justme

2011-03-03T00:10:00.000-08:00

COURTING FLAME

this fire in front of me,
is it my friend or my foe?
the flickering flame dances so beautifully;
it's orange glow is attracting me;
i snuggle up close to it out of curiosity.
not too close though, 'coz the Word said it would burn me.
but did the Word know how tempting this fire can be?
did He know that the warmth of the flame is pleasing to me?
and i have found a way to make this fire grow;
you see, when i push my Light under a bushel,
the night comes on,
and this flame in front of me glows more,
and when i get closer,
it tickles my skin and i giggle,
and my lusting flesh gets hungrier the more the flame wiggles.
how close can i get before it burns me?
but then what is a little burn compared to this ecstasy?
perhaps i should bring my light out from under the bushel
and stop this game once and for all,
but this bright warm and beautiful flame keeps courting me...
somebody please pray with me.

2010-11-02T07:55:00.000-07:00

for the last five years, i've been struggling to gain weight.

five years ago, i was always marginalised for being too small and skinny. noone ever took me seriously. when i was joining university, everyone thought i was in S.3 or something like that. when i was in a group, people never distributed 'serious' tasks to me because i looked too young, even when i knew i was capable. i was determined to gain a few pounds so that i could look like a real African woman.

after all the fattening diets and prayers, i've finally gained about five kilos and i'm loving my weight, but now, everyone is telling me how guys don't want to marry big ladies. actually, the same guys who thought i looked too young and small to be married to anyone are now telling me i shouldn't gain any more weight and that i should even lose some because 'what will happen when i give birth' and well, it's just generally nicer to have a small woman. when did this happen? i've just spent the last five years trying to conform to one trend only to be blown in the face being told it's now the wrong trend. when did Africans start accepting, appreciating and almost start worshipping small women like us? what happened to things like 'african men like big women'. and even apart from the men factor, the big women who used to look down on me with contempt are now fighting to be my size. is there anything in the Bible about small being better than big, (or big being better than small), or has the media gotten to us?

Ladies, i will paraphrase what Solomon said in Ecclesiastes in a few words; - don't rely on these trends!! they are all nothing! this 'skinny is better' trend will pass away as effectively as the 'bigger is better' trend did, and then you'll all be fighting to be i don't know what next. what matters is that you are able to understand what the Lord requires of you, and that you can then obey Him and live for Him. Love yourself the way you are so that you can be able to love others, and be what God wants you to be despite what the trends demand of you. If God wants you to be bigger or smaller, it can be done, but as long as you are fit and healthy, don't go to extremes to be something you are not! it's so not worth it.

crystallization

2009-03-27T05:19:00.000-07:00

the old is distilled off,
the new is formed,
refined by fire,
crystal is reborn.

2008-11-23T03:01:00.000-08:00

my God, my God, why have i forsaken You? again?

sorry;- but Obama...!

2008-11-14T06:47:00.000-08:00

Oops! On 17th September, I vowed – well, promised that I’d post something here every week. I think I just broke that vow/promise. I’m going to attempt to forge an excuse. And the excuse is;- Obama won! Seriously. It’s two weeks later and Ugandans are still celebrating! Here are some of the victory remarks I’ve been hearing over and over.

Banange u guys this poverty of Uganda! Let’s pack our things and go to America. Obama has real won and has not yet been assassinated!
Eh! Obama real won! Have they changed the name from whitehouse to blackhouse?
Woo! Obama! No more long lines at the American Embassy – let’s go and tell them that it is now our office and we want our visas!
My boss has not yet paid me. Let me just go to America and live my African dream.
Of course I love Kenyan people! They are my brothers and sisters! Tell those guys my brother is the president and they should give me that visa.
- Crys: “Eh, Solomon, money is scarce in Uganda, why don’t you become our president?”
- Solomon: “Ha, By the way I would have helped you broke Ugandans and contested to be your president but since Obama is now already there, he can handle things for us.”
5 years ago, I won an argument with my friends saying America would never have a black president in the next 100 years.
I knew one day America would have a black president, but I didn’t think he would be black, as in African.
I still want Hillary. This is supposed to be the age for women! But any way its ok, casta (as long as) Obama won.
Is it true that Kenya is now an American state?

So the excuse is I’ve spent these weeks laughing my head off and trying to bring people back to reality; haven’t been able to do much else. If u can buy that.

2008-11-03T05:37:00.000-08:00

Darn my brother. He abused me. He called me stupid, just because doesn’t want to admit he was the one in the wrong. He’s the one who made the mistake, and just because he’s older, he doesn’t want be found to be imperfect. So now he’s turning it round, telling everyone I’m the stupid one. And just because he’s older, I have to shut up and not answer back and respect him and let him tell everyone how stupid I am. But God, You saw what happened! You know I’m right! You know he’s the one who made the mistake! You know I’m the one who’s right! God You know I’m right! The world knows I’m right! The angry hormones rushing through my blood know I’m right. I just might give him a piece of my mind this time…

Darn that secretary. She undermined me. She refused to give me an appointment because she said I’m underage. I told her my real age and showed her all my qualifications. I was more qualified than the other people. But in one arrogant look at me from head to toe she dismissed me. I am the right person for this job. You know I am God. The world knows I am. My heart, soul and body know I am. The angry hormones racing in my body are going to make me give her an impulsive rude retort…

Darn my uncle. He hurt me. He said I’m too inadequate to be a married woman. He said I’ll never have a happy family because I’m going to do a PHD when I’m not yet married. He said I look old and ugly and no one will want an educated jajja like me. He said by now he would be having 5 more cows but I’m keeping him poor because I spend all my time either at school, work or Church instead of being out there looking for a rich man. But God, I know I know I am not wrong to wait on You. You know I don’t want to do anything out of Your will. I know You know the plans You have for me. I’m right to wait on You. You know I’m right. The world knows I’m right. The bitter hormones racing through my body know I’m right. I always be angry at my uncle and men like him…

Darn myself. How can I be so proud? I look at the Cross again and say darn myself. There I was, guilty of all my sin. And without even asking, You came down and made me worthy to be in Heaven. I was wrong and You made me right. Darn myself. I look at You. The Israelites are blaming You for something You did not do. They were guilty of sin and they said it was You who was wrong. And You forgave them… I will not blame my brother. Even though the world knows I’m right, I will be like You, I am not of the world. I am like You, I will forgive Him.

Darn myself. I see Pilate questioning You and I say darn myself. You are King. God our Father knows You are. The Holy Spirit knows you are. And yet when Pilate asks You if You are, You do not reply. Darn myself. I will not speak rudely to the secretary. I was qualified, the world knows I was. My whole body knows I was. But I am not of the world, I am Yours. I am not subject to my flesh, my spirit is Yours. I will let her be, leave her guilty of missing out on me. I will go where You have prepared others to recognize me.

Darn myself. I see You in the garden of Gethsemane. You ask God to take away the cup of suffering, yet You ask for His will to be done. I will not hurt. I will not marry the wrong man. I don’t want to be alone, burning with passion. I deserve to have my own children. The world knows I do. So do You. But I am not of the world so let Your will be done.

Yay me. My brother said he is sorry and I forgave him. 5 years later, the secretary is calling me. Her company wants to buy me from the one where I am now CEO. I am getting married to the most wonderful man I’ve ever known. Yay me. I see You risen from the grave, shining in the light of Your Glory. You have been raised to Your rightful place and I have raised me there too. I am where You want me to be. Glory Hallelujah.

what if His people prayed

2008-10-23T04:12:00.000-07:00

what if the armies of the Lord
picked up and dusted off their swords
vowed to set the captives free
and not let satan have one more

what if the church for Heaven's sake
finally stepped up to the plate
took a stand upon God's promise
and stormed hell's rusty gates

WHAT IF HIS PEOPLE PRAYED
AND THOSE WHO BEAR HIS NAME
WOULD HUMBLY SEEK HIS FACE
AND TURN FROM THEIR OWN WAY

and what would happen if we prayed
for those raised up to lead the way
then maybe kids in school could pray
and unborn children see light of day

what if the light that we pursue
came from a hunger for the truth
what if the family turned to Jesus
stopped asking oprah what to do

WHAT IF HIS PEOPLE PRAYED
AND THOSE WHO BEAR HIS NAME
WOULD HUMBLY SEEK HIS FACE
AND TURN FROM THEIR OWN WAY

HE SAID THAT HE WOULD HEAR
HIS PROMISE HAS BEEN MADE
HE'S ANSWERED LOUD AND CLEAR, YEAH
IFONLY WE COULD PRAY

if my people called by My Name,
if they humbled themselves and prayed;
if my people called by My Name,
if they humbled themselves and prayed;

WHAT IF HIS PEOPLE PRAYED...

sang by casting crowns. i'm not a big fan of rock-style music, but something that encourages people to seek Jesus is certainly good to listen to. i mean, when you think about it, what would happen if we prayed; as in really prayed? '...if My people, who are called by My Name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.' [2 Chronicles 7:14]. did you hear that?!? 'He said that He would hear! His promise has been made! He's answered loud and clear, yeah! If only we could pray.'

