. Any of these choices will make me go off the path, and getting to the light will be more complicated if not impossible.

I prefer not to be deterred.

That cloth with the paint is just the first step, the progress I have made in my life. The progress for the last 25years of my life. Walking on a steep wall has never been easy.

A good friend mine did some magic on my picture. This has been one fine inspiration for me be one of the best scribes this country will ever have. The light I am looking forward to getting too.

The Maurice Kirya minute

2011-04-24T21:34:00.001+03:00

On a chilly evening at ~~posh~~ fairly lovely restaurant (The Lawns) the man from West Africa. He is not a west African but he had been in West Africa on tour. Yes. A Ugandan went on tour and he did not lip sing. So put your hands together (you need to clap or something) for Maurice (middle name not Known) Kirya. Some of you may know his brother, ~~Vampos~~ Vampino of Swangz avenue (I don’t know the plot number). You know I tried google maps in Uganda and I could not find Swangz Avenue.

Me, a friend and a three ~~hot~~ beautiful ladies met with Kirya and dissected (the none biological way) him on a few things.

Album cover for his latest Album. Musubbawa. Forget the "coming soon". Its been a year.

Question from Beautiful lady to Maurice: ~~So my man Maurice~~ do you actually ~~do you~~ update your own Twitter and Facebook accounts.

(In some sort of singing tone) I actually update my Facebook and Twitter. I would like to express myself the way I am so that people get to know about me in person. Its only the MySpace account (it’s in French) that someone does and they usually tell my fans it ain’t me. (Maurice is really thirsty and orders for a drink. We all order for drinks. Guess who was going to pay?)

What do you want the world to know about Uganda? (Area code 256)

My message is a positive one. Uganda is a good country but foreigners don’t know about it. We have a great culture (heavy) and I wanna be part of the people that make it known to the world. I call my music “Gospel of the Sunshine.” (Maurice winks at one of the girls. She winks back).

So Maurice, What does your music represent?

You know like I said, I want to tell a good story that represents social issues. I represent the Urban African. (Hey Maurice I am also an urban African. I was born and raised in a trading center. I hope that passes as an urban area). I love Jazz, R’ n’ b and Hip hop and that’s a typical urban African. This is the Uganda that I know and represent.

~~Man or Mehn~~ that’s good stuff. ~~Kati boss~~, what sort of music do you do?

I call my music Mwooyo. This is soul music with a Ugandan touch. (~~If anyone knows what the Mwooyo Genre is, please holla. I will sign the cheque~~). You can hear the Ugandan accent on the vocals (Does another rap qualify as Mwooyo?).

You know I was exposed to all this different music from my background. My mother liked the Abba’s and country music, I listen to a lot of hip hop (pause Maurice. Do you think the song Angela is Hip Hop?) because one of my brothers liked it. Then I was also into Reggae music because my other brother Vampino liked it. Growing up, I was surrounded by music from way back. And at times a take I laid back sit and listen to music from the 50’s to do research on its influence.

Que in question by ~~another~~ pretty girl; do you think you are charming?

*Maurice turns around tends shakes his head while denying he is charming. His head is denying but his facial expression is showing otherwise.*

People tell I am charming, but I don’t think so. Mark (That's me), what do you think?

My answer? If the ladies think you are then, most definitely you are.
(Maurice tells pretty girl: "By the way you are pretty")

Are you dating?

I am single. I have dated before but come on who would want to be with a person who is always on the move. (Hmmm Maurice there are ladies with the determination). I however like being in the company of women. I go out with them once in a while.

So you ain’t dating but you hang-out with women?

Yap, they are two different things. There is a difference between dating and asking a lady to watch a movie or dine with you. What people see ~~on the Kardishians~~ (no offense to show) in Hollywood movies. I want to have fun and I usually tell the ladies what I like about them. If they have nice hair, then I will say it. If I like their smile I will say it. All I want is to hangout with a lady and we do some food or even watch a movie without getting attached in terms of dating.

Your ideal woman (to date)

When people ask me this question, My answer straight out is “I don’t know.”

~~Gwe guy!!!~~ What car do you drive?

I drive a 1971 VW beetle. (Let us pause for a minute. A vintage car. Seriously. With an engine in the back and moreover a 1971 model)

Not the exact car but this is the 1971 VW beetle

You won the RFI award and you drive an “old car”?

Right now a car is not a priority. There is still so much to. I have another car but it’s a simple car and not very flashy. (What he mean’t here is *I think* the car did not have spinners, two large flat screen TVs and hydrochloric something that makes the car dance)

Why the vintage car?

This car is like 40years old and it was once driven by Idi Amin. (Ya’ll know this dude (RIP). He was president of Uganda from 1971-79)

Have ever gone on date using this car?

*Sips water* I have and it has broken down several times while I am on a date.

Tell me more about this tour of West Africa?

So we did about 14 countries in 18hours performed at 24 concerts and did 6 road trips (of more than 4 hours). All this was in two months. It was fun going around West Africa and doing music for people. I met so many interesting people and made many more fans in West Africa. It was amazing how much people appreciated the music I was doing.

So why did you have to go on tour of West Africa?

Every year, Radio France International (RFI), has the discovery award for African countries. I won it. In fact I was the first non-Franco phone winner of the award. Part of the award is that the artist has to do a tour of West Africa. So that’s how we ended up in West Africa and concluded all this in Paris. This was the first leg of the tour.

When is the second leg?

The second leg is after Easter and it will be in the United States. We will do New York, Washington and Chicago. I will be performing alongside Jordin Sparks. (Chris Brown did "No Air" with her, I wonder if Maurice will do one too)

And for 2011. I am told the Maurice Kirya experience will be no more.

I am working on my new album and I cannot say much about that. But because I am on tour and haven’t been able to concentrate on the new album. The Maurice Kirya experience will now be one event in the year. The experience is the platform I provide to promote the arts like music, poetry and paintings. It started small but it became a huge event by beating our expectations. I also hope to do concerts here in Uganda in 2011.

So, if you ain’t doing music what is your day be like?

My day can be filled up with meetings but I try as much as possible to be done by 4pm. I work like a professional. There are people who do my management and promotions among others. After all these I also go to the movies. Alone or not, I have to go to the movies. I try to find a quiet place where I can sit uninterrupted. I also walk on the streets just to see people. I do go to Owino (For those who do not know Owino, its like a Food Court but only that this one is for clothes) by myself to buy clothes. This helps me relate my music to what seems to be going on peoples’ lives.

Life struggles, especially when you decided music was going to be ~~your thing~~ (Career)

Most people thought I was not going to make it. They would see me carrying a guitar and they would think there is something wrong with me. They would look down on me.

I was never appreciated but still I moved on. It was tough getting to where I am now. I am not yet at the top, but am better. People who used to think my music would be crap come to me to tell me how good my music is. It was a struggle in industry where quick money seems to be the dominant factor.

Any question for me Maurice?

Yes. Which song of mine, do you like the most?

I like Misubbaawa.

"Why?" he asks.

(I don’t know about the vocals and pitch) Its one of strong worded songs I have ever listened too. It sinks in that the song can be felt on the inside.(The ~~rilics~~ lyrics of this song are amazing. I love them)

Then we he asks for our bill for the drinks.....(The rest could not be included in this interview)

It was one great evening with Maurice Kirya and through the years he has progressed to get to this level. Live music is making a comeback in Uganda and Maurice has played his role in promoting this kind of music. Maurice will keep going places and for us me, ~~we’ll~~ I'll support the cause.

Visit www.mauricekirya.com/ for more info.

You also visit the facebook fan page http://www.facebook.com/MauriceKirya

Watch his videos on http://www.youtube.com/mauricekirya .

Goblets of Mischief

2011-04-14T08:59:00.000+03:00

After I was denied from eating my candy by some men in some dotted zebra like clothing, life has changed pretty a-lot. These men look like they are from metropolis. With metals around their bodies, they reach out with their fists and idle hands, grab and bundle a pedestrian onto some blue truck for walking on the streets.
Walking was illegal in the city centre and this explains why the CBD only had SUV’s with tinted windows parked along the streets. Only those who could drive were allowed in the city.

The men in zebra like clothing were now street vendors and owned shops around town. They had taken the jobs of the humans. The humans had deserted the city. It was no-longer safe for them. They were no-longer free to trade good and walking in the city had been banned. The silence in the city was deafening, quiet and calm.

The term civilians, that's how they are described, had become ruthless, idle and animalistic. They walked and patrolled every corner of the a little known city. The presence of less humans in the city meant the men in zebra like clothing were now using guns to shoot at flies, bees and any insect that tried to make any movement in the city.

So why have they started behaving like obsessed animals? (Recalling the biblical story where Jesus cast evil spirits from a human to pigs).

Special MTN Uganda Rant.

2011-03-23T08:37:00.001+03:00

Just like the blood sucking vampires MTNUganda seems to be on a mission to drain me. Customer care has never been one of MTN's strong points, they have always taken their customers for a ride and they always taken them for granted. I really understand how MTN took a thorough run for their money with Warid Telecom and Airtel plus UTL slashing their call rates. This basically means less people are spending money on airtime because they can call cheaply on other networks.

So why didn't I join the other networks? Because I never wanted to leave my tariff to join all those confusing subscriptions.

Dial *something# to join and call for ten minutes for free blah blah blah. MTN most definately lost a significant number of its customers to the competition but were they right to scrap late chat?

Well maybe they want to compete but at then are they also going to subject their customers so many tariffs that may confuse some us? And who did they tell? As a telecom company in this day of technology, MTN was supposed to issue a notice probably by SMS to let us know these were going to change.

