Mrs.O's writing room.

It was 7pm, I rounded the street corner and saw two people with walking canes having a conversation. I slowed down when I realized they were both blind. I had lots of questions: How did they get around? Was it a case of the blind leading the blind? I walked past and shortly after they walked in my direction. In the frenzy of traffic and people on the busy streets, they stopped.  The lady waved and said “excuse me”.  “We are trying to get to block 1725” Thankfully it was a few steps away. I was going that way so I said sure. She held my elbow and the guy held her elbow and we walked. The independence and empowerment for people with different abilities here is incredible.  I was reminded of the little helpers I used to see on Kampala road.  No matter where we are, we need each other.

Gary shares the Father's heart “My pastor Gary” as one friend used to say, as though she owned him. We all owned him. All 7,000+ of us. When a man dedicates his life to full time ministry: to teach, preach and lead an entire congregation in bible study and worship every Tuesday, Thursday and at least 10 hours on Sunday – he’s invested. Invested in God and in people. Never mind the slight inconvenience of adjusting to a different language, culture and political system. As young people in search of good fun, Kampala Pentecostal Church (K.P.C) was the perfect fit. We had access to in depth teaching of scripture, the best contemporary Christian music and good company. It is no wonder school holidays were spent at church. We lounged at the reception, hang out with the sound men but also attended New Life Class, Evangelism Explosion, Music, Dance and Drama ministry. The concept that Christianity could be enjoyed, had us glued. That we could use our talents to build the kingdom of

Man walks out of  the Andrew. W. Mellon building As an amateur behind the camera one skill I’m learning to practice is patience - to wait for the moment. On several occasions I have rushed to press the shutter in excitement, then just as I turn off the camera the most glorious moment occurs. It happens so fast I don’t have enough time to power up the box and snap. Soon it’s all over, the moment walks away gracefully like a pretty lady leaving her suitors wide eyed. I want to scream and pump my fist, throw a tantrum, but it’s too late. This time I was alert, fascinated by the gold coating on these lamp posts, I thought the juxtaposition against the cream background made for a great scene. Then I thought, it would be perfect if someone walked by - that way I would have some activity in the picture. No one came. I waited. No one came. Undeterred, I decided to count so as to stay in the moment. 1, 2.. 21, at 37, a man walk by but he was too fast. As I waited for the next perso

His size matched his bass – large. They stood out. He played a calm tune. The white note at his side reads: “Please help send me to Interlochen Fine Arts High School ”. In the heat of the afternoon a young man sweats in pursuit of a dream. Passion. Pursuit. Purpose. We live for this.

I saw a man in a snow white shirt this afternoon. He had a big beautiful butterfly sitting on his shoulder. The color contrast was fantastic. For a second I thought it was a huge lapel pin until it flapped its wings. I gasped! Then I thought it was his “pet butterfly” because he didn’t seem to mind it. My excitement caused one other passenger to bring it to his attention. He threw it off while I frantically struggled to get out my camera for the perfect shot pleading with him to let it stay. My selfish human condition was exposed. He probably thought I was crazy. We all kept our eyes on the butterfly until the train came to a stop. He picked it up. Two times he threw it up and two times it came right back down. It couldn’t fly. A young girl, around 16 years old came over and held it. Girl: Oh what a beautiful butterfly. It wants to commit suicide on the tracks. Her Mum: Butterflies have a shot life span, we need to find a place to put it. They decided to place

This corner of Farrugut North is full of life: people commute back and forth, cars zoom by, beggars ask for help, newspaper vendors and fruit sellers all seek our attention. But nothing gets people to stop like good music. Live bands, opera singers, violin players, boys trying to make raise funds for tuition - it's a variety really. Yesterday a crowd gathered as these young men played Pharell's "Happy" and Michael Jackson's "Remember the Time". No one cared much for the suppressive heat, or places they had to go. They stood and listened, bobbed along and dropped a little something into the bucket. The man without a shirt and the old lady caught my attention as they reveled in the music, their cares shelved for this moment.