2008-10-23T03:22:00.000-07:00

dear God,

2008-10-13T06:02:00.000-07:00

forgive me. forget what i said last week. i have totally changed my mind. i don't need You to come to me physically (as if my physical body could withstand the glory). i see You every morning. well, most mornings, when i wake up to worship You and listen to You and speak to You. there is something about the spiritual that is much broader and more infinite than the physical. physically, i may not have something i need, but through faith, that thing is already mine. physically, i may not see You, but when i close my eyes to worship You, i feel You. and You are more real than any physical touch i've known. when i cry out to You, i hear You hearing me. and You are so near. You are closer to me than the chair accross the room; closer to me than the sheets in my bed; closer to me than the clothes on my body; closer than the hair on my head; closer than the blood running through my veins and arteries; closer than the emotions that worshipping You brings. You are so close that You are in my heart. in my mind even. You are in my soul. You are so close that You are even in my spirit. nothing physical could ever get that close. it is amazing. You know me. You know me more than i do. You know how my DNA is wrapped up in my body cells. i've never even seen my own DNA. You know what thought i'm going to think next. i know my thoughts when i think them, but i don't know what i'm going to think in the next five minutes! and You do. God, You are so big, i can't beleive i wanted to see You. physically, that is. because if i saw You physically, i would see so little. i love my morning devotions. because in that time, i can repent. and i can determine to change my lifestyle. and with each change every day i can become purer and holier, even by faith in Your saving work in me. and it is true that the pure in heart are blessed, for they will see You (mathew 5). God, i don't have to see You sitting in the chair opposite me, because i can see You much more clearly everyday, in my spirit, as we commune, as i pray. You are more infinite than anything my physical eyes will ever see. i guess i'll never see You in Your totality, but what i see of You is already even too great for me. i said what i said last week because i had spent a long time without listening to and talking to You. but You still answered my last week's query and now i can see that i do see You. my friends Francis and Joshua quote how it is written that Enoch walked with God until he was no more. Joshua said it's because as Enoch kept walking closer and closer to You, the physical laws of nature could not hold his physical body in that communion, and soon he became no more, like walking into You or something. i think there's a point somewhere in that explanation. but it doesn't matter, because either way, i think seeing You in my Spirit is better;- closer than seeing You in the chair opposite me. thank You for always being with me. thank You for loving me God.

dear God,

2008-10-09T06:22:00.000-07:00

i still think it would be great if You knocked at my door someday, shining in all Your glory, and had a one-onone Q n A thing with me over a cup of tea. i do the Q's and You the A's. it's a lot easier than having to build my faith over many diificult morning devotions to the point where i can hear You even if I can't see You...

more than him. or her

2008-09-25T04:25:00.000-07:00

If I could take away your sorrow
I would cast it to the wind
If I could say it's okay
You would never cry again
If I could wave my hand, I'd take away your fears
You would never have to worry, as long as I am near
BRIDGE I
If I could take my brush,
I would paint a perfect day
If I could muster all my creativity
I would say the perfect phrase

CHORUS
The words that I would say, will only go so far
They're just ordinary words from an ordinary heart
Just an ordinary love from an ordinary guy
But I know someone who's greater,
I know someone who
loves you more than I

If I had my way I would ride through the night
Like a prince in shining armor,
I would love to save the fight
And I would love to be your hero,
who would never ever fall
I would be the one to rescue you,
I would be the one you'd call
BRIDGE II
But there is One who is
much more than I can be
And if you'd put your faith in Him,
you would have security

CHORUS * BRIDGE I * CHORUS

I know someone who loves you more than I
He loves you more than I ( i can wipe your tears when u start to cry, but i know someone)
He loves you more than I (i love u with all my heart, but He,)
He loves you more than I

Sang by Commissioned. They're like my Christian version of Boyz II Men. Long gone are those childhood days when i thought some man i would one day fall in love with would be everything i need; only God can be it all. i'm not saying don't fall in love; i'm saying don't depend on him or her to fill the gap that only He can fill.

dont't just listen;- listen!

2008-09-17T04:50:00.000-07:00

dear God,
people say that sometimes when they are not in the best of circumstances, it helps to just sit and talk to someone. and many times they don't need the advice or finger-pointing or analysis; they just need someone to listen; it helps get the load off their chests. the listener doesn't even have to say anything sometimes, all they have to do is listen. the problem is there aren't many listeners. too many teachers, preachers, counsellors, people talking at you before they listen to you. of course everyone needs encouragement, but it helps to first hear and listen and understand the whole situation and underlying feelings, so that you can receive the wisdom and know the words of encouragement and exhortion to give. that is why i wrote this 'poem'. i put myself in the shoes of someone who really needed a friend to listen to them. if you wanted to to tell someone to listen to you, what would you say...

Listen to me. Listen to me please.
My God would not give you two ears,
He would not give my heart the desire to share,
He would make it such that He were the only one there,
If it was wrong for you to listen to me.

Listen to me! Before you speak, please listen!
I know that I said I’m fine,
But do you hear the hint of sadness in my voice's tone?
I know that I am smiling,
But can’t you hear the walls of my heart breaking?
I know that I am laughing and talking,
But can’t you hear the rhythm of my words?
It rises and falls with the roaring waves in me,
Back and forth,
Rocking away all my peace,
Bringing confusion ashore with the tide.
I know that I am standing tall with confidence,
But do you hear the devil whispering lies in my ear?
Do you hear my house of straw being built on sand?
Do u hear it crashing down in the storm of my circumstance?

If you listen to me carefully, you will hear my heart paining.
If you listen hard, you’ll hear my sorrow shamelessly singing out with glee.
If you listen closely, you will hear my soul sobbing.
If you listen again, you’ll hear my lonely spirit despairing.
If you listen some more, you will hear my life seeking.
If you listen devotedly, you will hear my weak spirit dying.
Listen, can’t you hear it stagnating in complacence?
Can’t you hear my mind worrying?
Can’t you hear my character apathising?
But If you listen with all your heart, you will hear the wisdom of the Lord.
Then you will echo His Word of peace in my life.

If you listen to me, you will not judge me, but you will listen to me.
Then you will judge my circumstance in spirit and in truth.
If you listen to me, you will not advise me but you will listen to me.
Then you may be able to heed to the advice from the Lord.
If you listen to me, you will not interrupt me, but you will listen to me.
Then you will be able to hear me. And you will hear all that is within me.
If you listen to me, you will not ‘correct’ me, but you will listen to me.
Then the Lord will discipline me.
If you listen to me, you will not think you already know everything about me. But you will listen to me.
Then you will start to really know me.
You may even begin to understand me.
Maybe you will even help me.
You may even find time to pray for me.
But not if you don’t listen to me.

Don’t just listen to my voice, listen to my heart.
Don’t just listen to my words, listen to my life.
Don’t just listen to my looks, listen to my attitude.
Don’t just listen to my appearance, listen to my body language.
Don’t just listen with you ears, listen with your mind.
Don’t just listen with your schedule, listen with your time.
Listen with your empathy and not with your pride.
Listen with your sympathy and not with your stares and analysis, or cold thoughts.
Don’t listen to me because you should, listen to me because you would.
Don’t just listen in your flesh; listen with the Spirit of the Lord that is within you.
Listen with your silence.
Listen in love.
Listen with understanding, and wisdom.

Be there for me.
I know that you are sitting right next to me, but be there for me.
While you sit next to me, be there for me while you are there.
If I am willing to talk to you, listen to me.
I am not asking you to heal the world,
But to listen to this one soul.
Hear it all.
Maybe then I’ll come out of this hole.
And that will give glory to God.

2008-09-17T04:29:00.000-07:00

I, CRYSTAL RUTANGYE, ON THIS DAY, THE 17TH OF SEPTEMBER (exactly i month since i last posted on this blog), HEREBY DECLARE THAT I SHALL DISCIPLINE MYSELF AND BE COMMITTED TO DOING A MINIMUM OF 1 POST A WEEK ON THIS BLOG. SERIOUSLY. WELL, EXCEPT FOR THE TIMES I MIGHT HAVE TO GO UPCOUNTRY, OR FOR CAMP OR SOMETHING. BUT I'M GOING TO BE A REAL BLOGGER NOW. it's just ashaming how i take all this time without posting...

dear God,

2008-08-17T07:05:00.000-07:00

who are You? You are too infinite for me to understand. You're so sovereign. How can i know You?

dear God,

2008-08-02T10:25:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time,
I thought the world was the best place for me to be.
I thought America was a land where you could be free,
and the United Nations was an embodiment of love and peace.
But now the world is just a trail of history.
The AU is just another chapter in the world's story.
And the book is bound with the same old cover
of hypocrisy, power search, war, immorality and greed.

So I put the world aside,
and only then began to see the light.
The world is not the only book in life;
There is one that is right;-
the story of You, the Light.
So let me be in Your book God, not the world's.
Write my life in your book,
write me in Your book of life.

2008-07-02T07:16:00.000-07:00

dear God,

You love me.
You saved me.
I thought my Delilah had cut off all my hair.
I thought the enemy had plucked out my eyes.
I thought I had no more strength, nor sight.
I thought my temptation had taken me prisoner.
But all the while Your saving power was making me better.

How would I know this joy if not for this trial?
How would I know this peace if not for this storm?
How would I have this strength if not for salvation?
How would I be saved if there was no Christ?
How would I know You like this if I was not saved.

2008-06-20T04:25:00.000-07:00

dear God,

the spirit is not willing but the flesh is too strong. i need You to intervene supernaturally somehow, because i feel like i just might end up doing it.

2008-06-18T03:00:00.000-07:00

dear God,

why can't the head and the heart just work together all the time?

