Mrs.O's writing room.

Aerial shot over the sea of Marmara in Turkey. Photo Credit: Mary Ongwen I was making dinner one fine Saturday when the doorbell rang. Two young men dressed in white shirts and black trousers stood at my door. I smiled and nearly said “Well, well, well! What have we got here?” I squished the laughter that climbed up my throat and virtually rubbed my hands with glee. I was in the mood for a good discussion. The younger man, probably 17 years old put on his biggest smile although I’m sure he’d secretly hoped no one was home.

It happened once, I was about seven, it was magical. I lost a tooth and showed it to my mom. The next morning I discovered that a rat had carried 5 shillings and a peculiar sweet and quietly tucked them under my pillow. I was amazed at how the little fella carried this hefty package. I imagined how he’d climbed up staircases, scurried round corners and pushed my bedroom door open or maybe squeezed in through a tiny opening to deliver my package. I lost another tooth, put it under my pillow and didn’t tell a soul. The next morning, the tooth was still there. I turned pillows, blankets and sheets upside down - alas! There’s wasn’t a gift in sight. Lost between shock and devastation, I wondered what ever could have happened. Was he killed in the line of duty? Years later I figured out that the conspirators. I forgave them eventually. Fast forward to my own home. Not keen on the drama, I kept it simple. You lose a tooth, I give you something small to celebrate . But word of the too...

Sunset on a Turkish air flight to Kampala Do you ever wish for innocence again? I do. Do you ever wish you’d stayed young, 18, maybe 12 - free of life’s cares? I do. Sometimes I wish I could un-feel things, un-hear things, un-think things, un-see things. Ah!! But life won’t let. Life grabs you like a big cuddly clawed bear, it flings you around, knocks every bone out of joint. The heart expands, emotions heighten with each new thrill, each new pain, each new pleasure, each new heartache. You learn to trust less, you learn to forgive more, you learn to be more cautious, more committed, less patient, more forceful. You learn. You unlearn. They say, “How are you?” You think, “What do they want?” They say, “I missed you” You think, “What do I owe?” You say, “I’m fine!” They think, “What’s she not saying?” It’s exhausting! Look at the bright side. There’s no bright side inside. It’s dark this inside, gloomy this inside. Longing for light - t...

A view of Arua Park in down town Kampala. Photo Credit: Mary Ongwen I had missed Uganda and its capital. I wanted to experience the downtown markets of  Nakasero  and  kikuubo , roll with the cool guys on SafeBoda’s, sit with the local women as they lit  sigiris’  and fanned firewood. I wanted to dine in Kampala Serena, sip cappuccinos and lattes at Cafesseria. I wanted to travel to the countryside, see all things, do all things, taste, relish, embrace. I wanted to nourish a hunger that had grown over three years. See my papa and mama and siblings. Familiar tastes, sights, sounds and people allowed for a deep-seated comfort – a return to a warm nook, a favorite place. The warm hugs, the worn paths, the happy stories, the heartaches connecting lives at the origin of life’s pulse. People finished sentences like I was never gone. Virtual friendships were sealed, the connections encompassed faith, beliefs, and life values. After a while the cracks in th...

“Baba tell me a story” “Which one?” “The story of home” Ryan Coogler’s script had me at “Baba”. An adventure story loomed in the air, framed not by a fire place but cinema surround sound. Like magic I escaped the building and travelled on a journey far far away from Washington D.C to Teso and Kigezi via Kampala. First off, I’m not familiar with anything “Marvel” – Justice League, Thor, Guardians of the Galaxy – clueless! I endured the winding line of excited theater goers determined to break the box office because of hype. The Black Panther movie had just been released. The 40 minutes I stood in line eased on like a breeze thanks to Zadie Smith’s novel “White Teeth”. What was this #WakandaForever business? I had to find out. Now, back to the story. T’Challa’s (Black Panther) eager pre-teen voice makes a request – simple yet profound and multifaceted – “The Story of home”. It took me back in time to an evening two years ago when seated at the family dining table in an obscure...

The clock struck midnight! She sat up in bed, “Era if he doesn’t come!”. By 12:10 am she was frantic. A few roommates surrounded her bed to provide reassurance. There she sat like a queen surrounded by her subjects. “He should be at the door anytime now” she said. We all turned towards the still wooden frame. No knock, no twist of the handle – just a door held under the gaze of twelve eyes. What had brought on our roomies distress? Was it her birthday? “It’s valentine’s day!” I was told. She awaited red roses and chocolates from her boyfriend at the stroke of midnight. My bunk mate and I exchanged glances, what did we know about such matters? “I swear!! If he doesn’t show up, he is going to see!!” She threatened. I imagined the poor soul traipsing all over Wandegeya in search of red roses, his legs suddenly quickening up Makerere hill with each telepathic threat. Or was he twiddling his fingers waiting for her to send him a message of her love? It was late. We turned off t...

“Marvin Gaye is Shot and Killed; Pop Singer’s Father Faces Charges”: The New York Times April 1, 1984. “Uganda's Mowzey Radio dies after 'pub brawl'”: BBC Africa February 1, 2018 Two music icons, two news headlines 34 years apart. When I read the news of Mowzey Radio’s death, my mind was quickened to the death of Marvin Gaye . Marvin Gaye was a black American soul singer and song writer of the 60’s and 70’s. He helped shape the sound of Motown music. He wrote songs like “Let’s Get It On”, “Midnight Love” and the famous “Sexual Healing”. Marvin Gaye’s death shocked the world. He was shot dead by his father. They had a quarrel, Marvin fought and beat up his 70-year-old father. His father, wounded and humiliated by his son shot him dead a day before Marvin’s 44th birthday. Marvin struggled with substance abuse and depression. Mowzey Radio’s death continues to shake his family and fans like an endless earthquake. He got into a bar fight when “a man came out...

A knight or maybe a pawn positioned in a corner of life’s game board  to observe and tell the story. John Allen Saunders said, “Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans.” This quote resonated today. Events unfolded like a skit - the actors right on cue. I was seated in the train stressing about life - about things not adding up. I wondered how to solve the equation when suddenly a lady let out a deafening shriek “Are you ok?!” Derailed from my train of thought I assumed she’d lost “it”. I mean we all have issues but to scream in public? No! Well, at least not yet. I turned to see a beautiful young lady with ruby red lipstick and a gray fashionable jacket. Her almond shaped eyes were wide with shock as she paced the floor. Passengers located in various pockets of our cart shot side glances then refocused on individual matters. “Call 911” She screamed. That’s when my eyes were guided to the floor. A man lay spasming in the corner. His lim...