Mrs.O's writing room.

Zion Springs Too busy, too loud, too hustled. Life was too much like we say back home. I sunk, drowned in the pit of chaos and noise all around. In my home, on the street, in my head. There was a deep seated desire to press the mute button, more like the pause button, better yet just switch off. Could this be a sign of aging? The need to slow down, to turn down the lights for a while? Grandma smeared mud on her window panes, she sealed off one square at a time. She said there was too much light coming into her room. Here I was making a similar complaint. Electronics, screens, car engines, people … aah!! “I need to go away for a while” I told my husband. Without asking many questions he helped me find a hide out somewhere in the woods of Lees burg. I packed my bags and was on the road the next morning. I branched off onto the graveled road, the trees were taller and closer together, the farm land spread out for miles, horses munched on hay outside barns. Sheep looked l...

Fire to keep us warm inside.  Never dreamed of the day I would be the parent who attends her son's events hoping not to totally embarrass him. But you see, the school organized a 3 day outdoor education camp and parents were invited to volunteer I thought it was a brilliant idea until I told my son.

March 29th, 2015 Miss: Mummy please buy for me a new leap pad like yours Me: The leap pad you have is still good. When you grow up you will be able to buy one like mine. Miss: But I'll just be a police Me: Even police can buy nice things Miss: I will just decide who stays and who goes Me: (Cracking up). But I thought you wanted to be a builder and a cooker Miss: Yes, but I have to learn all those things... and I don't even have a drivers license. (tears in her eyes) Me: Don't worry when you grow up you will learn all you need to know Miss: But it takes a long time. I want to learn to drive now. Me: You need to be at least sixteen to drive. Miss: But can't I learn at six? Me: Well you won't be able to hold the steering wheel and step on the peddles because your body is still growing. Miss: Is Mich old enough to drive? Me: No, he is not yet sixteen either Her face brightens up, we say our good nights and she lays down her head to sleep. Aha! Th...

As a kid Kololo airstrip was a land mark to locate residences. A friends home in Kololo was either below or above the airstrip - it set the perimeters. Independence Day parades were hosted here. If we didn't join the masses that flocked to catch a glimpse of the president or watch police and army bands play under the scorching heat we stayed home and caught it on UTV. Kololo airstrip is now burial ground for some presidents and national heroes, and a field for sports and corporate events. The last time I walked by I couldn't make heads or tails of it. It's under construction. This picture dates back to 2008, when it looked a little more organized.  It should look better when it reopens ... I hope.

1972,  10 years after Uganda received its Independence, a young policeman from Lira - John Akii-Bua won the country's first Olympic Gold medal in the Men's 400 meter hurdles. A simple man with a tall slender physic, never drawing attention to himself (from what I recall).  When Dad gave me this book, memories of their friendship came rushing back...their passion for sports and the times they traveled together.  #Ugandaat53

The road to my fathers house is layered with gravel, pebbles and stones. The road to my fathers house is dusty and worn.  The soil is dry and grainy. Mounds of clay mix with sand, mix with stones, making it uneven, lumpy and bare even. Undecided plants grow and go yet some take root determined never to move. Soroti road is paved but not to my fathers house. The silver-black surface spreads for sections at a time interrupted by pot holes here and there.  As you travel further out, towards my fathers house the layer thins and fades and disappears. All that's left is clouds of thick, brown dust. It settles over eye brows and hair, over skin and every where. Don't be mistaken this road has been worse, so rugged this road but surely 53 years later, it ought to look better.  It's expanded and contracted. He's cleared it, it's grown back closing in tighter not opening up wider. The road to my fathers home is brown as the far as the eye can see. ...

