This Life

Home Alone with My son Emmy

2010-09-02T22:20:00.000-07:00

It is eight peaceful and happy days today the thirtieth day of August 2010 since I came over with Emmy from Entebbe to spend some time together in the village.
Our first three nights were free of bedwetting though punctuated with cries of milk and visits to the bathroom for short calls. As play increased sleep became less interrupted but the bedwetting started with more water intake and no night visits to the bathroom.
I have not been perturbed by the bedwetting, though, because it has meant to me longer and less interrupted sleep streams for me too. Waking up at certain intervals has become automatic for me, though, just to check that the young man is sleeping aright – well covered and lying in the right position with the mosquito net well tucked in.
Our first three days alone in the village were full of anxiety of how I was going to manage taking care of this little boy without the mother for two weeks, especially coming at a time I had just got some employment that required daily travel to town that meant leaving Emmy under another person’s care. As time wore on, though, the anxiety passed only to return momentarily yesterday.
Having managed the past one week so well, I kind of felt that Sunday was the perfect day to have the boy returned to his mother. I also began to feel that anything more than one week away from the mother was tantamount to doing injustice to the young man, for he had enough of my company even if he had hardly asked for mommy.
My fears were confirmed last evening when I put on our wedding video to watch together with Emmy shortly after a phone call from his mother. After a few minutes who curiously and attentive watching, Emmy suddenly said what he had never said before: “I want to enter the computer and be with my mommy in the car.”
Emmy has on several occasions watched photos and videos of me and Gertrude and has never gone beyond pointing excitedly “mommy” or “daddy”. Surely, this time round things were different as he seemed to express some kind of desperation to have some yearning met. For several moments he came to a point of tears but as the laptop kept on hanging and finally shutting down, he gave up his request to join his mother and father in the wedding ceremony in the computer. Emmy said, “Stupid computer” several times before he finally dosed off in my arms.
What a relief it was for me to have Emmy give up on his demand to be with his mother last night. It was a great relief because I saw myself getting in between a rock and a hard place if the demand carried on into the next day. I have a wedding to attend with Emmy on Saturday 4th September 2010 before traveling back to Entebbe the following day.
Traveling to Entebbe before Saturday to return Emmy to the mother would not only be expensive but also an inconvenience to my current employer. Thank God another night is here and Emmy is as happy and healthy as he has been the past eight days.
I was away today for nearly eight hours but Emmy was glad to spend the dusk and evening with me riding in our car and chatting together about the car, cows, gees, big Lorries and his friends back in Entebbe. When I say chatting, I mean serious talking business here with my man Emmy.
Emmy turned two on July 24th and it is amazing to me how much he has grown up intellectually. His vocabulary has widened, so has his memory sharpened. He can now make longer sentences, pronounce words better and recall names and places better.
When we approached home on Sunday Emmy started talking about opening the gate as we pulled down the road along our fence – meaning he recognized the place and recalled there is a gate to go through. And when we finally got out of the car, Emmy said, “Welcome home daddy.” I was so delighted that it was one of the first things I shared with his mother in a telephone conversation later that evening. There is a lot more that Emmy says or does that continues to both amaze and make me glad that has made our stay together such a wonderful time that I will live to cherish as long as life lasts.
Emmy now understands that the laptop, camera, car and a few other items at home are not toys for him to play with but important tools that serve the family. Emmy no longer dashes into any smartly dressed man’s arms as he used to but takes his time to get familiar with the person before let them touch him. He is a lot more conscious about his hygiene even if he still takes a lot to his mouth that he ought not. He can now brush his teeth rather eat the toothpaste as he used to. He demands for his ball to be washed when it gets dirty and Emmy asks for his potty when nature calls. We might have said bye to diapers save may be when he starts school in February 2011.
There has been a lot of life in the past short eight days. I am going to miss him a lot when he goes back to the mother.

Happiness: Me, My Dog, Cat and Ball

2010-09-02T00:22:00.000-07:00

Young people who are thinking of marriage often ask me questions related to that subject and more often than not they seem to be either surprised or disappointed with my answers. Equally surprised are some people who have been in married longer than me who come with beaming smiles to me asking about my married life vs. my previous single life.

I have often said to the young people who come to me with their questions about marriage that I am probably the wrong person to approach because I have only been married for five years as compared to a single life till the age of thirty nine. The implication is that I probably know more about single life than I know about marriage. And to my married friends I usually say that I am yet to find my married life to be more than or as fulfilling as my single life was.

Some people find the preceding response so shocking that they imagine I am contemplating divorce. Far from it; I treasure my marriage as much as I am being sincere about my experience so far. I was as happy as I could be when I was single and I was rather disappointed with some married people who either despised me or thought I was abnormal being single close to forty. Some thought I was merely pretending to be happy, while others said that I was simply mean.

I remember a lady saying to me that I needed to live a full life. Her perception of a full life is that one needed to be married. Another lady that I met on a visit to a clinic asked me in a conversation if I was married and when I said I was single she said, “Why are you selfish, you need to share your life with someone.”

Well to myself, I was living a full life that I was enjoying and sharing with other people. My house was full of children, relatives and friends and I was not grumbling.

I remember at one time back in 1998 when I was living with my nephew Shadrach, a primary schoolboy and we had a lovely playful dog called Spunky and beautiful named Snoopy, a colleague remarked: ”How can a man be happy with just a dog, a cat and a ball?”

I used to leave for home after work on Saturday morning with such haste and enthusiasm that some of my colleagues my section used to wonder what exciting thing I often looked forward to on weekends. My answer was simple: I am going home to spend time with my nephew and cat, play ball and jog with my dog. And that made my day. Meanwhile the colleagues that had this particular interest in my life went off on drinking and pork eating spree on weekends often in the company of the lady folk.

It was after a weekend visit by my colleagues to my bedsitter in a suburb of Kampala that one of them made that remark about happiness and dog, cat and ball that has since then stuck to my memory. It was encouraging to realize from friends and colleagues that the joy and contentment that I experienced each day was evident despite my humble existence and the fact that I was single in my late thirties.

