Wednesday, September 10, 2014

the beggar

Right by the CVS store,
He sat by the summer baked wall-
pavement clad with
trinkets, blankets,
pieces of his things
Maybe all he ever has- had,
I walk by; four dollars, ninety cents
richer from a return-
out the CVS, right by him.
my heart lurches- at all he has- all I have.
I massage the pennies and dimes
unsure-
Hastily casting him a glance,
uneasy-
He smiles in the dark, our eyes meet;
mine a hasty plea...
his, asking nothing but for the dinner in his hand;
a smile coats his contented lips
and with a gentleman's nod, he tips his school boy
-breathes to me kindness; like he understood my plea
'goodnight, love,'

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Reel...unwind...play.

It is pretty late.
one of those witching hours.
I get caught up in the moment, the spellbinding moment to write something.
anything and it wont let go untill i jot something down
there is alot to write about
where do I start? About the white college boy trying to convince his rather laid back friend to hook him up with his sister? In the most beguiling manner that even I over hearing the conversation inspite of me did not trust him with his friend's sister , let alone any female for that matter (ha!)
Was it fostered more by the fact that he insisted snoop dogg was the king pin of all things hip including marijuana? I donno... after that it was lost to me.
Or was it the very disturbing affair of a metro ride one night, where the man right opposite my seat, spied a wallet behind my own seat, nimbly switched seats for a second to leaf through its peachy contents and unashamedly pocket wadefuls of money, despite my indignation?
 Was it that I was partly afraid of what he would do to me and yet again trying to alert every one else beside me of the atrocity I saw commited. justice rising lik a hot flame in me spewing all these accusations and firm rebuke at the black man in a black jersey, letting him know he dint make anyone think of our race better considering his act? was that why I kept my voice raised, even though everyone else minded their own business? (hmm)
or that I was more afraid of trying to help out the owner of the wallet find it. torn between minding my own business and emphatic of the torment she would experience knowing she had lost more than money...her whole life embedded in the plastic cards  in that wallet that define you in America, more than any place I have been to?
Would she believe me? that I did not steal the money? would she believe I was returning it in good faith , no strings attached?
Where do I start really? about the youth , loud and uncultured, embarassing me on the train like they were my own? Laughing and dancing and drawing unwanted attention to themselves past midnight? or causing an unwanted fight with a girl they hardly knew? why ? did she steal one of their boyfriends? did it warrant them to punch her in the face and pull her thick fat braids almost right off her pretty small head?
Maybe I should talk about my walk to the CVS from work to return milk that was spoiled when I opened it? walked out with my returned money right by a beggar, who contentedly smiled my way, not a query for a penny , instead with a gracious smile as he wolfed down his dinner, he bid me, 'good night . darling?"
Maybe I should write more about the short nine minute walk home? a walk I deliberately extend to admire the night, the street lamps illumined road? the lone chair disposed of by the side of the pavement, a pink floral print chair , riddled with stories of maybe tens of people that it held close, comforted, loved. hated?
or of nights it drizzled and the streets sparkled like dirty gold , faded and yet dizzying...by the street lamps. and the passing cars, headlights full spray lashed by the light splashes; windscreens still bloated with quivering drops of a summer shower?
what should I tell of? there is so much to write. Its easier to highlight and muse over .
Maybe I shall return with a fuller version, maybe I shall not
Maybe I shall tell you an unrelated story altogether when the Muse visit me again (they keep me awake)
Maybe I shall pull you into my world and let you see it with me, see through the lenses I see, the magical beauty of difficult world.

Saturday, August 09, 2014

Magic


Magic 
"A collection of things unseen that become seen and bring a joy or expression beyond anything imaginable"