I must admit, I think MTN has once again miscalculated in my own opinion since people who buy airtime were texting at 50/= but now will be paying 110/= per sms. I will say MTN has for long tried to react late in these situations.

The industry has become very competitive with so many promos from the telecoms and for their customer, this doesn't help at all. What MTN should have done in my own opinion is to keep MTN late chat the way it is. As an MTN customer I feel so much exploited and I believe I am not being treated as the King. That is why I have always failed to believe that MTN cares for its customers. Its interest is to continue to build only a strong brand but offer close to bad service to the people.
If were to do a mini survey, MTN would be at the bottom of the pack because of its service delivery.

I have always been a loyal customer to MTN (since 2004) and ever since Late Chat was introduced, I have never switched to any other tariff. Why? Because I hate the hustle of switching from one thing to another. If you are going to change something please treat me as if I am a valuable customer to your company.

With technology in this era, couldn’t they have communicated that they were going to scrape my tariff.

And now am done making noise about MTN. It has been long overdue.

All I want is to enjoy my Candy

2011-03-21T12:15:00.000+03:00

As I listen to the script’s Science and Faith, in the soot filled kitchen I sit. Thinking. About I don’t know what. And then i remember, the other day I tried to eat my candy and I was stopped. I was bundled on the back of blue truck with sirens and taken to a dark room.

I was told I couldn’t eat candy on the streets. I almost protested my mistreatment until I noticed there was no one in my defense. The blue trucks were at every corner.

The city was calm, littered with filth and beggars downtrodden on the wrecked lampposts. There was fine flowing and stinky fluid from beneath the cracked tarmac. The silence was deafening as all the cars that passed had tinted windows. There was always a rush to leave the city centre. Even hooting was prohibited.

And there I was wondering where to sit and enjoy my candy. The men in bluish white uniforms were all over the streets. They were more than the civilians on the streets. They had taken over some square in the city. It had become their camp and base. All the green spaces had been taken over.

“We are here to protect you,” they say.

But why were the people feeling scared when they see these “protectors?” It had become too much that the protectors had also become vendors in the city. They were the hawkers and could also sell airtime. But still I couldn’t enjoy my candy.

There was a notice that before I eat any candy in the city centre, I had to notify the protectors first. But it’s my candy, my right to eat when and where I want.

'Things have changed brother,' the chief tells me. 'We are now mindful what u consume and where,' he adds.

'You can’t eat candy from the city square'

Head facing down, coat on the shoulder, I walk to the direction of setting of the Kampala sun.

'One day I will enjoy my candy freely,' just one day..... I keep telling my self

Attempting to picture blog

2011-03-14T16:57:00.000+03:00

The Sun Within the clouds somewhere in Kisumu- Kenya

From the grasslands in my village

We used this plant to make some innovative cars

I dont remember the name of this plant.

1992, And we did this

Wild flower from my village

Another wild soon

On the way waterfall......

And the waterfall

A wonderful cottage

Too much wind pushed this to the edges

Path/walkway at the Safari Park in Nairobi

Keeping it green

I grew up in this house.

Celebrate women achievements, but...........

2011-03-08T09:15:00.003+03:00

Its in the late evening. Its windy, with light drizzles and the dry leaves continue to slide on the hard surface. A drive through the city, young girls cling onto car windows in the traffic jam begging for a coin or two.

These girls are innocent and there are always these arguments on where they came from. Some of their mothers say that they are orphans from the Moroto and Karamoja. These claims have been doubted by many and also believed by many.

There are also many under age girls in the city who have been reduced to begging status, while others are used as sex slaves. In a country like Uganda where statistics of underage sex solicitors are scarce, its hard to tell how many of these girls are engaged in such activities.

Growing up, women’s day was always a special day. It’s the day my guardian auntie would stay away from the kitchen and we would attempt our cooking skills as the children of the house. Cooking and doing the daily house chores was left only to us. In a special way, we’d also learn about the plight of women in the country.

This day for me was always a fun day. Every year I got to understand why this day was special on the calendar. It’s a public holiday to celebrate what the women have achieved but also to be constantly reminded that there are vast challenges that women face in this country.

There are horrific stories of how some male bosses solicit for sex before they offer any lady a job. These cases are swept under the rag most of the time and in this modern day many of these men try as much as possible to keep their hands clean.

Somehow there is always this man ready to pounce on these women and mostly those who are vulnerable. I happen to have a special “brother” whose mother is deaf and dumb but someone had the courage to rape her. She clearly cannot afford to take care of such a child and by the time he was brought home, he was close to death. His rib bones were visible, he had sunken cheeks and could hardly eat. She was a rape victim but she had no voice and the man is somewhere lavishing. With no shame and he is probably ready to pounce on any other woman.

We celebrate the women in legislation, media and in influential positions but there is still work to do as day in day out rape cases are still on the rise in some areas. Empowering women alone cannot solve the problem but through collective action. Cases of human trafficking of women to Dubai and Malaysia to go and work in brothels have been read but have not been taken seriously on our newspaper front pages. Who are these traffickers? What sort of punishment do they deserve? Are they part of huge trafficking ring? These are questions that need to be answered.

blogs.worldbank.org

Rape, defilement, sexual harassment, under-age prostitution and domestic violence, still exist in society and this is the probably the best time to expose them. Its fight that needs to move forward and play the role in making sure women and girls find comfort in the world they live in. It may not be easy, but what have you as person done so far?

The government still has work to do but so do we. What have you done to make the world/ your country a better place for women/girls to live in?

As the achievements are being celebrated we've got to remember there is still a long way way to go for most of the women. Things like domestic violence, rape, defilement and sex slavery still exist.

The tomato, not yet ripe

2011-02-28T13:29:00.002+03:00

I am not a regular cook but there are things that are obvious when it comes to cooking. Cooking is not a “men’s” thing people tend to argue but the best chefs in Uganda are actually men. In my little unknown kitchen I try out two tomato soups. Strictly tomatoes not the packed tomato soup powder in sachets. I have a garden in the backyard of my simple house and I grow a good number of tomatoes.

In the first soup, I sliced green tomatoes that were hardly ripe into small pieces and dropped in hot cooking oil. This was after I had dropped the onions in the same cooking oil. The tomatoes took so long to get ready because of their hardness. But I waited. Within 15 minutes, the tomato soup was ready. I put the soup in the bowl and took it to my wife to taste and tell me how I’d done. She tasted and immediately spit out the soup.

“Yaaaaaak” she said out loud. She was as if spitting fire.

“What a waste,” she added. “Why did you use unripe tomatoes?” she furiously asked me. (She is the one who actually looks after the garden)

So I apologised, took the soup and sent it down the garbage bin. I had wasted such a good number of tomatoes and now they have become useless.

So I tried out the second tomato with ripe tomatoes. Sliced them into small pieces and used exactly the same process like the previous soup. Then I walked to my wife and gave her the soup. She tasted, smiled and said “this is some good soup hun.”

“You’re a good cook my darling,” she said as she hugged and gently kissed my forehead.

The trick this time is because I had used ripe tomatoes. Much better tomatoes. I wanted to try out the third tomato soup but this time I could hardly touch these tomatoes. They had ripened and gone bad. The stench they had is one I couldn’t stand.

The unripe tomato is representative of that person who is just not ready to support a cause. Once they are put out there, they are immediately bundled into huge vehicles and taken away. Quashed to no return just like the same soup was sent down the garbage bin.

The ripe tomato is that which represents people who are ready for a cause. Ready to die to defend what they believe in. They can fight the fight. They cannot easily be shoved away because they know what they believe in.

Ugandan’s at this stage are like that unripe tomato. They are not ready for the cause. But just like the tomatoes in my garden, ripening is a process and surely Ugandan's will also get to that point. Tomatoes also tend to ripen faster when placed under some conditions. The same way with Ugandan's being kept in a particular situation and they could be triggered by this situation and react.

Little Imaginary country

2011-02-23T10:42:00.000+03:00

Littered streets, drunken men staggering out of a roadside bar and glide into their fuel guzzling SUV’s parked under a rugged roof. They drive on the garbage filled roads, oozing sewerage from septic tanks with the streets majorly deserted being patrolled by rats. Street lights have become home to the owls. The men drive to their homes. Homes far away from the sewer filled city.

Their wives wait at home. The food gets cold. As they wait, their heads become too heavy and they sleep in the couch. She cannot go out. A prisoner in her own house as she can’t leave since beggars wait on the outside. They need food. Food she has but cannot offer.

The husband is speeding knocking lampposts and garbage bins. He approaches his 16feet gate but the beggars are as many as the Vultures that surround a carcass. He cannot stop, he drives through with the protection of the community protection unit. They shove the people out of the way until he gets into his 1000 acre estate.

The drunken men all own huge estates part of which are sitting on land where the begging people were shoved, pushed and at times killed. All they do is to wait for food to be thrown over the hedge from rich man’s home. This how they wait as no-one seems to care. Their children wail, they have no food and those that have gone to school but can hardly read nursery rhyme. They have been denied the education and barely receive the healthcare they deserve.

The commander of the Vampires that are used crack down on the resistance

Blood sucking Vampires have been deployed to suck the blood out of anyone who seeks to challenge the drunken men. Blood would be sucked out of them and they'd be left harmless and restless. They would soon become the enemies of the people.