I have met people who associate happiness with having abundance of materials things, lots of money, a good job or a spouse. Well, we would all be better off having much of what the world has to offer but what if these things do not come our way, shall we forever be miserable?

I lost my “big job” more than eight months ago but I am still living a happy life despite the challenges and disappointments that I have continually faced. I remember a lady saying to me more than three years ago that I was happy because I had a big job and a car. that I have continually faced. I remember a lady saying to me more than three years ago that I was happy because I had a big job and a car. Yes indeed the “big job” and the car afforded me a modest life but my joy was not dependent on them rather my attitudes and what is to be found in the heart because it preceded the material things that the job brought into my life.

Two weeks ago a doctor offered me a three months assignment to be his estates manager at a wage of two hundred thousand Ugandan shillings per month and a daily allowance of one thousand shillings that gladly accepted.

Two days ago, though, during a lunch break I found myself looking back at my former job comparing my previous salary of over one million Ugandan shillings and the field allowance of fifty four thousand shillings each night spent in the field and my current pay. I found myself in a moment of self pity that seemed to instantly draw out the hope and faith of a breakthrough in the not so distant future. Earlier in the day I had received a mail informing that a position that I had applied for in some big American Non-governmental organization had been filled, dashing my hopes of a better paying job sooner than later.

The effect of the self pity and the disappointment was a momentary loss of enthusiasm in my current assignment that if I had left to carry on was going to lead to depression. I realized that looking back at the good times was taking away my focus from what the current assignment could help me do e.g. bringing me in contact with various people other than the rural setting I was largely confining myself to.

Brooding over the past and forgetting to be thankful for what I already have was quickly stealing away not only my joy but also my dreams. It is no wonder that somebody said that pain is inevitable but misery is a choice. I choose to be happy.

My Beloved Africa

2010-08-02T14:53:00.000-07:00

Not very long ago a very contentious question was asked on the BBC’s African Service breakfast program; “Network Africa.” That question was “Are Africans lazy compared to other races?” Apparently a Ugandan investor based in China had said in a BBC interview that Africans are lazy. His statement drew outrage from various listeners of the BBC program across the continent. However some seemed to agree with the Ugandan investor that Africans are generally lazy. To a certain extent I am attempted to believe that we Africans area lazy people, for we like the easy way out.
Recently I asked a distant relative to spray my orange trees at a fee of two thousand Ugandan shillings and he hastily said he would do it shortly. However after a few hours his cousin showed up with pump in hand delegated to do the spraying.
I asked the young man if he was not going to school that day which he answered in the affirmative. Therefore I asked the boy to leave the work and go to school. Not very long after leaving for school, though, I saw the boy loitering around their home.
When I met him the next day I asked why he seemed not to have been to school after I had preferred him to go rather than spray my oranges. He told me that he had been sent away from school for one thousand five hundred shillings which he was required to pay – whatever for. I hastened to ask him why the he did not come back to work for me if he needed the money rather than loiter around the village, riding here and there with not particular aim. I also asked him if he had now got the money the school authorities wanted from him and he did not answer either of my questions.
This young man’s actions and attitude reminded me of a number of things the recently concluded “Africa’s” Football World Cup fest in South Africa and other past World Cup tournaments.
When Ghana missed the penalty awarded after the Uruguayan handball in extra time it seemed to me from the way the players that took the penalty kicks apart from Asamoa Jian did their thing that they had already lost all hope of victory against Uruguay.
With all due honor, the Ghanaians played hard and deserved victory that they were denied by the Uruguayan handball but the spot kicks were so clumsy that I just cried and was sick for the rest of the night and the next day.
Days on my mind went back to that match between Ghana and Uruguay and the debate on Network Africa some years ago whether Africans are lazy. I wondered if I was too harsh in my judgment of Ghana but common sense tells me that the harder you kick the faster moves the ball making it harder for the keeper to catch. Apart from Asamoa, did the boys believe and take their spot kicks seriously? At least the Uruguayan who kicked out hit the ball very hard that it flew into the heavens over the bar.
Well, recently a friend was in the US for a two week’s visit and when he returned he wondered why why why we are so backward and underdeveloped? Are we really that poor and can we still honestly blame the colonialist for our economic woes and sundry? Is not there anything we can positively change about our country? Do we need to be very rich to afford neatness and orderliness in our communities? So many questions without clear cut answers. Of course we can bring positive change if believe in ourselves and will.
Like the young man in this story that did try to find a solution to his problem and go back to school; there are many youth in my community who have zero ambition and worthwhile hobbies except watch TV and balance their buggy trousers mid their flat buttocks. They wobble to school as though the day has forty eight hours rather than twenty four.
Recently my wife and kids took a two week’s holiday out of town, leaving behind a niece and a nanny to take care of the home in Entebbe. When they returned the dogs were starving, the potted plants were drying and clothes that were washed two weeks ago were still waiting to be ironed.
Sometimes I wonder if some people living around me have any interests apart from eat, drink, sleep and wake up. Thirteen years ago a man asked why I worked so hard at my job as though the company that I worked for belonged to my father.
2011 is on the way and it is election time here in Uganda. I have already seen many young and old politicians who used not attend church regularly suddenly become regular church goers, shaking and waving hands here and there – they call greeting the people. Many of these local council and parliamentary aspirants have little of nothing to show for their leadership skills or community development except the fact that they are just looking for a job.
Some of these people are former civil servants who never planned well for their retirement and are now greater debaters at drinking places. Some are people whose businesses have collapsed and are trying to find a way forward for revival. The list goes on for the easy way out. May be we are not that lazy but only cunning and fun loving.

