Let me write from the heart.
My natural instinct is to always consult my heart first.
Whether I listen to my heart is a totally different matter. This world sometimes
require us to do the total opposite of what our heart asks.
But for now let me listen to it and write from the heart.
Nursery school are my first few memories of being in an
environment where social acceptance wasn’t assured. It’s where I first learnt
the concept of feeling alone, but not actually being alone, Nursery school was
where I learnt that the world was bigger than home. I was dropped off by my father every morning, and even with
welcoming teachers and making new friends, I felt alone. I felt separate. I
felt like I could easily be forgotten. Dismissed. Overlooked.
Don’t worry. Eventually, I found it fun; this new world. I learnt my way around. My teacher wrote in one of my reports that I
spent more time taking care of other children than playing. I wonder what my mother and father thought
when they read that. Especially, since I was the youngest in the house. Where
could that have possible come from? It seems I was more concerned with giving
myself a purpose in order to fit in.
I am reflecting on
that moment because I see around me a number of people who struggle with feelings
of loneliness. I think sometimes we are scared to say that on some days we not comfortable in this world. Sometimes the mission of
existing is tough, and the experience is rough. But we are scared to say in case we appear
ungrateful.
Someone asked those same
questions long ago, and it even inspired them to write a poem. Have you heard of the poem ‘The Dark Night of the Soul’ by St John of the Cross?
In the happy night,
In secret, when none saw me,
Nor I beheld aught,
Without light or guide, save that which burned in my
heart.
He writes about this strange euphoria he experiences in mist
of despair, when he finally realizes the purpose of his suffering. (btw... I am
not saying that we are all Saints) I love his honesty in the poem. I love the
fact that his journey is not always blissful. That there are moments of doubt,
fear, loneliness and even dullness in the process of life. As much as we try to
fill our lives with things people, places, there will always be emptiness.
There will always be sharp moments of stillness. Thoughts that remind us that this
is all temporary and we are mortal. It
will always catch up with us but it doesn’t have to overcome us, most likely
there is a purpose to not fitting in so neatly into this world.
Years ago, I went on a catholic retreat. We visited a monastery for the weekend. I don’t even remember the name and yet it had such a
monumental impact on my life. I was going through a break up and the stress of
back to back assignments at University. My friends and I were also going
through the tensions of renting a house together for two years. I needed a
break. The Catholic Student’s society offered one, so I packed my bags and
disappeared for the weekend.
What I found interesting about this retreat is the fact that
the Monks were not allowed to talk to
each other. That was one of their vows. One of their sacrifices. They spent
their days in silence, with very little time in the day allocated to speaking.
An hour into the retreat, we joined then, we sacrificed our voice to God and began
our silence. I spent atleast 24 hours in silence. Solitude.
In our world with 7.1 billion people, everyone must struggle
in some way to be seen, to be noticed to be acknowledged. Office politics, social
circles, family gatherings, daily life require us to use our voices and our
words, our conversations, and body language to assert our presence. Imagine a
world where you can’t. Imagine if those 7.1 billion people were told they could not
speak to anyone for two days. How would we communicate with each other? Imagine
if we took it further and said everyone must wear the same clothing. What would
that do for egos? How would people be able to catch clues of who we are if we
all dress the same, and if we could verbally express who we are? Even the
graves of the former monks have no names. Just a modern cross, marking the loss
of many in a special section of the
garden. At first I thought it was a modern art exhibition. We don’t know who
they are. We just know that they are graves.
I'm scared of lonely
And I'm scared of being the only shadow I see along the wall
And I'm scared the only heartbeat I hear beating is my own
And I'm scared of being alone
I can't seem to breathe when I am lost in this dream, I need you to hold me
I'm scared of lonely
I'm scared of lonely...
Yes. I just quoted a Beyonce single. I thought it was
interesting that she choose to put this song on her album. As a successful woman
with a husband and close family, she chose to sing this single. She never
promoted it that much though. Interesting.
A lot of our masters spent time in solitude, Jesus, Buddha, etc.
So don’t worry you are in good company.
A lot of great works are produced when the mind is allowed to wonder on it’s
own. But it’s so nice to be with people, to connect, to laugh, to share
moments, to share each others’ lives. As Brene Brown says we are hard wired to
connect with each other.
After a good night sleep, I remember enjoying the first early morning hours of the Catholic retreat. I liked this new challenge. Five hours in and I was starting to feel it.