It happened yet again. I suspect I'm still looking fresh from Teso land. Today we visited a church and a little girl asked me "Are you from Africa?" I was in jeans and sneakers, looking like a "summer" and all so really what could have given me away? I said yes. Little girl: "Are you from Nigeria?" I said "No, I'm from Uganda but you must be from Nigeria" (I took a wild guess). She nodded her head with pride and said "Yes! And I have lots of friends"  I loved her confidence. I got more interested. "What is your name?" Little girl: "Chineke but my name at baptism is ..." (Banange!!! oba I also start introducing myself like that?!). "How old are you?" Little girl: 8 years old. I met her mom after the service and she told me I'd only got half the story. If I'd said I was Nigerian she would have asked "Are you Ibo?" I recalled my encounter on the train , these Ibo's' have...

Old man and dog "Bagyenzi bange !!" In Ateso we say " ikatunga !!" It's an expression of surprise. When I first came to America, I was shocked at how close people were to animals. In some cases it seemed the relationship with other humans had been interchanged for that with animals.

It's complicated this black and white thing. We see it where it's not and its not where we see it.The mind plays us and experience affects the way we view the world and each other.

One look at these guys and I immediately identified them as our good neighbors to the north :- height, skin tone... enough said.  I could tell they were fresh as cucumbers.

It happened again. I stepped up to the train rails and as I waited a man came up to me and said "hello! Where are you from?" I'm thinking oh no! Not again! He was clearly an African - that comes with a certain familiarity that lowers my guard. I smiled and said "Uganda". I thought that was the end of it.

Intent on taking shots of Kamokya, I made my way to the roof top of Acacia Mall. I asked one of the guards if I could take pictures and he politely agreed. I went snap, snap, snap. Another angle, snap, snap, snap when I noticed from the corner of my eye 3 guards walking towards me. Guard 1: excuse me madam, you are not allowed to take pictures here. Me: But I just asked your colleague  Guard 1: Yah! But it's not allowed Me: why? Guard 1: it's not allowed. For security reasons. Me: Ok, may I go then? Guard 2: but madam, it seems you are not from around here. I told him I was visiting but that I came from Serere. He was visibly delighted.Turned out he was from Kumi. "God loves me. To find a sister like you, my heart summersaults in my chest. You make me so proud". You've got to hear that phrase in Ateso to grasp his excitement. At this point his hands were all over the place ... on my wrist, on my shoulder ... I had to step away. But I digress. This is a ...

On a busy Tuesday morning, on Kampala road pavement, she huddles. Dust rises as people walk to and fro, it settles onto her mats of art but she is not frazzled. She covers her head with a hood to shut the world out but leaves a small window to her soul. It is written on one of her mats "My name is Nansubuga. My mother and father past away and now I stay with a relative who doesn't have enough money to care for me. Please buy my pictures they are only shs 5000/-. Thank you very much".

She is a trend setter. A  lady of first’s; - First lead alto for the Watoto choir and the creative mind behind Gospel Dancers. Hers was the first wedding with a dance procession in church. The first married lady to dance on the Kampala Pentecostal Church stage and the first mother to return to the dance ministry. She was the first female worship leader at Kampala Pentecostal Church now Watoto church .  She helped shape the church's perspective on music and dance and started a revolution that spread through several churches. “I want to church the un-churched” she would say, “to appeal to young people who think Christianity is boring”.

"I'm convinced of this: Good done anywhere is good done everywhere. For a change, start by speaking to people rather than walking by them like they're stones that don't matter. As long as you're breathing, it's never too late to do some good" . Maya Angelou While in Kampala, I boarded a taxi destined for the city center. As I waited for it to fill I looked out the window and tried to piece my day together. I marked which routes to take and how long I would be there when I suddenly realized my neighbor had been trying to catch my attention. It turned out that what I imagined a humm in the background was the lady greeting me "Wasuzotya?" This had been her third attempt. I responded with a huge smile to make up for her insistent efforts.  In D.C people are plugged-in most of the time. Wires hung out of ears and huge headphones clasp either side of their heads - everyone is linked to another world. Other times the poignant silence says it a...