Any Dream Will Do

2010-08-02T14:44:00.000-07:00

The last seven months have probably been the longest time I have spent in my rural home since I left college more than fifteen years ago. And in those seven months of formal unemployment my mind has had a lot of musing and fantasy to do and some challenges to face too. Interestingly, there has been a lot of rain too. The usual December to March dry spell was not experienced in this end of the earth, giving me plenty of green to look at, both outdoors and from indoors around my octagonal hut.
I have also had some harvests to do; an experience I had missed for several years, for the last time I remember being part of any harvest was probably in my teenage and twenties. The harvests then were mainly from parents’ gardens. This time round, though, it has been from my own and it has been a richly rewarding experience both emotionally and materially even when some of the harvests have been poor like the maize one that I am currently busy with.
There has always been a sweet feeling and a smile while I have harvested something from my garden. I do not remember a moment when I ever grumbled when uprooting beans, cutting a plantain or taking a freshly picked passion fruit to my mouth. I can possibly compare my harvest experience with the times I have been to the bank to find salary in my account or the times I have sat an examination and to find that I made through when the result comes. Oh it is such a wonderful satisfying feeling. Like the comforting feeling that I get in the evenings when seated in a corner of a settee in my hut designed by myself surveying the world around me.
This evening I thought of eating carrots but I could find none within reach except that I remembered that I saw some being sold in the streets in Tororo town when I went to the bank. I recalled too that the last time I planted carrots was probably more than five years ago just before I married. They were about twenty carrots in all planted somewhere near a jackfruit tree in our current compound. They were lovely fat carrots that I ate raw one by one whenever I came back home from work in Mbale.
This evening, my mind has been on a number of crops to plant this season especially vegetables. Kale (Sukumawiki), sweet pepper, pumpkins, tomatoes and onions are some of the crops that have been evaluating. Tomatoes are a bit like chicken, though. They need a lot of attention and are prone to many vagaries. I failed miserably the last time I planted them.
Crops have been on my mind, so have other things.
Hardly a day goes by without me visualizing what our future home might look like God willing. My mind often sorts through various floor plans, kitchen and exterior designs to fit into our current garden design. Time and again my mind flips, rotates and shifts the plans and the house in my head; building a single storey bungalow now and other times preferring a double storey after enjoying a great view of Mt Elgon in the horizon from a ladder while trimming the hedge.
This evening I thought that may be environmentalists are sometimes too harsh with authorities when they oppose government plans to develop this or that area; may be a wetland or forest. My Garden is mature and beautiful, and I often find myself in a dilemma when thinking of adding a structure to the compound other than the two huts that currently stand side by side.
Possibly the harshest decision that I could ever make as regards the future of our compound is fill up the fish pond structure and cut down the greenery around it that has become a bird sanctuary to give way for house construction.
That would not only take away our nature reserve but also compromise the viewing of the sunset from the main hut that we refer to our summer home from which one can have a quick survey of the compound while seated. On the other hand constructing a double storey house in the pond’s current position would not only provide a better view of Mt Elgon and other surroundings, but would also eliminate headaches like garage location that does not seem to come easily with the current proposed house site.
Well, only time will tell which direction the dream and the vision will take. Meantime, I will continue enjoying the sweet little harvests and the pleasures of the beautiful little garden God has given me.

Journey to Rwenshama

2010-04-24T04:11:00.000-07:00

It is a very long time since I last looked in an atlas or looked up a map, neither have I used a dictionary lately. Last Thursday I found myself needing all these three things at the same time in my car but I could not lay my hands on any of them.

I was driving in Western Uganda, an escort van to a convoy of trucks delivering drilling equipment to an oil drilling site in the Queen Elizabeth National Game Park. We drove for over 700km from the border town of Malaba in Eastern Uganda, through Kampala, Mityana, Mubende, Fort Portal and Kasese to get to the drilling site in an area of the park on the shores of Lake Edward called Rwenshama.

I had read of and seen Lake Edward which was then called Lake Mobutu in Iddi Amin’s era in geography books and maps of Uganda and East Africa. It was renamed Lake Edward after the overthrow of the dictator Iddi Amin Dada by joint force of Ugandan exiles and the Tanzanian army. Amin had obviously named the lake in honor of his own friend and fellow dictator, Mobutu Sesseko president of Zaire, now Democratic Republic of the Congo. Amin had also named some other lake in Uganda Amin; I am not certain if it was Lake Albert or George.

Well, here I was in the thick of the geography and history that I only knew about as a child, let alone feeling part of the historic moment in the development of Uganda that I have until now only read of in the dailies; the exploitation of oil that has been lying underground while millions of Ugandan have swimming in poverty and the nation suffering from energy and fuel crisis. Hopefully, the oil will be a blessing like in the Middle East rather a curse like in Nigeria.

I had not been to Queen Elizabeth national Park before and neither had I seen a warthog or so many wild animals like buffalos, elephants, antelopes, hippos, baboons and birds in one place as I did when I visited Rwenshama last week. I also had the opportunity to see the Virunga Mt ranges across the lake in the DRC, the Rwenzori Mt ranges in Kasese and Fort Portal and crossing the Equator.

By now you might have begun to appreciate my need for a map, dictionary and atlas as I traveled through these places.

We left Kampala on Wednesday morning for Rwenshama, having spent the night there after setting off from Malaba on Tuesday afternoon. It all looked pretty familiar landscape and vegetation as we drove through Mityana and Mubende until we approached the Toro Kingdom when the tree cover gradually increased and palm trees, forests, hills and rocks than finally gave way to ridges to the rather mundane savannah grassland of Mubdende the last district of Buganda Kingdom on the border with Toro.

The landscape and climate closely resembled that of the Mountain district of Kapchorwa in Eastern Uganda and Kericho in the Kenyan highlands. There were a number of tea estates and a few small livestock farms on the ridges as we left Kibale Forest National Game Park behind and drove into Kabarole district that actually until recently I knew as Fort Portal.

All cool, green and serene, we were in Fort Portal town and the statue of the colonial explorer Frederick Lugard stands in one of the few streets of the town. The Rwenzoris were in the background hiding the evening sun and the ridges around town are mostly covered by banana groves. I can see in the not so distant background to the south of the town a magnificent building on a hill. The memory of what I have been seeing in the dailies tells me that it is the royal palace of the king of Toro who incidentally turns eighteen Friday April 16, two days after our visit.

So much for Fort Portal and we set off for Kasesse which is some 56km away. The way to Kasese was an up and down the hill journey and the green ridges on the foothills of the Rwenzori was a sight that accompanied us our entire journey through. The temperature rose up, though, as we approached Kasese and the landscape went flat all of a sudden as we got to Hima that is a few kilometers from Kasese town.

