Monday, 6 August 2018

SOME FICTION: Nothing In the Pit of her Stomach....



Pinks roses, baby's breath and yellow carnations in a cute little bow peep basket,
hand delivered by Jjuuko's Flower shop on Monday morning.
There's a tiny note attached from ever persistant Charles
 'Mama' Helen the elderly receptionist smiles at Martha.
"Beauuuuuuuutiful!" she chuckles as she hands the basket over.
You don't seem excited?" she prys;
 Twenty five year old Martha dashes up the polished marble stairs of the accounting firm,
balancing herself as best as she can in her purple pumps and a sleek black dress.
She is pleading with the universe to allow her safe passage to her desk unnoticed.
But the universe duly denies her request.
She bumps into Agnes on the second floor.
"Have you seen Kirabo, I need her input for these PSA messages? Oooooo... those look lovely,
Bambi enjoy it," She romantically sighs, "once you are married
those things stop happening."

 At her desk, Martha quickly glances at the note, before hiding the flowers
in the cabinet.
Charles must have copied a line from brainyquote.com 
He calls at lunch time.
On their first date he told her,
“When I see something I want, I just have to get it!”
 He never beats around the bush.
"Did you get the flowers? You're not replying my whatsapp messages."
"Oh sorry, been busy all morning, not had time to check my phone" she lies.
There is a long pause
She can feel his stifled disappointment through the phone.
"Thank you!" She says, trying to sound upbeat.
Her eyes quickly run through his fifteen unread messages on her phone.
The skin around her nails is pink and distressed from her picking them throughout the morning
A teeny bubble of dried blood has formed at the base of her middle finger nail.
"Listen...I'll call you in the evening. Thank you so much once again," she hangs up.
"Shouldn't I feel something for Charles?" She wonders.
But she feels nothing
There is nothing in the pit of her stomach.
If she marries Charles their lives are set.
Jobs, money, houses, their off spring in the right schools etc...
Her Ssenga introduced him to her in January at a kwanjula.
The son of her wealthy connected best friend.
"A match made in heaven for you Martha,
He may not be handsome,
 but he's  responsible and reliable and that is what counts in marriage these days.
Don't be like me Child...
For the fifth night in a row your father isn't home,
 I am alone,
 scrambling for school fees for your brother in this God-forsaken economy. "
Her mother reminds her on her return home in the evening.
“Martha, are you going to have tea? The flask is on the table.”
“No…Let me go shower.”
Martha leaves the flowers on the kitchen table.

On Tuesday she asks Ben to give her a lift home.
 She is too exhausted to struggle with public transport this evening
He cheerfully waits in the parking lot in a turquoise Hipsum
As she enters the car from the passenger side,
He grabs his tattered dairy and a stack of old newspapers from the seat,
then stuffs them in the back.
“Wait!” he panics while dusting off some crumbs from yesterday’s meat pie
“Okay…..now sit.”
“But Ben, why is it so hard for you clean your car?” Martha teases.
A friend since her university days, she trusts him with her whole self.
He is book smart, with a heart of gold, a very rare combination for an african male, according Martha’s youthful opinion
 Last Sunday morning after church service he surprised her by making it clear that he wants more.
As they drive, he sings along and taps his hands on the steering wheel in time to the music,
 After one hour of crawling through Kampala traffic, bumper to bumper,
He gives her a mars bar from a Shoprite shopping bag.
Ben’s sweet tooth never lets him move anywhere without a treat nearby.
"What are you doing on Saturday? Come with us to Entebbe.
A friend of mind is opening a new restaurant."
"Maybe...I'll let you know." She says while scanning through her messages.
Another hour passes before they finally reach her home.
She is saddened by her relief to see the gate.
The lighthearted friendly banter between them
 forever changed by that Sunday morning conversation.
"I'll text you." he says
"okay...thanks for the lift, safe journey home" she replies.
But there is nothing there for him too.
 Nothing in the pit of her stomach.
Her Mother is peering from the window
"You'll have to choose soon, you can't keep stringing them along."
Her mother secretly likes Ben, but Ssenga persuaded her Charles is best.
"Sure" Martha's says as she scampers up the stairs to avoid another lecture.
“You’re not having tea today as well? You children think I just buy milk and sugar like decorations for the house.”

"I have finally seen more land I want to buy." Moses proudly announces.
Sharing a double Chocolate Fudge Obsession desert with Martha at Java's Cafe Kampala Road
It's Friday evening. Every young person of age is looking for the ultimate party plot.
Moses knows and has access to all of them.
 His mobile phones are neatly laid out on the table as they eat.
Every now and then one buzzes and he interrupts himself to pick up and close a deal.
They interned in the same law firm two years ago.
Both assigned to record keeping,
They would laugh & joke their way through the long hours of strenuous paperwork.