Coffee Alley

Right at the corner of 14th and N st, through the bustling busy walk way, the wind and I make our way through the cool of DC’s china town. I catch a waft of a song, it floats by so fast I miss the beat and scowl at the wind for being so frisky. ‘Slow down,’ I whisper, ‘I am missing all the beauty in it!’
The gentle breeze caresses my neck apologetically and bursts out in high volt mischief chasing hats, scarves and skirts down the walk way. I giggle in delight, making a right to the mall, a tiny corner coffee shop looms in sight.
Fifteen minutes before the movie starts. Maybe I could grab a mocha.
Maybe not.
 I really want one
 I ought to have one. It’s been too long…how long?
Maybe two weeks.
 There was a star bucks two blocks back, I could get my movie ticket and walk right back for a creamy sweet chocolate peppermint flavored mocha. The wind teases my thoughts collecting all the coffee scents along the walk way cafes on its way back to find me at the corner.
I sigh…giving in to the temptation of a coffee, maybe not a peppermint one… its only ten more minutes to the movie. The coffee stand inviting beckons teaming up with the wind. My mouth waters. I swallow hard. The man behind the counter is on the phone and excuses himself from his long distant call and comes over, ‘may I help you?’ he asks his accent is faintly French laced. His smile lights up his dark face and I smile back looking at the coffee machines and the treats in the glass cases; match them up against the prices. My mind is racing. I smile shake my head hesitantly and rush in to buy the ticket. I have only five minutes, maybe I can take the coffee in that time after all the actual movie doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes, I make a hasty dash for the box office and make my selection, pay and decide against all odds, coffee is a go. Star bucks is too far, I will have to make do with the ‘coffee alley’
I return to the stall and peer in through the window at the man with a beautiful skin as smooth and brown as the coffee he pours out into the coffee brewer. He smiles at me recognition lighting his eyes, ‘ah, you are back, coffee now?’
I nod with a smug grin on my face. The wind has been waiting for me, gently nudges me in frolicsome agreement to my choice, ‘its your fault ,’ I grin,’ you make me do frolicsome things,’
And a guggle escapes the air around me , wraps me in its chuckle. I pull my scarf closer.
‘what would you like,’ the man asks, I scan the menu and say, ‘  mocha , single shot of espresso, and some biscotti cookies please,’ his face falls,’ ah we are out of cookies, may a Danish,’
 I sigh,’oh no, I wanted cookies, oh well, I will see what I want,’
He laughs, ‘the croissants and danishes are  really nice,’
 I have heard those sales words before and the wind and I exchange glances.
,’ are you sure?’ I ask
 ‘upon my heart,’ he swears. His accent piques my curiosity and ask I watch him scoop coffee powder and chocolate to mix and brew I ask him where he is from
‘Senegal,’ he says and then states, more than asks,’ and you are from Tanzania?’
I shake my head. All the time I meet people and curiosity piques their interest about my origin I make them play the guessing game.
The wind and I giggle as he plays along. He cocks his head to one side and thinks , ‘errrr Kenya?’
I shake my head and the wind does too.
‘Uganda,’ he says easily.
 I frown slightly disappointed he guessed so easily. I say ‘yes, how did you guess?’ he laughs and says, ‘ah my nose knows things.’
I smile and watch him a little longer fascinated by his trade and I ask a few questions like, how he learned to make coffee and if he knows French, ‘je parle francias?’ I purr out delighted to double in my people skills French and exasperatedly wish I can belt it out as fluently as my English
‘oui,’ he smiles as if I am a long lost relative he can bond with,’ you speak French in Uganda,no?’
‘oh no  but I learned through school. Our neighbouring country back home does,’ I say
He hands me my coffee and I ask one more time, ‘do you own this coffee alley?’ he smiles a naughty smile
‘ah! you were in communications,  I see, you ask too many questions, ‘ I am astounded by how he knows
‘How do you know?’
He grins,’ I told you my nose tells me things.’ I laugh and order an almond croissant, rejecting the chocolate one he has warmed up for me.
His eyes skillfully notice I use the left hand,’ ah! you are left handed? You must be a genius, ‘
I smile.
‘Yes I am, like your nose that knows all things,’ he shrugs and turns to arrange his shelf. I am still curious as to how he so easily read me. Was it the coffee? What was it? I try to nudge for more answers, the journalist in me won’t let it go.
With his back still to me, he chuckles softly and says, ‘you should ask the wind, he speaks a lot.’
I smile knowingly and feel the wind make a shy exit, back down the road to cause more mayhem. ‘and I thought I was the only one who listened,’ I reply…more to myself.


Monday, February 24, 2014

Anti porn act, anti gay law...miniskirt ban in between

I was awake all night on twitter reading, retweeting and reading and following the arguments going on and on about the anti gay bill that was signed in Uganda at 1.56pm EAT approximately, making homosexuality illegal, the Anti porn bill was passed into law days earlier .
for some reason there has been an incredible amount of concentration on the mini skirt. its not even mentioned in the bill, so where did it come from? read here
I was absolutely aghast to find out that law makers had given men ( and I don't mean men sitting in offices in swiveling chairs) no , men in the park, down town Kampala to literally harass any woman wearing a skirt...I definitely would have said , 'nooooo, no one can okay that, until Bukedde news paper did have evidence of it
"An onlooker is moved to attack [a woman wearing provocative clothing]", Minister Lokodo has said, "He is a criminal but he was also provoked and enticed".

