Thursday, December 17, 2009

I had it all worked out...

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Life as we know it

Of late, many things have been bringing home to me, the fact that the world will not wait. It will not wait while I mourn, while I make up my mind, while I drag my feet. It just has so much going, it can't afford to stop for puny little me to get back on board. This realization upsets me. Mildly.

Mostly, it motivates me to move, reminding me that now's the time to live, laugh, love and everything else I've been putting on the back burner.
That said, I don't know any book quotes but am here to tell you that books are the ish. Why? Ama break it down for you. I know some one who's twice my age. The other day, I think out of desperation, she let rip about the state of her relationship with the love of her life. She wasn't happy and she had totally run out of ideas on how to make it work. Now, any one who knows me, knows that I've never been in anything that can even loosely be termed as a relationship. But she didn't know me that well so she had no misgivings about telling me. Anti you know how I be so mature and what not.

So here she is, telling me all these things and all I can do is tell her about the things I've read. So our conversation went something like this;

Her: I just wish he'd call me for no good reason. Just once!

Me: I read somewhere that men are not psychics. You have to tell them what you want.

Her: But why can't he do, for me, the things I do for him?!

Me: A guy called
Steve Harvey wrote a book that said.....

Her: He doesn't even tell me his problems

Me: In
Men are from Mars...

... and so on. Somehow, she stuck around for an entire hour and left with a new, improved and standardized action plan. And I felt powerful. So believe me when I say, Books are the ish.

Ah. Found it. Here goes...

"In the case of good books, the point is not to see how many of them you can get through, but how many can get through to you."

-Mortimer Adler (author)

Tuesday, October 27, 2009


To think
I might not see those eyes
Makes it so hard
Not to cry
And as we say
our long good byes
I almost do

- Run (Snow Patrol)

Hi Luv,

It feels wrong writing this. Never thought I'd see the day. I'm trying to accept the fact that you are not here, that the next time I go by your house, I won't be cueing up to make you smile. I'm working on using the right tense whenever I speak about you. It hurts afresh every single time.

You don't know this but I've really been looking forward to you. I couldn't wait to get to know you, find out how your mind works. I'd already pictured me imparting nonsense packaged as wisdom. I saw you getting it.

Keira, it might seem a bit strange but I guess its time I admitted I had you investigated. Yeah, babe, I did my homework on you using your birth dates. I couldn't discover your past, you didn't have much of one, but boy, did I catch a glimpse of your future. I found out what you would be like when you were all grown up. The stuff I found out said you were peaceful and affectionate. It promised you'd be a little tyrant, always aiming for perfection. It said you valued solitude because you were an analytical thinker of the first order.

You have no idea how much I was looking forward. I know that regardless of whether you'd turned out like my notes said or different, you'd have been a marvel because you've got the world's coolest mum and dad. Your numerous aunties and uncles and grannies aren't half bad either.

Everyone was shaken when they heard the news. Especially your grannies who'd seen you once or not at all. We forgot that life is fleeting, you seemed so solid, it never occurred to us that you could leave so... so fast. This might take a while to heal because your absence has left a gaping hole in our existences. But we are glad we got to meet you, if only for a month and a half.

You're beautiful, Keira and I don't have to say it, coz you already know,but we'll miss you.

I love you

Your aunt

Friday, September 4, 2009


Y'all gon' make me lose my mind, up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me go all out, up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me act a fool, up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me lose my cool, up in here, up in here

Concussion: A traumatic injury to tissues of the body such as the brain as a result of a violent blow, shaking, or spinning.

To be concussed: To experience the above tragedy.

When I was little, a concussion meant running head first into a wall and seeing stars.

A bit later, it changed to falling of those wooden beams that they put up for renovations sake and landing on your back- and on your head (and having to crawl into the house because everything was paining and you thought something in your spine area might have come loose).

First forward, 23 years, many months and some days later, concussion's got a new meaning: sitting in a taxi on a Kampala road.

The amount of times I banged my head against the side of the taxi just yesterday was enough to make me keep checking for an indentation in the side of my skull. Where the hell do those drivers look as they drive. Granted, there's more pothole than road, don't they know about gentle navigations and what not?

The next time I hit my head, am applying for disabled status, I'm a step away from vegitabalism.

On a more pleasant note: I'm finally going to watch The Proposal. Yipeee!

Monday, August 17, 2009


Just picture a great big steak,
fried, roasted or stewed.
Oh, food,
Wonderful food,
Marvellous food,
Glorious food.
- Oliver!
That aside, You haven't eaten well untill you've eaten a meal that you made from your own sweat and blood (though I can't quite remember bleeding). Still, last Saturday was spent trying to eat. There we were minding our own business, planning to go out and eat when one of those neighbours who only live inside your TV showed up with a meal; Pasta sauce. His instructions were simple; Warm it.