Once again, I was asking myself why one area herein Uganda resembled another somewhere in the East Africa? The answer was long in coming, though, as in the case of Kericho and Fort Portal that are both highlands. Kasese resembled Naivasha/Nakuru because it lies in the Great Rift Valley and my secondary school geography reminds me that Lake George that is on the foreground of Kasese town is a rift valley lake.

In Kasese come alive the primary school geography lessons about the Kilembe copper mines, Hima cement factory, the Rewnzori closer than it was in Fort Portal and the enormous savannah grassland Queen Elizabeth National Game Park begins down to Lake Edward. The sweltering heat here, tells me that the Equator is close by. I pause for a photo or two at the Equator and the crossroads to Bwera on the Uganda/Congo border before proceeding through the park down to Katunguru and over the Kazinga channel that joins Lake George and Edward on the road to Mbarara.

It is Thursday morning and a few kilometers across the Kazinga we turn right to a dirt road that takes us 53km through the game park to Rwenshama. It is drizzling and the road is slippery but our convoy inches slowly through the park save for one truck that failed way before we reached kasese in a maize growing area called Rwimi.

The road to Rwenshama is flavored with the fresh smell of elephant dung, butterflies swarming around the dung, baboons jumping into and out of the road, elephants chewing the curd in the thickets and herds of mud bathed buffalos grazing in the grasslands.

After more than an hour from the Junction to Mbarara, we get to the drilling site and I was surprised to find young Ugandan engineers there rather bearded white men in shorts save for a more aged man with a Kenyan accent who supervised the offloading of the equipment and signed our delivery notes.

About 500m down the lake away from the drilling site is a fish landing site and a small fishing community that is literally living amidst wildlife. Buffaloes are grazing behind the houses, children are playing not far away from them, warthogs are disappearing in the background into a thicket and hippos are wallowing in the water next to the boats where the fishermen are sorting out their nets.

A young man walks over to me and asks after a greeting where I was from and what I was doing in this rather filthy landing site of Rwenshama. After a short conversation and geography lesson of Rwenshama, Lake Edward, Virunga Mountains and the game park, he asks if there is any job e.g. offloading that he could do at the drilling site. He is visibly disappointed to learn that offloading id done by crane and there is nothing else for him to do. I walk back to the site and after a few moments we get our delivery notes and start off on the return journey home.

Life

2010-03-04T01:59:00.000-08:00

The weather is very dull today and that in a way describes how I am feeling now. Dull and uninspired, kind of depressed but I am reading Rich Dad, Poor Dad for some inspiration. In some very clear ways , I have so far seen a picture of myself in some financial aspects the book attempts to tackle. I am three quarters done and probably by 2am tonight I should be done.
I have been in Entebbe since Sunday when I had hoped to return to Tororo by last Monday morning. Much of my time has been spent with Emmy who has been quite a handful. Today, though, I am out and about in Kampala catching up on a few things. It has been raining here since morning and it has been quite a bit to around but somehow I have been able to do all that I had on my schedule.
The village has catching up with me occasionally despite being more than 200km away from home.Some of the agricultural projects that I iniated recently in my backyard have gone terribly wrong and the folks in charge just give a break from the calls announccing this and that number of chicken have so far died.
As much as I had not intended to stay long in Entebbe, at least I needed a break from the activities and concerns in the village. But the bad reports have continued to flow unabated. The other day, to keep the call s to a minimum, I told one of my assistants that just let the chicken die because not all will die, for every business there is a loss and a profit column and there is a risk. If we wont risk, them we wont move, fo it is said that in life there are risks and the greatest risk of all is never taking any risks. Some of my folks suggested treturning the chicken back to seller but unfortunately they were sold to us on non-returnable basis. And in any case I am still hopefull that something good will come out of the project anyway. Thity per cent of the stock may die but ther will be lessons to be learned and more calculated risks to take.
If I were to listen to all the advice the folks around me give, I would never ever make any move in life. Every body wants to play it safe. Every venture that I suggest has an element of risk and nobody around me feels comfortable taking any risks not realizing that living itself is a risk. If we fear to fall we wont walk and if we fear to die we may not as well live.

Small Things & Good Manners

2010-02-05T04:16:00.000-08:00

I have read it somewhere that good manners consist of small things we do. That is similar to what the Lord Jesus Christ said about being faithful in small things as prerequisite for being faithful in that which is much, bearing in mind that any tow things that are similar are not the same. Another person said that it takes more courage to be faithful in small routine chores than to risk one’s life in a moment of spectacular danger.
It is not rare, though, to hear somebody say ‘Even that small thing” instead of saying sorry when they have transgressed or offended someone. I wonder if the Bible classifies sin as small and big sins.
Anyway, the book says that sin is transgression of the law and if break the law in any place, you have broken the whole law; that in effect implies that sin is the same all through – there are no small or big sins.
It seems therefore to me that the attitude we hold towards small things manifests itself in big things too. If we cannot be grateful for little things, it is very likely that we won’t be grateful for much that we are given. If for instance you cannot see anything to be grateful for in you current circumstance e.g. single life; like I have heard it said “I will be happy when I marry or when I get rich or get a big job”, then you might be in for an illusion. There are a lot of small graces in every life to be grateful for – remember a grateful heart make the soul glad, like some wise man put “You cannot say that a man who is enjoying life is unsuccessful.”
I was on a bus to Lira one hot afternoon and the bus was pretty full that some passenger hardly had any where to hold on to as the bus hit potholes on the various road diversions. Suddenly the bus came to a stop and a male passenger crashed into a lady passenger, touching her breast. The young lady was perturbed by the incident as she said to man “How come you are not sorry for what has just happened?” The man simple kept quiet and that angered the lady even more and she said that the man had sexually harassed her by touching her breast. Well, she consoled herself by saying that the man lacked good manners because he did not say sorry and some passengers on the other hand thought it was a small thing worth ignoring. The lady though went on to say that people who don’t say sorry are very likely not to say thank you and that is a symptom of bad manners.
Friend, I do not know about you and your surrounding but from what I have observed I my own every day interaction in corner of the world, the lady’s comment on sorry and thank you seem very much to be synonymous with either good or bad manners and small things do matter. It they do not, let somebody jump the queue next time you are at the bank or hospital preferring them. I bet you will think they are selfish and bad mannered.