My Sister

2008-05-19T09:42:00.000-07:00

My sister,
I remember you. I remember when you were so little;
You were so little, you were so young.
You were that little bundle of innocence,
So pleasant to everyone.
You laughed when a snake crawled around your legs.
You chased after bees and grabbed at wasps.
You imitated peacocks and barked back at dogs.
When daddy playfully threw you in the air, you knew he would catch you.
When you stole some sugar from the kitchen, you cheekily waited for mummy to discipline you.
You were not afraid to get dirty; you knew mummy would clean you.
You were not afraid if the neighbors’ kids laughed at you, you knew we loved you.
When we asked you to sing, you were not afraid to dance too.
You brothers and sisters were your best friends. Your family was your world.
Your world was happy.

You are not so happy anymore. Maybe a bit wiser or so.
I remember the first time the teacher at school caned you.
I remember the third time daddy forgot to pick you from school.
I remember when UTV stopped showing your favorite cartoon.
And the time you got your class report and you were number sixty-two out of eighty pupils.
Remember when you wanted to go to didi’s world? You learnt then that the family was poor.
Remember when you learned to read newspapers? You always rushed to the entertainment news.
But then one time you read that lovely Whitney Houston was hooked to drugs, yet mummy had said drugs were not good. Do you remember how you were so disappointed and confused?
Remember how you found out where babies come from? When mummy realized what the shamba boy was trying to do to you?
We sat all night, the whole family, and talked to you.
I remember in the end you thought sex was so uncouth. You never again wanted to hear the words ‘I love you’.
You hated men and began to think lesbianism was good.

Remember when aunt Namaganda came to visit.
She made you kneel down to serve all your brothers the food you had cooked.
They ate to their fill till there was no good piece of chicken left for you.
“It’s ok,” aunt said; “you’re a woman.”
Then she made you serve your lazy brothers drinks on your semi-empty stomach.
Remember how you blamed God for making you a woman?
How you lost much self-esteem when your brothers laughed at you because the onions were burnt?
Remember the satisfaction you felt when mummy told the boys to wash the dishes that night?
It was never enough to quench the anger that burned inside.

I remember Sylvia Tamale became your role model.
And you admired Winnie Byanyima because she did not change her name to Besigye.
You despised Kazibwe because she was only second to the man-president.
You vowed to be more independent than any of them.

I remember how you worked hard to beat your brothers’ records and excelled at your A’Levels.
You made it to university but then your orphaned best friend became a prostitute.
You saw how she commanded all kinds of men and you thought her lifestyle was so powerful.
And you also thought she was getting all the special love and attention in the world…
You are the university’s president now and now a V.I.P., but you are still a girl…

Now life is taking a toll on you.
I know that kind of look that you wear on your face every day.
You are still growing up; you’re learning more, to your misery.
You have realized that your parents are not perfect.
You have seen that after light there is always darkness.
Famous people get divorced and happy ones can still become drug addicts.
The world is not as God meant it to be.
Martin Luther died and so will Oprah Winfrey.
You’re wondering if the idea of a Living God is just a fallacy.
After all this time, you have never even discovered your destiny.
Life is a mystery.
And it is not very happy.
And you have it all, but all you want is to know you’ve been good.
You want to be true.
If only you knew the truth.
Bow my head my sister, and let me pray for you.

Dear God, I honour and worship You.
I thank You because out of everything Your Word is true.
Please let my sister taste and see that You are good!!
Transform her by the renewing of her mind.
You said that all who believe in Jesus shall not die but have eternal life.
How hard it is for the world to believe such a simple truth!
Separate her; cause her to believe in He who was sent by You.(John 6:44)
She may be feeling filthy, dirty from all she has believed and let herself do,
But let her know that she is and has always been Your prize jewel.
The blood of Christ washes everything anew.
Cleanse her too.
Let Your forgiveness wash over her through and through.
May she understand how deep and how high and how long and how wide Your love for her is. (Eph 3:17-21)
Let Your love, be soil for her roots.
May she shine with the light of Your Glory. (2 Cor 4:6)
Say to her heart, “LET THERE BE LIGHT” and then the darkness will disappear.
Let her be secure in You.
And then she will laugh at bees again and bark back at dogs.
And then You will be her perfect daddy who will throw her playfully in the air and catch her before she falls.
Jesus, You raised Lazarus from the dead, and ordered that he be unbound.
Jesus, as my sister is re-born, deliver her from all that bondage.
You said that Your very Words are Spirit and Life(
Say to her as you did to that woman in…,
Say to her, “woman, thou art loosed”.
Thou art loosed,
My sister.

2008-04-09T05:37:00.000-07:00

PLEASE GO TO crys2God.blogspot.com. THANK YOU!

to the flesh, the bad world, and all things sinful

2008-04-03T10:30:00.000-07:00

leave me alone.
detach from my heart.
unyoke yourself from my soul.

you're tied to my flesh,
following me around like a dog on a leash.
barking at me, you never rest.

come out of my mind.
you're filling it up like fantasy,
pushing away everything good inside.

release me!
stop engulfing me!
be gone from me!

do you not know who i am?
i am a child of God brought to eternal life,
set free and renewed by His Word in my mind.

how dare you defy my authority in Christ?!
in Jesus' name i command you to leave me!
God's Spirit alone reigns in mine!!

have you no shame?
attacking one who bears Christ's name!?
you almost drove me insane.

but i am no longer made weary by you.
Christ died to deliver me from you.
you were already trampled under his foot.

my dear iniquity,
forbidden as u were, i relished u.
i eagerly awaited the sin you promised me.

but having accepted Christ,
the Holy Spirit guides mine.
the sin u brought out from my flesh has lost in it's battle to control my life.

when He died, the battle was already won.
sweet as u may be, always barking at me,
i am loosed and u are bound.

you are just a toothless dog.
i laugh at you heartily because i live on freely,
and you leave me.

as inspired by; -psalm 51
-rom 7
-tricky experiences
-salvation.

please dear God, please, BLESS the woman.

2008-03-28T07:40:00.000-07:00

dear God,

i saw the woman. i saw her in the supermarket this evening. her stern face was structured by those features of dominance. her body walked in that stance of preparedness to back down any resistance and obstacles in her way. her body was dressed in those prestigious rags; those white-collar job outfits. her sore feet were clad in cruel heels. her hostile eyes shone at me, like a probing policeman's torch, cautiously warning me not to dare defy her hard-earned glory. those eyes, oh God, they told a story. a story of a girl who fought for her fair share of life, of a woman who declared her independence. a story of success. at the expense of life itself. help her to see truth dear God..., to see truth and life...

i heard her. i heard the woman dear God. i heard her sigh every morning as she awoke. i heard her fatigued footsteps as she dragged herself from the bed to the showers, to prepare for another day, a day like any other day. everyday. and everyday she hoped that the next day would be better. and more fulfilling. and everyday she hoped the next day she would take a first step closer to realising a dream or two, of hers. but everyday she had to work. she had to work to survive. no time to live. she had to make money to make some of her dreams come true. she had to sacrifice. she had no time to sit with her friends for long. no time to sit at the feet of Jesus. no time to rest from work. she needed to work from rest. i heard her tired voice. hear her, dear God, do u hear her? i know u do. i know u want her to hear. help her to hear truth dear God, and to hear about the truth about life...

i smelt her fear. she was trenched in the odour of tradition and culture. she was afraid to be beautiful. she was afraid to be educated beyond the level of her less intellectually gifted man. she was afraid to see how her life could be beyond the fearful submmissive slave of a wife she must be. she was a slave to her life. she was afraid to hope. hope was oppressed till it evaded her. she hoped to hope someday, but it just remained that, a hope. i hope she realises who You meant her to be; a woman, a woman shining Your glory. i hope she sees the truth of the matter, that she may live the truth.

i could taste the bitterness in her heart. it came out in everything she did. she was so bitter. she did not really know why. she was bitter that her life was not as meaningful. she had the right job. she partied with her friends all the time. she called out to You when she was hurting. when the panadol-effect of her her soul-searching wore off, she succumbed to the routine of her life. when the comfort of her boyfriend could not fill the void, she committed herself to You in the night, and went on to 'live' her life the next morning. and she did not know why she was not fulfilling her purpose, except that she did not really know it. everyone said she was such an amazing person. she smiled, she laughed, but inside,.. the anger.. she looked for virtues to build her character, but still,.. how bitter she was becoming that it was all not working.. oh God, if only she could taste and see that You are good! if only she could drink from that well, if only she could taste that water that will become a fountain in her, springing up into everlasting life! let her drink that she may never thirst again. remove the taste of bitterness, and give her a taste of life; a taste of life and truth..., may she have it to the fullest!!

dear God,
i feel for the woman. i feel that she does not know what she is missing. i feel sorry that she thinks she is in the right place, yet there is more!! i feel pity that she keeps relapsing into remorse, yet there is a remedy to her life! she does not know that You are her Daddy. she does not know how much You love her. she does not feel proud to be Your daughter. she does not know how to be the princess of Christ the King. i feel so much that i pray for her. i pray that You redeem her. i pray that she accepts You, that she comes to know You, that she will live in You. i pray that she realises the truth, in spirit and in truth. please dear God, please, BLESS the woman.

while in the stomach of the whale...

