Boundaries and Restraint

..like having tea in Mummy's cup or taking her seat at the family eating 'table'. These silent rules drew invisible boundaries and planted the first seeds of restraint.

Community property was shared custody. The survival and social benefits of a village well were upheld in preservation of the livelihood of the community.

Now things have changed:

The ring-fence on Kapere's new acquisition beholds the village well. The envious eyes on a stolen treasure and thirsty tongues craning over the fence longing for sweet freedom, have turned Kapere into a semi god.

When we draw boundaries, we are practising restraint: putting the common good before our individual gain. This is one of the values that has fostered amicable relations and upheld communities for generations.

It starts at home, in the heart: you can not restrain in public what you have not restrained in your heart. We restrain under authority and within limits set by rules that govern us.

Out of home and the village,

Like re-known lawyer Daudi Mpanga once questioned: What then do you have to say about someone, who thinks they can change the long Buganda tradition of members of the same clan not getting married to each other, because the girl they love belongs to their clan?

Ideas are seeds; they are God’s whisper in your ear.

If your business relies on the selling of ideas, you will agree that a good idea is like God’s whisper in your ear. It is divine: like the fullness of time, it’s in line with your life’s journey and all things are lined up just to bring it to pass. It is bold: clear and empowering; in your mind, you can see the end from the beginning. The jolt of energy from its formation inspires you to cut through the spin of creeping economies and unstable political situations. Ideas are the seeds for every business: they need diligent custodians to drive them to maturity.

Ideas emerge in the stillness of the mind, they are like drops of mild rain: if they fall through dry air, they may never touch the ground. Similarly, a cluttered mind is like a disturbance in the sea. The idea is spiraled into waves of distortion and soon forgotten. To appreciate the power of a good idea is to shield your mind from the waves of distraction that life throws at us.

Ideas are seeds: they are gifts. We simply take on the role of custodians. We must stay humble. No one can steal your idea:they may be able to copy the cover but not the revelation. Do not start your business with stolen seed. The owners of the seed will claim their harvest.

Every seed goes through a cycle of growth. When a seed is put into the ground, it dies before it brings forth new growth. Some seeds take longer than others to sprout: waiting earnestly and drawing inspiration from the boldness of your idea is what will bring you forth to your harvest.

Death brings forth newness. Longing brings forth surrender. Waiting grooms perseverance.

Lessons we learn when we run businesses. #iBRANDat7years

The Preserve of Beauty for my hands

My childhood memories were made in a tiny house, nestled by a canopy of bamboo shoots and draped with an enviable view of Lake Victoria. In the early 80’s, Mbuya hill was home to civil servants working for large government institutions like Coffee and Lint Marketing Board. Even though my parents have never worked for a government institution, I spent the greater part of my childhood here. The Mbuya Army Hospital- now turned UPDF headquarters, stood like a fortress just above our house. By some degree of measure, ours was a home in the city; but my upbringing and the code of instruction in our household was largely traditional. My mother invariably embraced new technology, albeit with some reservations: the Matooke meal for example, had to be prepared using charcoal.

For a very long time, my mother and I were the only ladies in the house. Since she was against the idea of hired help, the ladies did all the house chores. So my hands got busy at a very early age, in fact, by the time I joined boarding school in Primary one, I could do so many things with my hands: I prepared the family meals during the holidays, cleaned the house and washed my Dad’s socks and handkerchiefs.

On one of those days, the traces of Matooke sap mixed with charcoal on my hands frustrated me deeply. These stains were a rude reminder that I had peeled Matooke and lit the charcoal stove that day. Unfortunately for me, washing never quite removed all the sap: and as a matter of consequence, it got stuck to the cups and plates as I did the dishes which infuriated my mother.
As I grew older, I got more concerned about my hands. Even though my mother rewarded me heavily for helping her with the housework, the intrusive remarks from my peers about what had happened to my hands were daunting! I looked forward to the day I would never have to use charcoal again.

Today, I embrace my Shell gas cylinder with my hands: this is the fulfillment of a childhood dream and a preserve of beauty for my hands. Now I can fix quick meals for my daughter and not worry about staining my hands. And today, more than anything, it’s not just the nosy remarks from my peers that I’m worried about…

Give us this day, our daily bread

It is 1:00pm. The ‘bench and the bar’ at Uganda’s Temple of Justice, take a break from the petition hearing. It is lunch time!