As I mentally called dibs on the bigger plate, my host calmly informed me that the house was void of cookers or warmers of any sort. We had nothing to cook the spaghetti on and no way to warm the sauce. Bugger! He however quickly reassured me that the building next door had a surround- sound see smell kitchen. So we braced ourselves for the cold, carried our sauce and spaghetti and headed out to find a cooker or try dieing.

On arrival, it was clear things weren't about to get better. No one was home. The only silver lining in the whole business was a tiny puppy called Pombe who'd been locked in but was still content to wag himself from behind the glass door and generally make me wish I could carry him. After Pombe found more interesting things to do than make eyes at us, he went into hiding.

After that, the idea of a trip into town, didn't have the same appeal as before, considering I'd beeen making eyes at the sauce since it and I first met. But there didn't seem to be any other option. But I didn't want to move!!! Sensing my distress, G. I Jane (my alter ego) snapped into action. She made her way back into the kitchen, this time on assignment: Find cooking impliment or die trying. It worked. She , I mean, I found a kerosene stove covered in dust but full of Kerosene. To all the environmentalists out there, I know I was bad, but I was hungry.

Inspite of my renewed faith in God, providence and other mystical things that just are, I wondered what sadistic streak had made Host make us walk out into the uncertain rain, mud and cold.

me: Hey, why didn't we just use the stove?
Host: Stove, what stove? We don't have a stove.
me (pointing): This one right here.
Host: That's a stove(In genuine disbelief)? I thought it was a lantern!


Later, after the perceived mode of operation had been explained, I could understand how a mistake could have been made. It didn't stop me from laughing at Host though. So finally, we made pasta, ate pasta, digested pasta and couldn't move for pasta. Something about everything we'd been through to eat pasta made that meal the most delicious thing I'd eaten all year. I couldn't remember anything tasting so good!

Thursday, August 13, 2009


I'm a hazard to myself
Don't let me get me, I'm my own worst enemy
It's bad when you annoy your self, so irritating
Don't wanna be my friend no more
I wanna be someone else


Last weekend was wicked; we partied till 7 in the morning and long after the die hards had blacked out, I was going strong, on pure adrenaline! I had a ball (as usual, for all the wrong reasons) and didn't touch a drop of alcohol.

The next evening, I woke up energized. The world was beautiful, I mean, it had songs like Potential in it and MunaUganda and Kwata kwata. I can't remember which bazungu songs they played, for some reason. Things were going well untill I tried to stretch my mind to go over the details. It wouldn't go. I shouldn't have pushed; In a rush,specific events of the night before assailed me making me moan like I'd lost the love of my life. Even now, right now, I'm fighting a groan that begs expression. Why, you ask? Because, even if I've always known that I don't need alcohol to get onto a table and gyrate for all I'm worth, even I hadn't believed myself capable of some things. Now don't go calling the cops, every thing was legit, it just made me scared of and for myself, that's all.

Alcohol makes men bold and women loose, right? Uhm, could we have the definition of loose please? And does it become null and void if you haven't been drinking?

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Lightening and Thunder

Yeah, I still need to get me some of that.

I'm saddened by permanent departures. A friend's going back home and chances of ever seeing him again are minimal. Its sad. And there's all those promises you make in these situations; to write, send pics, spend each day on skype but there's something about the distance that makes you lose the bond that proximity gave you. Something about forgetting what their smile looks like and how they had a silly dance move that they'd perfected (and how they used to sprawl on the grass when under the influence). I wish he didn't have to go.Oh well, we meet to part, part to meet and what not.

Eh, good news: Great things are coming my way. Now, don't think ill of me but I was googling, as I'm wont to do when... no, I remember how it started, I think I was googling the conspiracy theories on why MJ turned white when I came across this article that said he had a '2 line path'. My mind lurched onto this and by the end of the day, I'd discovered numerology and the fact that mine is a 5 line path.

Now, while there, on the numerology website, I glanced to the side and there was a psychic beckoning me. Yes, I gave in and she told me many nice things but couldn't give me details till I paid her some money. Kati, according to her, I'm on the brink of a life changing expirience so if I give her money, she'll tell me what to look out for, if I don't, nga it passes me by. Now what are the odds that I'm sending my ka hard earned cash to Carlifonia?

In other news: Alcohol makes men bold (and women loose but that's not the point).