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Showing posts from October, 2017

Stranger Connection

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The Needle Tower (Hirshhorn museum) Ever meet a stranger and immediately connect? For the longest time such stories were safely locked in a box I labeled "Movies" - guy sees girl at bar counter, guy buys girl a drink and they lived happily ever after. I mean yeah right! Coming from a small city like Kampala chances that one would befriend an outright stranger in the middle of the day were slim. America on the other hand is huge, people leave familiarity and travel to new cities for school and work among other reasons. And that is how I met this guy. The museum had closed and I was taking photos of the Needle Tower in the Hirshhorn gardens when he came over. We exchanged a few remarks on angles and lighting then I decided I best get on home. He said “There’s going to be a photography club meeting here on brutalist architecture. I don’t know much about it, but you might want to stay.” I thanked him and said "Sure, why not." It was going to start in 2

Market Day Excites Serere

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Market day (Okisoni) in Serere Early in the morning, before the birds came out to sing, before one could see beyond their nose -  in the pitch-black dark of night, feet shuffled outside; People talked in the distance and footsteps went pitter-patter on the village paths. A special day dawned. A day to buy and sell - to exchange and trade. People came from miles around, from neighboring towns and villages. Some walked, some rod bicycles, others came by bus or taxi.

Uganda’s Green Grass: The story of a homesick woman

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Kigezi hills  Once the excitement over clean, organized streets and sophisticated infrastructure in the developed world wore off, it came down like a wet blanket -  I missed home. I observed as people rushed along pavements, up and down escalators, round and round revolving doors. There was no time to lose, no smiles to share, and eye contact? No way! Were they embarrassed by my presence? But then again they didn't know me. I could as well have been invisible. I began to miss the familiar strangers on Kampala road. The smell of wet soil after the rain. The sense of community and interdependence I'd grown to take for granted. I longed to hear the “toot toots” of taxis and the sounds of diverse languages spoken with ease. I yearned to speak Ateso, even Luganda however broken and mispronounced the syllables tumbled out. The gnawing desire  for home chewed at every fiber.

Chaka Mu chaka Military training at Shimoni

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Dad tuned to radio Uganda one bright Saturday morning and heard an announcement inviting boys and girls on holiday to attend " chaka mu chaka " military training at  Shimoni Demonstration School. " Chaka mu chaka " refers to the military march in Swahili. Soon after the announcement Daddy declared that my brothers and I would attend the training. Our jaws dropped. What?! A whole 3 weeks holiday was going to be spent on military training? So while our friends shared stories of fun holidays events our hot news would be military training at Shimoni Demonstration School, nice!! I rather suspect, he didn't want us to idle around. This was a cheap easy way to keep us out of trouble.

Happenstances of a Ugandan woman in Washington D.C

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"The largest book in the world" Project not realized: This book would measure at 21 feet long and 12 and a half feet high. It’s a testament to the Kabakov’s long-standing interest in literature and storytelling. As I studied Kabakov's unfinished project of art work in the Hirshhorn museum a guy dressed in some kind of security uniform came over. Guy: "This book reminds me of judgement day when we'll stand before God and account for how we lived our lives." Me: "Oh yeah! I totally see what you mean. Are you a Christian?" Guy: "Yes I am, amen to that."(almost switches to tongues) Me: "Oh great! I'm a Christian too." Guy: "I'm looking for a wife to marry " Me: "Wow!! You are quick." We laughed 🤣🤣🤣 Guy: "The registrars office down the road is open till 5:00pm. There's no time to waste. We’ve got to cease the moment." 🤣🤣🤣 He returned to say "I talk to peo

Dear Uganda - A poem

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Dear Uganda I think of you at 55 I may not be with you but I see how you've grown and regressed Taken two steps forward and two steps back The runyegege, the bakusimba, the ding-ding