At, Kololo Independence grounds, the sight of our gallant soldiers, in multiple immaculate cues, with their white plates sharply contrasting from their green army uniform, is a sight to behold. It is lunch time!

I make a stopover at Forest Mall, to send my mother her weekly allowance. Just before I drove away, a young man of about 27 years old comes to me and makes a sign requesting for some conversation. I oblige and ask how I can be of help.

“Madam, my name is Kasule. I’m a casual laborer at a construction site but I did not have work today because my boss lost his wife. “I’m so hungry, please help me with some money so that I can buy something to eat.” It is lunch time but…..

I shared some of my money with him, he said thank you and walked away.

And then my mind went through my country’s long scroll of lamentations:

1. The specter of a botched election, on which most of our learned friends-whose white shirts are a cause of great amusement for my daughter as she can’t imagine adult men wearing bibs, will spend hours regurgitating.

2. The anticipated civil activism that has had our gallant solders camped at Kololo all these days.

3. The cry for freedom from Kizza Besigye’s camp.

4. The many friends we have lost to Cancer in the past few weeks

5.


6.


But I guess nothing compares to the hunger that makes the stomach growl in longing for some activity. The Judges and soldiers are assured of a meal every day. My 61 year old mother and her cohorts, have survived three wars and adolescent children, their fears have waned and they too are assured of a meal.

The politicians, who many of our young people followed during the election campaign, at the expense of their time and youthful energy and often times, their few material possesions will be assured of a meal today.

But that 27 year old young man, with his dreams begging for a launch pad and his desires to impress that beautiful girl devouring his soul, but without a meal, even though he recited the Lord’s Prayer, is Uganda’s biggest threat. NO! It is not the election.

Happy Birthday to my Baby Brother Veve!

… Mealtimes that year were interrupted by mummy excusing herself. I wondered why she insisted on returning to the dining table after what seemed like a very painful session of throwing up! Just like the baby secretly forming in her womb, she alone could justify it. Mummy was pregnant but this was a strange pregnancy; she was still breast feeding my baby sister Angela. (0-o)

That is the year I caught typhoid in my final year in primary school just before sitting my mock examinations. I recall the image of a heavily pregnant Goretti walking into the sick bay at Gayaza Junior School to take me home. She looked exhausted and the news of my illness terrified her.

On 15th August, mummy labored for over 7 hours to bring forth was would become the last fruit of her womb. Veve, as well fondly call him, was my sister Angela’s attempt to say his name Francis when she was just 2 years old.

He was a special baby, with an amazing temperament. He went through the normal stages of child development until 8 months when he got a polio vaccination. What seemed like the expected fever after immunization turned into a full blown medical condition that saw him bedridden for so many months. A few months before his first birthday, he had attempted to walk on his own but when he emerged from hospital, he could hardly move his limbs. My brother had recovered from Polio but as fate would have it, he would never be able to walk again.

Veve is a special child! Underneath the banner of his fate, his benevolent spirit outshines his shortcoming. God has granted him favour with people and friends at school. He has achieved so much in his life and is on his journey to becoming a computer scientist.

Today I celebrate the life of an amazing gentleman; my brother whose future is bright and full of unlimited opportunities. Happy Birthday bro.

Strength in weakness

3rd September 2014
... the emotion captures my heart and I get overwhelmed; in a nice way! A state of vulnerability overtakes my soul and breaks all my walls. It is then that weakness stares me in the face and the glaring evidence of all the water that has gone under this bridge comes to life but in a distant dream. I see your hand reaching out for mine and then I realize,that it's only when we are weak that we are able to appreciate strength.
I embrace you,the greatest love of all,for even after all these years,I still believe,that in you alone,lies my life's anchor. Yes, Love always wins.

Belated Hero's day post....

If Hero's day is about celebration of war heroes? Today, I chose to celebrate my grandmother Monica Nalebe Kalanzi (RIP) and mother Mary Goretti Nakimera Mutebi and here's why:

My mother’s childhood dream was to get married to someone from the city. She believed that raising her kids from the city would give them more exposure and opportunities. My parents got married at Kitovu Cathedral in Masaka and drove several miles back to Kampala for their wedding reception at Silver Springs Hotel. After their wedding, they lived at William Street briefly before moving to Mbuya flats just below the Military hospital, which is now the Ministry of Defence headquarters.

