Mrs.O's writing room.

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 the ceiling surfaced, I wa