I walked into a Giant Supermarket the other day and saw dark purple bulbs that looked like passion fruits . I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I looked closer and indeed they were passion fruits. We celebrated like we had found a gold mine. I scooped the core clean, leaving no seed to waste. The result was just right. We savored every last drop. “Don’t drink it too fast. Take little sips, then think about something else. Then when you remember it’s there you’ll be  very excited and it will be fresh again.” No prizes for guessing who said this. My little girl on the other hand could not believe we could make juice at home. Spare a thought for us when you next drink this passion at leisure (for those of you, especially my friends in Uganda ).  Did you know its scientific name is “Passiflora edulis”? Well, just in case.

Booklet with Photographer bio's. I’m taking part in a photo exhibition with the  International Photographic Society  (IPS). It's my first exhibition and hopefully the first of many more. IPS comprises members from the IMF and World Bank and gulp! I’m a part of it. I'm exhibiting 3 photos: 2 on the theme of Still life and 1 on people. Saturday morning was spent setting up, measuring, pinning and aligning. One gentleman seemed to know what he was doing so I sought his help. He obliged. He picked up his measuring tools and came to my section. I asked if he had exhibited before he said no but he’s always hanging pictures in his house, so he knew what to do. This gentleman was the IMF representative in Uganda a few years ago. He measured the top, the side, the bottom and I was delighted to say the least. Photo 1-   Party time : Was taken at my parents 50th wedding anniversary. It has some of my favorite people in the whole world. Photo 2-   Tinsel

It gets lonely sometimes, friends are busy sorting their own lives and so one is unable to hangout or do things together as often as one would wish. I found a guy who solved that problem. He walked into the Starbucks cafe, found a table, pulled out his chess board and set the pieces in place. Obviously I got curious. He leaned back and listened to music streaming from his head phones. A man who had just bought his cup of coffee donned the most curious smile, before I knew it  they were engaged in a game of chess. He left. The next moment a girl took the seat and was making her moves. They barely talked, they just played. Strangers drawn by a game of mutual interest. I'm reminded of " Queen of Katwe " and how Phiona Mutesi's interest in Chess opened the door to her dreams of becoming a grand master some day.  smile emoticon . "The size of your dreams must always exceed your capacity to achieve them" Ellen Johnson Sirleaf.

I visited a funeral home for the first time to celebrate the life of a pretty girl called Freda.  She was a doctor, a wife and a daughter but to me she was just Freda - a friend I got acquainted with in September of 2014. I arrived early to a friend’s birthday lunch and she walked in shortly thereafter. We introduced ourselves and spent close to 45 minutes talking about life since relocating to America, about intermarriage among people of different ethnicities. We discovered we were both from Teso land. Sitting in that restaurant and waiting for the birthday girl we had a lot to talk about. I was struck by her grace; her sweet smile and I loved the way she raised her eyebrows when she talked. There was an excitement in her spirit. She expressed her ideas with clarity and precision. Talking fondly about her husband and her parents back in Uganda. She didn't mention she was undergoing chemotherapy. That some days were dark, that she had stage 4 colon cancer. I didn&#

Teso on my Mind: The local market -  You've got to visit the Wednesday local market in Serere . We call it "okisoni" probably from the word auction ☺️. There is nothing like it. This was my favorite market growing up. You can get almost anything here:- cups, plates, basins, food, clothes, saucepans, shoes, cows, sugarcane, bicycles, bricks, solar systems, sugar, bread, cooking oil - see? The list is endless.

Teso on my mind: Peanuts, g-nuts, ground nuts - however you choose to call them. As a little girl whenever my name was called followed by " obia aipac emaido " (come and shell the nuts) I would want to hide. Depending on the amount, it meant sitting on the veranda and shelling nuts for close to an hour. My fingers ached but as I grew I learned the right pressure points to open the shell. My aunt grabbed handfuls at a time and I watched the nuts popped out in a hurry. It was an art. Nut shelling was a communal activity, a time for team work and story telling. Today, we have machines that crash the shells, sort the nuts and grind them to a paste. We have developed. We have saved time. We are more productive for the most part. Here the nuts are spread on the " alaro " (veranda) to dry. Once dry they are easier to shell plus they don't rot as easily as they would if left damp. We make groundnut sauce, peanut paste, roasted nuts, boiled nuts, oil, we even eat

Teso on my Mind:  Every son must have his own hut.  These are my brothers huts, built in my fathers compound. When they come to visit, their families spend nights in their own space. It's a modern hut with a small bathroom and space enough to section off the kids. Mud huts require more maintenance with the walls being patched up with mud every 3 months.