Twenty Years, One Blog, Somewhere Between Here and Home

                                                      

Twenty years ago, I left Uganda with a two-year-old, followed my husband to America, and started a little blog to tell family back home what life was like. I had no idea I would still be writing here two decades later.

Twenty years ago, I landed in America for the first time. I took a KLM flight from Entebbe airport to New York’s JKF airport then taxied to Philadelphia. I was nervous about the unknown but excited to start a new chapter. I left my favorite white-collar T.M Lewis shirt. I left my gray leather handbag. I quit my job. Was I ready? One is never ready when wading into new territory, the conviction carries the day, and one can only look forward to new experiences. Sam was accepted to the Wharton Business School master’s program and where he went, I was sure to follow. With our two-year-old firecracker son by my side, we strapped in for the ride. America!

The July 2006 heat wave was so intense, I believed America was the hottest country in disguise. Uganda’s temperatures had nothing on the humid, suffocating heat of the East Coast summer. Autumn colors and cooler temperatures were a delight; I was thoroughly depressed in the ice-cold winter and revived again with spring’s new life.

I discovered I had an accent. We all spoke English but why were chips called fries and crisps called chips. Why was rubbish trash and the car boot a trunk? My son and I lost weight as we scanned the supermarket shelves for familiar food ingredients with little success. The plethora of food choices left me reeling. Culture shock wrapped its sticky hands around me. I missed family and friends.  I missed the tropical weather, the matooke, the natural scenes, the community. What’s that saying? “You never realize what you’ve got until its gone.” I understood why Uganda was described as the pearl of Africa.

In America parents carried their children for 3 more years. Parents were fully in charge; they carried, cooked, cleaned, bathed, played, and trained the children. If a family had more than one child under three or in the case of a single parent household—the responsibilities were an incredible drain. Without help with household chores, my son and I were tied together all day every day. I wanted to fly back to Uganda.

Celebrating Uganda's independence

We began to explore Philly. I wrote of my adventures in emails and was soon introduced to the art of blogging, an easy way for friends and family to follow along. Blogspot made it easy. I created an account with the cheesiest url: mamamich-mjay.blogspot.com. For sentimental reasons, the URL remains unchanged. I started a series called “My Escapades in Philadelphia” and submitted articles to Take 5, MTN Uganda’s internal magazine. Later I discovered an online writer’s community.

Through writing and photography, I processed my emotions with the intent to capture and understand the American experience with the lens of a Ugandan wife and mother. Along the way it became clear that writing and photography were my creative veins, channels for my purpose.

In these twenty years we moved several times. First to Texas for Sam’s first job, then back to Uganda with the 2008 economic downturn. We had a second baby. We moved back to the US in 2011. In 2024 I graduated with a master’s in writing. In 2026 our son graduated from college and started work. His little sister is in high school, and we are here, assimilated in the American culture but firmly rooted in our Ugandan identity. God continues to be our guide on this life journey.

Uganda Presidential Elections: May God Uphold Thee.

Ugandan flag infront of Washington National Cathedral

 

“Sex is Undefeated”

Nice post title to start the year no? 

But seriously, a sports commentator made this remark on a TV station. 

He said, "Sex is undefeated" I thought, “Yo! Mary, best keep scrolling, nothing to see here.” 

But no! I stopped. 

It is essential to understand such statements, no? That way you know how to navigate.

The commentator referred to a University sports coach who had an affair with one of his junior staff. He said the coach had a young family, earned a whole lot of money but yeah, he risked it all. 

From out here it appears the affair meant more to the coach than his family or his reputation. That the affair meant more to King David with Bathsheba than a country at war, to Samson with Delilah than God’s anointing and purpose for his life. 

So yeah! Sex is undefeated. I will leave that there. 

Sorry to disappoint you but I am not an expert in the matters of attraction. 

I wonder though why sex within the confines of marriage seems less dramatic. I mean, why is it more alluring outside the home, in another home. People are willing to risk the skin off their backs, willing to risk life. It becomes the reason to leave, to live, to face another day on the frontlines—to die. 

Do the riskers bring home the prize? Do they show us the scars and say, “See? It was a mean fight but I’m glad. Look what progress we have made towards a happier, healthier, wealthier society. See the gold. 

What is the strategy? Is there a strategy?

King David: “Man! Let me explain. You see, if Uriah had just gone home, he would still be here.” 

Samson: “Yo! That was a crazy move with Delilah—she blew my mind, I mean my hair. But lean my hands against the pillars and I will make amends.” 

Where are the stories of contentment? Have people come back to say, “Dude! It was the best decision of my life. I am most fulfilled with this gift that keeps on giving.” 

No! Don’t tell me. I’m not interested in the answers. It’s a rhetorical question.

On the eve of 2025 I went dancing, I stepped out of the dance hall and decided I would not repeat such a waste of time and money—best to stay warm and comfortable in my home.

This New Year’s Eve we were at the dinner table. My son mentioned that one of his classmates divorced, she was around 19 or 20 at the time. We internalized the event. Somehow it led to us talking about how his father and I met. 

I never yapped so much as I did that evening, talking about my dating life. Certain details emerged from archived boxes of my mind that even my husband was like, “Wait! What?” And I tell you I wasn’t drinking anything. But also, for a moment there I levitated, hovered over the table. I studied my husband—this tall, light skinned man from Eastern-Western Uganda. I asked myself how I made this decision. What did I like about him then? What do I like about him now? Is it a conscious decision to stay married or am I coasting? What was I looking for in a man at 21? What did I know about men?

