all the single ladies and a whole lotta regurgitations!

all the single ladies without the ring on yet....

i need a huuuuuge favour, i am doing this article on 'what women want in the Ideal guy' (mr right)
so i need your input be as elaborate as you can be...okay i can stretch it out to the un-single ladies too am sure you would have alot to say, thanks!



then Mudamuli's hating weeekends has jolted me right up in this hard swivel office chair to rant vehemently about how i have no weekend or life anymore....
yesterday i got a 'wake-up call' phone call from this buddy of mine asking me as concerned as she could be why i was not attending a girls' do we had planned and it was because, i shall be too tired after the whole week, sato is my 'loving myself day' beside after being up at 4am to get ready for my Vision voice show all i want to do is go home, clean up (if i feel like it) sleep, laugh at the telenovellas and what have yous on telly, sleep and Binge like i was starved all week and i dont want no visitors stressing me to serve them...unless they are family...

then she said okay, how about a dinner...its a fundraising dinner thing for a church ministry and i was thinking; wrong timing!50,000 is a bit much to throw around on a day like today, plus i am thinking of the skipped bills of the month before that i got to pay an almost double fee for...

then i can't hang out till late any more, i keep thinking of home like i have a kid and husband hanging on the phone waiting for me to show up....yet it's the TV ( MY companion of late and laptop: the best housemates a single lady can have) then before i know it, i am too lazy to cook and decide to doze off with the remote control slowly slipping out of my hands... at that point , the little angels that watch over me remind me that the gate is so not bolted and i take steps in getting up: from sitting up with my eyes closed, going down on my knees for a few minutes with my head on the couch then finally getting up after a mosquito sings the uncalled for reminder.
i have slept dozens of times with the gate open...not locked i mean but bolted. then i slept with the door partially closed once..heck no! like thrice! and i wondered what had happened to me.

okay so i have no life any more....(right now i am on the brink of a mighty outburst, tantrums, tears and all) i just want to be 6yrs old...but not here,

so this weekend, morning show on saturday, then sunday kids show...so i plan to sleeeeeeeep in monday till like 1pm and if it dont help i will louse till 4pm then get ready to go to UBC and be beautiful as i read the news at night!

apart from all this i am schemimng my leave...only that with articles dangling over my head like a demon's axe, i am seeking escape from life...
who has a time machine?

in conclusion, with all this really

a man in my life would injure himself...badly.

otherwise i am not against dating, but i am enjoying the single freedom...Mudamuli...come we take tea...but on sunday.
have a great weekend y'all!

becoming

Guy is a grown man now.
I smiled as I crossed the road to hug him. I could tell he knew more than he had a month ago. A lot more than I was able to say comfortably.
A part of me felt like I was losing him, innocence was slipping away from me like the sands of time. As he grew and discovered things life did not deny him. Things he needed to know.
Things I never wanted him to know lest he grew and left me. It was inevitable. Now he had a girl friend. He told me about her. I couldn’t help but hear the man peek through the crevices of the boy I knew, the boy I cared for like a brother. I watched him talk, spill his heart out to me and spill even more… the secret of loving a woman in a way he never thought he could.
Yes, it was clumsy. Yes, he was embarrassed but as he talked, passion of memory and love mingled in a fiery ball clouded his heated glazed gaze. There was much pleasure and pain in his tone, in the realization that loving was that involving, that wholesomely giving; and could be wholesomely rejected, or misunderstood - at times unappreciated.
I told him to give it time, she was confused. He knew that, she loved him but was lost in time between the present and the past. Between him and the ex.
I told him to keep loving. He said he was loving beyond her irregularities, her erratic moments, he was stronger than before. He was learning the truth about love, its long suffering nature, its patience, it’s unduly endurance and he knew she was his… it was just a matter of time. I smiled and watched the creases deepen in his handsome face; he truly was older in a few months.
Then I felt it; the partition between us, light, thin and flimsy barely visible but it was there, in his words, in his eyes, in his actions…I could tell
I needed to let him go; give space for the woman in his life, I was still his friend but not that close anymore.
He needed her to trust him, that we were just friends. He needed her to know what we had been through and who he used to run to for everything.
For some love when he was discouraged, some hope, faith, a good laugh, a pat on the back.
And he slowly slipped… I did not resist; but my heart was slightly sore.
Then he reached out and hugged me, like he always did, wholesomely, intimately; he smelled my hair brushed his stubby chin lightly against my neck, softly planting a dry kiss behind the lower lobe of my ear at the crest of my neck, I laughed.
Suddenly it was etched deeper within me how much he had grown…he was more aware of his masculinity, his effect, his intensity and creativity but also he was aware of femininity and more alert of his sexuality, The fact that we are animals responding to touch, sinuously. And I was shocked at this realization;
innocence evolved to maturity .

