Raindrops...

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.

So what!!!!!

19th August 2009 17:01:00

“Pens down,” the lecturer says

I put mine down recalling the last word I wrote in the exam.

“Life” was the last word. I slowly crawl off the chair with my script. I hand in. I ran outside the room, hands held high, looking to the skies.

“It is finished,” I say.

Re-wind

It’s now only a few days and the life of a man at university will come to an end for the time being. Three years ago a young man joined the elite at university. His choice was he wanted to do a journalism degree at Uganda’s most prestigious university, Makerere. He was only offered IT on government. Boldly he said no (because he realised IT was not what he wanted to do. Not his calling) and left for Uganda Christian University where he did mass communication. The time had come and he had to start staying in his own room and meet new people. For three years he did this and lived the University dream. For three years he survived. He got all from his father and he never wanted to let the family down.

He fell in love and fell out of it. He was rejected twice. He still lived and never let this get too hard on him. He met new people, influenced and become special to some. He would get broke, feed on buns, chapatti and even go hungry at times. Still lived on and never gave up. He went out, danced and drunk water, soda, Vodka and beer. Still he read his books, remembering the words of his father.

“My son you are going to school and I do not want failures. I have paid everything, now go make me proud. You have a name and reputation to protect.”

These always echoed in his ears and they always stuck around and kept him reading hard, harder and harder but with some little fun.

At times he would look depressed and life would knock him down. He did not die but he lived on and on. He got “kyeyo” during his holidays. He was exploited and at times paid but he atleast kept a smile on his handsome face. However the scaring part is yet to come. The future!!!!

The pressure is on from all around. He must find a job. He won’t be receiving any pocket money from his parents; he will have to pay his own rent and then will have to get married. The latter being the least of his ambitions right now. He believes things will turn out great but he is scared how. He hopes he doesn’t become a politician and then join the queue to lead the country, he would not join the army even if he is desperately looking for a job, he would not become a call boy to offer late night services because he is broke and he will not accept to be offered a job because he is the son of you know who. He will patiently find his way and get in because of merit unless otherwise. He patiently holds on to the hope of nation building without joining politics. And the hope that lives on in him will see him through.

Flashback (The year 2000)

9 years after secondary school, my O-level school has finally bought a school bus... At 200m with personalised number plates. I contributed 20,000/= every term from S1-S4. The bus could have been bought even before I left. We had some corrupt H/M at one time. Guess what? I was part of the revolution that tried to have him prosecuted. Well proudly I was part of a bloodless strike, requesting for social justice. It became highly unsuccessful; I got expelled and would be escorted by police daily to do my final O-level exams. I was short but the H/M accused me of being influential (I normally did the talking). There is a time we carried a petition against him to the RDC and Education Officer. I was the one who did the talking. Atleast I knew I was part of something beautiful. My relatives were not proud of me at the moment. Why? Because I got expelled and they all thought I would intoxicate their children with evil thoughts. But only I knew the reason. I was imprisoned for the fight for freedom and social justice. I never received a medal but atleast am proud I of the milestone.

Well early 2007 he was imprisoned for embezzling school funds. I was so happy. Finally what we had fought for had come to pass. Remember the Martin Luther speech “I have a dream”. Well my dream for him to be prosecuted came to pass. But my disappointment is he never paid back what he embezzled. Atleast the school has a better H/M.

Quote:

“Beware of the fury of a patient man” – John Dryden

Threads that divide us(couldn’t find a better title)

We love who we are. Selfishly we believe in ourselves. When we wake up in the morning we tell our neighbour “good morning.” Or we move on, look at them like they do not exist. We smile at every accomplishment, but we become sad at a friendly gesture or achievement. We are a diverse country, we hardly accept the way other peoples’ ways. We despise them. When we try our best to like them we are stopped by the boundaries of pride and superstition that are built around us. We build hatred on issues that are pursued by our selfish politicians and the family intrigues that tend to exist.

We fall in love. But because we fell in love in someone not like us, we are hated and forced to bow away from that who we love. The reasons are naive, based on the generalisations that we have built around us. Our relatives pile pressure on us to find those we share beliefs. Our families claim they are Born Again. Around the church they praise God and shudder for the great things God has done for us. We ask ourselves, why claim the love of God and yet hate the person next to us. Reason: they do not look like us. Why have we become like this.

We sit down earphones plucked into our ears and think. Think about the reason why we may be different from each other, our perception of the world being different from our original background. We watch our politicians draw tribal lines in everything. Helplessly we watch tribalism take centre stage. We dream of a world that although our cultures and beliefs may conflict, we live in harmony and allowed fall in love freely. When we try this, we are considered enemies. We are banished, hurled insults and called traitors of our own people. We fail to believe this. But our own blood will try all they do to make us break relationships with those that are different from ourselves. They impose that which we do not consider fair. We rebel and silently we are left to look hopeless and shameless.

When we try to change our environment, we are called thieves. Not by those who have sold us the land, but by the politicians who desire to separate us from our brothers. We desire to build our lives in a different area but we are met with rejection from a perception of generalisation. We look around us. We love our country as a name. But when it comes to people in the country the love goes away. We love only ourselves.
However some have rejected the tribal and religious lines that divide us. Smiles they have offered, love they give, kindness they pass on and forever they love those that stay around them.

Quote
“We set forth these parables to men that they may reflect.”( Koran 59:21)

New Divide by Linkin Park chorus
So give me reason to prove me wrong, to wash this memory clean
Let the floods cross the distance in your eyes
Give me reason to fill this hole, connect the space between
Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies across this new divide

Is it for love?

How do the rich earn their money? They were patient and built their empires over the years. Well at times I wonder if am following in their footsteps. Is it that I like my internship and enjoying it? Well I do not know. When I took up this internship or I would rather call it job, the divines of providence looked fathomable. Finally I would get published. Wow

Then I started doing my work, I fell in love with work that I would walk 1km daily to and from work. No money. I was told I would be paid if I could deliver publications. Well I did. It is something I am proud of. So what exactly is wrong? Well my payment delayed by a week, a month and still counting. Am so broke that this Easter I can’t travel home or even buy an Easter egg for myself or my Kid brother. Well with all hopes slowly dwindling, a normal person would think about quitting. I cannot take myself out for a decent meal.

As normal as I am I’ve thought about it. Actually am supposed to be relaxed and fail to submit stories. But I actually cannot do this, am finding it hard not to submit. So what have I done to myself? Am I working for charity? Each day regarded as a worker. But maybe I would rather be published. Don’t know if am doing this for Love. For the love of having a by-line am walking home late and sleeping less to get a story published.

Each day I wake up I hope to get the best out of myself. Hope is what drives me. My quest to become a journalist has outstripped my desire to get myself a girlfriend. Not that I wouldn’t want one. My desire to become a good journalist has been met with a barrage of the corporate world.

The corporate world has hijacked my writing skills. Human interest is my thing but slowly I am sinking into the world of the corporate.
Am working for a business paper whose reader is the “wall street kind.” I have become that which I did not want. It is more than heartbreak to me. I have sunk in and am finding it very hard to leave.

Will I be able to leave? I do not think any time soon. I have gotten used to this. I would want to get out but where am I going. I wanted to write stories that impact society. Stories with an emotional touch. This I have seen slip away.

Not that I wouldn’t write something emotional in a business paper but because that touchy piece of writing is not the editorial policy. So have I realised my dream? I would reply am waiting to see the sun.
Maybe it is for the love of writing.