Sep 10, 2020

Selling bed sheets on Kampala streets

 


The young man walks through neighborhoods balancing colorful bed sheets on his head determined to sell these materials for a living.

“Bed sheets! Buy some bed sheets!”

Human beings like good night sleep and all the other things done between these large pieces of cloth it is a constant human condition, after work there is rest. Selling bed sheets should therefore meet man’s need for comfort.

Before the sun comes up, he takes a taxi to Owino market. He sorts through a variety of bed sheets, haggles for a good price and successfully stretches the money loaned to him by a friend.

He walks along Luwum street on his way to the quieter residential suburbs. He hopes. Hopes that today will be a good day for business.

He walks by a gate on Mackinnon road, asks if madam is home and if she would like to buy some bedsheets. “Come later” He is told.

He crosses to the kiosk to buy a Safi drink – a little sugar to keep him energized in the sun. The folded bed sheets shield him from the sun’s glare but the moisture swimming between his head and the sheets makes him sweat.

He is on an undeterred mission to make something of his life, to earn a living, to be useful, to meet personal needs and make the world a better place – a batter trade with the universe.

The askari idling by the gate signals for him, they haggle. “Buy for your wife, she will be very happy” He pushes, hoping the askari will yield. Askari says the bed sheets are too expensive. “Ah! Maybe next time.”  The askari responds.

Nakasero streets are quiet, cars zoom past the golf course to the traffic lights. He makes his way through the shade of trees in Kololo, down the valley and into Naguru.

A woman stands outside her door “Mama! Onno gula?”, he stands at a distance, not sure if she’ll respond or shoo him away. She pretends she hasn’t seen him and engages in an imaginary phone call .

He walks around the corner – he’s shoes flattening out – he can feel the stones pushing up against his soles. He may need to buy another pair of shoes as these ones surrender under daily pressure.

Another woman is out washing clothes in a basin, he’s about to walk past when she calls, “Ssebo, otundotya?” He turns around, walks towards her, hoping this is the good omen – his first sell of the day.

She spreads the colorful bed sheets out for a closer look. His back drips with sweat, he is a little tired but wills his body into submission, adrenaline surges with possibility. “Gyebaleko mama!” He greets. She finds a pair she likes; she is willing to pay. He pockets the money, thanks God for this mercy and keeps walking. It’s 3:00 pm, he’s just made the first sale of the day.

He walks by a shopping arcade, a little boy runs up to him, “Ssebo, bakuyita wali”. He turns around and walks into the dark shop. The lady behind the counter asks to see his bed sheets, he spreads them out, she seems interested but eventually says she doesn’t have the money. His heart sinks. People who idly scan his efforts, spread them out and hold his business to the light but never look to see his hard work.

He gathers the bed sheets, folds them neatly, steadies them on his head, on the length of his arm and shoulder. He must go on.

It’s 5:30pm, traffic begins to build up, he walks past the cars. A guy in a Pajero rolls down his window “Gwe! Jangu” He skims through the bed sheets, points at the blue pair with yellow flowers. Meka?  He whips out his wallet and pays. Traffic eases up. The bed sheets are placed in a kavera on the back seat and vroom! The car is gone.

The rich man drives away hardly aware that he has helped the young man get a step closer to his days goal – 50,000 Uganda shillings. If he can make 100,000 shillings every day that would be great, but 50,000 shillings is a good start. He pockets the money. A little profit from the day. He will walk back across town to his room.

He stops by a food stall – “Tekakko bijanjalo, kawungu, ne’nva” he tells the food lady. He can’t afford the meat, but a little sprinkle of the meat soup makes all the difference. The aroma fools his stomach that this poverty has stepped up a notch. He holds the hope that one day he’ll have the meat and the chicken but for now beans will do.

He sits on the wooden bench to watch the world go by. He will visit his mother over the weekend. She will be so happy to see him, ask about his life in the city, caution him against city girls and their hunger for money. He will assure her he’s thinking straight, saving up a little to build a house on their land.

He’ll return to the city on Sunday evening and find a huge padlock on his door – pending arrears.

He will not give up – just a hitch on the journey, but now he needs to visit the landlord.

Sep 3, 2020

Her pages

He scrolled through her pages and picked himself off her poems, her stories 

He traced a semblance of who they once were etched in the details and light moments that floated through the words 

A distant romance fell lightly in cues sprinkled along the way  

His signature engraved in her writings 

The first line of his favorite phrase 

A stanza on heart break 

A nostalgic tweet 

He could feel the emotion as he run his fingers over the lines 

Aged attraction watermarked the pages held up against the afternoon light 

The run in of old paths secret and true eased his mind
 
Seeds planted in youth now rooted and mazed like thread on a quilt 

Telling histories revealing mysteries 

Stories on life’s tapestry 

Mrs. O 

Poem 6. Page 22.

Sep 1, 2020

Just ride

 



Ah! Little guy

We hustle you and me, me and you

Up and down we go

Through emotions and hormone tempests we go

Now you want dread locks

Now caramel hair

Now you want earrings

Now diamond teeth

What?! A necklace?

Want to shop with mom in the jewelry section?

Find identity within I say, find identity in Christ I say

How you present yourself is key I say

You say I don’t understand and maybe, maybe

You grow here, I grew there

America, Africa – different countries

You grow now, I grew then

America, Africa – different cultures

Young black man you fit the profile

No one will know you are mom’s little guy when you are out on the streets and there is trouble everywhere

No one will know you are mom’s little guy when you walk into a store dressed in a hoody and goofing around with friends

You are not little anymore, but you will always be mom’s little guy

Yes, you tower over me

Yes, you are stronger than I am

Catching up to dad real soon and that’s real cool

Little guy

Listen. Stop. Think.

You probably can’t hear over the emotions and loud music

Emotions will fade, there better be more when all is spent

Ah! Now you cool off

Now you trim the hair

Now you pull up the pants

Now we spend more time together

Now we exchange ideas and plans and thoughts

A steady young man emerges

What’s around the corner?

What does a parent do on these youthful roller coaster rides?

Hold onto your hat and ride, just ride

Let God deal with you both on this journey

@Mrs. O

8/12/2020


Total Eclipse 2024

Total eclipse shot in Pennsylvania. Photo by Mary Ongwen You guys, this eclipse thing exhausted my head. It was in every second article on m...