Mrs.O's writing room.

When he says "May I have this dance" I will gladly oblige I want to get onto the dance floor and feel the rhythm in the soles of my feet As it pumps to the beat of my heart Takes me high into the realm of breathless allure my body asks my soul and my spirit thirst  More energy, more thrust, more shake,  Move, move, move I want to hit that all time high under the spot light He guides me with his strong arm Moves his leg enough so I can lean on it So I can turn on it With his arm gentle but firm around my waist, I want to dance. Dance till beads of sweat pour down my back leaving me drenched and exhilarated all at once. I want to dance. There's an applause 👏  I didn't realize the audience☺

Dressed in Gospel Dancers uniform, we were scheduled do a processional dance at a wedding in St. Francis when I bumped into Uncle Ben. He was walking through the aisle. When we said we were not the bridal team but dancers, he was perplexed. Dancing? In Church? In an Anglican church at that? Unthinkable, unheard of. (The rematch between Pentecostals and Anglicans).  He reminded me of Tevye in the Fiddler on the Roof – too many changes with these youths. As Reverend at St. Francis chapel Makerere, Uncle Ben and auntie Joy nurtured generations of university students and what a delight it was to sit at their feet last night. To sit at the feet of spiritual parents and reminisce the days we were nurtured. Times when as clueless, passionate youth eager to change the world they listened, provided guidance and allowed us to spread our wings and fly. Someone said “You believed in us even when we were terrible. You never gave up on us and protected us.” Out of that love for young

AWOL Tours: A bike ride to Cape Town. Photo Credit: Ker & Downey Africa I was having lunch with a friend this afternoon when she mentioned she’d lived in Cape Town for 2 years. I was thrilled. I wanted to know her experience, what she loved. Did she visit Table Mountain? What about the wine country? She was surprised to learn I hadn’t visited but I’d read up on it. So, planning a trip to Cape Town and you don't know what to do? This guide has an ala carte of activities. You’ve not tasted Africa until you’ve visited the mother city. It’s friendly people and natural surroundings make you want to settle in for a while. The food hits your palate with such scintillating taste you think of your own mom’s lovely cooking. As a passionate traveler, experiencing new places, meeting new people and capturing the essence of a place are a few of the things I live for. So while scrolling through my Instagram feed I saw a beautiful photo of Cape Town’s Table Mountain, my next

Summer is almost here and the clothes are gone. I first came to this beautiful country in the middle of a heat wave. I never knew a place on earth to be so hot, I saw mirages everywhere. All shades of skin tones filled the Penn campus and on the narrow West Philly streets. Girls in the shortest shorts and tiniest tank tops. There were bellies and thighs everywhere. “God help the brothers” I thought. But then, I was the only one butting eyelids (I think). Now, 10 years and a tougher skin later I’m just like “Oh whatever! It’s just another belly button, another thigh.” I’m sure the guys say the same no? Is this what they call assimilation? Adaptation? I don’t know how young men handle the situation but one thing is for sure, I can’t afford enough kangas or kitenges to wrap around every skin baring lady. I will therefore mind my house.