Every five years, the rich men seize to be animalistic, they return to being human. They begin to care about these people. They are offered free food, free clothing and are promised the same things every five years. They accept all these but at a price. The rich man wants to be in control again. To control the vast resources. The rich man says he will make the life of these people better but because of their beggar status all they care about is now. They now begin singing praises for the man. And for the next five years their status will change by less than a percentage point.

The beggars also rely on those who have been fortunate to have better lives. But they are also under the a spell. The spell of fear, the spell of being comfortable with what they have. They are like the rich men but the difference is that they are not in control yet they can be of influence. Some wine and dine with the rich men. They have been put under a spell.

This is my little imaginary country...

Black "not" Swann

2011-02-01T16:33:00.001+03:00

Another night, another day
Body rolls around the bed
Twists left and right and left and right.
Face looks side ways and upwards.
The clock keeps ticking, the dogs constantly patrol the red tainted night.
The roof shudders only in the little boys thoughts.
The room is too loud as the world is asleep.
mosquitoes buzz around the bed. He covers his face.
But not for long. He feels he has been suffocated.
Blanket close to the nose that leads abrupt halt to his breathe. His thoughts and his fears.
Then the pictures appear. Slideshow format. He can't control them. One by one they appear. He can't stop them. Then tears slide out of the deeply embedded glands. The tears are red. Red like the colour of the earth. Red and unsolicited.
He can't see the tears. One of the Images made the boy shed red tears.

A little girl alone by the ocean, with fine winds blowing over the ocean forming currents that constantly slapped the sandy beach.
There she stood. Alone. Bleeding. She had bruises all over her body. Someone had done this. In the picture she is pointing a finger at him. The little boy.
' You did this to me. I trusted you. We were friends but see what you did,' the girl constantly tells the boy.
The he remembers the girls name, Natalie. Its Natalie Portman. He remembers her role in some movie but he shrugs it off. Because he knows he did something wrong. He hurt her in some way.

He weeps thick blood. Because he knows he has done something wrong. He doesn't know he is suffocating but then there is a loud bark by the dogs outside and he suddenly wakes up.
He is standing by the bedside of the girl next door.
In his hands is a red like fluid. And on the bed there she lay, helpless, motionless and peaceful.
The blood was his own.
He had a three inch pencil in his own skin. All he said was
"Perfet, its perfect"

Post written on one of those insomnia nights. about 3am. totally not thought through.

A Brand New day for Benon. Where are the rest?

2011-01-21T12:16:00.000+03:00

Benon Mugumbya’s latest album is a complete knockout punch to his peers who are yet to offer us quality music. Brand New Day (Alunaku Olupya) is the name of the album with 16 tracks. It is a fusion of finely tuned instruments and Benon’s rich vocal ability. It’s masterpiece of World Music for Ugandan music considering we have previously looked at Bands and people like Tshila and Maurice Kirya to give us such music. Unfortunately I do not download Ugandan for the support of the cause, so there is no way I am going to sample some of the songs. But I am sure you can find the music in the supermarket(Uchumi) or buy it online.

All the songs feature respectable instrumentalists like Kinobe, Davis, Micheal Ouma, Maloe Klaasen, David Mukalazi, Winstone Mayanja, Edwin Mugyeni, Hakim Lukwago, Allan Okilla and Kaz Kasozi. Perhaps you could be let down by Micheal Ouma’s dominance on the album as he plays the Guitor, Akogo and Tube Fiddle. He has also produced some of the songs on the album.

Benon got inspiration to take this musical journey from Ethiopia where he interacted with some Rasta Lady who made him realise that his music needed a new path. The fusion of instruments and his good vocal ability Benon is proof that one big decision can pave way for quality music that we have been denied. I am not the biggest fan of local music that is so cliché because some music is proof of total laziness by some artists and producers to be innovative to produce unique tunes. Ofcourse Benon has the "art of music" and that is why he can afford this journey.

The title track to the album is Olunaku Olupya with features Tusker Project Fame season four star Davis Ntare and James B on the vocals. The song starts with a cock crow in the morning, and then the birds begin to also hum in the background as the drums and guitars are together synchronised. Benon then glides in singing that today is a brand new day.

This is the album cover. It was officially in stores on December 10th 2010

“its time to rise and shine”, “Its time to start all over again”, “Don’t give up today is a new day,” are some of the lines that can be picked up from this song. The song for me explains his path from the music that he was doing to this new line.

Omwaana Lwaaki Akaaba is the Title 2 on the album is a tale of the suffering child and he is asking why is that child weeping? Navio is also featured in this track.

The humble gentleman from Swangz Avenue has an album if listen to provide some sort of inspiration and some points of thought for the industry but also provides nice tunes for that one loves musical tunes.

I have particularly fallen for track number five which is Hope. The vocals in this song are done by Benon and the ever amazing Estar Mahye. It fuses some Luganda, Runyankole and English to provide the hope that the song provides. “Don’t loose your strength, have perseverance and don’t worry yourself with thoughts.” Are the lines of the chorus I particularly picked from the song. Be Strong is the emphasis of this one for there to be hope.

There is also Gwe Kimuuli Kyange (You are my flower) which is some sort of love ballad that can pass for a Jazz piece. He praises this girl for her beauty and that she is his flower. The song is a tale of him telling this girl to allow him to marry her because when she is happy he is happy. Benon displays he can hit the high keys in this song. He does this with so much passion and trust me this song is way better than many crappy songs people play on their weddings.

The album released sometime in December at BodaBoda where Benon played all the 16 tracks with a band was a complete knockout blow for the ones who thought there were in his league. I am sure if you were to listen to these songs, it won’t be on radio apart from BBC, Touch FM, Vision Voice and maybe on Sanyu FM.

Other songs on the album are Hope, Singa Kisoboka, Hold On, Because of you, I know, Ani Yaali Amanyi, Guno Omukwaano, Gwe Kimuli Kyange, Rise Up ft Keko, Truly Believe, Ye Osobola (stand up), Show me love, Now am shining and Mpenzi We.

60 seconds or not of fame with Mckeith

2011-01-14T16:23:00.000+03:00

It was the one the biggest mentions on Ugandan Girl's blog. There was so much hype around it. Her 60 seconds interview mentioned my name and I got approached by all these news wires looking to interview me. I mean who would think Sanyu FM's Seanice, Capital FM's Kassuja, NTV's Rosemary and Tina (Rendezvous), UBC's Lulu, WBS's ummmmmm don't remember her name would be interested in my interview. And by the way Isha Shassey of CNN came with her colleague Collin McEdawards looking for that interview. The 10 questions for 60 seconds.

Heart thumps fast, couldn't feel my pulse as they placed all these microphones on me and make up so I could look too good.

1. What did you want to be when you were growing up?
That's a good question. You know as you grow up its like evolution is working its way. Something like reality kicks in and grabs that, that you wanted to be and gives it to somebody else. At first I wanted to be a driver, then I kept on growing up and that changed to me desiring to be a doctor. Ofcourse thats where reality kicked in with Chemistry and Biology plus physics. I also had a stint at wanting to become a Geologist.

2. What’s the best piece of advice you have ever been given?

Hmmmm. Interesting question. Something like "don't start what you cannot finish." But I doubt its the best piece of advice I have been given.

3. What’s the best piece of advice you ever gave?

I give advice to people everyday. I can't exactly remember which one was the best. But there is one that I think I offered.

"You too young to commit yourself to this non-paying job"

4. What do you most enjoy about your job?

I am yet to start working after resigning at my old work place. (Long story)

5. Who would you most like to have dinner with?

Uhhhhh. Any beautiful lady who can have descent conversation with me. Maybe also with Dan Brown, Simon Baker, Cote De Pablo, Micheal Whiteley, Aristotle (RIP), Thomas Hobbs (RIP), Ousmane Sembane( RIP)... The list is endless

6. What has been your most embarrassing moment?

I have had many of those too. But the most embarrassing was ummm let me see. I kept a lady waiting for an hour and on that day I was supposed to meet her sister. No follow up question on this please.

7. Who is the most important person in your life?

All people who play a role in my life are important. I can't exactly find one who is more important because everyone in my life plays a different role.

8. What’s your worst regret in life?

I wish I could tell you that I can only answer that off-the-record but I cant. But here is what I think. For everything that happens in my life I get to understand the world around me better.

9. Who is your role model?

Professional - Richard Quest. I have many Role models.

10. If you could be one person for a day, who would that be?

Rupert Murdoch.

Anyone who reads this blog has been tagged to this post and can do the 60seconds. Unfortunately this is more than 60 seconds for me....

My country, My pain

2011-01-13T12:09:00.000+03:00

It’s quite painful to watch a scene in a movie and if directly juxtaposed to the situation in my country it’s all the same. Blood sucking vampires in the movies feed on human blood of course there are those that seem to have an antidote that prevents them from feeding on human blood.

My country has played some of the games Lehman Brothers or even Enron used to take investors money and give themselves huge bonuses. They made huge financial losses but this never reflected in their balanced sheets. Has my country’s government taken the citizens and gambled on the tax payers’ money also? Just recently a supplementary budget was passed with ease (approx Ushs605b). Extra money for the government to spend to on I don’t know what since I am not employed by the government. Of course there is the economic question of our time that the more the government spends, the more the money that trickles down to the people. This places more money to the people and means they can spend it. The more the people spend, the greater the taxes the government will get through Value Added Tax.

This sporadic spending however will however less likely trickle down to the people who need it the most. It has taken the Ministry of Health over two weeks to bring a Yellow Fever Vaccine. Really!!! And a press conference is called to announce the arrival of the vaccine.