A New Day Has Come

2009-12-01T23:06:00.000-08:00

It is a new day, a new life, a new challenge and an opportunity for me to turn my life around. I was finally handed ,y dismissal letter from the New Vision Printing and Publishing Company. It was dismissal without pay with effect from November 24, 2009 even though it took them nearly another week to hand over the letter to me.
Well, I am on the street now and I am certain of what the future holds for me but I am certain, though, that God holds the future and I can rest assured that "All things work together for good to them that love God and are called of his purpose." - Romans 8:28. Joseph was put in a pit, sold, put in Jail but his dream never died and he finally said to his brothers that they meant for evil but God meant it for good ... Genesis 50:20. I believe that nobody can curse the one God has blessed; so will it be for me in Jesus' name. Amen. As it is said that the darkest hour is just before dawn, the sun will rise and shine again for me.

Still Here Waiting

2009-11-23T06:40:00.000-08:00

It is nearly two weeks now since I was suspended from work and have been therefore formally unemployed. I have spent much of the two weeks back home in the village doing some simple farm activities and beautifying where I live.

It has been quite a quiet time for me with few telephone calls but with a busy schedule of physical activities that ranged from slashing, planting, jogging, weeding, sawing, painting, trimming and sweeping. Sometimes I gazed at the moon or the rain when it interrupted my schedule. I hardly went to town except two occasions to read mail. I have also had time to take care of my dogs and re-organize the position of some things in my compound like the dog pen, garden seats and lights. I have been handicapped by finances though; on some of the improvements I had planned do on the cottage ahead of the Christmas holiday that will see Emmy and the expectant mother home for two weeks.

Finding casual labor around the village has also been quite difficult and I have had to do much of the work at home single handed. I have employed my nephews a few times but they are just unfocused and unreliable; always having one program or the other of their own that causes inconsistency in reporting to work. Their way of work just does fit with my style neither my schedule.

They seem to have forever to do some of these earthly chores. I wish they could just begin to appreciate the value of time. To them, the saying that time is money seems to be too remote and neither have they considered that tomorrow will soon be yesterday and they will be older than they could imagine. Look at me! My whole head is nearly grey now and it seems like yesterday when I was a boy just like them. Sometimes, I look at my son and imagine that I waited too long to get him into this world. It should been much earlier when I was still with plenty of energy and “time.” Well, I have lots of catch up to do for him now. Anyway, I have been told by some colleague or former colleague if you take it that I have already been sacked, that New Vision tends to handout dismal letters at end of month rather mid, just like resignations tend to take same pattern.

I came over to Entebbe yesterday expecting to hear from the New Vision today but the day is nearly up and yet to hear a thing as far my fate is concerned. Anyway, I have been told by some colleague or former colleague if you take it that I have already been sacked, that New Vision tends to handout dismal letters at end of month rather mid, just like resignations tend to take same pattern.

If no communication comes through today, I might travel to Lira tomorrow morning to pick up some of my personal effects and move on with my life instead of living in limbo.

Today

2009-11-12T03:45:00.000-08:00

Today is another day for me here in Kampala. It has been a cool calm day and I have met quite a few interesting people since I started off from Entebbe in the morning.
I took a motobike taxi from home to the commuter taxi stage for Kampala in Entebbe town and the rider charged me seven hundred shillings instead of the usual one thousand. At another taxi stage in Kampala, I was conteplating buying a sweet for myself to while the time on my way to head office to meet the Human Resource Manager and my supervisior but a lady who sat next to me bought two sweets and gave me one. What a coincidence and kind act in the morning. We were heading to same direction but she alighted before my destination.
I went along with my supervisor to meet the human resource manage who presented me with a letter to sign and told me that I am to appear before the disciplinary committee for a hearing tomorrow at 2pm following report by audit dept on the accident my official car was involved in. My supervisor was asked to be around but he declined saying that he will be starting hsi leave tomrrow. He instead asked his deputy to stand for him. I too was asked to come along with a representative e.g a lawyer to witness the hearing. I have decided, though, to go it alone and let justice take its course.
Our meeting with HR manager was pretty short and I went out to town to do some window shopping as I mused about what the future holds for me after the New Vision. Talking about the future,; a preacher on a local TV station preached about change on his early morning show called Insight for Living. He quoted that popular saying that "The future has the tendency of arriving an annouced or too soon." The other memorable thing he said was that human beings have a natural tendency to resist change yet change is good even if it comes in bad circumstances. He also quoted Roman 8.28 as word of encouragement to believers in Christ who might be apprehensive of cahnge. I was encouraged by the preacher's words and my positive attituted was strengthened and was quite prepared for the day.
I very well know that the letter that I was given today is a prelude to my being shown the exit from the New Vision after 13 years of faithful service. Thank God, thugh, that the future has come to me while I am wide awake and I welcome the change even though I am not certain of what will be. However, the change may come along with tough times ahead but I am certain good will come out of it all.

