Through the woods he walks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When the post becomes long.

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