A RISING HOPE

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“So, what did you do to deal with the pain?” He asked.

“The pain didn’t matter, not at all! All that mattered was me finding hope, I never wanted to deal with pain. Yes, I felt it but I never wanted. Life was different, I wanted to see the sun rise again, look at a hope in a new twilight. That was my goal.” She replied.

Jenny got the disappointment of her life when all she adored was gone, she treasured her face like no other, her figure blossoming and sweeping away all male sights. It was the best satisfaction she could get in a minute. Oh, the sixties saw her walk on moon while on earth. She was a white horse walking on snow.

As we grow, like any of us, we reach an age where we desire to find ourselves, find a companion, dine with them, share moments and find life a new, so was Jenny. Fresh from from school, vibrant, shining and glittering in so early a corporate world. Her dressing was just beyond fantastic, so was her growing blossoming beauty, Ooh… She swept them away.

Those abilities, she took lightly. She went on to dig deeper in men’s pockets entered every bedroom. Just not enough, there is no hotel on planet earth she left un turned. That is not a crime, anyone who may be in the same realm could do it but Jenny forgot her limits, she totally threw away her values. All this was filed up in silence, do not forget she was close to the boss. Jenny broke marriages not once, not twice, not thrice, but uncountable times. The society seamed not to care but her behavior was a disgrace.

Like any thief, her Forty days ran out one night when she got acid spilled on her face. “It felt like water, but as time went on I felt my skin peel off, it was drying and I lost my sight. All I thought was my beauty was gone. I cried and cried”. As we all know God’s mercy never ends Jenny was treated, given therapy and recovered but the beautiful face was no more.

I decided to change, reform and asked God to forgive me and I thank God my brain was still active. I used it to bring out the inner beauty in me”. After years of agony, bitterness and inferiority, Jenny Decided to sweep the pain away, and search for the inner beauty. While putting on a mask she started telling young girls of her story and encouraged them to be achievers. Jenny changed her female society. The physical Beauty was gone but the inner beauty was still glittering. She used it to shine again. Jenny’s hope rose again.

There is a Jenny in each of us, we get taken away by the physical elements but that is a total fallacy. We should look for the inner beauty, use it to change the world than tear it and that will be our hope rising again.

DREAM ALIVE

I thought I was wrong and unfit for every moment, night and day kept coming and going, lessons came along in whatsoever colour, I always said to myself, I know the right color and would apply it to attract vibrancy however, all those were classroom dreams, lighter than paper but thicker than ink.
2012 was a luminous mystery dream full of excitement, colour and song. Plans collected all sorts of ideas, drove deserts and brought them closer to the oasis. I kept that dream alive for a number of times. That was not a sin, I never needed any absolution. With quite a number of changes, 2013 kept singing the same chorus but the bridge was different, no wonder tables turned. It was around 2014 and a new song was written, I thought to myself, which pitch to sing and in which key, using exactly what type of organ. Not guitar neither piano were fitting but rather attitude, it swept on a whole new world.
Attitude of who I wanted to be and what I wanted to do got a new face. Oh, don’t worry, the thoughtful me still exists. I am not riding to that chapter though. I sang that song all the way through the late 2014 to early 2015 until seasons of change transposed to yet another form, surprisingly, the periods were the same; I wonder why I kept writing in the same book.
Always I watched movies and admired to take the course of graphics, they call them not motion graphic designers but “creatives”, along that path, as monsoons blew me through Sewe I got tagged along in Spire, I felt a dream come true as I learnt to come up with a number Compositions and form bundles of layers. However, I still wanted to find my position and pursue it. That I bid for a number of months, then the monster called school came again, the redemption about it was being the last. We rode the same horses and ate the same candy! Oh, that monotony I hated.
Gladly, I never gave up, even when the soot became darker. Days were born and closed off as they did in 1964, drastically school got done. The truth is I always wanted to be an audio producer and I have searched for that treasure day and night. Today, I don’t regret because I have started testing the soup I always longed to taste.
Life has got signs, it is a mystery like death but it offers one thing worth a treasure. It is called Dreams, you keep them burning, a day will come and they will shine brighter and in the colour you want.

In the spirit of love.

Lagot p'Odwong

Until a few days ago, I was oblivious of a Ugandan guy called Richard Wagaba. However, he has got me and plenty more Ugandan girls smiling(in a good way!) Why? Because he wrote an incredibly moving tribute to the woman that holds his heart, the love of his life that we’ve all read and been enamored with.  I know I’m one of the mushiest, pillow-hearted people in the world and probably that’s why this struck a chord with me but it must be something worthwhile if my girlfriends think it’s amazing too.(Thank God for girlfriends. They showed me this article. 🙂 We like warm, heartfelt stories that make us laugh, cry and believe in humanity and love all at the same time)

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Richard Wagaba’s book aptly titled “How to love a woman’s feet.” Prepare to get your heartstrings violently tagged at. ❤

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A Summary of A Thousand Miles.