a dirge

i realised recently as i was chatting with an old high school buddy the notable comment, 'is this you? long time! good to know you are alive and kicking' and i was jolted back a ways because it wasn't the first time someone was saying that 'good to know you are alive and kicking' and maybe i am reading way too much into the lines (of course i didn't ask what they meant) but
to me the impression of those 'phewx' words were more 'she -is -not- another -one -we- knew -who -died- before- their- time.' arguably before their time because its hard to believe someone you went to school with had lunch with, probably dated suddenly passed on.
this made me sit back , get really melancholic as i thought about it , long and hard. and i got sad thinking of all the people i had walked a long educational pilgrimage with and somehow they were not sitting across a coffee table from me laughing at a reunion but were six feet under and we were mourning the loss...some reunion , huh?
and faces flashed before me in flashes like a camera set on auto picture snap or something and my heart broke....
i remembered one, he was in high school with me, i think he would have been something, and prolly not been in Uganda anyway. this guy was an ADONIS, 6 feet something, herculean build,great chiseled features, he was part of the rugby team was a rich kid and was about the only guy that drove to school, his girlfriend was the skinny- model- flashy- Chick -type with attitude; quite the picture- perfect couple. he was one of those guys i would sit across from class and stare at during a lecture, he had the nicest eyes on a guy, Don Johnson would have nothing on him, and he smiled like it was an expression tailor made for just him. well this fella was doing a modeling gig in vac for Zipper models. on the fateful day, he had gone to the embassy to get his visa and got back home in the middle of the afternoon complaining of a headache, decided to go on to his room to rest and he rested forever.
just like that.
the news of his death greeted us with such shock , that i immediately wondered 'how was his girlfriend?" she had fiercely loved him

then another friend of mine, we had known each other since primary. she was the most beautiful girl i had ever seen i remember while in primary school, i used to stare at her alot and think that i had never seen a girl more beautiful, she was the sort that gave 'breathless beauty ' credit and then out did it (i no lie!) so she was all beauty and void of esteem. its not easy to be pretty and not get into the cool girls clique, somehow its a cliche that runs with the fad, if you pretty, you should be in some snobbish clique, and she was dying to fit in, these girls were cool, rich and fab and totally snobbish and like we used to say back in the day (had bad manners!) i remember i couldn't stand them coz all they talked about was popular boys in SMACK, or NGO , MWIRI, what party they would hitting in the hols, which club, secrets galore and their relationships were so mutually exclusive you could not break into the circle. i watched girls dying to join the wanna-be club and felt for them, anyway so she got the acceptance she wanted and told many lies about herself to keep in....years later, she is still a Venus, breathtakingly more beautiful than she was in primary or high school... and also very aloof, the charm she possessed seemed to have seeped out of her like a candle snuffed, Venus was a morphed ice queen, lofty, high up there. found out she was dating this man who was married and he gave her all the things she always craved to have growing up. she had it all, a house, a car, nice clothes, a different hair do every week, she looked like a glamour queen...but years later, Venus cum ice queen fell sick and i was shocked to hear from a friend she passed on and it was AIDS
. my heart broke for the fallen goddess
and we had another reunion...


