Waaringa

Kintu, by Jeniffer Nansubuga is now my favourite African book. It's a superb, well told tale. Living in Uganda, it took on a special significance. My favourite character is Isaac Newton, and he has one of the saddest stories in the clan. Miisi, the one, in my opinion, who pays highest price for the curse, is a writer for a local newspaper and he wrote one of the best imageries about colonialism I have come across. Ekisode Buganda, unlike the rest of Africa, was sweet-talked onto the operating table with praises and promises.Protectorate was the plastic surgery to set the sluggish African body on a faster  route to maturity. But once under chloroform, the surgeon was at liberty and did as he pleased. First he severed the hands then cut off the legs and he put the black limbs into a bin bag and  disposed of them. Then he got European limbs and set upon grafting them on the black torso. When the African woke up, the European had moved into his house. Though the Afric...

I participated in a 30-day Do Tough Things challenge in March. It was hard. Opened my eyes to  how many things I've let slide in my life; from being reluctant to say no to having an audio course that was still wrapped 5 months after purchase. Made some good strides , then had to travel for a few days and by the time I was back, found myself mostly  at square one . AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH I know it'll take more than few days for habits to take root and bin others. Know  that progress takes time and yet constantly berate myself for not turning a new leaf fast enough. Patience isn't my strongest suit. I'm extending the challenge and  part of it will be being patient , kind and compassionate to myself. Aluta continua

My soul speaks. In gentle whispers and fleeting thoughts I turn and catch the end tail It's enough. I ignore My soul speaks Through voices I don't and do trust Passing a message only my ears can decipher I brush it off My soul speaks Tired mornings and sleepless nights Restless days and a stormy mind I cannot unhear the echoes My soul shouts Hammering on my dumb walls Aaaaarrgh, how annoying I  listen.

I've never been comfortable with the term 'single mother' Yes, I'm single and have an offspring but put together, the term has implications that don't sit well with me. My family and friends have time and time again shouldered the responsibility for Kami's emotional, financial and social well being. Still, I sometimes wish I had a co-parent. And  this longing usually resurrects during events. Kami is closing school tomorrow and I'm unable to pick her as well as  attend the end of term ceremony. I'm grateful for friends who are stepping in and travelling back home with her. It doesn't, though, assauge the guilt I feel at such times as these. Of not being enough. Which probably most parents feel .Mine's a bit more glaring.

Yesterday I listened to the Loving and Listening to your body guided meditation on Insight Timer  and it broke me. It was the first time in my life I was paying homage to her , affirming my love  and communicating intent to heed the messages she sends me. The number of times I have looked back, usually when it's too late , and realised that I ignored and /or shut down the cues she was giving me about a situation are countless. And I always pledge to listen the next time and promptly break  the promise. I have not been kind to her,  have treated her poorly; as an afterthought. Somewhere along the way, I decided to not let her define me , which my mind and spirit translated to not caring. In fact, I only befriend her when something is broken and once fixed, go back to  my old snobby ways. Well, there comes a time, I'm glad my time is now here. She has housed me for the last 36+ years, it's about time I showered her with  all the love, compassi...

After many moons, I've learnt to love my body  as is, not waiting when it's how I hope it to be I'm loving my life, marveling as it unravels, no longer saving my joy and wonder about it for a date in the future I'm in love with this moment, the sunsets and sunrises, winds and waves , breezes and hurricanes , all of it. Finally

Wish there was a place I could go to. And air out my grievances,as an African Christian. I struggle with  how the Church laid the foundation for colonialism. The teachings have been used, over time, as a tool for the subjugation of women, to justify racism, slavery ,homophobia ,abuse Femininity has been shamed, condemned and the yardstick for morality is female sexuality. Who else is milking my faith and what are they using it for? How much of what I believe is manipulated  and how much is real?And what does real here mean I've heard over the years that I must choose between being African and being Christian. Must I? Where can I get some, if not all of these answers? Without being judged , shamed or guilted?