2008-03-18T01:56:00.000-07:00

dear God,

You had to do it the hard way. again.

everytime i think i've surrendered my all to U, something else always comes up.

writing has always been something i considered my own. i mean, of course i know everything i own is Yours, but if there was nothing i could do, at least i could write. i had it all figured out. the things i would write about, the publishers that would print my work, the editors, the writer-development programmes and organisations, after all, You gave me the interest, the resources, the connections, the ability, ... but it's not all about me. i even created my own blogspot, but u kept casting me into these dry spells... everything just didn't seem right. it was hard to write what i wanted to. so now i'm going to take my time. not mine actually, but Yours. maybe if i do things Your way, there will be more meaning. i don't want to be like jonah in the Bible again, and again, and again. i want to develop the habit of hearing from You and receiving direction from You in EVERYTHING. i want to have the habit of being submissive to You, not the habit of being swallowed by the whale every time i don't budge into Your will. i'll admit it's going to be really hard, coz though You are supreme, i still tend to beleive i've got few good ideas myself. i guess that's why it's important to trust. i have to trust that my life, my thoughts, ambitions and plans are actually in Your hands. maybe if i chill out for a while in Your hands, i won't have those dry spells anymore, u know, spending months without blogging and writing in my journal and all. maybe i'll be more spiritually organised. i know i say this every time i want to come out of the whale's belly, but this time it's different. for real. this time, like i said, i'm going to develop a habit of submitting to You, in trust. and with hope,...i hope it works,... and thus with faith, coz faith is the substance of things hoped for. faith is being sure. and i'm sure You're an omniscient, omnipresent God, so i better learn to stop clinging to my self, ryt?

dear God,
i hereby surrender my writing (and blogging) hopes, ambitions, plans and dreams into Your hands. it's safe to get me out of this whale's belly now,... really... no, i'm not trying to bribe you,... of course i know You will always do things in Your time, even things like getting me out of this whale's stomach,...

all 4 Jesus

2008-03-12T06:20:00.000-07:00

Jesus, all for Jesus
all i am and have,
and ever hope to be.
all of my
ambitions, thoughts and plans,
i surrender these
into Your hands

for it's only in
Your Will that i am free
for it's only in
Your Will that i am free

Jesus, all for Jesus
all i am and have,
and ever hope to be.
all of my
ambitions, thoughts and plans,
i surrender these
into Your hands

2007-09-19T01:42:00.000-07:00

by the way,

8 RANDOM THINGS ABOUT ME:

1. i love green. ok, that's not so random, that's obvious.

2. i find paractising Christianity to be the coolest thing ever. wait, it's supposed to be random stuff, right?

3. i'm not so much of a random person,

4. therefore there aren't many random things about me. the floor is open to any of my friends who would like to disagree.

5. but i do have random thoughts sometimes! if Ugandan females wore heels in the more developed countries, it would be more fun experience coz there'd be no potholes, eroded murrum roads, incomplete pavements with worn out manhole covers and incomplete tarmac roads with stones and pebbles on the loose. how this last sentence fits in with what i'm writing? it was just a random thought.

6. well, actually, that last thought was not so random. i was just walking to paragon hospital last night with my sister who is visiting til she goes back to UK, and who was persisting at her futile attempts to find some support from my thin arm as she tried to dodge loose stones, as we walked on that tarmac road between the hospital and the bugolobi flats. i always thought bugolobi roads were nice until she compared them to the ones at cambridge. today, i'm wearing heels because i'm going to an office. all of a sudden, the roads are so unfavourable for my choice of footwear. i can't imagine how i managed to walk through town in them before. how unrandom.

7. what i was doing in paragon last night? if i told u, i'd be continuing the story from no.6 and then it wouldn't be random stuff anymore. not that i'm really writing random stuff about me but at least there's not much of a logical flow! is there? but just to let it out, my sister karru gave birth yesterday to a healthy baby boy. yay!

8. i may not have random thoughts but my imagination does wander about randomly sometimes! there's no water at home. my neighbours don't have water either. the whole of makindye doesn't. my brother at MUK says there's no water at campus. my aunt says there's no water at kyambogo. well, there's no water in kampala for all i know! for the third day in a row now! i wonder...maybe the suppliers had a small problem. a big one, i mean. hmm, maybe some crook wanted to poison the population and nancy drew caught him in time to warn national water guys to cut the supply. maybe some psycho national census workor got obsessed with our evergrowing, already uncontrollable population and thought of the best way to kill some of Uganda's people; poison the water that's supplied to the area with the most dense population... ok, let me not make this another long story on its own. it's just my imagination anyway. nancy drew isn't even real. but i'll still read the papers. there could be clues in any story, if imagine hard enough.

p.s.:
9. i like pop corn, african jewelry and nice non-academic books. u could wrap my gifts in green wrapping paper too.

10. maybe i'll try this post topic some other time, when i discover random stuff about me.

i know the tagging days are done, but i beleive rae and the muganda didnt get their chance. lorna and ed, get your own blogs and give us the proper blognames, i've tagged u too.

2007-09-03T00:33:00.000-07:00

about writing,

what, exactly, makes one a good writer? some talents are obviously unique to some people and can hardly be developed enough in those who dont have it, however much they try. take art and drawing for example. after two years of patient training and prodding and encouraging and teaching and reprimanding and anything else u can think of, some people in class just never got to be good at art. as soon we got to S.3, it was the first subject most people dropped. only a handful of interested class-mates were grateful enough for the exposure to take up the subject. art isn't like;-sports. i mean, if u have the build and the agility and watever else is needed, u could be trained to do various kinds of sports. who could discern if u were either talented or just trained that well? then there are some talents like (public) speaking. some people stammer or have the lisp, and still get the crowds' attention. in this case, it could be what they say that makes even the impatient people call them good speakers. then some people never really say anything useful or funny or nice or relevant, and yet when they're done, people will talking about how useful or funny or nice or relevant their speeches were. such people have a gift for gab that captures the listeners' attention, even if all the person was talking about was, well, gab. and this is where writing comes in.

is it the style? the proper grammar and punctuation? or the story? if i had something nice to write about, wouldnt i be called a good writer even there were just a few grammatical errors? would it be fair to call me a good writer if i had the commas and fullstops in the right places but still bored you to death? if ernest bazanye did political articles, would his fans still consider him a good writer? (sorry baz, but you're the only professional writer i know of who blogs, you're example is relevant to my fellow bloggers). and thinking of art, if i went to writing school (or whichever place that teaches people to be good writers), would it be a gurantee that i'd come out with a perfect blend of all the above? or can that only happen for people who've got 'it' in them;- u know, the innate linguistic intelligence (or something like that)?

to cut the long questioning short, what does one have to do, how does one have to write, what does one have to write about, to be called a good writer? let's not go to the why, it will bring up an argument of interest Vs ability.

i hope this pot is short enough.

2007-08-14T07:22:00.000-07:00

i guess i should say something too.

everyone is paying tribute to the friends we lost. i'm the only one acting like miss stoneheart. at least as far as blogging is concerned.

i've lost relatives, and friends of relatives, but i have never been more aware of loss through death than this. neither have i seen a bigger group all at once so deeply affected.

eddie was my friend. a close friend. the kind u sit and share your your problems and joys with. the last time we really talked, we were doing just that. he had a lot more to tell me, but time is never enough sometimes. literally. or maybe we just dont use it well. we kept setting and postponing dates for us to sit and talk again 'like good old times', but it was mostly me who was always too busy. does that sound like a familiar routine to anybody? we next met at the funeral service of brenda's dad. the last thing he said to me before we parted was, "eh! ...we still have a lot to talk about..." and the last thing i said was, ''i know! we'll talk when u get back." i think u can tell the rest of the story.

brenda is my OG from secondary school. we were in the same school for the full six years and i did not know that her home is a five minutes walk from mine. does that sound somewhat like u? (of course if u dont know your neighbours, u wouldnt know if u ever went to school with them). it was after i'd spent the whole day running around town trying and failing and trying again to hook up with other OG's and friends who i could go with to her home for the vigil, that i remembered meeting her in the area once or twice before. we would say hi and talk about school and promise to visit sometime and then move on with our lives. well, now i got to visit.

at brenda's dad's funeral service, i met a lot of my old school friends. i've been in the same university as most but it was agnes who had the courage to say it first; "crystal, howcome we only meet at funerals?" what was i supposed to say, that that's when we remember to comfort our OG's and act like the friends we haven't been the past three years at campus? note that most of us are done with campus. i hope we keep our promises of visitting those doing 4 and 5 year courses.

hellen is one of my best friends ever. abraham was one of her close friends who i always promised to meet. when he didnt make it out of the comma, i couldnt even make it to the service. i mean, i had just found out that eddie's brother had died a month before, and he was related to regina (also myOG) whose child is now orphaned.

in general, i could pass as a people person. the kind who likes her neighbourhood because of the friends and and potential friends and friendly people around. the kind who likes to share people's joys and sorrows. the kind who will most likely knock at your door and say hi first if i know i'm going to be living in the same hostel as you the whole semester. the kind who ever dreamt of doing being a world-class humanitarian, psychologist, human resource manager, doctor, and anything that seemed like it could make the world (or just that society) a better place for people. but even pursuing this anything can make one forget the most important thing;- people. u know, the homies, OG's, family, old friends, workmates, people with whom u have a relationship to protect and enjoy.

ashy liked to tell me that it's knowing the truth that sets u free. in ecclesiastes, king solomon, after taking time to explain in detail how everything is nothing, concludes by saying that all that matters is that we obey all the commands of the Lord. in Paul's words (in ephesians), it's more like i should live a life(style) worthy of my salvation. i guess they have a point. i mean, it's the Lord i'm going to meet, and my homies too, when we get there, so when Jesus to tells me to love God with all my heart and love ya'll as much as i luv myself, i'll take it seriously. and everything else that comes with those commands. you're all i'll have in the end. unless atheism ever miraculously starts to make sense. ok, so, patricia and sandra, i'm giving myself deadlines with that ice cream i promised. rukie, i'm taking u for ice cream too. hellen, i still would have come to visit u at campus during the coming lonely 4th year days of yours, even this hadnt happened to me. and hanny, if u hadnt fallen in love, i would have started demanding ice cream again. u get the point. my family, well, we have enough graduations and weddings to say what we want to say. so stick around 'till my grad. waterloo family, it's about time we set a date for the get-together. PDL family, u guys made my day on 12th august! and bloggers, no more three-month breaks. or is it four? and ritah, i'm quite proud of us.

knowing the truth sets u free. i'm not afraid of death anymore (putting aside the various means of death). i think it's more scary to live a life(style) that would leave u scared of your death. let's pull up our socks guys and get a life!(that used to be karru's favourite slogan).

great i've done another long post.