then this one really upset me. she was a great girl , saved, loved the Lord, had a great job was going places you could tell. it wasn't happening yet but yes you could tell.
so girl in question has a boyfriend she loves ruthlessly, (AS IN WITHOUT RESTRAINT, SHE LOVED HIM WITH ALL OF HER!) and boy in question breaks her heart. in her desperate despair, she goes home one day and takes a concoction of poisons to rid her of the pain! and as soon as shes swallowed that mix, it suddenly dawns on her, there is another way, that she actually didn't want to die! but it was too late.

and my friend's brothers. i remember seeing him around a couple of times and a few years later we spoke and he was the sort of guy you felt you had known for years, then a year later my friend texts me that his brother, had passed on the night before. in the week hours of the morning of receiving that message, i never thought i would lose all sleep that way and weep like that. he was a great guy, had a great career and a fiancee and a wonderful family. and he passed because the doctors fed him on pain killers and failed to diagnose the life threatening illness that took his life.

another one whose life was stole too soon.
i could go on and on with the people i have known, that i talked to and they died before their time but it all got me thinking
what would they have been now? how would they live?

this is my tribute to all the had beens who could have been...but their life was stole too soon.

happy valentine!

HAPPY Valentine's day to y'all!

its funny how your week starts off on a really lousy note and its ending in a really great way!
like the saying about bad beginnings and good endings

so anyhow, i am wearing blue this valentine, i am going to work and tell people how to have a splendid day loving their splendid people at No cost at all...okay as little as under 20k...or less.(credit crunch) then i shall go buy me some sumptuous lunch to fix and will sleep all day coz i am totally beat. i shall get up later and do my cleaning up and fix dinner while watching TV. i may watch a movie , i may not. but i am going to totally love myself this valentine.

i learned that the beauty of being single is to totally accept the phase and learn to love you above all else and that's what am going to do.

so i had fellowship yesterday (i somehow attended a men's fellowship) it was beautiful and we took the study from the book of Romans 2. now i learned something that had forever puzzled me was Matthew 18:15

"And if your brother sins, go and reprove him in private; if he listens to you, you have won your brother." (Mat 18:15)
13 If he does not listen, take one or two others along with you, so that 'every fact may be established on the testimony of two or three witnesses.'
17
If he refuses to listen to them, tell the church. 14 If he refuses to listen even to the church, then treat him as you would a Gentile or a tax collector.

i always thought this part of scripture meant, if your brother or friend or someone you share the faith with hurts you and refuse to acknowledge it no matter what you do then you throw them out.... on the contrary, the scripture is actually about reconciliation.
how?
well,

if you tell a guy he hurt you and he doesn't see how even when you tell your two other buddies and get to the church etc and he still sees no point then treating him as a gentile or tax collector means,that you go back to square one with your buddy. you let it go in love and love them as though nothing happened and maybe they shall see it. you know the scripture that talks about forgiving your brother 77 times 7 times....yup! you do just that.
and no you don't throw them out.
the fact that the scripture is about reconciliation baffled me. and to Learn that God loves me enough not to throw me out after i sin and prolly don't even realise it...how much more shouldn't i extend the same grace and mercy to those who hurt me? hard paper but do-able.
so anyhow much love and be good, spread some love and tell me about it!

