Bit by the Cat-love bug

Growing up I knew there were cats period. Dad brought kittens home and we loved them. We scrambled to carry them, to sleep with them, to feed them. They lapped milk in the morning and sometimes we shared our bread. We watched TV together and put pieces of meat or chicken bones on their plates at dinner time. We curved card board boxes for them to sleep in - life was simple. However since my little guy was bit by the cat-love-bug, I have been introduced to several tribes of cats.He did the research. He counted the cost. And now a cat has to come home.

Types of cats

His dad and I are not too thrilled about getting a pet, it's an additional member to the home and it comes with extra expenses. I don't have strength or the money for that. My little guy insists he will take full responsibility but if his room is anything to go by, I doubt a cat will help with the situation. Cat adoption in this place is a whole other thing; the temperature in the house should remain favorable even while you are away. The cat should be vaccinated, spayed, visit the dentist and a whole lot more.

shopping list

 Half the books he borrowed from the library were about cats.

 Internet research

He'd found out cat adoption was cheaper. He could get a cat for $4, it sounded cheap but I thought since it's adoption, it could be true.
We drove to an adoption center and browsed the cats. Most of them were asleep but occasionally opened one eye to lazily look out their cage windows at these human beings ohh-ing and aah-ing at them - definitely not impressed.
The kittens were active in comparison, they played together, chased their tails and other imaginary objects. Little miss A caught the cat-love-bug, she skipped and jumped, more excited than her brother.
I was still hangup on having to find someone to house sit the cat if/when we traveled away from home for a long period.
We inquired about the price of a cat and were told they went for $100. My little guys jaw nearly dropped to the floor with disbelief. "These people are too expensive".
I hoped that would be the end of that, but no! looks like he is over the shock.

Why The Caged Bird Sang

"Everyday bring everything all the time" Maya Angelou

Somewhere within us is the desire to leave a legacy. My 10 year old son is on a constant search for ways to become famous. One idea he contemplated was to jump out of a flying plane without a parachute. His dad explained that with such an act he would be far from famous and not have the chance to listen to what people thought about it. Now he is on a quest to find the one thing that hasn't been invented yet.
The road to greatness is not certain. Some people just know they are great, others stumble upon it, yet others wake up to it when encouraged and others still grow into it through the fortunate or not so fortunate events of  life. These events propel them to find the fire in their bellies that shoots them up to the top.
News of Maya Angelou's death ripped through social media like a wild fire.The Internet was like one big slide show of her photos and quotes, tributes were on every page. Those who had never heard of her quoted her like she was a personal friend. This woman was really great! I wished I had met her in person but the books and poems she wrote tell me almost everything I need to know about her.

I first learned about Maya while looking for a birthday present for a friend in Aristoc Booklex on Kampala road. I came across the book "I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings", intrigued by the title I wanted to know why the caged bird sang. The author a plain African American woman, her simple look endearing. Her story; a black girl who at the age of 7 decided never to speak again after the man who raped her (her mothers boyfriend) was found dead. She blamed herself for his death after she had told her family and found out he had been "taken care of". She knew her words had killed him. In her mutism she read lots of books and only spoke to her brother. But that is not even half the story, so you know what to do to get the rest. She had me at "I Know Why ", I was hooked as a young girl myself. Her narration made for enjoyable reading presented in story form even though it was an autobiographic piece. The book I had meant as a birthday gift never left my home.

Many years later I came across audio biographical tapes on her life in the Dallas Public Library. I listened with diligence to the struggles of a young black single mother trying to forge her way through life. How she struggled with her identity as a black American woman, her relationships with men, with her mother and grandmother. How she moved to Africa and lived in Ghana and Egypt. Her involvement in The Civil rights struggle, The New Africa Movement, The Women's Movement. She was a vocal woman. She was a tough woman. I could only admire her and learn from her courage.
Imagine my excitement when late last year I read of her book signing event at the Politics and Prose bookstore a few blocks away from my office. I had just read her latest book "Mom & Me & Mom".  An autographed copy would have been a major highlight in my life. Sadly she canceled the trip due to poor health but I clung to the hope that the signed copy I had been promised would be delivered. It didn't happen.