But why? Isn’t there like preparation for breakouts of such “common diseases.” So then how come some ministries are able to return money to the treasury like the Uganda National Roads Authority (UNRA). How come the Office of the President always gets money from the supplementary budget? This time they got Ushs547b. What is it that they spend on?

The traditional leaders bill that has made the headlines on our local tv channels and the front pages of our newspapers is not going to improve service delivery despite it being passed or not. Should this be the focus of the country?

Questioning government on issues of service delivery has become increasingly tasking and it has begun to sip into society. Do the people put the government to task to deliver basic social services? If they did they we would probably have different MP’s in our parliament. It has become like a cycle. I know there are people out there who tend to distance themselves of issues and as long as they live their lives that’s it. This is not a bad thing but atleast feel some pain for the country.

Think critically of something other than yourself. Take concern of what happens in the society and try to say something (Taking note that we have different ways of showing concern). The Church, the businesses, the leaders and the young seem to be tuned into a mode of being self centred. It’s painful to watch a society gliding into different extremes yet something can be done.

It may also be too painful that some people realised that no matter what they do, a government will always turn a deaf ear. So what does that pain do? I grab a fiction novel, pluck earphones into my ears and scroll down my ipod and listen to the latest music, check my Facebook and Twitter account all in the name of wanting to be me. Like the whirlwind rises dust, my pain does the same. The pain of being a Ugandan at this time.

The wailing letter 2010 wrote

2011-01-01T13:18:00.000+03:00

Dearest Mckeith and your readers,

I trust you are well. I watched you people kick me out on the 31st of December and trust me it was very heartbreaking to watch. Before I left, I decided to write you something small. It’s straight from my heart.
I am locked up in a prison with no walls. Just a tiny window. My ungrateful acts led me there. Now am struggling. To deal with my problem. To deal with my issues.

When I close my eyes, it’s you I see. Wishing I could turn the clock back. Turn it to the time before. For if I Hadnt then I would not be living with that guilt within. That night has become a nightmare. I have not been myself since. I have lost you. I have that part of me that I offered you.

You have taken it away. In my heart I regret. A part of me also thinks u knew what was going to happen. You knew I would want to do it. But somehow to deal with this I think you needed to blame someone. You needed to hate me. You needed to find a way of staying away. That is what you decided to put in your head. I accept, coz u probably want this over.

I feel like I have become something else. You are scared of me. Scared of what I could do to you. I didn’t think it would ever get to that. I have lost my emotion. I feel drained. At whatever cost you are trying to erase me. I am too but it is proving to be tasking. I love and I miss u but there is nothing to do about it. I feel like needing a rest. A rest without drama.

I am jealous of 2011 but what can I do. All I want is for you to be happy. Gladly greet all your readers and tell them I wish them the best 2011. I can’t believe I am crying but I need to go.

Yours Truly 2010

P.S. I enjoyed the good times that we had though. I cannot recall many of those times because we barely had any.

Note from the skies

2010-12-14T16:11:00.000+03:00

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

aargh!! No Freshlyground

2010-12-09T02:04:00.000+03:00

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..... :)

Freshlyground for Uganda concert

2010-12-07T19:51:00.000+03:00

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.

Scribe in Transition.

2010-11-23T08:21:00.000+03:00

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.

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

2010-10-26T18:06:00.000+03:00

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

Away but BRB

2010-09-29T02:42:00.000+03:00

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, thinking............by 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 puzzle........so please stop distracting me.....

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

Miss Not

2010-09-14T23:27:00.000+03:00

To read more logon to bayimba.org.

Mein Traum

2010-09-02T11:49:00.000+03:00

(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.

A scribes' fortune

2010-08-19T16:32:00.000+03:00

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 ~~mis~~fortune is somewhere, but can he be that patient for it?

Not again

2010-08-15T23:18:00.000+03:00

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.

Limit on Human Mating

2010-08-09T12:45:00.000+03:00

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.

When theives are among us.

2010-08-05T17:05:00.000+03:00

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

Playlist:
Some MJ song "They dont really care about us"

Be there

2010-07-29T09:33:00.000+03:00

To leave Somalia or Not to?

2010-07-14T15:31:00.000+03:00

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

- http://ugandajournalist.wordpress.com/2010/07/13/july-11-bomb-attacks-a-new-era-of-terror/

- http://www.thefinancialexpress-bd.com/more.php?news_id=106018&date=2010-07-14

-http://www.ugandarecord.co.ug/index.php?issue=68&article=835&seo=Why%20we%20doubt%20the%20Al-Shabab%20connection%20in%20the%20Kampala%20bombings

Eleventh of seventh

2010-07-12T17:20:00.000+03:00

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.”

When a flower withers

2010-07-07T21:17:00.000+03:00

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.

Playlist

Butterflies and Hurricanes - Muse

Addicted - Ryan Leslie feat Cassie

For the cause of the pink ribbon

2010-06-29T16:40:00.000+03:00

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.

News anchor business

2010-06-20T17:35:00.000+03:00

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!”

“OMG.”

“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.

“Mornalisa”

2010-06-07T08:22:00.000+03:00

(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

In between the lines/sheets

2010-05-18T16:23:00.000+03:00

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.

@ 24

2010-05-05T11:35:00.000+03:00

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.

Untitled

2010-04-26T13:36:00.000+03:00

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.

Karma is for real..

2010-04-15T14:33:00.000+03:00

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.

Through the woods he walks

2010-04-06T12:38:00.000+03:00

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.

Somone stole my baby

2010-03-25T08:27:00.000+03:00

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.

Kasubi tombs... (backstory)

2010-03-18T09:56:00.000+03:00

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)

Read more on
ugandajournalist.wordpress.com
http://newvision.co.ug
monitor.co.ug

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.

One more chance

2010-03-09T00:37:00.000+03:00

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.

What will the gun do?

2010-03-04T18:07:00.000+03:00

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.

The letter to my newly found

2010-03-02T00:55:00.000+03:00

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

Me

----------------------------------------------------

Playlist

Good life - One republic.

Reading

the camel club - David Baldacci

Mushy, Mellow and Subtle (part two)

2010-02-24T00:45:00.000+03:00

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

Mushy, mellow and subtle (Part one)

2010-02-16T01:10:00.000+03:00

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."

14/02/2003
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.

14/02/04,05,06,07,08,09,10
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.

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

R.Kelly lights up Kampala - (What the Editor deleted)

2010-02-01T09:30:00.000+03:00

It all begins with the 3months of intensive publicity by Zain. The media frenzy was about the RnB sensation coming to Uganda for a “concert.” The hype was huge that the expectations were not to be under looked. On the night of his arrival we waited for close to 30minutes for the guy to get out the VIP lounge. The security was high that it looked one of those scenes from “24.”

“Concert” day
At 6:00pm I started lurking around the Lugogo cricket oval. The place was jam packed and at all the gates, people were cramped up waiting to get in. The lines for the 30k tickets were pathetic. At the gate some people paid 1k to the guards for them to avoid the queue. On the gate just above Oasis scuffles broke out as there was only one entry point. Pushing and shoving was all that was noticeable. Hell broke lose as policemen unleashed dogs onto the people for them to get into a queue. This was the first sign that Silk Events was headed for the worst. Gun shots at the entry above Oasis restaurant could be heard and the police wrestled with revelers. The gate was then taken down by R.Kelly fans.

At close to 8pm the queues were even lager and the road around Shoprite was people packed. There were no barriers that could make people line, it all looked hasty. Meanwhile inside the local artistes were busy performing (not alongside R.Kelly). At the 250k gate things were pretty calm. So I took my shot and walked to the gate. The Silk Events people said the media could not get to the platinum area. On my press tag were numbers that the organisers wanted us to call in-case we need anything. I dialled each number and no-one picked up.

I then walked down to the 125k gate. It was crowded. The line was equally disorganized and people were haggling to get in. I could see dogs being used to settle people down. At the gate itself people were being allowed in yet they were not in the line.
The concert area was looking rather organised. In the 125k area people were enjoying the drinks and watching the curtain raisers. I needed an angle for good pictures so I moved next to the stage, and then this guy from Silk Events says we are not allowed to take pics. He faces the wrath of other photojournalists who hurl him with unending words. In the end we are chased from the said restricted area.

At 10pm, it was like Vietnamese soldiers attacking the Americans. The people in the 125k area reached for the barriers and instead of sitting they were standing and it all looked like the 30k area. I stuck in the middle of some ladies and hustled to get good shots. All this i’d blame on the ignorance of the guys at Silk Events.
Then we waited for R.Kelly to perform. For close to 30minutes they were still organising for R.Kelly to perform. Impatience grew among some people and other started yelling “time, time, time.” Some started singing the Buganda Anthem. It all came to a halt when the guy finally came on stage. From where I was I could still see people entering. And then in a flash, “Flashing lights – By kanye west” started playing and there he was. R.Kelly started his “concert.” There was screaming, alot of it. There was this lady behind me and she kept saying she couldn’t see anything. I gave way and let her stand in front of me.

I wish and I believe I can fly moved the crowds as they sang along. Than an hour later, the guy said it was over. He said he didn’t want to finish but had to. Leaving some complaining that he hadn’t performed the songs like Gotham city, trapped in the closet, if I could turn back the hands of time, Am your angel and you saved me. As fans had started to get a feel of the music he was gone and left people asking whether the show was over. “A rip off,” some one said.

Most of the people around me couldn’t believe. Personally I began to question why a “concert” would last just an hour. The people at Zain had told journalists that the guy would perform from 9pm – 12am. This was my problem. Then the Fireworks!!! No-where. The sound system was good but for only one hour and its called a “concert?” I’d gladly disagree.

