What's your plan for me?
I lie here, still,
a breathing corpse awaiting revival.
A biography of past failures and those fated to be.
A mass of procrastinated life
vapourised to nothingness;
limping behind time's pace, while in the present.
An existance lacking being.
Human yet with an undefined character.
Memories of experiences,
like a hammer made of pain
striking this rock made of soul.
Tears like intermittent rain,
each outburst not willing to cease.
A future as blank as a white sheet,
yet painted in self-centredness, lack of direction, and despair,
and then framed in hopelessness and misery.
Chewed gum loses its flavour and then favour.
A celebrity has high times, then times are low.
A tourist sees the world till he has nowhere exciting to go.
A man can gain the world and lose his soul.
Roses are there, to bring beauty to their beholders.
If they served another purpose,
they could cease to be worthy of their name.
If flowers served as food,
we might as well call them vegetables.
If humans lost their spirits,
we might as well call them animals.
If their spirits had a purpose,
then they'd have lost their purpose.
If the sight of this life is not repellant and is ruled worthy,
if it is possible for this seedling planted in salvation,
to grow tall and bear fruit;
if the sun illuminates all without discrimination,
if the Trinity is the source and life of all creation,
if God is the potter and i the clay,
if prayer is the most holy way to communicate,
if You are 'I Am',
then this i pray,
that i too may 'be'.

That You will condense this vapour of nothingness,

distill it to a new life.

That You will take this human clay,

mould it to Your image,

even when it's rough with resistance.

That this seed You have planted,

continue to love it jealously.

Forgive the germinated seedling

when it bends with the wind,

for mostly it knows not what it does

or does not what it wants

when it instead obeys its nature of weaknesses.

If there were another place for it to live other than this world,

perhaps it would be perfect.

But You planted it here

because You have the perfect plan and purpose.

This i pray, that with Your grace,

this seedling may grow to stand tall

and bear only the fruit

that You planned for it to grow.

May i be an embodiment of the plan You have for me.

bad day.

i should have listened to jonah when he said it would rain in the afternoon. but how was i supposed to beleive him? it was shining bright when he looked up into the sky and gave his conclusion with this aura of wisdom. i thought he was just flaunting the usual know-it-all male ego and yet he was right. now i have to start my hair day again from the part where i have wet hair tied up in a bandana. jonah, if u read hard enough, u'll see that there was an apology somewhere in the previous sentences. if u dont see it, then, well, i wish i had listened to u. and that's as far as i can go with an apology. and that's coz you're my good friend.

the morning wasn't nice either. it reminded me of the days before i decided to stick to power fm. every cell in my body throbbed in unison with detest every time they received stimulus in some way or other caused by the sound of britney's voice. i despised her so much that it bordered on hatred. (christians dont really hate so i cant cross the border). and yet, after a week of listening to capital fm, i would once in a while find myself humming to 'i'm not a girl, not yet a woman' (check out romans 7:15). i'm singing things i dont want to sing, and the singer (in karru's words;) has never even made it to my list of bad people. that's how i felt this morning when i walked into the tv room and found all my siblings playing football with a playstation thing. i started off wondering how anyone could watch, leave alone enjoy that game, and minutes later, i was staring in amazement as they used weird playstation buttons and functions to make their own football figures with funny hairstyles, kicking styles, and even celebrating styles. i came back to me senses when they decided to name one of the figures after me as well. they laughed when i reminded them how i'll never buy any children in my care a playstation. i began to feel the familiar throb in my body getting stronger;- but i dont understand how minutes later i was being educated on football.;- beckham is old, the current football season is premiership, not championship (hope i havent mixed it up again), and thierry's team isnt doing well. (condolences to the muganda). and premiership is for england teams; it's the season where man-u fans beat up arsenal fans, or rather, vice versa, and people forever complain about how uganda has too many arsenal fans and they all seemed to have planned to recruit the rowdiest pple into the fan club. and it just happened again: i (dont like) football and i'm blogging about it. what a morning, and what an evening. in fact, what a day.