Where I come from tea and coffee are served hot. So hot the steam makes waves in the air. Yes, Uganda has 25C/80F degree temperatures but we like our chai hot. I got a coupon in the mail for free ice coffee at Dunkin Donuts and I thought pssh! Why not? ...Free things. I got in line for my first ice coffee. I know, four years in America and this was my first ice coffee :-). Like I said, free things - my undoing.  I took 2 sips, stirred it a little perhaps the sweetness had settled at the bottom. The ice cubes clinked. I took another sip. The cup was getting sweaty and I had to get to work. I imagined running to work with a cup of coffee clenched in one hand - just like in the movies. I thought, let me get to office and tackle this beverage properly. The day came to an end and the ice coffee - cubes melted - the cup a little fuller, sat forsaken next to my keyboard. I think I need more practice, this African girl still has a lot of village. So much for free things....

The beautiful girls of Karamoja.  During planting and harvesting seasons they travel several miles to Teso. Early in the morning they head to the fields, their voices carry as they sing and harvest crops. After they bring the early harvest in they stop for a break, gather together, sing and dance. They range from ages 14 to 17. Ideally they should be in school but they can’t afford it – the daily pay tides them over until the next job.

Here are some of the pictures I took of the 2015 blue moon. It's not blue in color but occurs once every 3 to 4 years.

" I'm not good at future planning. I don't plan at all. I don't know what I'm doing tomorrow. I don't have a day planner and I don't have a diary. I completely live in the now, not in the past, not in the future ." Heath Ledger Steaming maize and yams in the early evening Its not usual that one has to draw out a plan for when they go home. Its assumed one is going to what is familiar so there is no need for detailed plans - well not if one has been away for close to 5 years. "Here's what you needed to have done in preparation", a friend said. 1.Send an email to 10 close friends and tell them you will be in town. Note : ask if they have a car that you can use during your stay.  2. Tell them how long you'll be in town, what you plan to do and when you are available - so they can factor you into their plans. I didn't have that sense of entitlement and as a result I hustled with boda-boda's and taxis. I was soon ...

Dwight D. Eisenhower once said, "No man is worth your tears, but once you find one that is, he wont make you cry". I disagree.    Last Saturday as I listened to an NPR program commemorating fathers day I felt the sudden urge to bawl over, I cleared my throat but couldn't hold back the tears. Even though the stories shared were different from mine the themes of strength, commitment, devotion, hard work, sacrifice, wisdom, guidance, truth and protection connected us across the airwaves. I was reminded of some of the men who have influenced my life; my husband, my father, my grand father and my grand father in-law (does such a title exist?). Each morning I see the urgency and commitment in a father's eyes as he dresses his daughter. He picks clothes that match, and smiles with pride when her hair is tidy because he doesn't know the first thing about girls hair. He would if he knew how. I see the concern in his eyes and hear the strength in his voice as he c...

Sometimes the maalo  (primitive curiosity) of sitting in an aeroplane and peering at the world with wide eyed wonder can lead to double joy. First, the joy of the experience and second the joy of sharing the experience. Woke up to this cute little tweet from CNN international : Took this on my way back to the U.S from Vietnam. I had a 4 hour lay over at Narita Tokyo airport . I knew I would not visit the city so I made the most of it in the air. I'm glad I get to share it with the world. 

How can we say thanks for the things you have done Things so undeserved, yet you gave to prove your love for us The voices of a million angels could not express our gratitude All that we are and ever hope to be, yeah We owe it all right now to thee To God be the glory To God be the glory To God be the glory For the things He has done. Happy 50th Anniversary Mummy and Daddy! We've seen the ups and the downs and the in between's. Through it all you continue to say yes "I do".

I walked out this morning to the sound of a bird tweeting with all its might. I looked up and there it was – a cardinal right at the top of the branch. Its rich red feathers and black mask were a beautiful contrast with the green leaves. It’s a new day – the birds are eager, the flowers are eager to bud. It’s spring!