My Times

2009-11-10T07:54:00.000-08:00

I have been away from work for eight days that I spent doing other kind of work at home in the village. Put another way; I have on a short leave or vacation as our American brethren would have it.
I took a break at the peak of investigations into my car accident amid a lot stress and it has been good for me so far that I had that break from work. I have been able to quite a bit in the village in preparation for my retirement or sacking, whichever comes first. I have also had time to do a lot of physical exercise in doing task like weeding my garden, sawing wood, pushing the wheelbarrow full of soil and manure. Naturally, there has been some time spent with my parents, neighbors, friends and dogs. I have had lots of time too with the radio listening favorite programs on the BBC and local Fm stations. I did not miss a day too with my Bible and had one Sunday to preach the word of God.
My sleep often came fast and in one stream. The moon was shining bright nearly all the nights that I spent home that created a routine for me of taking a walk around the compound with the dogs before going to bed.
I often walk up early by 4.30am, stretched, prayed, read my Bible, took some porridge, brushed and got started with my day's schedule. I did some jogging before setting about work in the last three days home in preparation for the MTN Kampala Marathon due on November 22nd.
I reported back to work in Lira today, having left Tororo by bus yesterday. It has been quite a day for me at the office with lots of story being told to me by various folk around about the investigations by the audit department into my car accident and rumors of my imminent sacking and lots of intrigue. Well, that to me is a settled matter because I have passed the worrying or guessing stage many miles back and I am on to the future after The New Vision with or without the sacking or the pardon.
I have one of the senior auditors attempt to block my transport refund but in vain, reportedly because I crashed my official vehicle. I wonder if that is standard practice or official policy in the New Vision? Well, today too there has been a hold up of my petty cash voucher by one of the auditors who investigated the accident. I wonder if that too has to do with the accident or does it portend worse for me at the New Vision?
Anyhow, I will traveling to Kampala tonight at 12.30am by bus for the monthly sales meeting on Thursday morning. I hope to spend Wednesday afternoon and evening with my family and travel to Tororo Friday afternoon or Saturday morning to follow up on some of the work I left pending. I am likely to travel back to Lira on Sunday afternoon depending on what the management of New Vision has decided about my fate following the car accident and the subsequent investigation into by the internal audit department.

Enroute in the North

2009-10-27T08:08:00.000-07:00

I am in Gulu tonight on an end of the month debt collection trip in my sales territory. I left Lira this morning with an accountant from head office in Kampala who came along with a vehicle from credit control department driven by one of the pool car drivers. So, I am not at the wheel today.
My car is still in the garage for repair following the accidentit was involved in more than two weeks ago. There has been a lot controversy over the circumstances of the accident, especially who was at the wheel at the time of the accident and I have been through a bit of questioning by the audit department that may or may not lead my sacking. Well, I have taken it in stride and chosen to work normally despite the stress it is fanning up.
I have covered so far a quarter of this four day journet that will take me through at least five major towns and districts of northern Uganda. We left Kitgum this afternoon having arrived from Lira at about lunch time and we hope to leave for Adjumani at about 10am tomorrow, from where we shall proceed to Moyo and cross over the Nile to Yumbe, on to Arua.
By thursday, we should have covered Nebbi, Pakwach, Oyam and Apac. Hopefully, we shall be back to Lira on Friday where I hope to get on the bus home to Tororo as the accountant and the driver get back to Kampala.

Home With Family

2009-10-13T08:46:00.000-07:00

I had quite a wonderful time home in Entebbe with family and friends last week despite the hardship of geting around without a car in a rainy season. Emmy was quite a handful but that is what made it fun being with him.
We went together to Kampala on Friday the 9th October, Uganda's Independence Day for the annual Uganda Manufacturers' Association International Trade Fair. It was not that exciting as it has been for us in the past years. There were so many people at the show, especially school children, causing lots of congestion and lack of concentration on any particular item. The mistake that we made this time round was to go on a day that was a public holiday when most people was be free to go out and hang. Well, Emmy's presence made all the difference for me. He was attending his first trade fair and witnessing the biggest gathering of people in one place for the first time.
The way Emmy conducted himself amid the sea of people was just amazing. He was not perturbed by any particular thing. He smiled, jerked, shouted, waved and did a lot of eating. He did not have the slightest intention to dose in the four hours we were at the show as he had already had some sleep on the way from Entebbe to Kampala. But he had a sound sleep on the way back.
When we got back home, Emmy made loud noises and moved vigorously around the the seating room; probably his excitement was an expression what he had witnessed and was also glad to get back home to play ball and tell stories in his own langauge. He smiled in his sleep later that night despite moments of crying over something that appeared symptoms of flu.
It was not so exciting to leave Emmy on Saturday morning when I traveled back to Lira through Tororo. Emmy cried as I walked away from the house in Entebbe and seemed to understand that it was not for just a while that I was moving away.
Trudy was not particularly happy save for the day we went for the show. She had some intermitent spotting and nasal bleeding that has persisted for quite a while now. I only hope that today's review at Mengo Hospital will bring some good results.
I will off to West Nile tomorrow for a field trip with my supervisior that will take us as far as koboko after we have been to Pakwach, Nebbi, and Arua. I might probably return to Lira on Friday and then travel Eastwards to Tororo for the weekend.

In Rainy Kampala

2009-10-08T04:08:00.000-07:00

I am in Kampala for an abrupt monthly sales meeting and Regional editors' meeting. I was not expecting to attend the rgional vernucular newspapers' editors meeting that included the two ne radio stations' news editors and programme managers. I expected to be in Kampala next week, though, for the monthly sales meeting.
I arrived in Kamapala at 1am Tuesday night having left Lira by bus at 5.30 pm. The reason for using the bus is obvious; my official vehicle got involved in an accident mid Monday morning and is awaiting lifting to Kampala for repair.
The last four days have been tough days for me on how to get around and perform my official duties without an official vehicle. The rainy weather has not been so supportive in that direction. Right now I should be out of head office doing some window shopping in town of at the Uganda manuifacturers' Association International Trade fair at Lugogo but I am stuck in here becuase it is raining. I have so many other commitments; like debt collection and some private work back home in Tororo that I just cannot do without a vehicle.
On the other hand, though, it has been interesting geting back to the real life of commuting by taxi from home in Entebbe to head office in Kamapala these two days. I had a nap in a traffic jam after browsing a few chapters of some magazine that I bought a few week's ago but just could not settle down to read. That brought back memoeries of the times I was working here at head office herein Kampala.
Traffic jams were a time for to read my newspapers, books or magazines for I always carried something along for reading and eventually I dozed a bit to make up for lost sleep. And that just what I liked this morning on my way from Entebbe. I had a chance to read and relax while somebody else took care of the wheel and the stress of that comes with haywire driving in Kampala traffic jams.
I reached office fresh and enlightened on a few health and fitness issues from the magazine that I perused and I did not have to doze in the meeting. That has been the upside of having no car to drive, at least today. The down side was, I had to listen to may loud mobile phone converstations that I did need to from some mindless passengers in the commuter taxi.
It is amazing how louder Uganda has just got. Music every where from street corners, phones and in the back of lorries from loud speakers. It is a noisy world we are living in. Thank God for a quite home to return to at the end of the day if you are lucky man like myself.