a woman is literally undressed in the taxi park and a pack of gawking men mock her. simply because she was wearing a mini skirt. 
an interesting comment on this on Facebook was, the men should have given her a shawl to cover up the uncovered part rather than take away what little she already had on.
further more knowing that men like these will relish in the freedom given them to do this violates women's rights, capitalizes on fear and dominance over the woman in a world that already exerts it.
with the vague implications against immorality in the bills, one wonders if any sensitization will take place to help people understand what they have been pulled into. Are we sure we can handle this?

as part of a campaign and demonstration to end abuse of human rights and in this instance of women, some Ugandans took up the cause and started a page to voice their concerns to lawmakers on the insensitivity mated out to women folk 
According to the page, a peaceful demonstration is to be organized for Wednesday, a go ahead given by the Police, from the Central Police Station in .
In less than 12 hours the page had already garnered 1500 members both  men and women talking about the bills all together and the violence perpetrated as a result thereof.
To be a part of this on Wednesday 26th February 2014, do go to facebook and like the page 'END Mini-skirt Harassment' or click Here 
Have you read the anti pornography Act? 
what are your views on it ?

where beauty lies...: Curly Sue

where beauty lies...: Curly Sue

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Curly Sue

You know how she became Curly Sue? hmm, it was Easter week in 2010, I think and Sue and I and Gary(Gilbert) and Monroe (Joel), the four musketeers then had gone out. Pretty much I WANTED  to watch a late movie, after all it was Saturday, Gary came long, whatever the plan, he was down for it and Gilbert would drive.
Already we were having a great few weeks, the guys took us out for dinner and a movie and gave us presents, that was absolutely sweet. I felt like these were and would be my friends forever .Gary was just kindred spirit for both me and Sue...we went swimming, watching movies, coffee, the works....oh and he and I started that radio thingy comparing artists... and listening to new music... he was my supplier...to my insatiable appetite for new christian music... he introduced me to LeCrae and a hoooost of so many christian hiphop artists I would not ordinarily listen to;, him and Monroe started the nicknames, prolly Monroe was behind it all... I was Lucylu, Suzan was Curly Sue, and Joel was Monroe to all the boys too. lol and talking about the boys? a whooooole other blog post lol, Gilbert, we just liked to call him Gary, his middle name coz he never really used it.
So Curly Sue Stuck, pretty much and that easter was a wild one, I am absolutely sure I wrote home about it...LITERALLY.  its in one of my blogposts and I thought it was quite memorable.
one of those moments I had with Curly Sue I will never forget.
We had a moment every day, going on air, getting make up on, having a fight now and again over which guests will be interviewed, especially when Sue felt unprepared and threw me in the deep...and then...going to Javas Cafe or Cafe Pap or Ban cafe to de-stress on coffee, heavy breakfast and fries; talk about life, regrets, love, men, family, news, the show content, settle a disagreement. there was always something apart from food on the menu

I have come full circle to accepting? no not accepting but finally facing the truth that Curly Sue isn't here any more with us.
We talked last on Monday 9th September, about her new job interview and the other job she wanted to quit and did not know how to go about it. we jested like always. it was as usual
then... the call Wednesday Morning...7am...'Lucy, Sue is dead,'
that just dint sound right.
it still feels alien but at least now I know it happened.
Last month I had an emotional memorial for her, candles, coffee... and lots of tears .
For pretty much a week!
I couldn't deal before. I did everything, texted her phone, messaged her on every available networking and social networking communication site/line I could get her on. I wanted to hear from her on the other end, that nothing had changed.
that she was her usual on-off communicator that drove me nuts at times.
I talked to her all the time. was mad at her for leaving me when I needed her so bad, mad at myself for being 10,000 miles away and missing her funeral, not being there with her to be her friend all this time. Asking questions... always questions.
our favorite haunts , I could not think of how I would face them again. they were all we we went to, I didn'
t want to hear the 'sorries' too.
They would come
I especially did not want to deal.
I still miss her. not one thing... everything and its a lot to list. Just her. Curly Sue