2007-06-29T08:57:00.001-07:00

While i was away,...

i was coming up with satisfactory excuses to explain what i was doing while i was away, like-
-i was in school. (but then i always blogged even when i was in school).

-i was doing my very last semester in school, the one where u have to start your desertation. (but then that would give me much more to blog about, seeing as whining about school could have become the theme of my blog).

-i was not in kampala. (yeah right. then how would i get to whine about school?)

-i was in a land far far away. (this could be kind of true. i mean, the word 'land' can be relative, can't it?)

-i was in a remote area. (who am i fooling. everyone's village has internet these days. except the one where rae works, - girl how are u doing out there? not that u can read this in the next few working months but how are u doing anyway?!)

-i was sick. (cant use this excuse either, coz i'd have to blog about the kind of sickness that would keep me from blogging that long, and i hate sickness. cant be that creative about it.)

-i ran out of things to blog about. (now why would i want to downplay my blogging reputation and ego like that?! oh yeah, coz i'm trying to find a great excuse... nah, not worth it.)

-i got some brain damage to the part that controls my writing skills. (but then how would i explain this post?)

-i didnt have the time. (ie considering that the word 'time' can also be relative).

-i was at a campus camp. (well, that was only for 4 days).

-i got tagged by pea and was thinking about 8 random things about me. ( them good old blog-tagging days. yes my friends, i've spent that long without blogging.)

-any of the above. (except they are all untrue. unless u consider them all as one collective reason. but i'm not the kind to lie so voluntarily.)

-i saw the sons of anak page and tried to do another blog too,... (ok, i cant think of another thoughtful blog name so let me not bother continuing with this lie.)

-i spent long without blogging and couldnt pick up the courage to start telling u guys i will never do it again, coz i had said that before, if u remember the last time i spent ages without blogging. (this, my friends, could be true.)

anyways, i've lived one month and five days as a non-resident of the university, and it feels so great that i think i'm going to have to blog about it. i literally am living a new life now, it's got to manifest in this blog. just watch this space. really. no more three month breaks. or is it four?

2007-03-23T01:44:00.000-07:00

4400

For every applied force, there is an equal and opposite one (or something like that). For every original, there is a fake. For every good, there is bad. And so on and so forth.

Sorcery: any means or power used to acquire or do something, except by the power of God.Even if you believe in God.

That was my definition until I checked it out in the Cambridge dictionary. Turns out you have to have use of some non-Godly spiritual beings or evil power. So I guess that rules out the option of science. However freaky science gets, it’s probably always going to be acceptable, coz it’s not spiritual, it’s not sorcery. It’s just science, discovery of a lot of phenomena and theories and hypotheses that God knows about Himself.

So; 4400. You know the flow; 4400 people; disappeared from all over the face of the earth at different points in time from 1946 till 2003 or so; all of them are returned together in this big ball of light from the sky at one place; none of them have any memory of what happened while they were away; none of them have aged a day; and as revealed episode by episode, each is returned with a new ‘super-natural’ ability. Maia, (born 1936, disappeared at 8 yrs of age in 1946) is able to have visions of near and further future happenings. Sean (disappeared 2001 at age 17) has the power to heal, and kill, just by touching someone. Lily (disappeared 2002) is found pregnant on her return, and falls in love with Richard (disappeared 1958), who turns out to be the father of the baby. Lily is able to understand what the baby in her womb thinks and feels. And so on.

By the end of the third season, we learn that these people were abducted by humans from the future. Humanity in the future is dying as a consequence of human actions in the previous/present ages. By returning the 4400 with these abilities, each will play a part in preserving or destroying useful or irrelevant parts of the earth and its social systems respectively, thus sustaining a suitable environment for the future humanity. These future guys implanted funny images in Tess’ head (disappeared;- don’t remember when). She draws them and hangs them all over her room in a psychiatric hospital and like a queen ant, somehow has the ability to get all the patients and employees to work non-stop to construct the machine in her pictures and complete it ‘in time’. The machine is fixed in time but it doesn’t take her back to the future like she thought it would. It does nothing actually, except make her look like the schizophrenic patient who got a 4400 ability that she is. That’s until Dr Burkhoff, another patient at the hospital, immediately regains his sanity. Why the future would get a hospital to work like an ant colony to help one person? Because Dr Burkhoff is chosen to be the father of the 4400 technology. True to their hopes, he discovers that all the 4400 were injected with a chemical promicin while they were away. He even tested it on himself and developed his own abilites. So there it is. Anybody want to be able to fly? Want to have super-academic abilities? Do you want to know what your dog is saying when it barks? Or do you want to have a real year-long vacation in the Bahamas, just for a few minutes in your mind during coffee-break at work? Want to have therapy to resolve a few past issues by bringing to you those dead relatives you never forgave, or living people you can’t travel to meet? Do you want to make your enemies run mad? Want to impersonate people identically? Name it, and do not look any further. Just take a shot of Dr Burkhoff’s promicin, and after a few days of horrifying biological changes, body scars and wounds, nails falling off, skin tearing and all, you’ll be back to normal. Super-normal. (It didn’t get to the advertising stage in season 3 though). Jordan Collier (don’t remember when he disappeared), an entrepreneur, set up the 4400 center, where any one of ‘them’ who couldn’t start a new life with all the stigma and new environment (think of those who disappeared in 1950 from Africa) could reside. With all the gathered abilities, and get-togethers, the 4400 center became a new source of faith, hope and healing for people all over the world. The police were even scared it would become another cult.

When Ed and I were glued to the TV for days trying to finish the three seasons before school started again, we couldn’t help thinking about the Bible all the way. 1 Corinthians 12:1-11, gifts of the Holy Spirit. ‘…To one the Spirit gives the ability to give wise advice; to another he gives the gift of special knowledge,…special faith…power to heal the sick,…power to perform miracles,…the ability to prophesy,…the ability to know whether it is really the Spirit of God or another spirit that is speaking…the ability to speak in unknown languages…the ability to interprete what is being said.’
1 Corinthians 12:12-29, ‘…one Body (of Christ) with many parts.’ 8 year old Maia isn’t exactly spirit-filled, but can ‘prophesy’. Sean doesn’t even have to pray before he touches someone and drains the life out of them, or heals them. They all are different parts of the body of the 4400 that will save the world. Well, the future world at least. The climax was when we realized that Richard has this instinct ingrained in his head to protect his wife and child at all costs. He didn’t need angel Gabriel to appear to him first. When baby Isabella is born, she is able to do anything, even kill the guys who her parents were fleeing from. (Apparently some guys wanted to kill baby Isabella and her parents got warnings to flee. Talk about Joseph and Mary having to flee with Jesus from Herod.) When time became right, Isabella grew up in one day,(in five minutes actually), and was ready to learn all she could to do what she was supposed to do to, you know, like the 4400, save the world right? Wrong. The savior Isabella was actually implanted by the bad guys of the future to frustrate all the efforts of the 4400 and the good future-people who sent them. The next season will probably tell us if Tom the NTAC agent gets to ‘believe’ the ‘truth’ about her and go ahead to kill her. That’s if he manages to spread the gospel about her anyway and get NTAC and the 4400 leaders to believe it too and help him. And that’s if I get through to watching it all.

To cut the long story short, I believe in God, but do I have to consult the Spirit of God if I can get a promicin shot? After all, it’s not sorcery.

2007-03-04T10:27:00.000-08:00

You were not the one.
Like a widowed woman who has just lost her loved man,
I ‘reminisce’ about the future we almost had,
wondering why God let us come this far,
if our being together was not His plan.
You could have caught the wind, the way u chased to get me.
I could have held light, the way I tried to hold on to you tightly.
Perhaps we were too hungry to seek God’s blessing,
and rushed to awaken a love that was actually forbidden.
You saw a bit of the jewel in me,
as I polished my sides to be freely seen in my totality.
For a while, we seemed to match. In fact, for a while, we truly did.
But you were not God’s gift to me;
that’s the way it now seems to me.
And I was not God’s gift to you,
or else by now you would know me as well as my best friends do.
Maybe having that close a friendship would confirm what we probably knew;
that I’d never be a part of you.
Everyday I wait for you to sms or call me,
so that we can start a new season.
I ask God that the demon of uncertainty and confusion will leave me,
so that when you ask again, I’ll say yes to you without reason.
But as everyday turns into weeks and months,
I think that a lifetime will far outlive our seasons to come.
We shall find better halves and learn to move on and grow;
It pains to know that with someone else and not me,
you will (still) become whole.
And even if God may try to promise that He has someone better in store,
It still hurts so much, to even think I may have to let you go.
I loved you so, so much, but now you’ll never know.
I hope to God that I am wrong,
though I desire that His will go on.
I pray to God that it is not the end,
that we shall still be in love tomorrow.
Or else I ask that when I get over you, if I am meant to,
God will forgive me for lusting at another woman’s future husband.
I wouldn’t have wasted emotions going round in circles,
if I’d known I’d come back to square one,

where broken hearted, I just have to surrender and wait upon the Lord,

because you my love, were not the one.