addictions

It never occurred to me that I had indulgences.
Clean as a whistle I told myself, till it hit me- with a mug in my hand- that I was taking my fifth cup of tea in under an hour!
Suddenly, it all started to come back to me, unrolling like a reel of video tape in my mind; my introduction to this rather beautiful addiction called tea. I recalled with such sweet relish, dipping bread with butter in a cup of hot hot African tea; too impatient and hungry to wait for it to cool, then the gradual experiments with dipping other things that I thought would taste nice ‘dipped,’ from biscuits to the most daring, roasted groundnuts with their earthy red coats floating in a sea of creamy white African tea or a chocolaty reddish dark cup of black tea. I would savour the moment as I scooped every nut out of that hot well with a teaspoon. My mother scolded me for it often but not as much as she scolded me for taking tea with a spoon.
I learned to sip tea as I unenthusiastically eavesdropped on my mother gossiping with her friends. And in those moments, as I accepted being not yet a girl or a woman but a mere child, tea and I learned to speak the same language. Our relationship was further cemented since I was the only last child and often times took my breakfast alone long after my sister and mother had gone on to school and work. Tea and I got acquainted then.
I savoured her rich creamy goodness or marveled at who was darker… black tea or I. I especially appreciated the lemon touch that added a tangy taste-quite exciting flavour at that time- to black tea as well as what I secretly called make up for the light brown colour attained.
I cannot say more than what I have said on the conduciveness of ground for our relationship to blossom but to affirm that it became an unbreakable bond so much that by the time I was on campus, tea and I had tied the knot.
Before Campus and well into campus (now am grown and 5 years out of campus) my father enforced this mutual relationship between tea and I. You see my father’s own addiction was coffee, which he bought dearly from foreign countries, if for the taste of other coffee part from home grown, …….. it totally worked for him. So between the two of us in a living room , being entertained with a boring football match and the empty chairs (no one fancied football at home, not even i) lay a small table strewn with mugs, a sugar bowl, tea and coffee containers and a huge flask with hot hot water.
It was an ordinary thing to see me take about five huge mugs of tea, (of which mugs by the way, had names and times for use) if I wasn’t downing my usual number, my friends would worriedly question it. I stocked up bigger brighter looking mugs but my favourite was a huge V shaped mug as tall as a tower with Chinese prints all over it that I named ‘Lenny’ and was a close companion for years while on campus ill I handed it over, painfully to my younger sister, in a bid to rid myself of the addiction to ‘tea in Lenny’ .
However the more varied the vessels, the more enchanting. There was Tinny, the little cup like a flower vase that ended up on my brother’s head in a fight, there was ‘Afro’ a brown mug that a friend that ‘understood’ my obsession with tea got me as a birthday present which I find peculiarly interesting since every visitor I get wants to use it. There is ‘dollar’ with the imprint of the American Dollar on it that a number of my male friends pride in Using, ‘Tweety’ that I jealously hide because I love Tweety bird so. My ordinary ‘Mocha’ and another tall one with my ‘zodiac’ sign that has become my favourite. Tea in each cup tastes wonderfully different. Now that I am 27, the experimenting with different spices and different teas never stop. By the time I am 104, I will surely be able to make a recipe book on tea and what cups to use.


published in fLAIR mAGAZINE, FEB EDITION

missing you

rain falls
on my window
down my mirror
slowly slides
liquid pale,
crystal small
cold as ice
....

rain falls on my cheeks
down my neck
slowly slides
liquid pale
crystal small
warm as my heart...

throbbing beating
missing you

the other woman (third persona view point)

she sat by the window
this was her third cup
shrinking,
fading
getting cold-
like the one before-
and the other=

her fingers graze her slender neck
there's a scvar
hardly visible but there,
her shoulders slump
with the weight of the world
her cryptic colossal globe

she forces a smile
with the waitiress- and the other
-and the other.

she glances at her slender phone-
and declines anything more
(i'm waiting for someone)
and she sits there
- hopping.

time runs thin...
she hopes
patience trotting slow...

the bill comes.
(no he said he would pay
iam sorry, its a meeting)
she smiles wanly
feeling her heart break.

she'd been here times before-
it was wearing her down.
breaking her resolve.
but she stays hopping
believing- in love.
in the things he says.
'i will leave her soon,
i promise, my love, mia amor.'

five years ago,
and he still stayed with her...
she knew this place.
thenthe bleep-
a message-
she fiddles with it
new hope awoken-
then crushed.
'i can't make it, meeting my wife,
she needs me.
sorry amour, i will make it up to you.'
she smiles- for little comfort-
she yearns for love, true love...
its not here
but she believes, the little lost voice
within-
in goodtime-
in good time


and small fragile rays of hope
faintly glow-
another time.



to break the ice!

shoe throwing didnt end with Bush, it looks like the Britons are taking it further, i was rolling over in stitches when i heard yesterday, the Chinese president almost got pummelled by a 14 sized shoe from an enraged Briton student (i guess) at cambridge university! lol!