It is often said that silence is golden. I do not know though what the exact meaning of that expression is. However, I know the experience of serenity, tranquility and the refreshing of the mind that silence can bring when one takes a break from their engagements in the very noise environment that today's world has become.
When I return home from work or long journey, there is a place there is a place that I often retire to before getting engaged in any other thing. It is a quiet place that shuts out the rest out the world from you and only makes a splashing noise when you are leaving.
Seven years ago when I was working and living in Kampala I had a bathroom that sparkled white and it window, like that of the bedroom had a view of Lake Victoria. I was single then and lived with a young school boy who also had the habit of usually heading straight to the bathroom when he got home from school to do what a friend of ours called relaxing - obeying the call of nature or easing one's self if you like.
One time I came into the house without my nephew realizing that I gone to the bathroom and when a neighbor asked if I was home, his answer was no because he thought that I had gone out.
He was surprised when I emerged from the bedroom and when he asked where I had been, I told him that I was "relaxing." You can guess what his next question was; bathroom of course. From then on my nephew Shadrach and I referred to that act of nature in our house as relaxing, for we agreed with our friend Roger who first coined it, that it was indeed a relaxing experience after a long day away from home.
In that small but beautiful bathroom in our little flat did I have some of my best thoughts and reflections as I sat on the toilet pan oblivious of the world around me - only me, four white walls, ceiling and the sweet scent from the bath soap. My nephew too intimated to me that he had some of his best reflections and study ideas on that white pan behind that grey bathroom door.
When I left urban life in December of 2009 to live in my village where I had the option of using a pit latrine instead of a flash toilet and where sometimes there wasn't any toilet tissue save for old newspapers that served in their stead, the bathroom became more of a reading room than a relaxing one. You can guess why? First of all the squatting instead seating on a pan can hardly pass for relaxation, for it is more of a stretch than than the former.
The reason, though, the bathroom became more of a reading room to me is the presence of old newspapers whose article titles often grabbed my attention before I could use them for a different purpose other than what the publishers meant.
I found my self reading an article every morning that I visited the latrine in the two years that I spent in the village out of formal employment. Thus I gained insight into one or two things as I started my day. Of course the visit to the latrine often preceded my morning Bible Study that was the biggest inspiration of all.
That reading room did not only keep my reading habit alive but also thought me the use of discarded things such as old newspapers.
While I was employed back in Kampala, moreover, by a publishing company (The New Vision Printing and Publishing Company), I had the luxury of a free newspaper every day something that I realized in my unemployed state did not come easy. Naturally, my day too in the village started and ended in a different way from those that I spent in the city.
The morning visit to the bathroom in the city was brief and to the point - preparation for work and true relaxing was for the evening, and you would not dare have newspapers as toilet tissue unless you had money to dish to sewerage workers to open up your blocked toilet. Well, in the village, I was master and things tended to start more slowly and building up as the day progressed with the sun whose light dictated much of the day's activities. For instance, I could not read or relax in a dark latrine in the evening, even though, I usually concluded my day there.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Strange Reading Room
It is often said that silence is golden. I do not know though what the exact meaning of that expression is. However, I know the experience of serenity, tranquility and the refreshing of the mind that silence can bring when one takes a break from their engagements in the very noise environment that today's world has become.
When I return home from work or long journey, there is a place there is a place that I often retire to before getting engaged in any other thing. It is a quiet place that shuts out the rest out the world from you and only makes a splashing noise when you are leaving.
Seven years ago when I was working and living in Kampala I had a bathroom that sparkled white and it window, like that of the bedroom had a view of Lake Victoria. I was single then and lived with a young school boy who also had the habit of usually heading straight to the bathroom when he got home from school to do what a friend of ours called relaxing - obeying the call of nature or easing one's self if you like.
One time I came into the house without my nephew realizing that I gone to the bathroom and when a neighbor asked if I was home, his answer was no because he thought that I had gone out.
He was surprised when I emerged from the bedroom and when he asked where I had been, I told him that I was "relaxing." You can guess what his next question was; bathroom of course. From then on my nephew Shadrach and I referred to that act of nature in our house as relaxing, for we agreed with our friend Roger who first coined it, that it was indeed a relaxing experience after a long day away from home.
In that small but beautiful bathroom in our little flat did I have some of my best thoughts and reflections as I sat on the toilet pan oblivious of the world around me - only me, four white walls, ceiling and the sweet scent from the bath soap. My nephew too intimated to me that he had some of his best reflections and study ideas on that white pan behind that grey bathroom door.
When I left urban life in December of 2009 to live in my village where I had the option of using a pit latrine instead of a flash toilet and where sometimes there wasn't any toilet tissue save for old newspapers that served in their stead, the bathroom became more of a reading room than a relaxing one. You can guess why? First of all the squatting instead seating on a pan can hardly pass for relaxation, for it is more of a stretch than than the former.
The reason, though, the bathroom became more of a reading room to me is the presence of old newspapers whose article titles often grabbed my attention before I could use them for a different purpose other than what the publishers meant.
I found my self reading an article every morning that I visited the latrine in the two years that I spent in the village out of formal employment. Thus I gained insight into one or two things as I started my day. Of course the visit to the latrine often preceded my morning Bible Study that was the biggest inspiration of all.
That reading room did not only keep my reading habit alive but also thought me the use of discarded things such as old newspapers.
While I was employed back in Kampala, moreover, by a publishing company (The New Vision Printing and Publishing Company), I had the luxury of a free newspaper every day something that I realized in my unemployed state did not come easy. Naturally, my day too in the village started and ended in a different way from those that I spent in the city.
The morning visit to the bathroom in the city was brief and to the point - preparation for work and true relaxing was for the evening, and you would not dare have newspapers as toilet tissue unless you had money to dish to sewerage workers to open up your blocked toilet. Well, in the village, I was master and things tended to start more slowly and building up as the day progressed with the sun whose light dictated much of the day's activities. For instance, I could not read or relax in a dark latrine in the evening, even though, I usually concluded my day there.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Home Alone with My son Emmy
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.
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
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.
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.
Monday, August 2, 2010
My Beloved Africa
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.
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
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.
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.
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