2007-02-26T08:55:00.000-08:00

deja vu.

that was the movie that denzel washington acted in. but for the sake of your ease in understanding what i'm really blogging about, i have to give other less important facts about the movie. like it was really, really interesting. best i watched last year (on 31st december). and it's nice to watch denzel acting(duh). it basically included use of some technology that could take denzel back in time to stop some tragic ship-bombing from happening. i know, usual stuf. except this time it wasn't a time machine. it was more of a satellite-like thing that could be used to locate someone in a city, and watch them. sort of like a surveillance camera. except this time you're watching the person's past, and you're watching it live. it took denzel some time to realize what it was. here he was thinking he was watching and following the recorded movements of one of the murdered victims to find clues, until he flashes some kind of laser thing at the screen which interferes with whatever kind of waves those are in the atmosphere, and the woman, on-screen, responds to that flash. which she shouldnt have been able to do if it was an ordinary video recording and an ordinary screen. and even if it wasn't ordinary, the woman was already dead. (i understand that my technology vocabulary and understanding are very limitted, but i think u can pretty much see what i'm pointing out. i hope.). ok, so we find out it's a top secret machine that's tracking her movements live from the past. but, if the dead woman is able to respond from her past, then is she actually dead or not? where is her spirit at the moment; is it hovering in the afterworld, or is it in its past responding to denzel's flash? and when denzel goes back in time to stop her death (a chain of actions that the other secret service people in the present are watching on that screen), is he like, bringing her 'back from the dead' from the future? is he calling her spirit back to it's past to avoid her death? apparently the technology allows one to go back in time, and create another line events, thus altering the future. except of course when u alter one person's line of events, the past and future changes for everyone else too. and of course, at some point in life evryone will die and u cant keep going back and forth in time to save everyone, so though u can create various chains of events, u end up at the same point some day, u just choose which vector u want to use to reach that point. karru, i understand why the movie seemed a bit freaky.

i've always beleived God is the master of science. He made the moon, stars, atoms, cells, molecules; He designed processes like photosynthesis, forces like gravity, and etc. He has even been kind enough to give people brains that have been able to discover some of these scientific processes and elements and their properties and all, and enabled us use them to invent medicines and machines that make our lives easier and more comfortable. in fact, most of the time, these inventions are used to His glory, what with seeing His beloved people made happier and thankful for medicines and stuf.

i also beleive that eternity will end before we ever get to see God in His totality. including all the science He has that we dont know yet. but guys, help me out here, ;-how far can science really go? is it legal to go back and forth in time to make us happy? (assuming it's possible). coz i can think of quite a lot of things i could change in world history, leave alone mine. i wonder how it would affect the spirit world if i went back in time and had a chat with Hitler, or Museveni (i'd have to go back to 2005 to talk to him), or Leonardo Da Vinci, or my little brother, or Micheal Jackson in the 70's, or my big brother who died before i got to see him,...

2007-02-26T08:29:00.000-08:00

i cant beleive this. just the other monday, i was here blogging about how i'm so releived to be back at home, out of school, with all the time i need in the world to blog and check out all your blogs. two weeks later, here i am in wandegeya, having reported back and settled into hostel, ready to start the new semester. well, not that ready. i still have some shopping to do. i bought everything except books for my lectures. i knew that last exam period would do something to my brain. dont worry guys, it's just a phase. all good writers get time blocks and mind blocks. i've never known any to last that long. this does beat the time i failed to come up with original story for the composition part of an english exam in S.4 though.

2007-02-13T02:08:00.000-08:00

hey people!

ok, first of all, no i'm not dead. secondly, no i didn't have an operation or get fatally ill (unless school-sick counts. as in sick of school, not missing school.). thirdly, no, i didnt have any brain damage to the part that controls my budding writing skills. fourthly, uganda (and makerere) have been perfectly fine; no, we havent had any coup d'etats or drastic sudden economic imbalances that could have led to the unavailability of internet. just an exam period designed to kill students or something. to think we actually helped those grades-thirsty lecturers strike. fifthly; no, the holy spirit of God did not command me to stop blogging. sixthly; actually, this should be 'lastly' but i hate number six. and lastly(seventh, one of my fave nos.); i am finally out of school!!!!!!! for only two weeks though. but it's ok coz i'm not going back to face exams, at least for another 4 months or so.

here's what i'm saying; guys, girls, fans and all, i'm sorry i've been withholding from you the extreme pleasure of reading new posts here, and i beleive it will not happen again. unless the univesity strikes again and we get sent home then called bak to do exams, within five weeks packed with leftover tests and courseworks, catch-up lessons, photocopying of about at least a thousand hand-outs (still to catch-up for exams), sleepless nights of discussions, and prayer. for obvious reasons. well, actually, all that was for two weeks. except prayer which was continuous. the three weeks were for the exams. some hard, some simple, but the best part was finishing them this last saturday. and now, i can finally breathe. and live. next stop; checking out every body's blogs. ohmyGod i actually really really missed u guys scotchbiscuits, pea, karru, africansunrise, hanny, rae, zack, iwaya, anonymous, be silent,....

2006-12-30T14:12:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-12-21T07:37:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-12-12T07:55:00.000-08:00

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 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.

2006-12-07T06:48:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-12-03T02:21:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-11-30T07:41:00.000-08:00

freaky friday.

that was the movie where lindsay lohan and her mum weren't getting along so an asian lady in an asian restaurant pulled a fortune thingy stunt on them and switched their personalities into each other's bodies. so lindsay is in her mother's body and vice versa. so they get to see each other's worlds and understand each other and get switched back and then live happily ever after. with this brief background, could someone please, please give me a freaky friday? i t doesnt have to be friday actually. it could even be today. i chose freaky friday coz i didnt fancy the face off idea; nicholas cage and travolta had to go thru unwanted, horrible, surgery. of course, the ideal situation would be turning my life into a starring role in the series 'touched by an angel'. come to think of it, i think i'd rather be touched by an angel than go through the freaky friday earthquake.

it's just that sometimes, God has a way of making your personality switch when u least expect, or want it. and then when u want the switch, that's usually the time yo meant grit the pain, or 'swallow' and go thru watever yo going thru coz it will make u better person and only then will u live happily ever after.

i did sciences and am in the arts faculty. 'twas an, eventful ,(for lack of a better word) switch, but now i'm loving it. u know, i'm living happily ever after. at least while i'm still at campus that is.

i never ever wanted to marry a guy who cooks. that was until my family hosted a male friend who cooks. nicely. that was a freaky holiday and i'm switching my primitive preference to fit this 21st century setting. it was actually nice not to have to cook all the time. and some male cooks are actually not egoistic and chauvinist about their cooking!(but dont raise your hopes guys, my pride doesnt let me admit wrong about my preferences. so i'm still in the process of changing my mind. so u still have more to say if u cook).

i actually had a phase of not wanting kids. until my siblings went to boarding school. for those who know me, that phase was really long ago.

just when i was succeeding in this celibacy stunt, halfway thru campus i met someone actually made me change my mind. for good.

i think i could have become a semi-tomboy. too bad gungas did the switch before it even happened.

everyone knows i want 7 kids coz i've grown up in a family of 7 kids and everyone knows my family is the perfect family. u actually wont beleive this but i think i'll seriously cut to five. that's serious coz before, it was '7-kids-but-i'll-compromise-on-5-if-u-blackmail-me-or-sth.' me deciding on 5 kids means either no compromise or;-i cant even mention it. so how did this switch start to happen? the kids came back from boarding school last friday.

speaking of the kids, i need a freeaky friday. before, it was ok because they were young, and not all my big sisters were married. now, they're teenagers and my big sisters are either married or not coming back to Ug. my eldest sis always complained. it's taken a switch from middle kid to eldest in the house for me to finally understand her. so now that i do, can i get switched back? unless there's an angel on the way to do something to my heart and tell me something i just seem to not be getting. there had better be one and, she'd better come soon, coz it's not exactly nice when all u can do is swallow and go on with your life! can i skip to the part where i live happily ever after?

2006-11-24T08:16:00.000-08:00

the current dilemma is;

kids. i've spent about two weeks, doing all the housework(for my parents, 2 vistors and i, only), having the tv to myself, being alone in the house during the day, trying to start to finish my report. yes, it does get lonely, and yes, i do think of weird things. dilemma; is this worse than the fact that the noisy kids came back from baording school today, turned the tv volume to full blast before demanding a special welcome-home lunch for me, and messed up my room which is now the girls room? i mean, they'll do the housework now, and i dont just have myself to talk to. and they'll keep me away from tv by watching their lousy programms so i'll probably do my report. grr... should i be thankful or not!*?! grrr!!!!!!