the day didnt get better when i made jonah run around town coz i had to pick up a book from a friend and return it to another friend accross town. poor guy thought all we were doing in town that day was buying christmas gifts for the watoto children attached to our cell for the season. (being the only two temporary school drop-outs in cell comes with it's responsibilities). he had no idea i'd forget the names of the children at home and have to walk around town looking for the cheapest phone booth to call young sis to give her directions to the exact location of the names (which he had no idea i'd almost forget). he had no idea it would take 3 calls to direct her, and 4 more before she realised the urgency of the situation and actually called me back to read the names to me. poor guy had no idea. jonah, if you're wanting an apology, well neither did i. and its not my fault either that it took l'il sis 7 calls to realise that we were standing at the streets waiting for her replies while she was complaining about how i was interrupting her tv programme.

fortunately, every cloud has a silver lining or eight. pascal got the book he's been wanting back from me for the last two months. i delivered the gifts to the watoto offices just before it was locked up. i realised before it was too late that i had mixed up the girls names and labelled the gifts wrongly. jonah didnt really complain. young sis was really apologetic. i got home before i collapsed. i actually had a great time looking for the gifts with jonah. jonah was in time for the cantata.

this was three days before christmas. and i realised only today that i hadnt posted this and had mistakenly saved it as as draft. great. so much for silver linings. more than a bad day.

maidens of the bride.

ten of us, all of us, all cousins of the bride,
ten of us, all of us, all maidens of the bride.

the home in the village was decorated in grandeur;
tents, balloons, clear blue sky above the compounds green pastures;
uncles, aunts, the arcbishop and village neighbours;
children, high tables, food, drinks and plastic chairs.

ten of us, all of us, seated among the crowd,
waiting, anticipating, wondering aloud.
ten of us, all of us, looking plain and unclad
to the unsuspecting guests, and searching lads.

bustling, hurrying, organising and yelling,
boy cousins carrying, uncles ordering,
waiters serving and aunties preparing,
people gossipping and other girl cousins helping.

ten of us sitting, ten of us watching,
ten of us wondering where to offer some helping.
but no helping is demanded of lucky us;
as maidens of the bride, our job is 'sit, enjoy and relax'.

mass service is ending,
the in-laws to be are arriving,
drama groups are entertaining,
guests are chatting and enjoying.

ten of us, all of us, locked up in one room
wearing soft pink and white traditional Ankole attire with high-heeled shoes.

hustling and bustling, hurrying again,
the in-laws, warmly welcomed, are absolutely impressed.

ten of us, all of us, young and unmarried,
painting our lips and eyelids and combing our hair.
ten of us, all of us, chatting and enjoying,
making up, blinging, practising, comparing and final touching.

the in-laws are seated, the MC is charming,
the guests are anxious; 'when is the bride coming?'

ten of us, all of us, beautiful and shining,
giggling, knowing, that we all look stunning.
ten of us. aunties and older cousins are wondering, that
one of us perhaps, will be eyed and spotted?

the time has come, the bride is excited,
for some strange reasons, all our hearts feel uplifted.

ten of us, all of us lined up in pairs,
parading behind the bride, her shwenkazi and matron.
behind boy cousins carrying the gifts and wearing kanzus,
the dazzling pink and white entourage is justifying pride in our people.
(and in the ever-increasingly excited cow-calculating uncles).

the MC remains charming,
as it starts raining;
our stools are pushed further into the tent,
as guest's explain to each other about the rain's blessings.

ten of us quiet, as the drizzle gets light,
in full view of the guests, and stealing glances at the bride.
ten of us discussing, 'so it's tina's turn now,
have u ever seen anyone looking as fulfilled and beautiful as this bride'.

Patricia was the first in 2001,
last year it was robert, lillian and patrick,
then racheal, uncle john, carol and vincent.
this year was david and christine
(and it looks like there'll be no more breaks 'till we've married off the last 5 yr old cousin)

ten of us wondering 'could the next be me?
i should get a boyfriend, how nice that would be,
(to introduce him and show him off to this grand family)'.
ten of us imagining, fantasising away,
looking out to all the people, but our thoughts are far away.

gifts are distributed,
speeches are made.
the bride cries all through her heart-breaking speech,
and then she is given away.

ten of us, all emotional and teary-eyed,
caught up in reveries; our daydreams are alike.
ten of us, thinking, as in our hearts we smile and sigh;
'perhaps this is how my kuhingira should be, when i'm discovered by my guy'.

the in-laws are happy, proud and rejoicing.
they really like this bride, whom they've gladly received.
we have served the cake, and taken our seats.
it is the end of the day, the archbishop prays before we all leave.

ten of us dancing, back into the house,
in pairs again, escorting the bride who's full of laughter.
the in-laws have spotted, and promised to return;
they have more sons, and we are (at least) ten daughters.