As I walked around trying to get peoples comments, I meet these two ladies.
“Has R.Kelly finished? Is he coming back,” they ask

“Yes, he only performed for one hour,” I replied

“What, these chaps take us for granted, After my 120k and we get this,” they said.

R.kelly was here from Thursday night. On Friday he skipped a Charity event and then on Saturday they cancelled an event where he would hand over the Range Rover sport to its winner. For three days he is in the country and yet he performs for just an hour?
Silk Events should have done better especially if the disorganisations are visible. The word “concert” was misused. For Zain bringing R.Kelly was great but they should have gotten more for Ugandans.

R.Kelly in town

2010-01-29T07:40:00.000+03:00

After disorganizing traffic along enttebbe road in the R.Kelly branded bus,
We finally made it to the Airport at around 10pm. Just in time as the plane was just landing.
We waited at the VIP lounge at the airport (ofcourse we were standing outside).

The security was intimidating as the guys from Pinnacle security dressed rather in very unfitting suits.
The suits were too long for them. At around 10:45, two light skinned come out of the VIP lounge and then squeeze ourselves to get the perfect shop. My paparazzi tricks had to come into play. Random shots and flashes Started glaring. And there he was in black shades, clogged in an army green jacket, with a scarf around his neck and blue jeans he appeared from the lounge. He waved to the cameras.
Then he came close and said.
"am happy to be here" X3

There was alot of screaming and one lady had him sign an autograph. The he shook the hand of another lady
who just couldn't stop screaming.
He entered the Range Rover and in a convoy he left for The Serena.

Concert is tonight. No Video camera's allowed.

From my sister to you

2010-01-28T12:47:00.000+03:00

It’s been long

Long since I have a broad smile

The broad smile who have denied me

Denied to me by my misjudegment

Misjudgement that love had presented

Presented in the form of you

Your scented clothes,

The tender kiss you left on my cheek

The cheek I would often present apart from that night.

The night when our lips touched

Touched and shared something passionate

Passionate that it ended suddenly

Suddenly because I wasn’t ready to fight

The fight you almost dragged me into

Into the night you went

Went to desire another person

The person you gladly shared what we had.

We had built all this around us with so much perseverance

Perseverance we had forever promised

The promise at the alter

The alter on which we became one

One that would be separated by death

Death that I do not wish

My wish is for us to have been happy for long

For long now I have to stand by your side

By your side not because am happy

The happiness is long gone but the love still exists

Its existence doesn’t mean it will be same as it was

It was and now it will be different.

Only if I can forgive you

Forgive you for what you done

Remember am your wife and she isn’t.

After the endurance of love, it is now the endurance of being a wife

Poem generated at 00:23 Thursday for my sister whose marriage has taken a twist.

Listening to:

Yo’ Guardian Angel – The red Jumpsuit Apparatus.

Should I go - Brandy

Flying so low - Chris Brown

Self searching Indictment

2010-01-19T11:27:00.001+03:00

This silence bestowed in this room is one that I can least savour. The eagle eyed vampire that I helplessly leave to drench my heart cannot seem to get seem to get satisfied. Like the enchanted room filled with the grey smell of innocent skulls, I wait. In the corner is I can see myself. Being crushed and pounded. I want to fight back. I am held back by something, something unseen and slithering.

I cannot cry out. No-one will hear me. All I know is that I can get through this. As the bats hover around and scavengers wait to pounce, I defect to the unseen. A world of glistening colours, creative art and hope, a world I can only see. It takes me back to the time of my youth, the times I dreamt of being one who can change peoples’ lives.

As the flashes of flawless blue light kept gleaming, snapshots of my past were visible. Each time I made promises that I will use the perfect gift that has been offered to me to make a difference. My youth had made a few find a dumbfounding admirations from those that were around me. Growing up, that seemed like it was going to continue. I realise how I’ve been perched into being the perfect disappointment to my own self.

Partly becoming unappreciative of what I do and another taking all the credit. My own self listens to both. It is hard to distinguish between which one is wrong or right. I cannot quite understand where am headed. The marriage of convenience I seem to enjoy is paying off, but still it does feel like what I desire. I have made a difference in one Kids’ life that came to visit me this week. But this is not enough. I feel there is more I can do, more than my desire to promote the demands of the corporate world with the lavish breakfasts, lunch, cocktails and the ever available drinks. This looks to be the “Ugandan Dream,” What more could I desire? I spend sleepless nights on my “Baby Junior” punching the perfect story for publication, but still I feel there is something missing.

It is like I am being denied by my own self. Am helplessly waiting, waiting for the scavengers to have me finished. Just like Africa is watching on the sidelines, helplessly it cannot help Haiti, a nation where tragedy is more common than lunch. Africa watches on, helplessly it has its own unending questions.

I recover from that bliss moment. The vampire is still drenching my heart. I am at this vantage point. I close my eyes and cry out.

“Get me out of here”

The man riding on a Dark Horse appears and the vampire flees. He opens the huge metallic gates of my Cell. I cannot see his face, but he looks ready to have me ready for the perfect human flesh meal. He takes me to the outskirts of the unknown, peels off his face.....ohhh rather his mask. I see his face. I remember his face.

“Do not betray us. You need to make a difference. You have one life. We were sent to help you. Next time you will not have this chance. Go now. You only have one life,” the young boy who was always proud of me says.

He rides away and leaves in the middle of glowing flowers. I look up; the sun is directly over head and very bright. I close my eyes. Then I struggle to open them bit after a few blips I can see.

This is how my heart conflicts with my body.

Inglorious News

2010-01-07T13:54:00.000+03:00

He is watching an episode from the CBS series NCIS. Its dark, the sound of hooting vehicles is accompanied by the smashing of brakes from the same cars. He can’t hear these sounds. He is concentrating on the Series. Laughing at Agent Donoso eating agent McGee’s apple and then agent Ziva trying to speak the English language. In one of the episodes as they are at a crime scene, Agent McGee see’s something. He is startled. And then Ziva asks.
“Have you seen a goat McGee”
“Actually its ghost not goat,” McGee says “Do you know a De Ja Vu Ziva?” He adds
“No! What is a Déjà Vu?” Ziva asks

Well this guy watching NCIS just keeps on laughing. The skull loving, gothic and forensic scientist Abby and the Gut driven Mark Harmon aka Agent Gibbs also contribute to the humour. Not forgetting Dr Mallard, he always has a story.
This post is not about NCIS. Why would I review an episode? So as this guy is watching. An interruption. The phone. A message. Its from her. The girl he thought would be. The girl who was yet to make up her mind.

“I’ve something to tell you. It’s not that important but when you find time please let me know.” (The text message).

He loses concentration, fails to focus on NCIS. He thinks, reflects.

“What could this be about?” He asks himself.
He imagines it could be about her telling him that she was now free and was willing to listen to him again. He anticipates. He feels like sending a message.
“What if she doesn’t reply?” As he dials her number.

He waits. Not nervously but very anxiously. She picks up. Her voice, as husky as it has always been. She sounds very happy to hear his voice. They talk. 15minutes. All they talk about is how the new year is going so far. Then he sets an appointment. Or it should be more like a date. In his mind. He imagines seeing her again. Her smile, perfume (not colgne to be specific) and the intriguing eyes those that hardly give answers.
But then she changes her mind.

“Let me text you and tell you what it is,” she says
“Why can’t we just meet and you tell me?” He asks
“I’ve changed my mind, I’d rather text you,” she insists
They then exchange pleasantries and say goodnight to each other. He waits for the text. He tries to watch more of NCIS. But all he can see is her face.

(((((((Fire flies- owl city)))))))))) (message tone)

“Am introducing my BF at the end of this month. He is meeting my parents. I just thought you should know.” (The message).
Shocked. He reads the message again and again. Like a tongue stuck on frozen ice, he looks at the message endlessly. He thinks it is prank. Then thinks it is real.
“WTF, why did she tell me this?” as he talks to himself while pacing around the room.
Then he types message. And sends.
“I am happy for you. Atleast you have made up your mind. Have a great night.”

He shoves it off. He recalls the great days. He wonders why she had to tell him.

“I’d rather stick to NCIS. Atleast is gives me a smile. The year should start on the bright side. You won’t bring me down lady,” He says to himself as he turns on the DVD player.

Reading:
“The day of the Jackal – Frederick Forsyth”

twenty 10

2010-01-06T08:24:00.000+03:00

It is the Morning Sunrise
He is walking to the hilltop
The scenery is an offering
To those who love nature
He looks around.
He then takes a closer look.

They are like droplets of water,

It is seen on the grass, the flower petals and rooftops.
It can only be seen once in the day.
It gives the grass a spectacular look.

It is a new year. There will not be another 2010.

Utilize it just like the dew does every morning.

"There is a drop of greatness in every Man"

Its a great pleasure

2009-12-21T12:53:00.000+03:00

Expression is free, it is taken on by those who are willing to embrace it.
2009 has been quite an amazing year. The negatives are looming over my afro-brown
hair. But right now I dont care. As christmas draws closer, Its my turn to give.

Across the street she stands,
watching me.
Am watching her too.
She smiles. I smile back.
Its just the beginning.
After a few full moons.
Its a torrid time.
Remembering is horrific.

The sad stories are many
But the good stories are the best.
The empty spaces I try to fill are the most interesting
The spaces of the good things that happen.
The times when you graduate from one level.
Take a step ahead and become responsible.
The good days have just begun.
They need to stick around. I still need them.

