Karma is for real..

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

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

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

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

3:00 am
You switch on the DVD.

BHH. And again I miss.

This is terrible. Am going to miss what would have been very first BHH.

So since I pondered on what to do while am on the bus on my way back from

my beautiful dusty home town. Gosh I wish I had traveled yesterday.......

Why not a poem to keep me having a reason wait for the next UBHH.

Cant wait to read the blogs of those who will and have attended.

This one has no tittle

Its red September
The sun sets over a
deserted waterfall,
The birds fly in the shadow
of the setting sun.

And there you are
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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead of Rioting for things like corruption we brace ourselves and riot for the one person
whose interests are not for this country. Just imagine a demo against NSSF. Imagine workers 

decide not pay NSSF money for like 5months......... Do these people even love this country? You see 

thats why they cant teach partriotism in class.

Over and Out.