They always talked of a summary of a thousand miles and I had never paid a penny of conscience to what it really stood for, not even a thought of it had ever crossed my visions, both of yesterday and tomorrow. Life was as if it was automated, I wonder what had been put in my founding heart to be.
A life of peace showered with the melodies of afro-Caribbean, salsa dance and zouk beats were all I would yearn for each and every weekend that passed by. Live performances were just a page if it were a book for me to open, the world around me was never a thought of concern, not even a toast of care, as if change would never touch my fugitive soul, yet it is a fact if I am to borrow from the linguistics like Professor Huggins. Don’t quote me, I never watched “My Fair Lady” as of then!
Oh mother, mother! She never let go of my hand, her footsteps monitored mine in whatever world she moved to. Whether at school, in those English lessons she conducted or from the hospital where she nursed the wounded, at times in the theatres, in choir singing the melodious tenor and the super notch alto. Witnessing all these was my job, as if God had created me to walk by. Life was as if God made it a red carpet for me to walk on and along, not knowing one time she will be a fallen angel. At my tender age, I attended school so obediently as if I was a home ambassador of the Lujjumba family. During the weekly assemblies, announcements were passed of how a pupil had lost a close one. That, had never been at any time my concern, even collecting condolences, I thought was a practice that I would never witness.
Two months later that year, I do not want to remember but I cannot help it, one of my playful childhood friends lost an auntie. Ssebwegamo, told me about his loss but all I replied was, “remember that game in the legends of the hidden city?” My dear friend did not reply my insensitive soulless question. He just kept it to himself. As I said earlier on I didn’t care about that. Death was never at my cross roads, never! People around home died and lost children, even those of a tender age. But it did not bother me.
As the winds blew, seasons of change took their course shifting on unnoticed. Mother kept silent of the world around her, only to see that we were no longer going for the weekend shows, neither could she dance her favorite salsa dance. Playful as I was never paid a lot attention besides I used to sleep and eat well, never did I have yawns of hunger.
Years walked by, months tip toed along, minutes and seconds did what they were good at and all roads started heading to the hospital. Surprisingly, this went down in phases, not knowing that this would turn out to be a life time lesson for me to painfully trickle down. First of all, a few weeks later, my sister got withered down with a type of fever. I never got to witness and she joined my mother in the hospital. Good news came along that my mother was discharged though my sister never got to survive the fever as conditions worsened, Juliet Naluwaga passed on. That did not bother me as much because playing is all I always thought of. Juliet’s body was brought home and a day later she was buried, her absence never rang any bells in me. Still I never bothered after all my mother was still alive. Oh! I now wail over my heart of stone then.
A year passed by and I graduated to primary three, as time drew closer, mum developed a staunch illness that I have never got to know up to today. Kitovu hospital became our next home. With all the scent of medicine in its different types, argh! I cursed those moments, little did I know she would never stand straight and tall again. There were no more singing of songs by Monique Seka like her famous “Missouwa,” “Okoman” and “”Ami O.” Dancing salsa became a fairy tale, mum became softer each day that grew. This took a while, close to a week and to months until November.
I still used to attend school as before but life was not interesting as it was. Days rolled from the first and on. One of those Tuesdays I normally had fun while moving back home, a group of children passed by softly speaking to my ear that, “Roy, kale Maama atufudeko” they sorrowfully said, meaning that my mother had passed on. It then hit me so hard that I decided not to believe what I had heard until I reached home.
It took me faster than before to reach home, only to find a crowd of people with their faces painted with misery. Looking further, I saw my sister cry bitterly, deeply and endlessly. All people looked at me with eyes of pity. Straight to the neighbors, they rushed me to have lunch but it was tasteless as if I have never eaten. The world around became bitter, full of wails and mourns, but plans went on, of how big and deep the grave was to be. Rev. Fr Ssegawa brought her body home, it was laid into the commons as rosary prayers were recited, seeing her laid and covered I was not yet even next to confirming she was dead, ooh…! I was so naïve.
I remember that day, as clear as I got closer to her. I still thought she was sleeping by, and hoping she would wake up and we would sing songs of Tshala Mwana with her “Karibu Yangu”, Oliver Ngoma’s “Adia.” However, that hope never came true. The disappointment got real and deeper, when I got closer and closer to where she was laid, just by one touch, mum was cold, quiet, stiff, and wrinkled like never before. Before I could even cry out loud, my voice was already full of anguish and sadness. From that day on, I realized and accepted that death really exists, my doubtful soul testifies up todate. Indeed death is a summary of a thousand miles. My mother Annet Namirembe Jumba, her life was too short a memory.