it is late nighttime,
the in-laws are leaving.
God has been greatly praised,
there's joy in the farewell's and thanksgiving.

ten of us, satisfied. our work is done, all has gone well.
chatting and teasing, we all smile for the cameramen.
ten of us. thoughts of the future are sweet and swell.
but that will be then. today, we're the bride's maidens.

hair day.

hair-day. that's a term used to refer to the acts of a person (female); or events or occurrences, that occur when her hair is unplaited/doesnt have braids in it/has ugly swaz and needs a makeover/is unplaited and is not treated (is natural). hair-day may last more more than a day, and may even stretch to periods as long as a month, especially in crisis times such as when the female unplaits her hair just before school exams. there has been a sustained period of crisis free hair days however, thanks to the closure of the country's main university. this, though, has been interrupted by the need to prepare for a kuhingira function.

hair day. it can start on any day, like a monday, when one realises that the kuhingira is this saturday so it would do one well to start unplaiting. tomorrow of course. there are too many movies too watch for now. the hair-day continues to tuesday where the hair is finally unplaited in the evening when the movies are done and power is off. the female would like to wash her hair herself in case any of those thieves at the salon will wash it with drops of diluted products; and she intends to complete this by tuesday night. however, power comes back on and more movies are showing. ugly as it may seem, hair-days include spending a night in your bed with hair that hasn't been washed in a month, thus the use of all the bandanas and scarfs that u always see lying around the female's room, that u never really see her wear.

the day, in such a circumstance as this, is forced to continue to wednesday, where the female intends to wash hair first thing in the morning, and get it blow dried, before a meeting at 7 o'clock pm. however, lack of bigger crisis periods like exams has suddenly induced a habit of sleeping in the mornings and after breakfast, and thru to late afternoon, especially since certain siblings have taken possession of the tv. it is the screaming from one of the siblings reminding the female that it is her turn to cook supper, that prompts her to take action. yes, tiring as it may be, hairdays can include bustling about, trying to cook and boil water to wash her at the same time, while screaming at whoever has any shampoo one can borrow. hair is finally ready to be washed at 6:30pm, before the meeting at 7. hair-days, i must add, include regretting why u didnt just let the thieves wash your hair earlier before the thought of doing it yourself made u sleep harder the whole afternoon.

hair-days. they can be helpful when u wake up on thursday morning bursting out of bed with purpose. the salons had no power the previous night, so u couldnt blow dry the hair. rather than being in time for the meeting with a bandana tied over a half-wet baby afro, u opted to be one hour late because of hot-combing. of course, the salon lady didn't use enough oil so the hair is back to it's afro state by thursday morning, hence the bout of purpose. the female thanks God that she did not wash her hair that woman's salon as well.

hair-days. they have a way of creeping up on u when u are utterly broke. but that's what big sisters are for. the bouts of purpose have forced the female to think again, and to think up a plan. the first step of the female's plan is to hope big sis calls for any reason (while indulging in more movies), coz she doesn't have airtime to call her herself. everyone has a bit of luck, and in this case, it has been good. big sis calls and she seizes her opportunity to ask for money for a hairdo in town, where they use enough oil. a meeting is set, and the plan can continue.

big sis takes her to a salon and leaves her with extra money, of course (the plan is working well). hair-days. they require money. and when u have natural hair, u pay more coz more oil is used. the guy in the salon here can't stop blowing his nose into a totally already-wet hanky, and his eyes are red from flu, and he's walking towards the female..., wait, he's the one doing her hair! alas, hair-days can include bearing a hairdo by a guy who needs medicine right now, but it's ok. it could be worse. she could be the one with the horrible flu.

as he tongs her hair, her thoughts go into random state. such random hair-day thoughts include things like;- 'i shouldn't have teased ashy about being rained on on tuesday. now it drizzled on me on my way here and the sick salon man had to blow dry my hair first. as if last nyt wasn't enough for my hurting scalp. maybe karma is real.' ;
'i'm leaving for the village tomorrow and a certain muganda has not kept his promise as usual. can't he ever do something different?' ;
'goodness, i'm going bak to campus in jan and i havent finished my report! will do it next week after this kuhingira in villa.' ;
'i wonder what rita would do if i called her tonight.' ;
'racheal is pretty quiet these days, and the rest of the roomies too, come to think of it' ;
'i have extra money, i'm not cookng tonight.!' ;
'song of a warrior is a cool title. have to remember to tell pea.' ;
'have to find a way to make my posts shorter. no wonder my first posts seem nicer. maybe that's why iwaya is quiet?'
the random thoughts are interrupted by the guy continuously puling her head and hitting the tonger thing on her scalp. either he is too sick, or does not realise that the thing he's using is first heated extra before being brought to her head. he must have missed class the day they taught that tonging is like hot-combing;-the tonger machine is HOT!
hair-days. if circumcision is a test of manliness, then those days they just didn't have things like hair-days to compare.