Am now a grown up. Some people look up to me.
Some say I Inspire them. Hard to believe.
But its those people who make me work hard.
This year has been challenging but I have made bold decisions
And weak ones. Weak ones that I'd rather not talk about.
They are embarrasing.
But head forward, left leg in, right leg in. Thats a step forward.
Eventful it has been. From Tiger Woods, Usain Bolt and Micheal Jackson (RIP)
We have had movies: Metals fighting humans in Transformers, we have watched humans
seeking to plunder a planet called pandora in James Cameron's movie Avater.
The resolutions I had made, some still unaccomplished. But will come to pass.
Getting played, used and then shoved into the blender. Those are lessons.
But for me its been a pleasure. Am proud to be part of the community.

And for all I appreciate. As we glide into the new year and christmas. This could be my last post
until 2010. For I appreciate the reading I have done. All those blogs that kept me smiling, thinking,
scratching my head, slithering my tongue, choking because of my own saliva and the list is endless.

Here is to you. lets raise our glasses to (looking around)............ (fill in the blank)

Its been a pleasure.

:-) Merry Christmas and Happy holidays

The patch that seems to stay

2009-12-15T08:24:00.000+03:00

Plagued by desire to be what we want be can be eluded by the unavoidable intrigues of this world. As we struggle to live the lives we dreamt of, there is a possibility of quitting. But we believe things will pass and life will go on. That doesn’t stop us from sitting in the fluffy chairs, resting on the rugged mattress and slowly we begin to think about the lives we desire, crave for and believe we live to love. They seem so far away, they have never been closer. We chose to live on, take on what we have and probably we will reach the mountain top.

This is all crap (I can see a no and then in the corner, there is a yes). But anyway, they say we should be grateful for what we have accomplished and then the other one is that everything happens for a reason. This country has very many unemployed youths (I don’t have actual figures), most of them have gone to University and are brilliant. But they remain jobless.

Then there are the other ones who are employed but they don’t love their jobs; this is because they had no option. They were lured by words like “Would you rather be at home or be somewhere no matter the pay.” These and more sentiments remain on the lips of some use. Having a cup of coffee at Javas or pizza at steers or a cold alvaro at mateos and the soccer fever at Just Kicking, you can’t help listen to some of these sad stories.

So what has gone wrong? I don’t have any answer. Is it esteem, or it’s our lack of focus? Honestly, I don’t have an answer. Things have gone wrong. We have become less of what we believe we are supposed to be, influence peoples’ lives depending on what we do, write or say, make a difference and love our jobs. But this is not the case. It’s for survival. Quitting is often an option, but we tend to lay back, hold on and tell our rather vulnerable selves “where will I go if I quit?” Then quickly it’s the end. We decide to stay, patch up and work our heads off because of frustration. We are scared of failure and challenges. We realise the storm is heading closer but we keep standing and screaming. We should be saving our lives and those of others. But have we done this?

We laugh, smile, giggle, blend in and make friends but we still don’t look happy. Our love for human interest has been taken over by the love for figures and numbers. We have lost the human touch and slowly it’s slipping away. We are in the middle of a blurr, we lack focus to look at the beauty and the tenderness of the human being within us. For this should we be hacked and our meat roasted and served to the scavengers or the blood sucking vampires? NO. I believe there is more within us that can change someone or some people, but we are limited. Limited to that job that is just for survival, because we need to have a job no-matter what. Proudly we watch others doing the job we have always desired. But we remain sucked in, silent and we keep on wishing.

The sky fades and we are not growing any younger. We are in some sort of unknown world that we can’t seem to quit and put our real selves to use.

In other news:
Mega BHH this "Furahiday." This is going to be the perfect Christmas send off. Thanks to Walkonby our who will be our host. Get to her blog and place some answers to the questions she has asked. I saw something about a kitchen (for those who can cook).

SHIT. Did i just ignore you?

2009-12-07T13:13:00.000+03:00

Looking through my dusty window, there is a ray of light that gave me hope that there is no rain. Three minutes later the weather has changed. It looks rugged. Am at full throttle and need to get to work. I fail. I cannot be there. The downpour rattles the roof and then at an instant the electricity just goes off. I pause.
Love is something that I can give once. One that I can offer to the one I love. But this is not about you. But it’s about you. Today is memorable (for me). Do I care if it is for you? Yes and no. And this is not about rain either. Its about the one you have ignored. The one you have failed to love. We have seen people devastated coz of this. We have seen people go down for their failure to love. They have been heartbroken and some have failed to move on. Love is not like rocket science (Ask Melanie on Sanyu Fm).

We normally say sorry when something happens, say excuse me when we cough, and we are polite to other people. We even propose while kneeling. Some of us bow to the God, Kabaka and the Queen. All these as a sign of respect intertwined with love. Some have made friends with gorillas and humans. (Hope you haven’t replaced a dog with a gorilla yet).
We make phone calls, send sms’s late in the night and talk to those we love. We even listened to music (apart from some pathetic music by ..........). We dance and drink all night for we live to enjoy that life.
But there is someone we have ignored. That one who has always been part of us. We have failed to be nice. We have rejected and dejected that someone, made her a rebound, Treated her with utter disrespect and Complained too much for what they offer. We have Taken for granted, stolen what belongs to her to satisfy our insatiable alienated desire and we have failed to replace and mend that which have broken.

We have failed to return that which borrowed from her. She has been mistreated and heartbroken, but she can’t talk. She is silently watching us dancing away, drinking mineral water, eating sweets, shopping, switching on our car engines and advancing to industrialisation. Failing to protect her beauty, the curves and the sections of her body that make her uniquely tailored. She is slowly slipping away. She is getting angry and we are getting hungry. She is weeping and we are getting flooded. She has frowned and drinking more water and dozing in our offices powered by AC. She is not happy and she needs us.

How much do we love our environment?

Losing UBHH-virginity

2009-11-30T08:11:00.000+03:00

This post is possibly related to one of those escapades that seem to derail me off balance. Things that want to stick by me and stay with me. The thorough thought of it makes me want to get a stick shove it right through my intestines and pluck out that piece of the grasshopper leg that I swallowed. I belch. Disgusting I know. That’s it. I think am too high on those grasshoppers. Yummy. I have too many of them.

So it happens to have been UBHH last week, it was my very first. Well since its the African continent, I actually got the venue at 7pm after a hectic day at work. In my black suit and my precious bag am waiting. Uganda Telecom to blame, my twitter wasn’t working. I couldn’t receive any update. Rogue King had sent me a number on how to ID the bloggers. I couldn’t read any of them. My sister TRP also tried but all in vain. Then payo wanted me to let him know how UBHH was going on. I just couldn’t find these guys. 7:30, still no-one. I meet this friend who I had last seen 3years ago. He gets excited and offers me a coke. I accept it. The beauty of Kampala is that there is alot to admire, especially at night. Especially the nice cars (I hope you agree). So as my friend peels away, look who appears, Streetsider, The only one I could ID. I walk over to the tableless area and introduce myself. Its me guys, am the real guy.

Santosh appeared and we exchanged some decent talk, safyre wrapped in his gemstone overtly thought I was so old, Solomon King sat calmly in talking to um and for sometime those were the only people until Solomon King stood up and walked somewhere to the interior of Mateos. Then he appears a few minutes later. Not alone but with Yvonne. The usual introductions go on. She then leaves the place also. There are less seats in the area. Then Normzo appears, sunctioned in a black T-shirt. Then sleek joins us. Jny23ug comes around but he has to head off to a Virgil. So he lasts only a few minutes and leaves. And then Darlyne. Yes darlyne, the only female who joined the boys. The waiter makes her wait for her drink but she remains pretty calm.
Sleek and street take sometime and engage in a conversation. Xiona shows up. Safyre and I engage her in a conversation about cars. Safyre tells me the lady loves cars. She lasted less than a 10minutes, she moves to the interior. Meanwhile am salvaging on my third alvaro. Solomon King and Normzo are embedded in a conversation. Things happen so fast and then Normzo leaves, safyre is also plotting an exit. The 4 S boys stick around (Santosh,Solomon King,Sleek and Street) and Darlyne also sticks around. I plot my exit and take a leave out of the A to the rea.

My first BHH wasn’t that bad. Can’t wait for the next one. YZ is in the country and then for Ugandan Girl maybe will meet in the next one. Mudamuli, also you.

When the post becomes long.

2009-11-24T08:05:00.000+03:00

The weekend sailed by and I missed the Kampala Marathon. Honestly I would have finished the race. That is according to what I think. My weight has been a problem, especially the belly that had become an issue. It seemed to be protruding each day. This has raised dust. Yes I know it is not any of your business. But I have started skipping the rope and engaging myself in stretching. It wasn’t easy. I stretched and my muscles are hurting. It is real pain. I can tell why Rafael Nadal is not looking like a world number 2.

So why the torture? Maybe it is because I want to be fit so I can run next years’ marathon. Since the usual suspects have failed to win the money I would take it on (terms and conditions apply). Ok in the long post I’d like to introduce the cast: Thiery Henry, Jennifer Lopez, Charles Darwin, Pastor X, Stephanie Meyer and K’naan

Scene one

For those who follow football know that Theiry Henry attempted the slam dunk but could only afford a super assist. France is now in the world Cup. The guy had to cheat to get France to the World Cup. There is what we call sportsman ship. Do you know the guy who embezzles money and then says “the auditors did not get the flaw so it is not my problem.” Do we have to wait for a court to convict us or find us guilty? Do we have to get to this point?