Martha is wearing  ruby woo mac lipstick which complements her complexion,
Because Moses has always liked shinny things.
An  inside joke between them.
She stuffs her mouth with dessert so he won't expect much talk from her.
But he never has, a peacock in a flashy suit that loves the sound of his own voice. 
"I have a brother coming from the States, would you like anything?
How about a new phone? An iphone would be good for you."
She starts to reply, but the sticky fudge has caught her tongue
and all the words she had, are jumbled up stuck at the ceiling of her mouth
Last month he casually informed her that it made logically sense for them to date.
"You're not fussy and needy like other women, I need someone level headed like you,
 it can work out well for us. Just think about it."
The fudge loosens  it's grip on her tongue.
But the words have all gone.
 She feels nothing for him.
Nothing in the pit of her stomach
He drops her home in his  silver Benz at midnight.
She doesn't want to go to the new Snap vodka launch at Club Rouge.
As usual, her Mother is waiting for her in the sitting room.
"Where did he get the money to buy that swanky car?" she asks.
"I don't know." Martha replies the smell of sweet fudge tangled in her breath.
"Those are the dangerous ones, the Police will come in the night
and snatch him away as you breastfeed your newborn.
Is that the life you want for yourself?"

At 1.00 am Martha is seated on the edge of her bed
The house is quiet, everyone has gone to sleep
She welcomes the silence
She knows where her heart is.
It's  six feet under concrete, buried with the body of Alan.
Her eyes glazed she remembers,
the first time they met at  Malcolm's .
It is where all the students went on Fridays after lectures.
His hair was freshly cut
His beard was neatly shaven
Tanya her university room mate introduced them.
Their eyes locked 
She was whooped, and pleasantly annoyed by the cliche of love at first sight
"Oh my God, it's true!" she thought.
The intensity of his stare made her shy, as if naked
and deep down in the pit of her stomach
a spark ignited, sending warmth all over her body.

Afterwards on their many dates & shallow lovers' tiffs,
delirious and isolated in the magic bubble of  infatuation
They planned their lives together
What careers they'd create..
The home they would build together...
The number of kids they'd bear...
"Five!" He'd tease her "Maybe even seven!"
"We cannot afford that much school fees!" she'd huff and fold her arms,
pretending she didn't want to be touched.
But her body would always betray her.

A year and half later from the day they met, his sister Anne called at 1.00 am.
Rubbing sleep from her eyes " Hi Lover", she joyfully answered,
thinking it was Alan calling to wish her goodnight.
If he didn't have credit on his phone, he used his sibling's .
Expecting his smooth tenor voice, she was startled into sitting upright in bed by squealing.
Was he still at the club?
Had Anne pocket dialed her by mistake?
Then she recognized the animal like squeals were cries of shock, grief and denial
All mixed in one.
And the bubble was burst.
Stark reality came flooding through...
In between Anne's uncontrolled sobs, Martha heard words her heart refused to swallow
"He's dead....He's gone....
 knocked....knocked off a boda boda
Why did he take one Martha?
We told him not too...
We told him NOT TOO.
His body is cold Martha,
His body is so cold!"

Wednesday, 4 July 2018

Random Early Morning Thoughts - Karamoja, Uganda

just imagine....we need this feature film to happen.


Day 1


4.00 am: It's dark everywhere, which means power (electricity) has gone.
In Uganda electricity can 'leave' and not tell us when it will return.
6.00 am: Must drink my small bottle of water.
Why?
Because access to toilets during the day is limited.
I need my body to hydrate and cleanse itself before we hit the road for work.
So glug glug glug... 
6.30 am: Who is that confused man loudly conversating across the hotel courtyard ?
And who is that woman replying in high pitched excitement?
Why are they so pleased with themselves so early in the morning?
She must be cleaning I can hear the splash of the rag cloth disturbing the bucket of water. 
I can hear the effort in her voice as she scrubs. 
Don't they know some of us enjoy quiet starts to the day, 
beneath the blanket warmth of our beds?
7.00 am: I really don't want to shower with cold water.












Day 2

6.00 am: Lately waking up for me has been a first world problem.
My mind is ready, my body isn't.
It's sluggish and slow.
I hear my  mind sing to my body every morning,
"Time to get up!"
And I hear my body grumpily reply,
"What's the point?"
7.00 am: cold shower again...
8.00 am: Once I have got through my morning routine,
 sat down for hot fresh katogo, 
I am actually fine.
I am surprisingly eager to begin today's activities.






Day 3

5.oo am: If I really want to know how  I feel about something,
I ponder on it first thing, ahead of the the crack of dawn.
Before that first light slips past the wonky slit in the hotel curtains
those virgin thoughts,
those untainted feelings,
those are the authentic ones.
I listen to those.
7.00 am:  Really really don't want to shower with cold water














Day 4

4.30 am: I have discovered the best prayers are the one's said in the morning.
Before the cockerel crows
Before my first yawn,
Before my first stretch,
Before I rub the tiny sticky fairy dust off my eyes, 
I begin my conversation with God.
6.30 am: On my knees, head bowed low, I continue with prayer.
7.00 am: Really really really don't want to shower with cold water.