Husbands love your wives as Christ loved the church and gave Himself up for her—this is death. Wives submit to your husbands, as to the Lord—this too is death. 

God needs to explain some of these things because there is a whole lot of dying in marriage, in relationships. 

But you see, it is also a chicken and egg situation, a rose with thorns predicament. The thing is, woman is amazing. She is appealing to the eye and the heart—that face, those curves, that smooth skin. Mmm! Woman is divine. That color contrast spurs a trans-like reaction, it makes some men go to war, to give up their last comfort. Well, then they realize she is an angel but with human qualities. And yet, like the Israelites in the desert, men soon forget the hard life in Egypt and long to go back. God made woman attractive, her allure is undeniable, natural. Her heart, spirit and mind are a wonderful garden. A woman who is spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and physically healthy is unmatched. She makes the corners of our lips rise to meet our ears—even in the heat of life.

For a man to be successful he must focus—harness the energy and vision in his heart and direct it for good, for God, otherwise…problems. 

As you can see, I don’t come with answers, just to acknowledge that life is a trap. 

King Solomon said in Proverbs 30: 21 - 23

21 “Under three things the earth trembles, under four it cannot bear up:

22 a servant who becomes king, a godless fool who gets plenty to eat,

23 a contemptible woman who gets married, and a servant who displaces her mistress.

Sex remains undefeated. 

Spiritual Aura in the School of Life

 One blog post for 2025.

This year has been one of a kind, all years are, but 2025? Yo!!!!

Let’s skip to the good part.

I became aware of my spiritual aura—that presence that surrounds one as they walk through life. I noticed a pattern in the kind of people I attract and the way people respond to my presence.

This requires more intentionality.

Let’s see what happens in 2026.

 

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 my news feed, my social media platforms, school…I couldn’t get away but I also couldn’t be bothered. 

Mr. O mentioned it twice, once like two months ago and then last week, just to make sure I’d cleared my schedule. 

I was like yeah, yeah! 

He read up on it, mapped out routes, and locations for the best view. I should have taken note. Dude patiently waits for people to come around.

When something is major, it’s major. 

After 23 years I should know he’s right—99.9% of the time. 

So I asked, what time we needed to start the journey, he said 6:30am 😳.

I mean I love nature and I’m usually up by 6:30am but for some reason when it’s outside my plans it’s as if eh?!

6:30am, I was up and ready. 

Snacks were packed—road trip-ready on Monday morning, can you handle?

We drove for a long time. I finished an office assignment, listened to podcasts, music, slept, snacked…

But by the way let me first tell you. 

We stopped at a Pilot truck stop—like a fuel station with a supermarket. I went in to pick a thing or two when an announcement went out.

“The showers are ready. If you are a truck driver and need to take a shower please stop by.” Eh!! 😳

Ok, I’ve paraphrased but the message was the same.

I looked around. People were just going about their business.

Again the announcement went out “Shower number 5 is ready” 

You guys! 

The supermarket has a business model which includes showers for long distance truck drivers—how convenient?! Do you see how valuable this could be on the road to Mombasa, Masaka, Mabira…?

People be thinking—where’s the need? How do I solve for it? Nga they become billionaires.

So we reached our destination. Groups begun to gather. Around 2:30 pm Mr. O got out foldable chairs and the eclipse paper shades. He sat down and continued to read his magazine. I was like ok, tuli wano! Now what?! 

I checked, the sun looked crescent 🌙, then less crescent. Clouds kept floating over the sun. 

Mwana! I was concerned that the clouds would cover the event. I didn’t even know what to expect. Maybe darkness at noon?

Me: “Has it happened?”

Mr. O: “No, not yet. They said it will happen between 3:15pm and 3:19pm”

Me: 😳 You mean it was pinned down to the second? Wabula humans need to be watched, they can be too dangerous for their own good.

It was 3:16 pm.

Suddenly temperatures dropped, there was a chill in the air.

It began to grow overcast.

Some guy in the distance let out a yelp. We were like, now what? Was he the only one seeing the eclipse nga the rest of us were also there? 

Turned out to be pre-excitement.

In the moment, the sun and moon directly overlapped. Then it was as if dark, as if light. Like a choir of angels, like the chime of winning those coins in Mario video games (am I dating myself?) 

Ok, like the cheer when Maradona scored the winning goal at the World Cup. Banange! Let me stop with these examples. I’m as if digging. But you get it no? 

Only thing is that all of this was happening in my head. 

I begun to pray, I didn’t even know I was skipping around—making a whole lot of noise—few a privy to this madness. 

Mr. O quietly marveled at the eclipse—it was magical, spiritual even. I wondered how he stayed so calm.

The eclipse took all of four minutes. 

I couldn’t settle, I became super talkative—I like those stars (sun and moon) and now together? It was a total eclipse, my heart raced fast-fast.

Imagine, in all this drama, I manage to reach for my camera, switch the lens, insert the SD card and steady my hands for a shot. Like 😳😳. 

I’m getting used to fearing me also because eh!

Mr. O: “I should have recorded this.”

Me: “It’s hard to capture on phone” 

I was thinking of the instructions: directly looking at the sun can result in permanent damage.

The glasses had strict instructions “Prior to each use, thoroughly inspect the product for any signs of damage, tear, punctures or separation from the frame.”

Ko Mr. O: “No. I mean I should have recorded your reaction.”

🥰🥰🥰🤭🤭🤭🤭

Total eclipse of the…