Lokwang the nomad…

Oh papa,I have fallen in love with a nomad,one who wears ngamouk in his feet,and walks the plains with his herding stick upon his shoulders.

He took me to the manyatta where the youth perform the edong dance,oh how lovely the music they made was.

They jumped high in the air following the rythm of their handclaps as they sang along.

Papa,you should have seen him kiss the clouds, Lokwang jumped higher than anyone else,with his white ostrich feather resting upon his hat,I guess he was happy to see me.

Oh how I love Lokwang the warrior,one who wears a red ostrich feather upon his hat.He has rustled cattle from the turkana and itesots, Lokwang my love,one who has chased and captured ostriches!

I won’t be a donkey in his home papa,he will use his oxen to till the filds later he will plant millet and sorghum, mine will be to weed the farm.

When I collect our harvest papa,we will cook a meal and share it with the rest of the village,lest I bring badluck for our household for not sharing with my people.

I will collect the rest of the harvest and keep it in a granary outside our manyatta.

I will build a strong manyatta,in his Nyalaar down in Nakapelimoru village,I will cook for him and raise our children well,just the way you have raised me.

He will give me,ngatok blood and milk,just so I can become as strong as the rest of the ladies in the jie community.

He will have the elder ladies put ngageran in my face,just so that my beauty is enhanced.

Lokwang,warms my soul,he makes me watch the stars and sometimes watch the moon.

He tells me sweet stories,like how his grandfather passed on the ivory bracelet he wears on his arm,he is tasked to take care of his family’s ngatok ever since then!

Lokwang is a nile hermite, one who travels from time to time searching for greener pastures.

Papa see,he came armed to the teeth,his right hand holding his ngatok tail as a shield,but he might as well use it to celebrate once you give him my hand,his left hand is holding his one legged stool,he calls it ekicolong.

Papa,Lokwang won’t leave without me,he will sit patiently on his ekicolong until you say yes,when the sun sets before I could be his,he will rest his head upon his one legged stool till dawn.

Home,to Kidepo valley

Ekonai akaminat,my pockets are empty but my land is rich,come,let me take you home to the valley of wonders,where buffalos run free in the wilderness of Kidepo valley national Park,where elephants loom free along with bush bucks.

Akaminat you will love it here,the sun rises upon mountain morungole, and later sets upon mountain moroto.

Let me take you below the Napole Nyangeya ranges, where the view of the plains will only be cut short by how far your eyes can reach.

Am no Shakespeare,but I have learnt how to go around with words,I can warm your spirit,and later propose with a sunflower,their seeds make amazing meals where I come from.

Akaminat say yes,I will make love to you on the rocks in karenga district listening to the sweet sounds of nature made by the abysnian rola or the v-nature dove.

I won’t take you to a club but the music played by the k’jongs down in Lorukulu village will be as nice,I promise I will jump as high as I can.

Akaminat we will build our own manyatta,terrace it’s grass thatched roof and put pillars around it.

We can raise a herd of cattle and flocks of sheep,plant pine or eucalyptus trees.

Where I come from, children sing happily while pumping water from boreholes,at the stream women wash together their husbands clothes and build their homes unrelentingly.

Akaminat lakara when you say yes!

I want to kiss more people…

I would have stopped and lived happily ever after with you, but I don’t want to stop falling in love,I don’t want to get used to your face,when I could fall in love with you daily,tell me if I could get lost in your presence.

I want to kiss more people,I want to dance in the rain,I want to receive more roses,I want to go out on dates,tell me I could do this with you on a daily!

I want to stay up late in the night, talking about sweet nothings and blush at your random texts,I want to watch the night sky with you while carresing your hands.

I don’t want this warmth to fade,I don’t want to search for it in someone else’s face,so I will keep waiting,I will run free,and kiss whoever I want, untill I find the one,who will keep me warm!

In love with the mountains…

Come,let me take you to the place that stole my heart,it gives me that cheesy tingy-sweet feeling,like butterflies in my stomach,my heart summersaulting like my eyes have met my lover.

The feeling of tearly fluids running down my chest,my forehead sweating alittle.

The Rwenzori ranges touch my soul the way my lover holds my waist and slowly his hand carresing my cheeks,they give me that tender sweet feeling the same way the lips of my lover feel when they rub against mine.

I must have made love to the view of the countless hills interlocking with each other,I might have danced with the wind that blew past my ears.

I can see my spirit forever dancing in the morning dew on the grass,at the footsteps of these mountains.

Oh how I fell in love with the Rwenzori,the sight of elephants gently crossing the roads,wait it could have been the antelopes chasing the wind in the wilderness,maybe it was the warthogs,innocently staring at the vicious machine cruising through it’s hood.