"What seem our worst prayers may really be, in God's eyes, our best.
Those, I mean, which are least supported by devotional feeling.
For these may come from a deeper level than feeling.
God sometimes seems to speak to us most intimately when he catches us…off our guard."
CSLewis



*The minions are the result of discovering Facebook stories

Sunday, 1 July 2018

Dear Queen: For you, the disillusioned one...




Dear Queen,

 Kindly allow me carry out my friendship duties, and dispense the little  bit of wisdom I have about this junction in your life.

Take my advice in good faith though, I am speaking with good intentions but you must remember it's still  based on my perspective, and you need to take into account your own opinion and many others too.

May I suggest we start with the Bible?

I am not a Pastor...so you'll just have to flip through the old testament until you stumble on
ECCLESIASTICS  

I used to avoid this book of bible, the only part I was comfortable reading  was "A Time for Everything" and that was because of the movie 'A Walk To Remember'. Back then, I was a Mandy Moore Fan.

Before we proceed, first be warned, you will need to learn to continually cheer yourself in this phase of life. It is a tough internal battle and requires mental strength. Your ideas of the world will change, your goals will too. To survive, you will have to spend time assessing, re-adjusting and forging new plans.

"I accomplished great things, I built myself houses and planted vineyards, with all kinds of fruit trees in them. I dug ponds to irrigate them. I bought many slaves, and there were slaves born in my household. I owned more livestock than anyone else who had ever lived. I also piled up  sliver and gold  from royal treasuries of the lands I ruled.  Men and women sang to entertain me..." ( Ecclesiastes 2 : 4 -9)
" Then I thought about all that I had done and how hard I had worked doing it, and realized that it didn't mean a thing. It was all like chasing the wind- of no use at all."(Ecclesiastes 2: 11)
" We leave this world just as we entered it- with nothing,. In spite of all our hard work there is nothing we can take with us."  (Ecclesiastes 5: 15-20)
"The same fate awaits human beings and animals alike. One dies just like the other"

So if life is useless...than what now?

Are you still waiting for answers...

 You most likely will not find them here. 

But while you are here, here is the wisdom I offered at the beginning of this post ... 




Speak to yourself nicely...what is the point in being harsh? The reality of your discovery will not change.... so no point making yourself feel uncomfortable. I urge you to take care of yourself the best you can, because even though Ecclesiastics was sought of right, ironically his writing lived on to the present day and his despair/mid life crisis is still educating us.




Accept that there are some questions you may never have answers too. For the questions that do have answers you may not like them...so just learn to accept. Once you accept, you can clearly figure out what's next.




Pray for wisdom because even though it may only be useful while your alive, you need to navigate this world somehow...



The minute I thank the universe for something , more of it appears...why? maybe magic?
Go on try it, and get back to me with your results.



You need to laugh and in this place we call home, what else can you do but laugh at the mystery of it.



"Useless Useless, said the philosopher. It is all useless."






Friday, 22 June 2018

fffffffffFFFFFFFuuuuurrrrrp & respecting personal space!




I was the type of baby that was afraid of my own farts.

yap...

I don't remember it though.

 It's my Mum who liked to recounter the story.

It amused her to tell it.

ffffffFFFFFffffffffffffffurrrrrrrrrrrrrp!

She would imitate my scrunched up chubby petrified baby face.

I loved listening to her narrate the story because this particular memory tickled the cheeky part of her soul. 

 Apparently I was somewhere in the corner minding my own baby business and....

fffffffFFFFFFffffffffffffffurrrrrrrrrrrrrp!

Everyone turns to look at the cute distressed farting baby.

Now when I think more on it.....was the baby me afraid of the sound of my fart or the fact that farts drew people's attention to me?

Don't worry, I grew to learn that good girls don't fart in public.  

It's a story that make me chuckle to recall, and it tickles the cheeky part of my soul too. 
Baby me was frightened of my own body. 

Anyways... I am  sharing this story because I want to call your attention to space and respect. 

I think some human beings don't understand the concept of personal space, and I just wish that we could all learn this lesson carefully and responsibly.

When I speak of space it is not just physical, but emotional and mental as well.

Like for example unnecessary whatsapp group creations!?!

Dear millennials and eager generation Zs, please think these things through thoroughly 
before clicking on that add button...

We do not need a whatsapp group for everything!

We do not need to be in constant communication over a meme, pictures of dead celebrities or some misogynistic joke seen on twitter 

Sometimes we should just respect people's space,
and in turn learn to healthly assert our own.

[Unless you are one of my siblings...
cause really in an African family what is 'personal space'  anyway?]

Now....

How to connect the farting-baby-story, personal space and whatsapp groups ?

I don't know.

 Somehow my brain brought the two together...
So I started writing.

And here you are.

Thank you for dropping by.

Always appreciated.

ffffffffffFFFFFFFFFFFFFFurrrrrrrrp!

Oops.

Apologies.

That's will be all for now . 

Until the next post...