In 1985, when the road from Masaka to Kampala was intercepted by rebels, my grandmother braved the risky journey from Masaka via ferry to pick her daughter, who she felt was abandoned in the city. On a cold and quiet evening, long after curfew hours, we heard a desperate knock at the door. “Maria Gulawo, nze mama.” –“Maria, open the door, this is your mother.” Jjaja worried that it wasn’t safe for mum to stay in the city alone; the rebels were approaching and….. and…..it was better off if she was back home with family. (My Dad was overseas)
This was a hard test on mum’s resolve to raise her kids from the city. She worried that if she moved back to Masaka, she would never return. With the reminder that her life and that of her children was in danger, mum opted for the suggestion to move to Kawempe-my uncle’s home but not back to Masaka.

Very early the next morning, Mum and Jjaja hired a wheel burrow from Giza Giza market. With some of our very basic belongings, the long treak to Kawempe started; Jjaja walking by her daughter and the two of us (my brother and I) strapped on the wheel burrow. Every time a gunshot was fired, mum and jjaja shielded us with their warm bodies to protect us from being hurt. When we got to Kawempe, Jjaja embarked on the long journey back to Masaka.

Every war is documented with a story; one that is told in the history books. The stories celebrate heros, those who have been brave enough to risk their lives for their country. We adorn them with medals and headline their names in the media. Every child who has survived the war has their story, if they are an 80’s child, it will be a story about who saved their life during 1986 liberation war. Today I applaud my heroines. Maama and Jjaja

Celebrate Today

…you cannot miss something you’ve never had. We all have dreams and aspirations but until we achieve them, they remain exactly that; an idealistic imagination that leads us into a fantasy world.

We can labour to imagine what it would be like to achieve our dreams. Our imagination, embellished with the fantasy of possession and indulgence, covets our hearts and blurs our vision.

The object of our desire now becomes the ‘dementor’ of our soul: feeding on our happiness and causing despair and depression.

The past, present and future:

The ‘past’ cushions our memories while the future projects are our dreams. The ‘present’(TODAY)however, unveils our dreams: it allows for manifestation and celebration.

All our dreams will have a ‘present’:and there are some dreams that are being manifested in your present. Celebrate those today so that you can create memories for the past. Celebrate today!

...she brought wine to my party.

So I cancelled my annual holiday to attend a friend’s event early this year. This was a break from the 7 year routine where I have allowed my body to recuperate for a couple of days just before the new year sets in. During this time, I change scenery, catch up with old friends and do some shopping. The serenity of my new environment allows me to unclutter my mind and also do some soul searching. I usually return home with a renewed mind and a fresh bout of energy. This is what sustains me and I can assure you, it can go for just 12 months.

An unexpected visit from an old friend last week, put an end to a rather lethargic start of the year. It was like an old flame being lit. Even after all these years, I’m still enthralled by her presence. She embodies femininity, passion, tenderness and a childlike innocence.

In one of his quotes, Nelson Mandela says, “There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.” The few hours spent with Gladys on Monday last week were like an episode of Time traxx. There are things/places that remain unchanged: and to these we must return to find balance and meaning to the emptiness around us. Thank you Gladys for bringing the wine to my party; a quick jolt of energy until Jozi finally calls. xxx

The scarred shield and the pain of isolation:

I faced a minor isolation incident this afternoon that peeled the back off my self-esteem tree. Undoubtedly, the tree still stands because its foundations are deeply rooted, but upon nature’s walk this evening, a scar was registered.


One moment, it was like I was sitting with friends enjoying a sumptuous meal, and the next, I was requested to excuse myself because something ‘important’ was going to be discussed. My exit played out like a walk of shame from an inner circle that I thought I was part of, but has now been made smaller and exclusive. My eyes clouded with tears but I briskly blinked them away. I was not about to let anyone share the pain of my apparent isolation.


This little act of humiliation birthed a silent war in my spirit. I asked myself why I was feeling this way. My guard was down because I was in somewhat familiar territory. Surely, the involuntary release of tears was an indication that a raw nerve had been touched and I was bleeding on the inside….I pray to God that I finally get to the bottom of this.