It must have been the sweet faces of the natives,or the aroma of Eshabwe they served with smiles upon their faces.

There was an old lady with a carriage attached to her forehead,oh how unrelenting  the spirits beneath the Rwenzori ranges are!

Come let me take you home,to the mountains of the moon.

THE GLASS LAMP

image by Buskago

I remember the sounds of the crickets in the bushes next to my father’s home when the sun went to sleep,the sound of mama begging us to bathe under the moon-lit sky, later we would seat around the bonfire and listen to her amazing folk tales!

Papas’ best spot would be in the living room, listening to his old radio,with the glass lamp shinning upon his face!

The glass lamp was meant for the living room,where the visitors would seat and have conversations with papa.

In the kitchen we would use the same old “tadooba” a tiny metal lamp that had no glass upon it!

We always wondered how the shape of the glass lamp was achieved,we would stare at the smoke that came out of it’s smoldering wick untill black patches filled the glass,then it would be time to clean it.

Only the gentle and careful would be allowed to clean it,unlike the clumsy ones,mama wouldn’t afford to have her precious glass lamps broken.

when it broke papa would use a metal wire to hold the pieces of the glass together so that the lamp kept working.

The old glass lamp takes me back to the vintage days,when this lamp was one of the most prized possessions in our home!

It came in all colors and shapes,but the most common ones was the one with the color of the sky,some used paraffin and some were just pumped,the wealthy knew better how to use the “sitima”

Old is gold!

Why gods die….

Monologue:(voice over aerial shots and corresponding images of catholic church practices with the protagonist as a child)

Gods are a product of our minds.beliefs we human beings create and keep alive in our hearts and souls untill the day we choose to give up on them, and then they disappear like an object in the fog.

When I was younger my grandma would take me to church every other sabbath to praise and worship the Lord,the maker of the universe,we presented burnt offerings to our God with songs of worship and in return the God we believed in blessed us with life,health and wisdom.

Perhaps we just believed so that’s why we got what wanted.

Scene 1:(in a club with loud music and people partying)

Atheist: party party my people,we rule this world,we got the money and the cool cars, those priests got nothing on us.

His friends:(roar in agreement and the party continues)

In a while a stunningly gorgeous lady walks in putting on a flashy red dress and heads to the counter.

Atheist notices her and gets up to meet her.

Atheist: what brings a gorgeous lady to a place like this all alone?

Aphrodite;(blushing) perhaps looking for some one with an engaging sense of wit!(she replies and they both blush)

After a few drinks they end up in Atheists bedroom,making love to each other like they had known themselves for ever.

In the morning,as Aphrodite gets ready to leave, Atheist begs her to stay.

Aphrodite:I will stay only on one condition,

Atheist: whatever it is

Aphrodite: worship me,make me the centre of your world.

Without hesitation Atheist accepts and they make love all over again.

Monologue: Aphrodite,some call her love,she has been around from the beginning,luring great men and kings.started and ended battles,no one has ever been able to resist her charm.

Wise Man:This land has had gods,mightier than anyone has ever been able to tell,Kibuuka omumbaale,the flying god,of the Buganda kingdom,faught and defeated the Banyoro until Aphrodite,with her charm led the flying god into conjugal and he gave up his secrets.

Scene:(In a busy town center,where the flying god had gone to drink some wine with his fellow warriors) Aphrodite walks in her eyes fixed on  the winged warrior.he notices her glamorous eyes and walks up to her.

Kibuuka:What can a man like me do to take a beauty like you home with me?

Aphrodite:(blushing,and slowly smooching the winged god)

Tell me your secret,how do you manage to defeat our enemies so easily?

Kibuuka:(mesmerized) how about I tell you all about it over another glass of wine somewhere cozy.

(Aphrodite smiles and they both leave)

Scene:(in a bedroom,the winged god unveils his wings)

Kibuuka:These wings you see my dear,they take me high above in the clouds where I aim and shoot at our enemies.

Aphrodite:(smiling) I have always wanted a winged man.(she says luring him all over again)

The following day she takes the information to the commander of the other camp (Banyoro)

Commander:(standing amidst the camp)it’s time to bring down the Mighty warrior.

Warriors:(roar as they ascend into battle)in a short while they reach the Kibuuka omumbaale camp and the battle begins, however this time around they aim for the clouds where Kibuuka is shot to his death.

Wise Man:Many gods have come and gone but Aphrodite has managed to stay alive,ever youthful and mighty.

Wise Man:(resting his tobacco pipe on a small wooden stool where his calabash stood with his walking stick)

Wise Man:this our land,has had gods from time immemorial,some good and some bad,they always protected and did great things For those who had faith in them and worshipped them from time to time.People built shrines and offered sacrifices to appease their deities,it’s almost like humanity couldn’t exist without a deity.