No TV. No Movies. No Magazines. Just books. Lot’s of books on history. Lot’s of
books on theology. No loud music was allowed, we had to commit to being quiet.
I would pass a fellow retreat member in
the corridor, or find them in the tiny kitchen making tea, and force myself to swallow the urge to speak. It felt rude. It
felt unnatural, yet I had committed to silence. We had tea with the monks at
4.00 pm that day. Some really good scones…but no conversation. Just silence and
the sound of people sipping and chewing. A few moments of eye contact and short
smiles but mostly emptiness. By night time as I lay in bed the emotions hit me.
I realized how much I rely on connecting with people throughout the day. Also everything that I had been bottling up, suddenly came rushing out of me. Demanding to be dealt with. Such is the nature of solitude.
Solitary confinement in prison is supposed be the worst
punishment of all. Is it because the prisoners are left alone with themselves? The mind
is incredible, but is it all the more unbearable if you’ve committed despicable
acts, if you lived a terrible life?
Is solitude only for the strong minded
like our masters?
When I asked people to write for a “welcome to womanhood”
series, it was mostly because I was reaching a milestone in birthdays, and
feeling extremely self reflective. I wondered whether other women had the same internal
struggles that I was having. So I asked them to write their stories. I asked
for moments in life when they realized they were grown women. My story is about
solitude. It’s
so far removed from my ideal experience of what it means to be woman. Yet it sticks
out like sore thumb, it’s my experience. I see so many people dealing with loneliness
but I am not quite sure why it’s there. They have families. They have children.
They have partners. They have great
jobs, a social life. Yet there is the feeling staring them in the mirror. Loneliness.
In my head solitude feels odd. In my heart in feels good.
A month ago I attended a party with a friend, where we met a
kindred spirit. Barely a few minutes
into knowing each other, somehow we found ourselves talking about some of the
struggles women go through when dating and when in relationships. She told us, during a very dark period in her
life, a newly single mother, and extremely heartbroken, she used to go to bars and
order a drink by herself because for most of her young life she had always gone
with someone. She had always ordered what she thought other people around would
approve off. Forcing herself to go to the bar alone, made her figure out which drinks she
liked. When she started figuring out who she was, she felt like she could be a good mother. I immediately thought she so brave, to go to a bar by herself in Kampala.
Most people when they see a women by herself in bar… they assume certain things
about her lifestyle. Even I was judgemental, as i listened to the story. When people see a woman alone they feel sorry for
her, like she should be miserable.
In my world I’d be able to write the following sentence
across my forehead:
“Stop feeling sorry for me, I am chartering my course,
figuring out my destiny. ”
Some people are like me, innate nurturers, we feel guilty about alone
time. We usually happily forget all about ourselves in other people. It’s so
tempting and so easy for us. Regular solitude ensures I have no excuses. I have
to work on myself. I can’t get lost in someone else’s life.
I feel like am fighting back for the woman who feels alone.
It’s the experience she finds herself in. It's okay. It’s okay to have dark
night of the soul too. Don’t worry, great things come from solitude.
“You are born alone. You die alone. The value of the space in between is
trust and love.”
“Nourish yourself with grand and austere ideas of beauty that feed the soul… Seek solitude,” Young Delacroix counseled himself in 1824
Illustrated by Chris Mugarura
A few weeks
ago I walked into a children’s clothing shop to buy a pretty dress for a friend who gave birth to a baby girl. I didn’t have much time, because it was
during my lunch break, but I marveled at how I spent 20 minutes walking back
and forth between three different outfits. Yes, baby girls have outfits… . You
must buy the hat , the shoes, or the hair band that comes along with the dress,
or the top , or even the skirt! Funnily enough, it is always a serious mission
to find a pretty dress for any lady,
whether she’s still a breastfeeding baby, or a
CEO of a successful tech company. It's a REAL mission!
I have never met this baby girl, I haven’t
even seen her, I will most likely not even spend that much time with her.
However, I am taking the time to pick
something special for her, because I
know from the loving way her mother and father announced her arrival that she’s important.