My Story

2009-09-23T05:51:00.000-07:00

When I flashback on my life today, I truly believe and feel that I have come from rugs to riches no matter what else other people might think. I might not be as wealthy as I might have been and I might have all that I would desire but my current status and life is worth writing home about.

This is my story and it might be the story of my family. I was born to a primary school dropout - mom and a veterinary assistant - dad who seemed to have been relatively wealthy in their earlier years of marriage. At least I could tell from the property my parents held and the land and the livestock we had. And my elder siblings did not really have an outlook of a peasant origin. The entry of polygamy into the family though seems to have come along with hard economics later especially for my mother who had to fend for us unaided most of our school going age.

We are a family of nine living siblings out ten children born to my mother and father and I am number five. I am told I was supposed to have been the last but four more children followed me.

I am also told by my mom that as a child I was lavished with many good things but they all wore out with the years as I grew into teen-age. I remember one very beautiful pair of canvas shoes and a baby court that was called Moses’ bed that only turned into firewood in my secondary school days. Those are some of the things that I did see in my childhood years that smacked of a decent or modest life.

I remember one Christmas eve in the late seventies we had porridge and peas for supper while the smell of roast meat from my village neighborhood filled the air as families prepared for the festivities the next day. Dad was obviously away at his second wife’s home and had done no Christmas shopping for us at all. Mom managed to buy us some meat on Christmas morning though. And we the chicken reared at home with had a good Christmas lunch.

Obviously I went to church that day in my school uniform like it had to be for most of my primary school years till I joined secondary school when I had the luxury of sleeping on a mattress, two bed sheets and blanket instead the straw mart and one sheet I had got accustomed to in the village.

I remember visiting Kampala for the first time in 1982 upon my elder brother’s invitation after seating my primary school leaving examinations and it was one long twelve hour train journey from Tororo in Eastern Uganda to Kampala in central. My brother was a physician at Mulago Hospital; the national referral hospital in Kampala and he had just returned from a doctors’ conference in India. He had a pair of beautiful Power canvas shoes for that quickly elevated me from the barefooted villager in the city to a decent looking lad – at least I wore them when I went to church on Sunday or visited other relatives in the city. On other occasions, though, I had to dash around home in Kampala on barefoot and in a pair of shorts that had torches (holes from over wearing and sitting on rough places back in the village) on the back, exposing my buttocks to the view of the public.

My torn pair of shorts often attracted ridicule from the rich neighbor’s kids. That is the only time I remember feeling embarrassed or having a sense of low esteem. It was normal to move naked in the village even up to the age of six and wearing rugs was not a big deal. Even in Kampala I had never felt embarrassed being the person that I was.

I went back to the village with my Power canvas shoes and it was a delight to join secondary school with my white them as a number of students admired and borrowed them to dance in.

For a while in secondary and high school I seemed to forget my poor background and got carried away by unworthy activities of various notorious groups that affected my academic performance. There were instances though that some rich kids tried to remind me of my poverty. I remember Friday when I was traveling home for the holidays in a taxi that was full of students from my village and one girl looked at my wooden suitcase and said in a derisive manner, “I would never carry such a coffin to school.” It was clearly meant to embarrass me because we were all excited to be traveling home and just wonder what my suitcase had to do with this pretty woman who was much older than many of the students in the taxi. I thought she had a better understanding of things.

I was naturally hurt by her comments even though I did not show any signs of embarrassment because it was what my poor mom could afford to see to it that nothing stopped me from joining secondary school. That wooden suitcase had also seen an elder brother of mine through O level and it was also the same suitcase my mom came with into my father’s home when she dropped out of college. It was the precious suitcase her dad had bought her for school. I can see that suitcase being given a blue paint touch after years of use by mom before my brother who excelled so well in his academics packed his few clothes and books into it. My brother is a senior forest officer in a Uganda government organization in charge of forests. I wonder if he remembers that blue suitcase and his first pair of trousers mom bought him when he passed his O levels with straight distinctions.

Today I am a regional marketing officer with one of the leading multi-media companies in the East African region. I have a company car to myself and a modest monthly salary that affords me a decent life and other privileges that a lot of Ugandans can only dream of. I have traveled to most parts of the country and beyond and I can enjoy the hobbies that were so difficult to practice in my childhood. For instance, I have access to IT that helps me write articles, publish, send mail and photos as I wish unlike the hard times when I had to hire with my little school pocket money a photographer for my first two articles published by the BBC Focus on Africa magazine. It was those articles that helped compete favorably for my current job that I have held for the pats twelve years. They gave me a competitive advantage over other applicants since the company was looking for marketers with interest in the media and the articles bore me witness to that effect.

Life is tough but manageable. I can determine and plan for my future thanks to our hardworking resilient loving mom who worked so hard to see that we got a decent education and never left us to starve. I no longer have to be called Maria or a sissy by the village boys who ridiculed me as I carried black soot pans on my head full of food and water for pigs - The pigs that were reared to raise part of our school fees.

To N From Kampala

2009-09-23T05:19:00.000-07:00

I had quite a good time in Kampala during the two days for the monthly meetings at head office and Saturday home with my little family in Entebbe. I made the most of the time for our little boy Emitono, cuddling and teaching him to walk. Emitono is taking a bit long to learn walking. He can walk with support and without support, though. Probably it is his weight delaying him to walk but I believe he could do better with a little more training, unfortunately I am not always there for him.
I left Kampala on Sunday morning with a few trees plants from the nurseries for my garden back home in the village. It was a lovely cool morning as you might tell from the photo above. It had rained the previous evening and the sky was clear with a fresh breath of air unlike the past three days that had been very hot. And it was even more lovely to receive a new camera that got me immediately back on the photography track. I had waited for it all weekend long, hoping to capture some moments with sonny but it did not arrive in time. I am looking forward brisk season of shooting, though, this rainy season especially of my filed trips, Lira and my gardening back home in the village.
Two weeks ago, goats entered the church I was praying from and they wondered about the phew before going out. I wondered whether they had come to offer themselves willing sacrifices or some other thing they were up to. Anyway, I missed to capture the moment on camera just like I have missed many more in the time I have been without a camera.
I am back in lira having come over from Tororo Monday morning with my pick-up truck full of newspaper stands for various outlets in Lira town. It has been a very busy two day for me and I will be on the road to the next two days that will see me in Lira, Dokolo and Amolatar district rural outlets. Hopefully, I will be able to get back to the village for the weekend for some tree planting and gardening.