Scene two

When the one and only J-lo falls in a move while at performing at the American Music awards, she fell on the only part of her body that builds her brand. Fact is she fell and then in split second stood up and continued to perform. How would you explain this? She is human. Even the best can fall. There is no-one who is perfect BUT we need to struggle to be the best. We meet some hurdles we can’t jump, we fall flat and stand up straight and move on.

Scene three

The origin of species, we celebrate this theory (150years). Science is appreciated. Charles Darwin left us, but to this day we remember his theory. It’s the beauty of how he sees the world that perfects the art of life and diverse thought. I have been engaging myself in some literature on diverse issues; this has opened up my mind and kind of made me a critical thinker (I think). I guess we need to listen to people and get different perspectives.

Scene four

I was thinking of Adolf Hitler but I can’t find him a role in the play. Now instead of Hitler or any of the self styled dicatators I’ll give pastor X who never delivers a sermon in Church, he will preach for 5minutes and will spend more than an hour “anointing.” Am not questioning what he can do but the essence of Church for me is changing. The message is key, I noticed he made an alter call before he could preach and after all the anointing he never made an alter call. The church was down, people fell. Then I told my friend who had brought me that I couldn’t stand this. I left. He had invited me to his church. Now this part I can’t quite explain. If you ain’t sure you are doing the right thing consult others or talk to someone. At this point I wasn’t sure why I was in this place so I had to move out. Creepy I thought

Scene five

Stephanie Meyer, a storyteller in her own right. She was sleeping and then dreamt. She then started writing. The Twilight series have become a very popular among teenage readers. New Moon has be transformed into a movie. How nice? Remember she just dreamt.The story has no explicit scenes but people love it. JK Rowling has sold like hot chocolate and movies have been made about her Harry Potter books. I need a movie on “No Longer at ease,” “gods bits of wood” and well atleast I have watched Jill Scott act a beautiful story about a book on Botswana “the No.1 first ladies detective.” If you read the Book then you will know how beautiful the story is. Am I blind? I have seen the Nigerians act but the African story is not there. We can do better when we take up those opportunities.

Scene six

K’naan, he came to Uganda and his story is amazing. He is great guy to interact with. One thing is he has very strong lyrics and he is a poet. Ok he is from Somalia (now what do you know about Somalia: war). He left Somalia at the age of 13. He now lives in Canada. His accent is so not American (A guy will go to the USA and after 1 month, accent has changed), the guy speaks fluent amaharic and he is so down to earth (cliche’). Anyway he insists that there is a story about Somalia we do not know. He told me how the people there are great poets and know art. Pictures and words. Poetry is very much a way of life in Somalia. Despite how negative we can be, there is always something positive about life that we should have or look to or appreciate

I did go off topic; this is the month where the delicacy comes once. They are sweet and if you don’t eat them then you are slightly missing something. They engage the gums. They have been compared to the pizza (If you have been at Steers you know what am talking about). They have been compared to bacon. Others call it popcorn; there are those that refer to it as crisps. I’d like to introduce the grasshopper.

Have a great week

great thinkers

2009-11-11T08:11:00.000+03:00

Am I a great thinker?

Am not the one who designed, its a friend who did.

So I decided I should get an opinion....

On this day(the pic was taken). I was in one of the most

boring lectures. One of the photojournalism students decided

it was a fabulous pic. I was thinking.

Its around 7:00am, and have to get busy now......

Be back later........

Ain’t worth that

2009-11-09T07:25:00.001+03:00

The preamble

I will not say I know the unemployment rate in Uganda, but it is pretty high. Every year thousands graduate across the country. The number is so high but the jobs....well are not seen. When I was growing up I always told myself and people around me that I can never be unemployed. This was much courage that carried. Why I said that was because I knew I was going to be a doctor and jobs are very available. Slowly this began to glide away.

I have had opportunities to get jobs but I have suffered a few setbacks, most of them beyond my own making. Journalism is tough but fun. The first time I got to practice serious journalism was in the western part of Uganda, It was for a radio station. It was pretty easy, but that wasn’t the key issue. There was just too much I learnt. The journalists I met had amazing stories most of which were around sex. Or even the time I went to the high court and found this registrar who wanted to pay me to talk about a case. I was rookie so most of these things were new to me. In my internship, the owner of the radio station was so tough that one day he decided I work at the reception desk. Not cool at all.

Then one day I came with a “hot” story. That is what I thought. It was about a very powerful man in the area, who is alleged to have sacrificed an old woman at the foundation of his posh hospital. It was to be a powerful a story, then I was only disappointed when I was told by the “station owner,” that we couldn’t use the story. I was shocked, but not for long, I got to learn that these two were friends and.

Journalism has taught me many things, including how to survive around. I got to do my second internship at a business paper and this taught me how to live a life working hard, adding value and all you get is a thank you. Though I think my chance to be big is still available. The stories I always hear from some PR firms, is that journalists love money. Well, have they ever asked themselves why some of these journalists ask them for money? That I honestly don’t know.

Dinning with people from the corporate world has kept my eyes wide open. Getting close to the bigshots and asking them questions makes me proud. Any journalist will tell how good they felt each time they saw their by-line. I have always known journalism and writing is a passion. Am very passionate when I am doing my work but of-late I am beginning to lose it. Slowly the interest is going. So much effort I put in and what I gain is less. Last week I was given an offer, but I turned it down. I refused the offer because it wasn’t worth it. The offer would increase my workload yet the pay is worse. My boss always tells me that writing is passion no matter the pay. Blogging would best fit in his argument, but then investing my time, money, airtime and freedom for peanuts ain’t worth it.

An apology.

Now I would like to apologise the bloggers at BHH, the reason I missed is because I got a phone call from my boss to go attend a function, he wanted the story by 8am the next day. I was standing at jumbo plaza opposite nandos when I got the phone call.

The little things

2009-11-03T08:58:00.000+03:00

About 22 years I was brought into this world. I became part of the human infested planet. Not a bad idea. In growing up I never lived with my parents. I only started living with them when I was 17. Not the reason why I did not go to the most prestigious schools around Uganda. Growing up in the very rural area with no TV and internet, my only friend was a small portable radio. This is where I would get all the information I need. And my auntie had all the novels and books that would sink myself into every evening and read. It had become so obvious that I was destined to be a doctor but on course I met the worst nightmare, a terrible lifestyle that cost me that dream. And well it was also my desire for too much novel reading cost me the chemistry and the biology I was supposed to read. The only thing I knew in chemistry was titration (mixing chlorine with hydrochloric acid) and then there was this

Cl + O2 = CLO2

Then they would ask you to balance the equation. What a nightmare.

So then back to the little things. My relationship with my parents did not improve too much after I was 17. I hardly had a decent conversation with my parents. I would sit with my dad in the car and for over 15k/ms there was no coversation. I would try to talk but all I could say was "now look at how that man is overtaking" or "this road is quite pathetic." I would never tell my father am broke. I would suck it in and swallow my tongue, die with my brokeness. If I had a problem I would do the same. I never made phonecalls to my parents and rarely did they. At times I would think they are angry because of my past tribulations, but I think I was wrong. They did not look angry at all.

When I joined campass it was the same, nothing new. The conversation would be, "what is your Gpa?", "How much do you need for tuition?" "when is the holiday and when are you coming home?"

But something changed a month ago. After I graduated my father seems to have changed, he calls me regulary to find out if I have a job or if am broke and need some money. This makes me proud. On graduation, my mother cried and my dad looked so calm. My nephews call him "Mr Cool" and they say he is always in "Chiller mode."

It is quite amazing how things have turned around.

Its those little things in life, like someone saying thank you, sending you text, telling you how jesus died for you, praying for you, smiling, saying hullo and caring among others that make the difference.

Listen to....

The little things that give you away - linkin Park.

Held - Natale grant.

(If you dont have these two, just drop me an e-mail)

Here I stand.......

2009-10-27T16:06:00.000+03:00

Here I sit, watching my computer screen looking at me.
The screen is blank and black.
I think.

Five days ago while on the job of moving up and down
A motocycle put me down. I was sent crushing by the motocycle.
I was the passenger. I survived. My pelvic hurts though.

So I think again what should I type.
Am not heartbroken. I'd rather call it the transition to a new life
Without what I wished or what I held and left fly.
Please dont judge me. Am not complaining.

Last weekend was a blast. I spent sometime with some one called
Joss Stone somewhere near Gayaza. Interesting what she is doing for
Kids down that side are realy benefiting from the Charity work she does.
I cant put down her whole profile, just click here and read what you can.

Its is also official that K'naan could be coming to Uganda on November 14th. I'll keep
you updated.

................................................................................................................

In life there are things we are scared of
Things that haunt us
Things that make us walk facing down
Things we have failed to reconcile
Things that stick memories yet they are tormentors

Then on this day you decide
I wont look back again
I'll look forward and say
"checkmate"
I look to the future
Its not grim but its lively

On this one day you make your wish
Then you decide
This is my time.
My time to shine.
Its my turf and no-one will stop me.
Its the time you accept to let someone in
That someone will never break your heart
That someone lives in me.

Special Announcement but first.........

2009-10-20T14:09:00.000+03:00

Hush now

This is for you
The one who stayed
But then left
The one who stood by
And then laid back
The one who held my hand
And then let go
The one who I watched
And then you drift away

The one who slit my throat
And proudly boasted
The one who knows the truth
But lives in denial
The one with who offered
Me a rose
But then stole it from me again
The one who lied to my soul
And then squeezed blood from my heart

The one that is bold enough
To deny how they feel
The one who is proud of me
But is not appreciative of me
Then who made the choice to go beyond
But could deny they meant it
The one who says they love another
But then they love me.
The one who breathed life in me
And then sucked it out

Now that you are gone
Like a dagger slicing my body parts
Please don’t come back
Since you are sure of what you are doing
You are amazing, lovely and pleasurable
But you have the choice
A choice where you are living in denial
And as the last tear drop rolls off my cheek
It’s time for me to Hush and be quiet
I my heart you live and I will not deny that.