I like how we
decorate little girls, the puffy dresses, the cute pink shoes, those adorable
hats or hair bands. We dress little girls up from the day they are born and we
tell them how beautiful they are even before they understand what the word
beautiful means. It’s not so much in the things that we buy and decorate them
with, but more so the efforts we take to make them feel special. When my twin nieces were born, every chance my
mother got she bought dresses/outfits for them, one included a pink glitter
ensemble. She was so excited to do this for them. Of course, as toddlers,
within two weeks they had grown out of
them, but that, like I mentioned earlier, is besides the point.
You probably
don’t remember it, but if you grew up in
a loving home, important moments took
place between you and your loved ones.
They welcomed you into the world with such gusto! They prepared for your birth day, your jajja (grandfather)chose a
special name for you. Your grandmother told your mother some sacred life
lessons on the differences of parenting a girl. And your father was nervous
about whether he would be a good male role model for you, but the moment he
held you in his arms, he realized you didn’t care. He realized you were just delighted
he was there.
When you were a baby they smiled and cooed in
your face telling you how gorgeous you are. They did this before you even knew
how to seek out people’s approval. They planted that cliche (but crucial) seed
in you that told you ‘You are worthy”. When you put your puffy sleeved bright orange
dress on , and your father called you 'Cinderella',
you span around in glee! He made your day.
During that
time compliments came freely. You learnt
that you are beautiful just for being you. You did not even take that much time looking at yourself in the mirror. In those moments when they told you how smart you are, how kind you
are, and how brave you are they were
building you up to be the best you. How much time do you spend looking at yourself in the mirror now?
There
are many girls who will not have those moments. No one will rejoice on the day
they are born. No one will look at them lovingly when they smile. No one will
decorate them. In fact people will use
them as a punching bag for all their frustrations with life. Some of these
girls will learn to look after everyone else, yet no one will look after them. They will learn to beg for approval. They will
learn to exchange parts of themselves to get compliments. They will under
value their worth. Sadly they will treat other girls the same way, because that
is what they have learnt about being a woman.
We should never underestimate the importance
of unconditional love in the first few years of a child’s life. It’s vital for parents, grandparents, aunts ,
uncles to do their part in building children’s confidence in those younger years. Because
when she gets older…
- All the women on TV and Social Media will look nothing like her and comparison is part of human nature. She will start to notice the parts of her body that are not ‘perfect'
- People will dislike her just because she doesn’t seek their approval, yet they worked so hard to seek everybody else's.
- People will tell her who she can and can’t be, simply because she is woman.
- People will gladly point out her flaws, looking for opportunities to chip at her self-esteem.
- People will ignore her opinion, because she is supposed to be a meek, humble and shy.
- Some men will do all sorts of things to mess with her self- esteem, and sometimes she’ll believe them when they tell her it’s her fault.
So please don’t forget to decorate her
Plant that
seed
Plant that indestructible
seed of worthiness in her
Tell her how
wonderful she is before she can even pronounce the word
Tell her how
wonderful she is in as many languages as you can
Then teach
her how to spell the word in all those languages before she reaches primary
school
Teach her how
to play with Barbie, but also teach her how to build robots
And when she
tells you that someone said she can’t play with robots because she’s a girl, tell
her she is LIMITLESS
Tell her
that when she gets older the world will tell her differently, but no matter
what happens she must look deep inside herself and remember what you planted.
Tell her that
what you have planted and watered needs to be kept alive even when life is hard
Show her
with your own life how to keep that seed growing and spreading into all the good that
God wants her to become.
Making: In the beginning stages of making a series on tradition and culture
Drinking: #lemonade for real #BeyHive
Reading: Just finished reading Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche
Playing: Kenneth Mugabi. #Amazing!
Wishing: No wishes.
Enjoying: My new baby turtle earrings. #LovelyBirthdayPresents
Writing: Short Stories inspired by catch-up-sessions with friends
Loving: Qwela Junction Crooners, can't wait for the next show
Looking: Pro Afro by Xenson #SOoooooAmazing.Please visit AfriArt Gallery to view the exhibition.
 |
| PRO AFRO by Xenson #hairgoals |
Eating: Java House Ben's Burger with a side order of fruit salad. #TryingToBeHealthy #NotSureIfItsWorking
Needing: Where do I start, maybe first with gratitude?
Wearing: Lipstick, I even bought a dark purple colour called "Vamp"
Knowing: God and I are working on our relationship. I have learnt to listen.
Thinking: About my future
Giggling Over: Zootopia.
What have you been up to lately?#TakingStock
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