I usually like to take responsibility of my feelings: I endeavor to get to the bottom of why I’m feeling the way I’m feeling. I REFUSE to blame someone for what happened to me this afternoon: it may have been an innocent request that I over reacted to BUT here’s my lesson: acts of discrimination and isolation (however SUBTLE) belittle, dishonor and dis empower their victims: a state of the mind which is not very desirable.

Twilight in Pakwach: The earth,sun and humanity

As the SUN set over the Pakwach plains on Sunday evening, my friends and I witnessed the most amazing twilight as we made our way back to Gulu. It was like curtains dropping amidst a thunderous applause after a spectacular performance. See, just a few hours before, the sun was the focus of our adventure, as we witnessed the Solar Eclipse for the first time.

Owiny Primary School in Pakwach, Nebbi District was cited by National Aeronautics Space Administration (NASA) as the best viewing point for the Eclipse in Uganda. Eclipse chasers, astronomers, enthusiastic Ugandans infused Packwach with the excitement of this natural phenomenon. The natives in Pakwach cashed in on this opportunity by selling viewing glasses made out of cardboard and camera film.



With our Eclipse shades in tow, we watched the obstruction start to take form. “It’s happening! It’s happening!” I exclaimed to my friend Anita who was sitting next to me. “It looks like the bite on Steve Jobs apple”, I joked. This must have excited Philip who was laboring to get us to the viewing site before the Eclipse started. My friends on social media would call this a perfect shot of FOMO, (Fear Of Missing Out). He however kept his cool and entertained all our questions about Acholi-land, which happens to be his hometown and the place where he plies his trade. Every now and then, our view was interrupted by clouds that seemed to hang in a particularly beautiful pattern that day; in fact, one of our colleagues Norbert said that they too were putting on a show. To enrich our solar viewing experience our eyes wandered across the plains and were treated to an arrestingly scenic view of Albert Nile River Valley.

As these events unfolded before my eyes, my mind drifted into a state of tranquility. I began to yet again appreciate the perfection of nature. Here I was watching the Eclipse taking form with unmatched precision. The effortless and yet seemingly coordinated movement of these celestial bodies created perfect images that entertained our eyes. The total eclipse was only for a few seconds, but the orange crepuscular effect that it cast across the sky was breath-taking! The earth, the sun and humanity must be connected in a way; for what would be the use of such wonderful impressions, if there was no humanity to appreciate them? I think that the earth, sun and humanity in harmony is the perfect confirmation of the existence of a God. It is true that “He is before all things, created all things, and in Him all things consist.”



I wanted to savor this moment for a little while but the noise of fast moving cars from the official viewing site halted my drift. Although I did not plan this trip and only got to Gulu town at 1:30pm that day, I have created a haven in my mind where I can return to tap into this experience- and no one can take that away from me.
As the people of Pakwach lined up across the road to bid us farewell, I could almost hear them burst into a celebration song: Dear Solar Eclipse viewers, we are very very happy……

Kibuule’s utterances and my silent humiliation.

I received a message from a friend this afternoon saying that according to him,my comment was the missing link on Kibuule’s utterances. He asked if I had posted something on Twitter!


No I haven't: and my silence on this issue doesn’t mean that I haven’t seen or been incensed by it. I’m still recovering from something that happened to me on Monday, plus the pile of work I had to put out this week, has not given me a chance to comment. In fact, as far as my work is concerned, between 10am-12pm yesterday on twitter,the #kibuule hashtag was moving alongside #UGMedia . #UGMedia is a discussion by Kalundi Serumaga on Uganda’s media.


I will now project my bow on Kibuule: he represents a section of men who without any respect, see every woman as their prey. They shoot to kill at whatever cost: some with their words and others with their actions.
I have read somewhere, that any unwelcome sexual advance equates to sexual harassment. I also know that as a woman, my body visibly attracts male attention. So,I make an effort, despite many temptation to dress decently.


I was however drawn into a helpless and passive situation early this week, when in the process of greeting someone, they offered to give me a hug, which I quickly disguised by offering my hand on the side; this is what most people call the side- hug. I found out along time ago that this was the best way to avoid embarrassing situations with guys, who in the name of giving you a hug, touch your body inappropriately.


