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.

Winter Spring

Clock of leaves

Winter-Spring

Moon trapped in branches

Bird sun bathing

The Peeping Petticoat

Petticoats! Remember them?
If you landed on this planet after the 90's you'll probably wonder what I refer to and no! it is not some fancy coat worn on top of a boob tube.

Petticoats or half-slips are little nylon skirts worn as undergarments. Sound like the dark ages? Yeah, like who would wear extra clothes in the African heat? Probably explains why they were made of nylon and light cotton material.
It was an essential item on every school girls shopping list next to Always and Vaseline.
These skirts were everywhere; in suitcases, hanging up on a bathroom peg, sometimes they showed up on the clothes line outside; black and white - the two most preferred colors.
We giggled when girls in primary six and seven begun to wear them - they were mature, things we studied in biology were taking place in their bodies.

 Woe unto you if the elastic around the waist came loose or the lace on the hem came undone. It wasn't any of our business but when those little skirts peeped below the hem, we were alerted to their presence. It was a shabby sight  to behold but all too common. The half-slips slipped.

Street hawkers strung them on their shoulders with safety pins and what not. The taxi park was strewn with them, one was never short of a place to make a purchase. Then they begun to show up in shades of blue, cream, brown and pink. That made for a really sore sight peeking out from under a white or even black dress. The eye was automatically gripped by it's presence and ladies where constantly pulling them up.

I received my first petticoat in senior one, no longer a little girl but a young woman. The carefree days of see-through dresses were over. Black petticoats were the best, they could be worn under any color dress, however it was important to find the perfect length - the ideal ones fell just shy of the knees.
The one problem with black was, one tended to forget it needed to be washed. The waters turned a certain hue of brown as soon as it was dipped into a basin of water and it wasn't dye because nylon material usually doesn't run. In some cases it only got washed twice in a term.

Bazungu ladies were notorious for disdaining these little skirts. They came to sunny Kampala and struggled to keep their clothes on much less a petticoat. They walked through the streets leaving nothing to the imagination. A Muzungu in a white see-through dress with white underwear - not an organized sight. The street idlers whistled at them, baptizing them all sorts of names. Some were quick to learn and share the lessons with their friends but others didn't quite get in. We concluded Kampala was just too hot for them.

Slowly the little skirts disappeared, women hardly wore dresses, they pledged new allegiance to trousers. Those who remained on the straight and narrow wore clothes with sewed lining. It made life a lot easier except when the lining detached from the fabric and begun playing the peeping game too.