2006-11-16T08:22:00.000-08:00

ok people! i get it. i understand. i have noticed. so i did a triple posting thing. no big deal. everyone gets stressed out once in a while ryt? ok, fyn i know i whine about being stressed a little more than once in a while, but that's normal, ryt? even wen u end up posting something thrice, ryt? good. so now i dont have to apologise to my fans, we've all been there. besides, i've rectified the problem so no excuses pea. and besides, think of it as style, uniquness; got ya'll talking about my blog and calling me to ask me about this new triple-posting thing i was doing. everyone was sending me sms' to ask me watsup. i should do it again. but! dont take up the style guys, coz am not about to post a comment thrice myself. lets leave it for the stressed out people.

speaking of which, the moment u've all been waiting for is finally come;- crys is back! ok, that's just one of the moments. the other moment u've all been waiting for is finally come;- check out crys-unstressed! seriously. ladies and gentlemen, bloggers and the rest of the world, bear witness to this statement; 'for all the times i ever said any nasty thing about any lecturer of mine, for any hate i may have shown, i take it all back. 4 real. i put pen to paper and sign on it. i really take it all back. and hereby declare that my lecturers are the best things (some of the best things) that ever happened to me.' in case u live on some other planet and have not heard;- MY LECTURERS WENT ON STRIKE!!!!!!! (read, 'my beloved lecturers'). and because of that, i do not have class till january. and even then, it wont be real classes, just a time of finishing up tests and courseworks and then doing exams then going back home for a while and then starting my last semester. so either way, there's no lectures for me till next sem! gosh i love Ug. people, this is one of the best moments ever, thank u, thank u very much.

i feel like running onto stage and receiving some kind of award for this history-making, award-winning moment. let's assume i'm at the grammy's, or academy's, anything u want except the pam awards and any awards given exclusively to americans, and i'm dressed in this sleek, chic long, evening dress that just hugs me enuf to make u all want me to be a model, and my hair is three times the length it is now, all stretched, straight and shiny, falling back over my shoulders, with a few strands randomly hanging over my left-or ryt eye, whichever u want; glistening in the lights that only shine on stars;...

first of all, i'd like to thank God, who looks at the heart no matter how much u try to pray with the rest of the church that the strike doesnt continue. i tried so hard to be like every one else but the desires of my heart demanded that this strike continue so that i get time to finish my 50-page tourism report on my class trips.

i'd like to thank all strikers, and strike-stopping policemen, for not killing a student this time. u have made history (a 3-year record of history;- for the time i've been at campus,) by holding the first peaceful strike. peaceful meaning noone died and innocent arrested students released after only about 3 days.

oh! and i here cant forget to thank our guild president, who went on hunger strike demanding that the arrested students be released. he not only braved this alone, but ordered all campus halls' dining rooms to stop serving food because all students were to mourn their locked up colleagues and go on hunger strike. (whoever did not comply could be beaten by the gallant lumumbists or watever they call themselves).

i especially thank the president of my country for sending away my lecturers without even batting an eye and without much of a kind word, the first time they bombarded the state house. because of u, they took the strike furthur, and i had a free week at campus before being sent home for the even bigger holiday. and thanx for not increasing their salaries yet. please dont, until i finish my report. i'll get back to it as soon as i get tired of tv at home, so, mr president, continue to busy yourself with the queen's visit next year, the country's daily power cuts, and war in the north, and oil in lake albert, and leave my lecturers and report alone.

of course, what would this be, if i did not thank the initiators of this important time? everybody, please do give a round of applause or three for my very own beloved lecturers, who braved the entire government and university council, and demanded justice be done to their exploited, overworked souls. ok; demanded more money. honestly, these guys work a lot. i have a lecturer for instance, who actually makes it to his 7am lecture every tuesday, and still teaches evening students. and he doesnt even have a car. and he's not the only one. and this is just the arts faculty. i dont want to think of what its like for lecturers in the technology faculty. or even (gulp) med school. gooness, the lawyers who teach the law students, teachers, who teach future teachers, computer wizards who teach even parliamentarians how to use computers! and what about political science lecturers who saw most of our government workors and parliamentarians through to where they are now, earning millions and forgetting about their past tutors without whose education services, they'd be nowhere?! no, this must not be. this is not a school, hello, this is Makerere university, with the ivory tower? one of the best in africa? give our beloved lecturers money. but not now, of course, after my report is done. thank God the lecturers didnt beleive the lies of the peace talks and agree to start teaching again before their salaries are raised. (see i told u they were lovable, i think)

and last but not least. my fellow students. as soon as the lecturers were sent back from state house the first time, u striked as well. u beleive in our lecturers, and joined in the struggle for their rights. the fact that u were just buying yourslves more time out of class is irrelevant. u braved the patrolling policemen and hunger strike. boys in my hostel poured buckets of water over the can of tear gas that the police threw into our compound, thus allowing me to chat away with my friends about this extra time we had to finish our work, without being choked to unconsciousness. we even got to celebrate the whole week with pork and movies, before thinking about our work. u, students, threatened the police so much, that all roads to makerere were blocked, and the rest of the town suffered jam. thus wandegeya road was so free and easy to walk on, i almost wished u could strike everyday. u shouted the traditional university war cries till u all lost your voices. u even endured wearing those ugly, red undergraduate gowns(a.k.a. aprons) that caused all shopkeepers to lock up, fearing to be robbed during the strike, so it wasnt that great walking on a car-free, crowd-free wandegeya road after all. nevertheless, u joined our lecturers in making history; the first time makerere university was closed before exams were done, and because of a strike.
p.s: i hear there were strikes in kenyan and tanzanian universities as well. this east african confederation/union thing is proving to be more convenient than i thought.

people, after all is said and done, i'd like to conclude by accepting this award (the early holiday), and to all the people i've mentioned, i couldnt have done it withou u. thank u, thank u very much, i love u (am blowing kisses now), i love u all, God bless u!

2006-11-02T09:01:00.001-08:00

i was flipping thru one of my old journals/poem books, when i came accross this thing i call i poem, that so much describes what i am going through this academic year. i am very aware that i am always complaining about my books and all, and people are about to start suggesting i should rename my blog to stressed-out-student or something like that, but then i am also aware that this is my blog and i can call it watever i want wenever i want, and blog about anything i want to and u cant do anything about it. (except get bored and stop commenting but i'd recommend u dont miss out on this blog that way). thus said, i hereby present,

A POEM I WROTE WEN I WAS STRESSED BY SCHOOL IN FIRST YEAR:

today was a lousy day
but for the sake of being jolly;
i'll declare it was a lovely day
and activate my positive thinking.

it was a day full of challenges,
and limits to stretch,
depression to overcome,
and goals to set;

goals to define,
and goals to reach,
better lifestyles to adapt,
and resolutions to meet.

with God by my side,
to be my best friend for always,
(it makes me feel guilty
when i only remember Him on such bad days).

today was a struggle,
for serenity and peace.
i woke up only to haggle,
as you can see.

no today was not the best
fora a tourism student like me;
for this morning we had a surprise test
in lecture TOU 1203!
why didnt i just sleep?!!*!

2006-10-29T03:07:00.001-08:00

group mates.

they can be annoying. they can be unserious. they can be female. they can be male. they can have problems with english that bring you all to a standstill when you're all trying to compile work. or they can be good at english. they can love english even. and sometimes when you put all those things together, they can be lovely. so lovely.

the lecturer, after having gloated forever about his time in netherlands doing his masters, decided that ugandan universities need a revolution, and so instead of giving us notes like any other normal lecturer, made us group ourselves up into twos and threes. and he didn't stop there, he went ahead to distribute a topic to each group. as if that wasnt enuf, he said each group was to research on the topic; as in compile the topic;-do it ourselves. then adding to the horror, he said each group would actually hav to present their topic to the class, as in teach that topic to the rest. then, like topping the ice cream with (nice caramel, a berry, watever u like), he said that he would set the exam questions on each topic basing on what the group had to present. (as in so if we did crap he'd have to set lousy or easy qustions, ryt? that's got to be caramel). then he took a nice big bite off the icecream cone and gave us a month. 4 weeks only. to have it printed out, neat in his office. like i didnt have a test in one week, two course works to hand in in two weeks, and a 30-50 page report on my numerous class trips to hand in in about the same time.

back to my group mates. i was stuck with them because the serious (oops, read more serious) students were taken. and besides, they are my friends. we understand each other. we all know what it feels like to not want to start the work immediately, like in that very week. i was even in the same field trip group as the he. the she is a good friend to my hostel mate so we meet a lot. we walk down to hostel together a lot. that means we laugh and talk a lot. thus we probably share a lot, just like friends getting to know each other more. see? so why wouldnt we group up?

so three weeks later the lecturer reminds us on monday that he wants the work in his office the next monday. so we commit to meeting in the evening. but i was tired by evening, and my groupies understood. after all, they were tired too. (i told u we understood each other.) so we commit to doing individual research and comparing and compiling notes on wednesday evening (our most hectic class day).
by wednesday evening, i had not understood the new system of borrowing books using the library cards that were given to us in first year (in september of 2004, to be more exact), wherever those cards were. and i was tired. it was after all, the most hectic day. The she had come accross some websites that had something to do with the topic, but had the list in her book which was at her hostel because we did not have that lecture that day. i was too tired to ask her if she actually compiled some notes from those websites. and anyway she wouldnt have told me coz she was too tired to explain then, so we'd meet friday at midday after lectures. The he was nowhere to be seen. is this another football season? or do couples go out on wednesdays? but anyway, it was a tiring day, we understood.
friday at midday:- i had photocopied a handout from someone that had some of the tourism sustainability principles(our topic). yay! something done. The he had found some random paragraphs on internet that resembled tourism sustainability principles. yay! The she had a novel to return soon and wasnt able to do anything else before friday. or something like that. but watever, that didnt matter, i just wanted to get done with the work and get back to my hostel and relax;- no more lectures for me after midday on fridays! yay! so i grab a book to start writing an essay, after thirty minutes or so of catching up.