So, when I reached out with my side hug, this man’s hand navigated the back of my blouse, tagged at my bra and snapped it. All this happened in less than a minute.


With the bile rising from the violation of my privacy and ownership of my body, I turned straight up and caught the smug look on his face. I wished I could slappppppppppppppppp this man so hard or at least pull at his ……. But I was thrown into a state of passiveness. Humiliation engulfed my spirit and I cringed at the just how much this man had evaded my privacy.
So today, I will sign the petition to censure Kibuule because men with thoughts like his, need a lesson in the beauty embodied by femininity.

Naguru Lights!!

As I walk through Naguru this evening, I marvel at the artistic illumination of darkness over the hills. I stand and gaze at the harmonious galaxy of lights. Not aligned in any order like the blue lights on the runway at night,but their effort to glow calms my senses.

With my eyes closed, and neck stretched out, my mind wanders as the soft wind gently caresses my cheek. Thoughts of loved ones in faraway lands linger on my mind; wishing they were here to share this moment with me.

One sigh, two sighs…. seven sighs, and as the air reaches to the depths of my toes, the cares of today, those that may have been leftover from yesterday subside.

And just like daylight wanes, and darkness takes over, giving those lights a chance to shine, I gain courage that this star will shine.

If motherhood is a crown, let it not bring me shame ….

Life promises me a crown;It is the crown of Motherhood. I was chosen by God to propagate life. It is no wonder that Monie Love’s Born 2 B.R.E.E.D 90’s hit single still rocks the airwaves today! Motherhood is a gift!

But before I’m a mother, I’m a little girl. I want to be an air hostess. I want to revel in the beauty of nature and relish the fascination of men. I hope to run for public office one day…may be! I know I will eventually mature into a full grown woman and meet this man who will bestow upon me the title of wife. Then the time for the crown will come; please don’t cut my life short.

The film “A walk to Beautiful”, is a restoration of dignity. In a little village in Ethiopia, many young girls are married off as early as 8 years of age. With marriage,comes the responsibility of bearing of children which their undeveloped pelvic bones cannot endure. This coupled with the long distance to the health centers, puts these young girls in danger of unassisted labor. Some girls are in labor for as many as 7 days. They usually lose their babies as a result. In addition to the loss, the girls have to live with an almost permanent condition called obstetric FISTULA. The film hinges its story on a woman’s worth in society. How every woman struggles to embrace those qualities that preserve their dignity.

Fistula is a condition brought about by unassisted childbirth and affects women in rural parts of the world. A Fistula is a hole between the Vagina and rectum or the vagina and bladder caused by the unborn child pressing very tight on the birth canal, cutting off the flow of blood to the surrounding tissues and causing them to rapture. Women who have Fistula have a constant leakage of urine and or faeces.

If you think a broken relationship is the worst rejection you ever had to endure, speak to a woman with Fistula. Many of us cannot put up with bad body odor, smelly feet or bad breath. In fact, we have labeled some people in our environments as the smelly ones. We wonder why they can’t have a bath or use deodorant!!! I’m reminded of my very early days in boarding school, where my mother lectured me about intimate hygiene. She was concerned that there were no cotton panties for young girls in the 80’s.The most affordable brand was “Tiagiri”,which she didn't like,because it was made from polyester and therefore harbored unpleasant smells. She insisted on tailoring my panties out of cotton material with elastic bands for a close fit.That woman!!!! She would tailor quite a number to make up for "newstock" every time she came to visit. Those have got to be the ugliest panties I have ever worn!!! According to her, intimate hygiene, even for a young girl would have serious effects on how well she was accepted in society; and for her, not be the mother with a smelly child!!

I can imagine the life of a young girl with Fistula. The constant leakage of urine from her body produces a pungent smell that will soon have her ostracized by her family. She will not be able to look after her children or enjoy the fruits of the marital bed.

In Uganda, over 200,000 women live with the Fistula condition. A surgical procedure can correct Fistula by having the holes closed. The women have to stay in hospital for 14 days to allow for the healing to happen before they are sent back home to their families.