......and then the announcement brought to you by

28rd October @ cineplex Micheal Jacksons This is it will
Premiere. Tickets on sale at cineplex Garden City. (showing from 28th october to November 12th)

Powered by

Stabbed.

2009-10-13T16:11:00.000+03:00

The beauty of life is to appreciate how diverse human nature behaves. People are different. If put together they can make a very beautiful fabric. Ever been in love? Ok I can see that the answers are different. Obviously some are saying Yes others are saying No.

"Hey you over there, do you have anything to say?" I ask a young man in the corner who kept his hand up.

He is a blue shirt and the crowd is large. I cannot see his height. But he seems bothered. He looks sucked up, drained and his state is alarming.

"Yes, I'd like to say something," he says in english. He has a strong voice. He looks bold enough.

I try to tell the crowd that its late and they do not have to listen to a story. The crowd is aigitated and haul insults at me.

"Who told you we are tired? we want to listen. Whats your problem," they shout

"ok, ok, ok I'll let the young man come right in front and please listen," I softly say. I was looking rather embarrased. How could I deny these people from listening to this storyteller. He walks to the stage, and I notice he is in blue sandles, rather dusty feet. His faded blue jeans have brown patches and his blue shirt has a clear embeded word in thick black "I am screwed." His face is pale and from a distance I can see his hair is the colour of the earth.

"Listen carefully, this is it," he says.

.........

Once I got stabbed straight in the heart. Though you may not see the scar, I got stabbed. Two days ago is when it happened. I was busy jubilating on my success', I had piled myself with 5 DVDs knowing my night would be a very beautiful one. I get home, its rather cold and from the skies I can tell its rather gray. I took a nice warm shower and settled into my chair and started rather not so lonely movie night.

What was I celebrating? half a triumph. I had given three quaters of my heart to someone who needed it. someone who I believe deserved it. It was noble of me but I knew it was for the best. What I had not realised is that I was using only a quater of a heart. I was getting tired so fast. In giving away my heart, I had agreed with the receiving person that I would get three quaters of theirs to. That night passed and I slept. My brother saw me sleeping and in the morning he told me that I was sleep smiling.

I woke up to a heavy downpoar, so I cancelled my morning plans. I needed a heart. I was getting tired. With the advance in technology I set up a video conference call with my exchanging patner. I tell her to return the favour and she said that she would letting me know of the developments. I wait.

Day 1, 2 , 3, 4, 5 and I grow weaker and weaker and there is nothing from her. She is too silent. She is lost.

So finaly I confronted her. Immediately she turns to me.

"What do you want from me?," she asks.

"I need my heart back, am dying. This one cant hold for long," I reply

"You know what? I am not giving you anything. Not even yours. Now please leave me alone," she says.

Then I watch her closely, speechless. I beg for her to help. She looks at me so sofly. Its like she has changed her mind. She gets close and then her left hand moves around my neck and pulls me close. Her lips are separated from mine by the size of a thread. I am weak so I wait. In a flash, she stabs me in the heart. She pulls out the remaining heart and steps on it. She kisses me and walks away.

Ladies and gentlemen, thats the beauty of life. She broke my heart.

..........

He ends his story and walks off the stage. I also decide tell the crowd that this session of storytelling is over. They all leave whispering to eachother.

The story of moi'

2009-10-06T17:01:00.000+03:00

“.......I turn my head east; I don’t see nobody by my side.
I turn my head to the west; still nobody in sight
So I turn my head to the north, swallow that pill that they call pride.
That old me’s dead and gone but the new me will be alright....”

The room is dark. The only sounds that your ears can “think” about are the bats that seem to be flying around. There is barely any sound, no light and there is a smell that chokes your throat. You want cough but then you can’t. Your are scared that you will pounced on by a dark, red eyed wolf or a sharp toothed vampire that is waiting for dusk to be extended. You look around, confused and now all you can hear is your heartbeat. You speak to yourself but you are saying nothing to yourself. You try to touch the wall and all you feel are cobwebs.

You dare not take a step ahead, you start walking backwards. But because you can barely see anything, you get lost. More darkness, this time there is a smell of blood. Thick and fresh. The floor starts to get sticky and you can only wish it were a dream. You rub the eyes, so you could wake up, but then you realise its real.

“Move backwards,” a voice says.

But you are scared. If you move backwards you will be gobbled up by the creature that sucks life out of humans.

“Move forwards,” another voice says.

But you do not know what is ahead. There could be another life sucking creature. You however realise all that went in, moved backward and life was sucked out of them.

You need to decide before it’s too late. A choice has to be made. You can smell thick blood if you moved backwards, but right ahead of you, nothing. You do not know what is ahead. You wait. Ponder, watch and pray. You move forward 3 steps. The wooden floor creaks. You pause. Move one step back and then 5 ahead, through the leaking roof, traces of light. You want to run, as you begin to run the wood crack and you sent crashing into the floor. Below the wood is hole. You hold on onto a piece of wood, pull yourself up and get back to the floor.

“That was close,” you say to yourself.

As you move forward, the light increases. There you are. A door. Quickly you hold the handle, move it down and the door is stuck. You do not have the key. There is no key. Hands to your hips, head facing down and you are breathing hard; you watch the large metallic door. Then you ask you self how you got in.

“Bingo,” you shout.

You had used a key to get in. So have to use the same key to open. You check your pockets, pull out a key, push it in the door, twist it around and the door screeches open. The light is vast. Open and filled with a beautiful world. The challenge is how you get into this new world and get to live the life of your dreams.
...................

This is the story of my life. Now that I have joined a totally different new world of different expectations, the challenge is greater than that which I have been through.

Another Ugandan graduate

2009-09-28T12:21:00.000+03:00

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.

~DEEEE~

BHH. And again I miss.

2009-09-24T13:25:00.000+03:00

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
Pondering.
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.

A reflection that doesnt lie.

2009-09-21T01:06:00.000+03:00

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......

Smoothie for you....

2009-09-15T07:20:00.000+03:00

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.

Backspace
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.

Tab
(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.

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

2009-09-10T23:38:00.000+03:00

"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.

Raindrops...

2009-09-08T00:28:00.000+03:00

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.

Not cool being the wife

2009-09-02T18:00:00.000+03:00

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.

Stay. Dont leave

2009-08-31T06:22:00.000+03:00

I watch
I wither
I lose Hope
I look flawless

I am light
Like a feather in the wind
I am far away
Embedded in thoughts
The thoughts of a crying heart
Bleading tears
Beaming with claws of a broken heart.

I dream
Of that life
That fantasy
That forever stays within
That forever glows like a twilight
I look at the skies
The stars talk
A language I understand
A language of the shooting star
I make my wish.

Its the full moon
I make the same wish
Its my birthday
I make the same wish
Its a new year
I make the same wish.

Please stay with me
I say
Don't let me go
I hope.

Disclaimer:
Please check out this blogger. Quite interesting.
Click Here

Finding God

2009-08-28T06:22:00.000+03:00

Waking up on sunday, we all think about church (Atleast for those who think about it). On this particular sunday it rained heavily but it didnt affect any of the plans that I had. Normally I attend 3pm service somewhere near State House. But this sunday was different. There was something that wanted me to go and pray. Well on the cold afternoon I desended onto the doors that are always open.

Smiling faces were all around, people talking to each other and my body went cold.
"I this my kind of audiance," I said to myself.
I still held on knowing we would soon be engaged with the conversation with christ.
Praise and worship now came up. Thank God for the projectors, I was able to read the words of the song.
You know the feeling that the church is that refuge, that place where one is freed? This I never felt. There was tension. I was scared of the people who would watch me and whisper to themselves.
"He does not even know the song." They'd say this while gigling.
This has happened to me before and that was the end of the service.

Back to that sunday. So the time for engaging with God through worship. When Eizzy talked about being born again she had reasons. Well some of the worship songs played were really engaging. The words touched my self. I listened and I felt something different. Something like a voice. This is what it told me.
"Change your ways son, change your ways." Thats all I heard.

The worship was soon over, we prayed and then waited for sermon.
The preacher was attacking me. It was like all he said was about me. It may sound so cliche' but I felt this guy really knew me. Not that am that terrible but he brought to light some questions i'd want to as God.

So now the alter call.
There was silence, this silence was totally in my mind. People around me were singing but I could hardly listen amd hear. My legs trembled, I felt my neghbour was watching me. Fact is I didn't care. I wanted answers.

"Give me confidence God, please." The confidence didnt come. I waited and it failed to apear.
When Nevender posted something about cell, I was reminded of the events of the day. Who will help me grow spiritualy? Which fellowship will I attend?
A tough decision it still remained. At times the people around you need to help you grow spiritualy but are they ready to welcome that new person in their family.

Unbelievable that the people I met, no-one asked me whether I was an engaging christian. I just taleked and smiled, no-one noticed I wasn't happy. There was no encouragement for this soul to make up his mind. The soul slowly glided away seeking for answers, the answers that can be provided by an empty church. I went back sat down and told God.

"Don't let me go, I need answers"

Listening to:
Don't let me Go - The Fray
Lithium - evanescence