As long as those shrines stood and the offerings given on time,the deities always manifested through the chosen ones,some call them mouth pieces.untill,travellers from beyond the oceans made their way to our land

Scene:(white missionaries hold congregations of people, preaching to them about their new God and encouraging them to turn away from their old gods.

Chaos arises as servants of the African gods start destroying their own temples of worship in pursuit of the new “Almighty God”

Many black people are converted to the new religion and the other houses of worship loose their glory

Wise man:(taking a deep sigh and continuing to write with a feather.)

Churches became the dignified places of worship,each sabbath,devoted converts made their way to the places of worship bearing offerings in their hands.

As long as they praised and worshipped their new God,miracles kept happening .

Monologue:(girl seated on her computer)

Things have now changed,the world has evolved and there fore technologically advanced,they no longer find it important to believe In a mythical deity when the machines they created can give them all the answers they need.Those places of worship,are now loosing their glory to  technology and who knows who knows,who will be the last God standing.

Wise Man:(taking a deep sigh and gazing over the edge of a cliff)

As long as man keeps walking the earth,there will always be gods,mightier than the previous ones.

Sing don’t cry..

• 

Nyakasura waterfalls

And when am done here,

When finally,the cold hands of the night carry me over to the valleys yonder, please don’t coil in terror.

Rather wrap me up in my favorite color of the grass,light a bonfire and seat with those I love.

Laugh,drink,dance and fall in love while reminiscing about the goodness of the creator.

Lay me beneath the stars and share life’s precious experiences,sing,of the memories we shared.

When your done whisper sweet things in my ears and lay me to rest.

For I have lived a full filling life,loved those I could and danced in the rain.

Tell me now,how much you love me,the sweet scent of the roses makes me happy.

For when am done here, please sing don’t cry.

Take me back…

Take me back to my child hood days,when dreams still had meaning,take me back to the days I woke up on Sundays to listen to country music while dancing along With a mopper in my hand,church service would start soon.

Come on take me back to the dreams we shared with each other at the stream, filling those jerrycans with water and singing our favorite songs.

Take me back to innocence,to trusting strangers and believing everything as it’s said.

PROCESSING TRAUMA

The mind is a tricky part of the body,hard to tell when it is breaking down.

At times our minds play tricks on us convincing us that we have actually forgotten our past disturbing experiences.

The incident is broken down into pieces that even when you try to understand what is depressing you,you just kind of can’t quiet get to it.

Sometimes it’s accumulated series of traumatic events that grip our minds and cause depression. With time you can’t figure out the actual event causing you real pain.

Some how you just feel sad out of the blue,having to live through the marks of the pain.

Nothing hurts like seeing someone who intentionally hurt you trying to play hero in your life, taking advantage of your vulnerability to prove their kindness.

Your mind screaming hatred but you still have to smile it off because you feel it’s the right thing to do.

It’s hard to revisit traumatic events but sometimes it’s all we have to do, comfront them and tell them exactly how we feel.

Ignoring our emotions actually brings up more trauma.

Sometimes it’s hard to just walk up to some one and just say “I hate you” but we can write these things some where nobody will see and burn them.the more you put it down the more you actually let go .

The gods die when the faith dies…..

Maybe I believed him maybe I didn’t, but quietly I sat there on a beautifully wooven papyrus mat, my right hand rested upon my chin listening to his old tales in ewe.

He on the other hand, Mr. Kigayaaza, went ahead to narrate the story anyway.

He said, long ago in the days of his youth there lived god’s whose name they couldn’t utter with their lips, so powerful that it was a tradition every now and then to witness a whirl wind carry drums and backlothes to the home of this one “powerful god” Ganyegenya(how he got this name is a story for another day)

“my dear this i witnessed with my own eyes not hear say’s” he continued to affirm.

People used to take their time and worship these gods,offered sacrifices and frequented their shrines. In return the gods revealed how mighty they were to those who believed in them.

“but no so long ago when some how my hair had started to partially turn grey” he continued “these gods somehow just stopped doing these things”

And i sat their wondering why  suddenly such a ‘powerful god’ would ceaze unveiling their mighty power.

And then something triggered me, never in my entire life had I heard of a believer in any of these gods the old man was telling me about.

Maybe the gods lived in these people’s hearts, the faith in their greatness, gave them the strength to perform these miracles.

Maybe we create the gods,when we chose to idolize whatever we choose to idolize,and maybe we give them the power to have control over us!

When the faith in what we believe ceases to take root, what we believe in somehow ceases to live!

The gods die when the faith stops….