Dr. Maya fascinated me. Her first hand encounters with several historical icons set her apart. She literally lived to tell the tale.  She was history in flesh - the Jajja who was there with Malcolm X, Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King Jr. Did you know he was shot on her birthday?. When in her deep voice she said "You should know what happened" it was time to drop everything, sit up straight and listen. Her account of events were detailed, engaging and truthful. It's wonderful to know that all this information is available for generations. She orchestrated her conversations to make every word  and every moment count. Her intelligence sprayed cool showers of enlightenment on all who listened.

Greatness emerged out of her misfortunes, they shaped her into the phenomenal woman she lived to be.The lists of accolades and awards she received are extensive. The little girl committed to mutism because she believed her words could kill flipped that around to become one of America's most famous activists, whose words are quoted all around the world. Her voice reached this little girl in Kampala and many other little girls around the world. Now I know why the caged bird sings and hope I too can tweet the message to the next generation.

"The most important virtue is courage, for without courage you can't practice any other virtue consistently" Maya Angelou
"The truth is you must value every year, every era, every condition that you experience. None is more valuable than the other". Maya Angelou

A Girl with imagination and zest

"I'm going to turn you into a  bear!" She mumbles, waves her wand then strikes. The look on her face is priceless, like she actually believed her brother was going to start growling. She looks at him intensely as though in her mind it happened.
Perhaps she is the only one who sees the brown fur and the sharp teeth, she left us behind, running away with her imagination.

Last night with a glitter in her eyes, she said "Mummy, tomorrow is Easter!". "Yes! Tomorrow is Easter". I suspected we were excited for different reasons. Was Christ's resurrection the cause of so much joy?. Curious, I asked. "What will happen on Easter?". She gave me that don't-you-know look and said "I'm going to get an Easter Egg". Hmmm, I didn't want to burst her bubble just before she went to bed, so I smiled and said "Good night!"

It's the birthday season at day care, we are constantly getting invitations. She knows all the kids by name and takes invitations personally. I get constantly reminded that Aliana's birthday is tomorrow, Zack's is over the weekend and Sofia's is today. She celebrates as though it were her own. I made the mistake of popping into the store to buy a card, suddenly wonderful ideas sprouted in her little mind. "Mummy lets get her a balloon", "Let's get her this card too" , "Mummy, what about that bag". I calmed her down and let her know we were getting just one thing. Then she remembered the card she had made and insisted we put it in the bag with the rest of the presents.

There is a grown up in this tiny vessel. Spring is here, the winter boots will not do and the summer shoes of last year don't fit any more so off to the store we go. We walk through the door, up to the kids sections and she comes alive in the most dramatic fashion. "Mummy, Sofia the first!" "Mummy, this is a pretty dress" "Mummy, see!" and then she shocks me by saying "but we are here to buy shoes" and walks off to the shoe section.

I had just dressed when she walked into my room one Sunday morning and said "Mummy, you look beautiful in that dress" there was nothing more to say, my heart and everything inside me went mushy - totally blown away.

Cherry Blossoms at night

Tidal basin

Washington Monument and the capital in the back ground

Washington Monument across the basin

Martin Luther King Jr Memorial

Glorious Sun Rise

Spring is here at last!

The Beautiful Chaos Of Happy Feet

I love it when I walk through the door and a little stray shoe lies in the corner.
When I can't fit my toes into my slipper because someones tiny ball rolled into the dark space to play it's own hide and seek. It bounces into the living room.

I love it when the dinning table is strewn with little toys, sometimes bent forward and other times backwards in a hap-hazard fashion.
It's the little art pieces piling on the table, the pink crayon laying forsaken on the kitchen floor. It's beautiful chaos.

I love this beautiful chaos, bursting with life. Little heart beats pump blood through little bodies. Learning, searching and exploring this vast universe without a care - sweet abandon.

Thank you Lord, I wouldn't have it any other way.