The dignity of every woman is affirmed by her ability to give life and nurture the ones she loves. Every day around the world, a woman wakes up with renewed energy to carry an extra pot of water, to gather her little ones and feed them, to show compassion to those who are hurting and to the one person who bestows upon her title of wife, she seeks to please. This is the essence of a woman! Let us preserve this dignity by increasing funding and awareness for Fistula. In that way, we shall wear the crown of Motherhood with pride.

My 50 shades of 2012

Oh how I wish I could borrow a few words of E.L. James’ publications of the 50 shades trilogy, as a title for my account of 2012. The challenge is that I have to struggle to detach myself from the eroticism that forms the story line of this collection; a global controversy on the explicit depiction of BDSM that will continue even in 2013.

The attractive coining of “50 shades” presents various opportunities for one to write about just anything. So while my profession requires that I keep abreast with local and international trends, my outlook of 2012 confirms to me that we may be scattered around the globe but what brings us together is a collective appreciation of those aspects that resonate with our social settings: our belief in God, cultural disciplines, the value of friends, loved ones and family, the love of nature, music, fashion and lifestyle.

My spotlight award for 2012 goes to the Mayans for pulling off the world’s biggest prank about the World ending on 21st December and PSY for promoting Korean lavish style in his popular single Gagman style which now has over one billion views on You Tube. My golden spotlight award will go to Steven Kiprotich for winning Gold at the 2012 London Olympics.

This brings me back to the place I call home; the land where I earn my bread. My destiny may not be tied to this land but my birthright is. However, the events that have played out over the last 12 months stretch my mind to imaginable levels of discomfort!! I cannot comprehend why a land so naturally gifted by nature, has to be defiled by its inhabitants: the people supposed to protect it. A famous writer once said, "It is hard to imagine a more stupid or dangerous way of making decisions than by putting those decisions in the hands of people who pay no price of being wrong." I will brand Uganda as the protest capital of the region; it doesn’t matter if we have been referred to as a top tourist destination for 2012. Uganda now has regional influence (EAC,COMESA & ICGLR) of over 23 countries with a population of over 540million people and yet the events that have played out over the last 12 months have brewed a cocktail that’s nothing diplomatic. It’s even sadder that the close of 2012 threw us a Molotov cocktail!!!

Back to all things musical, the song that brought me to my knees was Israel Houghton’s hit, “Jesus at the Centre of it all. Followed by “We are young” and “Diamonds in the sky” by Fun and Rihanna respectively. I choose to celebrate Whitney Houston by listening to “One Moment in time”. May her Soul Rest in Peace. I’m still convinced that Tyler Perry is such a looker but I’m so attracted to Javier Bardem’s edginess in Sky Fall.

My most DEHUMANISING act of 2012 will be when URA forcefully deducted funds from my bank account. Uganda Revenue Authority has a policy that all taxes should be filed and paid by every 15th of the month. If you run a business in this town, you will know that sometimes payments do not come in on time. URA called me to inform me of this pending liability. I informed them that the payments had not come through and as soon as they did, I would pay the tax. Three days later, I was served with a Third party agency notice that the tax was deducted from the account. It is then that I was reminded that in life, the two things that are certain are death and taxes.

Nature has been my greatest companion this year. Not only does it remind me of God’s greatness, it is the one thing I return to calm my soul. In one of his many quotes, Nelson Mandela says,” There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find ways in which you yourself have altered.” I’m grateful for all the breathtaking sunsets and moments spent at Cassia lodge watching the lights come out over Kampala. I got an upgrade recently while on a cruise to Kyaggwe. Who ever imagined that an island in Mukono would hold such dear memories for me?

I have generally had a good year. I have laughed, I have cried. I have endured long periods of stress but I discovered that humans too have an auto mode. I have smiled at babies, said farewell to dear ones, exchanged hugs and had insomnia that forced me off my bed for 3 months. I have been robbed from but I have also been gifted. I changed my hairstyle!!! I have put on weight and added an extra bra size. Then I got stressed because I had outgrown my wardrobe. I still have not learnt how to swim!!! I have read more, watched a little more TV ,think Frank Walusimbi is such a good newscaster and Nicholas Opio a great analyst.

Most importantly, I have been loved in a more unusual way. Love opened my heart and birthed something new. I sailed to California and camped there.... because life is a journey and YOLO. Happy 2013.

I want to be young again...