When she was a baby I kept her hair short. The hussle of plaiting a squirmy little girls hair was more than I could handle at the time. The less the maintenance the better. Then we relocated. She grew older and slowly the idea of short hair wasn't appealing anymore. I yielded and started plaiting little toots. Her hair grew. Imagine her shock and surprise when we washed it and it shrunk. She looked in the mirror. "Mummy?" "Yes" "Why is my hair going in circles?" I thought, oh oh! "Well, that is what happens to our hair when we wash it. It shrinks" She looked puzzled. It was the strangest thing ever.  You see, my little girl thinks we are a mirror of the people around us.That we all look the same - especially the little people she spends time with. How ever things get a little complicated when the fine toothed comb does not move as easily through her hair as she thinks it should. Reality check! Culture shock!    Now mum...

The elephant in the room; - a metaphorical idiom that refers to an obvious truth that is being avoided. That truth for me was the gay and lesbian agenda. I hoped I could wish it away but it grew and slowly squashed me into a corner. I was challenged to rethink my position. I tripped, stumbled and learned the importance of being politically correct in conversations. The sensitivity around the topic was like the growl of a wounded cat before its claws emerge. Activists and proponents were ready to snuff out any fire that did not warm the “right ideas”. I began to question whether there was room for free speech- room to hold my view and not be coerced or challenged for it. It seemed either I believed in the cause or I didn’t believe at all. I wanted to agree to disagree and have that space respected. Once I had to slowly retrace my steps after I walked into a colleague’s office and caught sight of the portrait on her shelf. Two ladies dressed in wedding gowns. All over a sudden I wa...

Snow weighs on branches. The sun is furious. The days are brighter. The birds tweet so loud, so early and so long as if to say "time up winter - get with the program". When rats the size of squirrels make a debut on the D.C street scene on a cold winters day, you know something has got to change. Spring anybody?

The American dream evaporated in the unrelenting Philadelphia heat that July. My excitement to see the United States for the first time stewed and dried up. Open windows provided little relief from the hot air that stood stiff like a brick. It declined to dance or sway. Drenched in sweat I watched as cold beads of water - like tears slid down the side of the ice filled pitcher. If only I could shrink and swim in it.

Demis Roussos died today: January 26th, 2015. I wrote about him here . Ah! how sad... but his music and our memories live on. Greek singer Demis Roussos has died, hospital in Athens says http://t.co/TCin3V9eS3 pic.twitter.com/KRpr5FpHMM — BBC Breaking News (@BBCBreaking) January 26, 2015

As the rain and the snow  come down from heaven, and do not return to it     without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish,     so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth:     it will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire  and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.   Isaiah 55:10 - 11 His was a household name in the 80’s. Every Sunday afternoon we gathered in the living room to watch the TV Evangelist Jimmy Swaggart . I can’t imagine any tweens excited to watch an evangelist at any time of the day but we were. With Uganda Television’s (UTV) limited screen time (6pm – 10pm) almost anything went, anything except “Amawuliire” and “Habari” - news in Luganda and Swahili.

According to Myers Briggs I am an   INFP ; an Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceiving human being. In my world intuition reigns over intellect. Once I believe in a cause it is almost impossible to convince me otherwise. I will hold on to that truth for all its worth. Yes, it’s been said “the heart is not so smart” but the head has its faults too. It is prone to wander off on numerous errands of futile intellectual pursuit.  Like Tolkien I admit “I am a mere individual…with intense feelings more than ideas”. Since coming to America I’m more aware that intellectual and logical arguments reign supreme. Statements of “I think” capture attention while statements of “I feel” or “I believe” lose the crowd. “Why do you feel? Explain it. How did you come to this conclusion?”  It's intuition. A gut feeling. An observation.  The sweet spot however is a fine balance between heart and mind but even this is hard to master.