Just looking out of my window

An encounter with Streptococcal

It happened over the course of a day. My throat begun to tighten and by evening I could barely swallow. My throat burned.
I lost appetite! My body shut down!

Day 2 I suffered a fever and general body weakness. I called in sick.
Swallowing required attention and commitment. It felt like swallowing broken glass.

By the 3rd night I was having weird dreams. I became empathetic of mouth and throat cancer patients.
I begun to suspect I had strep throat because I didn't have the usual flu symptoms. My fears were confirmed.

I was placed on a penicillin medication whose side effects are as bad as the sickness; headache, stomach pain, dizziness and itchy eyes. I thought I would ask for something milder but my requests fell flat. Doctor told me I had received the standard adult doze and that I need to hung in there. She said if I didn't finish the doze I would expose myself to Rheumatic Heart Disease, talk about a wake up call.

So how did I get Strep? Well it's caused by streptococcal bacteria and spread when someone with strep sneezes or coughs. The tiny particles are released into the air and breathed in by others.

I feel better but still have 5 days of medication to finish the doze. Sigh!

Mid-life Crisis And Beyond

Some days I wake up convinced I'm going to be the best travel writer Uganda ever had. I'm going to take striking pictures to re-coin the phrase "A picture is worth a thousand words". I'm going to write short stories that will have me sitting next to Alice Munro, Maya Angelou, Chimamanda Adiche, even Toni Morrison. Then I picture myself traveling the globe, taking notes as I quietly observe people.  I will sign autographs and accept awards. I'm not much of a talker so we will keep seminars and workshops to a minimum.
Just when I resolve to make this dream a reality, to commit every free moment to writing, I'm reminded of the poverty of a writer's life. One has to be exceptional at this art to make a decent living. I read articles that stop me cold at their excellent presentation. I couldn’t write half as well. My eyes nearly pop as I scan National Geographic photos  or this guys . My inadequacies stare me straight in the face. I’m not as good, I’m nearly 40 – God help me! 

I have responsibilities; a husband and kids to look after, college to save for, meanwhile loans and bills slip through the mail slot every month. So I collect my dreams, kiss each of them, tell them I love them, gently place them in a safe and lock it because you see “mama’s got to make some money”. May be later, when I’m old and grey and living on retirement funds, maybe then I will pull my dreams out and dust them off. But tomorrow is not promised. 

 I hold the shorter end of the stick at this point in life and one question consistently makes the loop in my head : “If I died today would I have fulfilled my purpose here on earth?” It’s a twist to the Evangelism Explosion question, “Have you come to a place in your spiritual life where you can say for certain that if you died today you would go to heaven?. It is well and good if I can say yes, but there is more. If I stand before God, how would I account for the opportunities, talents and abilities I was given? What about the relationships I'm committed to, the skills I've learned, the places He has allowed me?. 
My answer is no! I haven't lived out my purpose because I live safe. I’m afraid to venture, afraid to say, afraid to do, afraid to expose myself, because I wonder what people will say. Because I wonder what people will think. Because I wonder what people will do with the information. I live a half-life.

Nearly every experience in this country makes me want to write a post, to grab someone’s hand and say “did you see that? Kale if this was Uganda...”. More often than not there isn’t a hand to grab, the ones available may file for harassment, so I rush to my computer and hit the keys. Eh! Then I think of the monster called the Internet, I think Zuckerberg, Snowden, NSA, my manager all looking into my mind. I stand exposed. Big brother all around! I will choke, my fingers will cripple, my head will explode because I can’t share the thoughts and then I will stop breathing because … sigh!  I'm I being paranoid?
 Matthew 10:28 says “Don’t be bluffed into silence by the threats of bullies. There’s nothing they can do to your soul, your core being. Save your fear for God, who holds your entire life—body and soul—in his hands". 
So if God is for me, who can be against me? This knowledge inspires me to be bolder, more intentional even vulnerable.