so i write. one paragraph gets done. i remind the he that he would do the typing and printing, since he's a he. and i would do the writing out of the essay, since i wasnt typing or printing. the she would finish her novel. or was arguing with someone. or daydreaming. or something like that.

two paragraphs done. i am still writing the sentence '....the three sustainability dimensions are easier understood when broken down into their principles...' (or something like that), when the she buts in and says "Change that 'their' to 'there' ". the he and i look at her in shock for a moment. or two. so i am starting to explain why it is 'their' principles and not 'there' principles, when the he interrupts and asks the she which primary school she goes to. after twenty minutes of an argument, i remind them that it is a friday and i intend to be back at hostel before 2pm so that i can have at least four hours (official school hours) of not having lectures. i have attracted their attention for only but a moment during which i have written five or so more words, before my pen is grabbed by the he and is being pointed at the she, and the book grabbed by the she and being wagged at the he. all this is amidst a re-heated up argument of course, complete with offensive statements, struggles to avoid foul language, and egotism that will allow neither to back down on their views;- and extra emotion as the he goes on to give a heart warming speech of how after over fifteen years of studying english and two years of studying A-level literature, his love for english can not allow him watch as it's being murdered and ruthlessly distorted by products of uncaring, child-beating, poor-english-speaking primary school english teachers. he then launches into a lecture on how 'their' is an article of possession whether the thing possesing is living or non-living.
the she retaliates with a mighty speech of how one must stand for watever they beleive in and never back down no matter wat the rest of the world says, and she beleives 'their' can only be used with people, and 'there' with non-living things like tourism sustainability dimensions have 'there' principles.
i am getting impatient and scratching my head looking for peace talks techniques. in vain of course. i finally yell and succeed in commanding silence. and remind them that i'd like to be out by two and it is already past one. in silence, the he grabs the paper, and writes two statements;
a. the cars are in their garages.
b. the cars are in there garages.
he then orders the she to take the paper round class and ask everyone for the the correct statement. everyone chooses a until the fourth guy or so chooses b. then the she strengthens her argument about how it doesnt matter if only one in five people beleive in something, she beleives b is right because cars are non-living.

dont get me wrong. i was hurt and heated up too. i really wanted the she to learn the right thing. but then i also wanted to be reading a nice book in hostel more than teaching english. my few interjections to correct her were futile. and my pleas for them to stop arguing and get back to work were not even being heard. my desire for my hostel room was getting stronger all the while. so i yell again. and remind them for the last time, again, that it is almost two and they will do the work alone if they dont stop.

and then miracles of miracles. they heard. and climax of miracles; the he stands up, and says he is too hurt, cant stand it, loves english too much, cant go on when this unresolved thing is still hanging with the she not accepting her mistake. therefore he is taking all the work and will do it himself, after all, he's the one typing. we would meet saturday and do final touches after i had worked out the library card thing and confirmed our work approach with a few text books.
have you ever doubted miracles? i have. i doubted this one, but was not disappointed. he took the work and stormed out! double yays!!!! i was free! i did nothing and my work would be ready by monday! how lovely! i wish all my groupies were like that.

moral of the story? next time, make sure your group mates are annoying, as unserious as you (read as serious as you), are female, are male, have problems with english, are good at english and love english even. that way, they can be lovely. so lovely.!

2006-10-09T06:48:00.000-07:00

about school,

wel, about being in third year, my final year, arent things supposed to be a bit more differrent? not in the sense of the workload, i'm already used to that after 7 weeks in third year. i mean, it's uganda's independence day today. normally, everyone is out, or in watching movies and chilling, wishing tomorrow doesnt come coz its tuesday tomorrow and that's a working day. or school day, to be more precise. now i, on the otherhand, am spending the day blogging because i am too angry to read for my test of tomorrow at 7am. i'm angry coz i have another test on wednesday aftanoon for a course unit i have never read before. so i have tonite and tomorrow nite. that would be enough time if it wasn't independence day today and if last thursday and friday weren't free because of graduation. if the tests were after any other weekend, i wouldn't be blogging complaints! but having two tests after a 5-day weekend! it doesnt help that

sun, 15th october, 2006. 1355hrs.
sorry to all my fans. i wasn't able to finish that blog on independence day coz i got caught up looking at some other site and my time ran out and couldn't get more time coz i realized that if i did, i'd never go back to school and get ready for my tests. i also realised that i was derailing from the main reason i was blogging. the issue was, and is; about my third year, arent things supposed to be a bit different? when i joined the university almost three years ago, i kind of thought that by my final year i'd be a bit, u know, different? like i'd somehow be ready for the working life. like i'd be ready to brave the independent life ahead of looking for my own place to stay, paying my own bills, and settling down for life. like maybe i'd have this steady boyfriend who i'd be planing our future with.(ok, that's not so true for me. i somehow wanted to be an independent woman for a while driving my own rav-4 before i got hooked for life.) i kind of thought that by third year i'd be ready to wear women's suits everyday, and that i'd have this sort of majesty and elegance about me that would tell the whole world that i am graduating as a being who is more than a conqueror, ready to take this life to the peak in this territory of mine called the world. the earth would be my playground and this bachelor's degree of mine would be a tool; a starting point for me to climb up the ladders of civil service or entrepreneurship, pushing all incompetent competitors out of the way. i would speak in a language foreign to the poor english and slang of freshmen campusers. goodness, i would even be a hero for all i know;- a fully fledged graduate.

ok, enough of that. the issue is, after three years of university, all i am is just me. i still write my essays the way i always did. i still wear jeans and ordinary long and short skirts. i still go to class using the waterloo hostel van, and havent even thought up a topic for my final dissertation yet. i'm too busy getting stressed by courseworks and test to think about what's going to happen to me after university. that goes to say that i have no idea what i'm going to do after campus. i mean, i know i'm going to look for a job or a scholarship for my master's studies (though i have no idea wat i want to do a master's in), but, all that doesn't really have much direction. i still miss Rita, i still speak slang, and still play with my younger brothers and sisters. wel, there are a few things that have changed, like i'm having a reality check on this independent-woman-driving-a-rav-4 thing, and my Christianity has become more personal, real and serious; but some(a lot) of things still havent changed. like i still don't have a boyfriend. (not that i'm complaining guys, so dont chase after me. i'm just acknowledging how not very conventional it is not to have one. ok, and i'm still kind of clinging on to the idea of conquering in the world and all, enjoying my singlehood before i venture into sharing my life with someone forever and etc.) in short, i'm still me. and at this rate, i just might be me forever. still nice(read all the nice things you can think of), still loving, still loving music, still loving my friends, still loving debating with my friends, still loving Jesus and still loving popcorn and crisps. and for some reason, i'm loving the idea of still being just me. so deal with it if u ever had any problem with that. good day to ya'll!

2006-10-07T02:39:00.000-07:00

guys,

i'm proud to be female. happy even. thankful, grateful, blessed. i get to wear high heels. i get to wear make-up. i get to grow my hair without being stereotyped in any possible negative way. i can get away with being broke;(sometimes being broke is even convenient). i can live in my parents home till i get married even if my wedding was 30 years from now, and my parents would still never try to get me out. my wardrobe has much more than just trousers, shorts and jeans. i get free internet time offers at the cafe at home. and the list goes on. and on. and on, and most of all, i get to not be the one to have a big ego and try to prove a point.
i was walking into hospital one day with a friend of mine. for the sake of his privacy, he asked me to call him jack bauer the next time i try to blog about him.(but in case u took a gues, ya, yo ryt.) this hospital is like, the largest in the country, and i've only been there once before. jack had been there once too. so we both didn't know the location of the ward we were headed to. so being the natural female i am, i gave a naturally bright idea of asking someone for directions. and i received the masculine response, "how can i ask for directions?! i'm a guy!!!!!!!" and i rolled my eyes(would have if i could), and asked;- "so?"
so i get the masculine response that said something like a guy walking with a girl isn't supposed to ask for directions, he's supposed to know (everything).

moral of the story? well;- if you are a guy, and you are walking with me, do not, and i repeat, DO NOT risk making me walk round in a thousand circles looking for a place we both don't know, only to end up looking like a fool asking for directions from someone u've probably passed by 10 times already. coz u'll make me blog about it again and my list of nice things about being females will grow. not that that's a bad thing, but it's scary when u begin to love things u were not too excited about before, like the idea of possibly having to wear heels for the rest of your working life.

thank you.

2006-09-28T08:16:00.000-07:00

@ scotchbiscuits:

2006-09-21T05:07:00.000-07:00

ok, everyone was doing it. is doing it. blogging, that is. i wasn't really going to get my own blog until a certain muganda called hanny said he wouldnt let me know his blog name till i got one. so i got one. he should have been bright enough to add that he wouldnt let me know his blog if i didnt actually start blogging. but as expected; rather, as usual, he did not think that far. geez, how did he get to win me in chess once? anyway, so that explains to all my fans y i havent really posted anything all this time. apart from the fact that i've also been in mourning for the past mont; trying to let go of the fact that i'm back at school and the promises of tests and threats of course work are a reality agin. and i actually have to wake up to go for lectures and not have enough time to sit for hours at a computer reading people's blogs and all that. but anyway, y was i blogging again? oh, yes, to let my fans know that i'm ok, am about pimp this thing again with stuff that's justme. good day!

2006-08-20T09:42:00.000-07:00

justme

@ hanny: hi.

2006-08-17T08:00:00.000-07:00

hi.