I want to be young again, but the world needs to stop for a minute. "Be Still!" I say to all the voices inside my head. I need to be touched with the true hands of love, and looked upon with eyes of caution. The seasons of life have worked on my spirit; filled it with pleasure and eroded it with pain all at the same time. What you have left is a spirit once free but now mature enough to produce a smile in the storm...but.... but... I wish there were no storms!! I wish I could dance in the rain with no worry about a fall. I wish I was immune to the words and actions of my surroundings. But my heart sucks it all in.. it is all happening to me! Why is it happening to me? And yet when it is all over, I look back upon the hill I just ascended, how far and dark the valley lies below, I shudder to look back at the trail I just left behind. Here at the mountain top where I stand, with all the freshness of a new season, I'm glad I'm alive to tell a story to those who care to listen, that I would never have made it with out HIM. My wish to be young again, is not that i can escape the seasons of life... which would then mean, I would never blossom. But I want to blossom, I want to shine, I want to make a dent on this universe. I want to LOVE with every fibre of my body... but I still want to be young again..if only to dance in the rain with no worry about a fall.

Forgiveness

This was written on Saturday,22nd October 2011 at 8:41pm. This was after someone very close to me made a very careless statement.I avoided them for these 8 months and you can not imagine but a heart full of pain can breed. I loathed everything about them, Couldn't look them in the eye and this went on for another 20 months. I must say time heels all things. I have since recovered from this painful season. 8 months ago, someone made a random statement. Yes "random" because he well, he just opened his mouth and made a casual statement. The power of words! Recently I have been going over Steve Jobbs quotes and being enriched by the the life they propagate! This and other books have been on my menu for reviving my soul. What that random statement did to me was profound! There has not been enough" secret shifters" to redirect my energy and get me back on course! I was hurt! Being hurt is a sign that there's something in you that requires attention! When you get hurt it means that you have a tender spot you have been resisting the need to address. Along comes some unsuspecting soul, doing what they do and they stick their finger on the tender spot. It makes you angry that you did not see it coming! This creates a sense of vulnerability! The vulnerability that comes from the over powering effect of wat the person has done. To be vulnerable is to accept that you stand defenseless and that you will protected! So you start on a journey to forgiveness knowing that you are standing in the power of your authentic self. It allows you to be innocent so that you can be strong.. that no matter what happens u will heal. To forgive is not to allow or say its okay.It is facing your biggest pain and disarming it.Saying in your mind that it is well with my soul. Now I feel the pain start to leave my soul and happy that it leaves behind a cleaner shelf with no skeletons. May the healing begin...

Bantu Princess

What would we do without mobile telephony and the indulgences that come with it? I hear MTN makes a killing from the late night sms’ hence the introduction of the “late chat” product profile. I love smsing!! And when I meet someone who loves working the keypad as much as I do, I indulge mercilessly!! Don’t you just love the imagination that comes from the constant exchange of words?
You are never certain of the next response but when the phone signals or buzzes,(You are in a meeting and have put the phone on silent so you can still engage in your little act of pleasure) you wait with anticipation to decode the message.
Such is one very pleasurable indulgence of mine lately, not to mention my best companion who beautifully crafted the name Bantu princess. You see, my friend comes from West Africa and he is Yoruba. Yorubas have a rich heritage and a strong cultural background. My Friend Yoruba says that Yorubas are the elite group in Nigeria. They live a sophisticated life, have at least two degrees, have lived and studied in London, speak pidgin and are very intelligent. At the end of this rhetoric,I’m bored and giving my friend the signal to stop blowing the his trumpet because the Bantu, just like the Yoruba, though not very educated and elitist share the same uniqueness-Power!!
I love the sound of Bantu Princess!! Wouldn’t you? It screams royalty, supremacy and control. Don’t we all wish we came from some famous family, went to some famous school and are treated like princesses? So you can imagine two egotistic souls, dubbing the mob keys trying to pronounce whose dominance extends further and what Yorubas are and Bantu not!
It’s then that Yoruba blubbers, Uhh Bantu Princess, you have the name but it’s copyrighted. You can’t use it at your will.
In protest, I set up this blog and like the Baganda say, Yoruba can go and hang on a tomato tree!!

Should women keep quiet?