Journey to Sudan Border

2009-09-23T05:14:00.000-07:00

I had a great journey to the Southern Sudanese border last Thursday. It was not so much about the visit to Nimule but my experience on the way from Gulu through Amuru District on to Bibia border post on the Ugandan side.
Amuru was once a rebel infested district and driving through was extremely dangerous. A colleague was shot dead and his car burnt while from a field trip such as the one I was on from Adjumani district to Gulu through Amuru. Thank God the Lord's Resistance Army (LRA) has been subdued and pushed to the jungles of Central Africa Republic by Uganda government troops and they now pose no or little threat to the security of northern Uganda.
The last time I drove down this road, I stopped at what was the largest displaced people's camp a at the height of the insurgency; Pabo camp. This time round though, I drove down to a place called Atiak and then to Bibia. The landscape was generally flat Savannah grassland like the rest of north and north east Uganda with very few homestead along the road. Even though peace has returned to this area, many people still prefer to stay together in the centers rather than return to the former or establish new homesteads. Probably the fear of the return of the notorious LRA haunts them or they are too traumatized to go back to homes where they saw their loved one s slaughtered, raped or abducted.
I met two ineresting war traumatized boys at Atiak of about age 10. While the two walked aimlessly talking, singing and begging they still had a pleasant human side to their life, even a good sense of humor. One boy spoke on Acholi, the local language and the second boy spoke both Acholi and fluent English. While one of the boys just begged for money and food items one after another with a sheepish smile after receiving just before asking for another, the other boy said thank you, laughed aloud, gave out the biscuit he had bought with the money he had begged me and walked away singing and laughing.
I asked my self, "What is the point?" He begged for five hundred shillings to buy biscuit which he got, bought it and immediately gave away after saying thank and laughing aloud. Well, I cannot answer but I was humbled by his generosity.
Further down the road were some other war returnees chafing at logs with locally made chisels in an emerging trading center of wattle and straw huts. The people here who are mainly young men in their twenties are making stools and pestles from wood and other are selling charcoal as part of income generating activities in this very rural and poor war ravaged district of Amuru in notghern Uganda. Both the stools and the bags of charcoal are going for about ten thousand Ugandan shillings (U$5).
I bought two stools and two bags of charcoal and by the time I got to Gulu I was being trailed by an old lady who begged me to sell her my stools. She had really fallen in love with these artistic pieces that I had intimated to my friend would envied by many townsfolk. I was right and just had to let the lady take the stool for a few bucks above the price at which I bought it. I reserved one, though, for my friends who had always asked me to buy one from the West Nile district of Pakwach. These ones were even stronger and more attractive than the Pakwach type that often have inscription such as "Remember Pakwach." These ones were also plain, leaving room for self customization if one wished to.
While the scramble for my beautiful stools went on in town, a thought of starting a business in the local artifacts came to me if I could buy them in the rural areas and add a bit of value by way of polishing and vanishing before resale. well, I am still toying with the idea. Watch this space for what I will be up to three months down this road.
I was elated to pulled over at Bibia especially while along the way from Lacor Hospital in Gulu we had been subjected to a speed we did not like by a Uganda People's Defense Forces truck that drove ahead of us and did not allow us to overtake even while we made at least three stops of more than 30 minutes along the way but still catching with it. We sold some magazines and newspapers while we sought a reseller for our products at the border point. And it while we where at Bibia that we heard of the riots in downtown Kampala by some Baganda (subjects of the Kabaka, the traditional leader/king of the people of central Ugandan region of Buganda) over the refusal of the government to grant the king permission to visit Kayunga district for the annual Buganda youth celebrations.
Of course we were far far away from the riots, like over 600kms up north from Kampala. Funny, as it may seem, it was an interesting time to open a new outlets for the newspapers. naturally, the various business people, immigration and revenue dept workers, insurers and clearing and forwarding agents were eager to know in detail what was going on in Kampala. Bingo, we manage to find a willing business person to take on the task of being a sub-agent at Bibia and the newspapers who have selling since Friday.
I will be revisiting Bibia again next month to check on the progress of the new sub-agent and I will be glad to check out the lovely stools again, probably meeting the interesting boys at Atiak again. I hope and pray that I remember to carry them some gift that they wont have to beg for.
I made home to the village Saturday afternoon and as usual got pretty busy with gardening and other farming work around home. i got a chance or two to relax while watching TV with some friends in town and also went swimming Saturday afternoon. Once Emitino and the mom were absent. Hopefully, I will see them this week when I go over to Kampala for the monthly sales meeting.

Today

2009-09-09T02:43:00.000-07:00

This is my maiden post on Blogger and I hope it is going to be as exciting for me here as it has been on Live Spaces. I am not feeling very well today and I have given myself a break from field work. I have visited a doctor and nothing has been found to be medically wrong with me except fatigue. I have a long journey, though, tomorrow to the Southern Sudanese border town of Nimule to appoint a distributor of Vision Group products there.
I did jog a bit this morning despite the general body pain, especially in the neck. Hopefully, I will be ready for the MTN Kampala Marathon due in November if I can successfully adjust to my work schedule here that is a bit unlike that in Eastern Uganda where I could literally train from any town that I slept in and the work was less stressful. Here in northern Uganda, things are quite different as the towns are so far apart from each other, making difficult for me to have ample rest. The environment in the towns too, especially Lira, my current station is not very conducive for Jogging.
The roads in town are potholed and often crowded especially in the evening. I have not seen a serene place out of town yet where I could stretch my training to. Somehow, I hope to get around the conditions here and get myself fit for the half Marathon.