it is done, and i am looking extremely good. everyone in the salon is staring at me and i suppress the urge to reply with 'yes, it is my natural hair'. i see the other customers fighting the urge to say 'why didn't i tong my hair insted of plaiting?!'
i use the extra money to buy chips for the first time since the strike. everyone in the restaurant is staring at me and i want to reply with 'yes, girls who wear jeans, sneakers and shirts that look like rugby players' clothes do their hair nicely as well. and it's my natural hair by the way.'

hair-days. they make u proud to be female. you're so happy with (read relieved by) your new look, that u decide to blog about it. and as the internet guy gives u extra internet time, u can't help but decide u'd go through another hair-day again any day. except during exams.
ok kuhingira people, here i come!

freaky friday 2: the parliamentarian's daughter.

seeing as friday came and went, and i woke up in my own bed, in my own room (the girls' room), in my own body and in my usual morning state of mind (except for disappointment at finding i was still me), i concluded this is one of the moments where u swallow, make the best of the situation, learn something and move on. maybe u can help someone in a similar situation someday. and that's exactly wat i'm going to do right now. i decided that instead of living in denial and hope for angels and freaky fridays, i should just help anyone whose mother may be a parliamentarian, with some tips;

1. when your friends ask u if she is advocating for the 60 million shillings each for a car, tell them the truth;- u had no idea parliamentarians wanted that amount of money, and a car was the first thing she got anyway. now she can travel to and from the district of representaion without the family car breakdowns. and that money has definitely not come yet.

2. when your friends ask u how she can live in kampala and represent another district, tell them God knew when to do the switch. He waited for all the kids to be in boarding school before letting her finally win elections. that way, she can live in the district four days a week during holidays, and even more during the school terms. elections were won and for the five years before that she was in the district five days a week. and if they say 'only!?', remind them that the parliament happens to be in Kampala so it makes more sense if a few days were spent in kla too. and yes, the dad is ok with it coz they say share the same projects so they travel together most of the time.

3. when everyone is talking about how everyone in parliament is just after the money and not after helping the people, tell them that u beleive the only way for any parliamentarian to prove that they are not after the money is if they refuse to take their salaries and commit to serving the people without pay.

4. if, in reaction to 3 above, they say that the parliamentarians can take the salaries and still do something for the people, remind them that even then, some parliamentarians who led development-projects even before they got the seat, are still accused of having put these projects in place just to help them win people's votes, and not because they actually had a heart to help people.

5. on second thoughts, dont follow tip no. 4. if they complain about the money issue in tip 3, just keep quiet, empathise and acknowledge their point of view. step 4 looks like you're defending. its easy to ignore tip 4 though, because after all, u yourself beleive most of the politicians are money-hungry, or at least become like that when they get into the system.

6. if they ask u if u also think your mother is in the wrong political party, tell them it doesnt matter what u think coz she has been a supprter of that party since before u were born anyway. ok, not since u were born;-since forever.; how many arsenal fans cross over to man-u? and how many man-u fans, if given a chance to play in any team they wanted, would choose arsenal coz it's more favoured in Ug or has more money or sth?

7. if your friends happen to support a political party u dont support, and hate the party your mum belongs to, and u dont like either party, dont mention wat u do support. they wont beleive u. they'll say you're just trying to be neutral coz u dont want to offend mum and yet u want to fit in with your friends.

8. if they ask u if u have a body guard, say 'puh-lease'. this helps them get the picture.

9. if they ask u if you want to be a poliitician too, say no, coz u don't.

10. if they ask u why, tell them to hand u a gun and shoot yourself. it's easier.

11. if they ask u if u find yourself wishing for an angel or a freaky friday, say u did once, but u noticed wen you're left in charge of the house 3 days a week, you're given money for 3 days a week, which is enough for the whole week!