The old tradition seems to dictate that when men are talking, the women should keep quiet!! It is like an unwritten rule that suggests that women do not have an opinion and if they do, it does not really matter!

I once dated a man who was very uncomfortable every time I opened my mouth while out on a social gathering. He would get so agitated that he would change the subject much to the surprise of his peers who always wondered why he interrupted my contributions. See, I have been working on my social skills from the time I realised that social networking and human capital are fundamental pillars to the advancement of my career. With time, I have mastered the art of small talk which offers a cushion in situations where you have to interact with strangers at a cocktail or build rapport with a potential client.

I have somewhat succeeded at my attempt to be sociable, although sometimes, when I realize that I will be using up a lot of my energy, I avoid social gatherings all together-and that is especially after my body has sent me the “I’m not up for small talk” signal.

But it wasn’t always like this. Being an introvert, I’m more energized by the comfort that comes with solitude and being around familiar faces and situations. I however came to the realization that this was not going to get me anywhere. I have had to work my way through it by sponging on subjects of general conversation, using my analysis to draw my opinions, having a few basic facts at my finger tips and identifying at least one subject that I can authoritatively speak about etc.

I have seen results in this particular area of my life: in fact a friend of mine almost accused me of having an overbearing outlook that would intimidate men. He worried if I would ever find a man who would put up with my over expressive character! Do men have an issue with a woman expressing herself? Does it make them feel less of men? It seems to me that a number of Ugandan ladies have resigned themselves to this notion; that’s why we are still waiting for Sharon O to graduate from her monosyllabic speech!

“Has gone to be with the Lord.” Why then I’m I so sad?

On Saturday night, I got to learn of the death of Paul Kim. My heart sunk as numerous thoughts rushed through my head about the pending (now very apparent) situation of their soon to be born child.

A few months ago, we stood with Paul and his beautiful and very visibly pregnant wife Olivia outside church as is the custom at Worship Harvest, to have a chat over a drink. We talked about work and the arrival of their bundle of Joy. Olivia said she would be due in May and Paul showed a lot of enthusiasm about their soon to be received gift. I could see the joy in his eyes! We said farewell, sat in our cars and drove away.

As I sat on my bed, thinking through the situation, I logged on to Facebook and saw friends expressing their grief. The reality is that “Paul has gone to be with the Lord.” But Why I’m I so sad?
When we hear of friends moving from one place to another, we are usually filled with excitement about the new possibilities that could be in store for them. Why then are we so mortified when friends leave us to be with the Lord?

It is because we love them and wish we could have them around forever. Friends are God’s channel through which He extends His love. They believe in us, support us, and give us a chance to grow. Olivia's loss is a unique one: we all know how important it is for a child to grow up with its father. Now that Paul is gone, we wonder who will tell Kisha about the wonderful person he was!!

Too many questions, few or no answers at all but the glaring reality for me is;
1. That we have one life. It’s short, It’s fun and worth every breath. One day, we shall also be gone but hopefully we don’t “die” before our time.

2. That God takes care of all of us and none of us can account for the blessings in their life. Health protection, wisdom, favour.... These blessings are intangible, only bestowed upon us by God, on which we can’t put a price. So you don’t have to work for everything you own.

3. That life presents its own challenges which are beyond our control. Therefore, the one thing we have control over, is the way we treat each other. Let’s quit hurting each other and instead focus on making life better for everyone. It’s possible!!

4. All this useless competition and the struggle to gain wealth at the expense of others is not worth it. Human beings are the world’s greatest resource and a vital component to experiencing life.

5. That there is enough (money, fame, husbands, wives, cars etc) for all of us. That money comes as a blessing to put us in a position to bless others. That when we die, we leave EVERYTHING behind. So why steal what belongs to another person? Why take so much and leave nothing for the others? Why beat up the woman you love?

6. That pain is real but time heals even the most broken of hearts.
The biggest joy in my heart today, is the realization that I love you my friends so dearly that If any of you were to leave without knowing how very special you are to me, I would be broken forever.
To all of you my friends, at home and around the world, I want to say that I LOVE YOU, I treasure your friendship and I’m so blessed to have you in my life. If I have not seen you or talked to you in a long time, I just want to say that all it takes is a reconnection. RIP Paul Kim.