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

purple rain

when its cold like it is today, weather is gloomy after over 6 hours of relentless rain. yes i did scowl a bit but i loved it. i got to write a poem, squeezed it out of my swarmed mind, it came through coz of the rain. its been so dry both in side of me and outside, it just could not rain in side like it used to, with new poems and stories jutting out, making me beg for release. nope. they just let on.
anyway.. its also been a really long time since i blogged and i think the familiar urge is back coz i am slowing down and taking the time to enjoy the little things and remember the things i loved, retrace my steps to the simple things that filled me with joy and the sense of accomplishment. they help you get through the maddening haze of work intrigue and bad jobs/bosses., so yes i am here for the little pleasure of release blogging offers.
yesterday someone told me i am such an open book, all they have to do is read my blog and facebook pages and they can tell what i am, so i was wondering how best i can be impersonal and aloof on my blog, but if i did i would 'dry' up on the inside and not have enough pretence to keep it going, lol.
so i guess open book is what i shall always be
purple rain, i swear the title just came to mind.
I am reading purple Hibiscus and chatting with a friend about my fave colour which is purple! and its rained so much today, trapped me at Nakumatt where i thought, oh well, why not watch Sky fall , but really? not a fan, so i skipped that, besides they wanted me to wait till like 2pm, that was my cue to leave so I did.
walked out in the rain, braved it and headed to next work station. I needed to go somewhere and bond with a computer,  I got here and wrote about purple rain
the sun has set already,(Hardly much sun to look at today) and the sky has a beautiful fading blue to black print, looks lovely, makes me think of loneliness for some reason, the sky, all raised up there , high up there feels cold and lonely...separated from life as night creeps in. hmmm
oh and i managed to get some purple rain. i am in that mood

enjoy your evening and the Liberation day.
I hope it dint rain in Kasese messing it up for them guys






Sunday, January 20, 2013

the wealth files: for keeps

I FOUND THESE FILES DEEPLY PROFOUNDLY INSPIRING, MAY IT BE YOUR MANTRA FOR 2013

 17 Ways Rich People Think and Act Differently from Poor and Middle-Class People The Secrets of the Millionaire Mind T. Harv Eker  

Wealth File #1 Rich people believe “I create my life.” Poor people believe “Life happens to me.”

Wealth Principle: When you are complaining, you become a living, breathing “crap magnet.”

Wealth File #2 Rich people play the game of money to win. 
Poor people play the game of money not to lose.

Wealth Principle:
If your goal is to be comfortable, chances are you’ll never get rich.
 But if your goal is to be rich, chances are you’ll end up mighty comfortable.

  Wealth File #3 Rich people are committed to being rich.
Poor people want to be rich.

 Wealth Principle: The number one reason most people don’t get what they want is that they don’t know what they want.

 WEALTH Principle: If you are not fully, totally, and truly committed to creating wealth, chances are you won’t.
 Wealth File #4 Rich people think big. Poor people think small.

 Wealth Principle: The Law of Income: You will be paid in direct proportion to the value your deliver according to the marketplace.

 Wealth File #5 Rich people focus on opportunities. Poor people focus on obstacles.
 Wealth File #6 Rich people admire other rich and successful people.

Poor people resent rich and successful people.

 Wealth File #7 Rich people associate with positive, successful people. Poor people associate with negative or unsuccessful people.

 Wealth File #8 Rich people are willing to promote themselves and their value. Poor people think negatively about selling and promotion. 

Wealth Principle: Leaders earn a heck of a lot more money than followers.

 Wealth File #9 Rich people are bigger than their problems. Poor people are smaller than their problems. 

Wealth Principle: The secret to success is not to try to avoid or get rid of or shrink from your problems; the secret is to grow yourself so that you are bigger than any problem.

 Wealth File #10 Rich people are excellent receivers. Poor people are poor receivers.

 Wealth Principle: If you say you’re worthy, you are. If you say you’re not worthy, you’re not. Either way you will live into your story.

 Wealth File #11 Rich people choose to get paid based on results. Poor people choose to get paid based on time. Wealth Principle: Never have a ceiling on your income.

 Wealth File #12 Rich people think “both.” Poor people think “either/or.”

 Wealth Principle: Rich people believe “You can have your cake and eat it too.” Middle class people believe “Cake is too rich, so I’ll only have a little piece.” Poor people don’t believe they deserve cake, so they order a doughnut, focus on the hole and wonder why they have “nothing.”

 Wealth File #13 Rich people focus on their net worth. Poor people focus on their working income. Wealth Principle: The true measure of wealth is net worth, not working income.

 Wealth File #14 Rich people manage their money well. Poor people mismanage their money well.

 Wealth File #15 Rich people have their money work hard for them. Poor people work hard for their money.

Wealth Principle: Rich people see every dollar as a “seed” that can be planted to earn a hundred more dollars, which can then be replanted to earn a thousand more dollars.

 Wealth File #16 Rich people act in spite of fear. Poor people let fear stop them.

 Wealth Principle: It is not necessary to try to get rid of fear in order to succeed.

 Wealth Principle: If you are willing to do only what’s easy, life will be hard. But if you are willing to do what’s hard, life will be easy.

 Wealth Principle: The only time you are actually growing is when you are uncomfortable.


 Wealth Principle: Training and managing your own mind is the most important skill you could ever own, in terms of both happiness and success.

 Wealth File #17 Rich people constantly learn and grow. Poor people think they already know.