My convictions center around the evolution of human relationships, babies and the value of life. Around people and their personal stories, cultural interactions, gay sex and the Christian. I would like to write essays and short stories on these topics; to represent these ideas in travel diaries and photography. I would like to share my experiences. Give people a glimpse into parts of the world they may never visit, expose different cultures and ways of life, inspire people to appreciate what they have and give them hope for better days.I hope that maybe my articles will brighten someone’s day, will inspire someone to pray or discover something new. Then I will stretch my legs, fold my hands behind my head and smile “yeah! I did something today”. I know it will not stop world hunger, or the war in Sudan but just maybe it would make a difference in one persons life. 

I was challenged by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr's letter from Birmingham jail where he was imprisoned for inciting civil rights activities. His purpose and conviction rule over petty inconveniences such as criticism. He said: "WHILE confined here in the Birmingham city jail, I came across your recent statement calling our present activities "unwise and untimely." Seldom, if ever, do I pause to answer criticism of my work and ideas. If I sought to answer all of the criticisms that cross my desk, my secretaries would be engaged in little else in the course of the day, and I would have no time for constructive work."
I need this boldness to react confidently and with purpose to issues that hop onto my desk, into my relationships and my life. How about you? Are you hung-up on criticisms or do you let them pass like water off a ducks back?

“What would you do if money were not an object?”

Psalm 144 for 2014

 My Prayer

Psalm 144 Of David.

¹ Praise be to the Lord my Rock,
    who trains my hands for war,
    my fingers for battle.
² He is my loving God and my fortress,
    my stronghold and my deliverer,
my shield, in whom I take refuge,
    who subdues peoples under me.

³ Lord, what are human beings that you care for them,
    mere mortals that you think of them?
⁴ They are like a breath;
    their days are like a fleeting shadow.

⁵ Part your heavens, Lord, and come down;
    touch the mountains, so that they smoke.
⁶ Send forth lightning and scatter the enemy;
    shoot your arrows and rout them.
⁷ Reach down your hand from on high;
    deliver me and rescue me
from the mighty waters,
    from the hands of foreigners
⁸ whose mouths are full of lies,
    whose right hands are deceitful.

⁹ I will sing a new song to you, my God;
    on the ten-stringed lyre I will make music to you,
¹⁰ to the One who gives victory to kings,
    who delivers his servant David.

From the deadly sword ¹¹ deliver me;
    rescue me from the hands of foreigners
whose mouths are full of lies,
    whose right hands are deceitful.

¹² Then our sons in their youth
    will be like well-nurtured plants,
and our daughters will be like pillars
    carved to adorn a palace.
¹³ Our barns will be filled
    with every kind of provision.
Our sheep will increase by thousands,
    by tens of thousands in our fields;
¹⁴     our oxen will draw heavy loads.
There will be no breaching of walls,
    no going into captivity,
    no cry of distress in our streets.
¹⁵ Blessed is the people of whom this is true;
    blessed is the people whose God is the Lord.

Amen!

Justice, Rights And A Need To Belong

No recount of slavery: Roots, Amistad, Gone With The Wind moved me like Solomon Northup's 12 Years A Slave. Tears rolled down my cheeks as a read his story. The sincerity in his narration is hard to describe but it pulsates and is tangible on every page. His honesty and hard work under his master shine through, never mind that he was a freeman who happened to be tricked and sold into slavery. One would be bitter and vengeful but his only desire was to see his wife and children again. After reading the book, Martin Luther King Jr's motivation to fight for Civil rights comes afresh to me.

I admire Dr.Martin Luther King Jr.'s passion for justice because it was deeply rooted in his faith. Here is an excerpt from his letter from Birmingham jail.
"Beyond this, I am in Birmingham because injustice is here. Just as the eighth-century prophets left their little villages and carried their "thus saith the Lord" far beyond the boundaries of their hometowns; and just as the Apostle Paul left his little village of Tarsus and carried the gospel of Jesus Christ to practically every hamlet and city of the Greco-Roman world, I too am compelled to carry the gospel of freedom beyond my particular hometown. Like Paul, I must constantly respond to the Macedonian call for aid".

Even though slaves were African's like myself, it happened so long ago that none of my relatives (at least from the oral history past down) were slaves. My grandparents and their grandparents for at least 5 generations lived in Uganda. In America however, there is a flip of the coin. I meet black Americans who are still sore, the pain of centuries ago looms over their heads.They question who they are and where they came from, issues I don't grapple with because I know I'm a Ugandan, an Atesot originally from Usuk.