COURAGE A SHEILD TO THE PIERCES OF THE CURVATURED WORLD

“…In so hard a world we live in, no future to think of, a dare say to it, sets of dissonance surface, I think even our shadows shrink and tremble in light, yet in the dark are absorbed. Who is the wind of change to lean on…?” In a soft, trembled and withered voice she cried. “My brother, my sister, my famous society and my future, be strong, be firm and faith-up!!!” All we go through comes with success I believe. The you we know today is not the you we shall see after after battle. Pick up your tools of power, fight stronger, determine to win the hard situations, you will be the world’s tool of victory.” She replied in courage.

This is not a coin intended to sell you off in exchange for, like a commodity, no! It is true today, what seems to be is not what really it is, what was, is not what we thought it was, I mean reality. If I settle politically I must master the patterns chase not the sequences, if I am to survive economically, I must be a slave of exchange and if I’m to dwell in society , I must be the best hypocrite ever. Then you keep wondering where in the world does paradise lie, where has evangelism about truth gone? To the dogs? Sometimes you are left with nothing but to give up.

Give up?? Give up yet you have a future to live? No! No, that is not what we are destined to be, our destiny is not to be sold but to be archived, but are we going to just sit there and look on, be subjects of failure, fail to see through the dark yet there are torches to hold? I mean torches of determination, focus, hardwork, knowledge and strength guided by wisdom. Off course yes, it is the best gift the creator has endowed us with. That is why we are guided by reasoning than just instincts.

No body on planet earth was created to simply say “can’t,” it is not for men, we are created to develop in us and the environment around us, God created the world in seven days, he made it so beautiful, it was formless, but he hard the courage and faith that by the power of his divine word, nothing can turn into something and yes, indeed the world is something, that is why we can plan for tomorrow because there is something (God) to plan with and for.

Just like R.Kelly, stand up tall, look into another’s face and say “the storm is over.” The problems that seem to be are just illusions of solutions, for as long as problems still exist, solutions too do exist. Let us wake up, faith-up, get those tools of power, walk straight to every problem challenging us and say no to it and design the best formula to the equation. The world then shall judge us as heroes for the it is in our methods that they earn a living and that is what courage is all about.

 

“Yours In Courage Raymonnd Mayanja.”   

 

 

 

 

A FULL DROP OF FRIENDSHIP.

As friends always do!

As priceless as a faithful friend, for he that loves at every moment and (Proverbs 17: 17) makes life sweet is ready to endure trials, he always survives in the memory of the heart. In the journey of life, everyone keeps craving for such sweet people. Each day that passes by, we yearn to get the heavens of who a true friend is, no-matter what status we own on earth.

Before we get reading of such catchy words with nicely arranged alphabets, there is a course of friends we ought to know, off-course, those that are illusory, deceitful and always described by by change of color, I mean character. If so then, a rhetoric question should always run in us that; why do the rich have so many friends? Yet the poor, the sick and the persecuted always have a few. As Proverbs 14:20 states it, “No one likes the poor, not even their neighbors, but the rich have many friends.” At this time you must be visiting and asking, how then should I get to know who the right ones are?

To get a little more real and clear, the fact is, true friendship always gains by growth, for even new wine, new friendship, if it is grown old, we always drink it with old joy, for “an open rebuke is better than hidden love. The wounds of a loved one are better than the deceitful kisses of a hateful one.” (Proverbs 27:5 -6). It is much sweeter, simply to hold on to true people, than deceitful ones pining pains of sugar on us. However, this does not come as if it is programmed. Friendship appreciates open reprimand, it is mostly nourished on the fear of God, for he who that fears the Lord makes himself true friends for example, the friendship God seals with man. “…But you, Israel my servant, you are the people that I have chosen, the descendants of  Abraham, my friend…” (Isiah 47:8)

God has shown himself a true friend by sending his only son Jesus Christ to save mankind and so Jesus made this bond of friendship a face of flesh. Off-course here I am speaking of sacrifice, for one that is a true friend is always ready to sacrifice for those they love, just as Christ loved the young, old, rich and the poor. “Jesus looked straight at the rich man with love …” (Mark 10:21). We ought not to be servants to each other but friends. (John 15:15)

Friendship is so rich, beneficial, sweet and founder. It is a fruit chosen by God, for those that the Lord has chosen to be friends cannot help but bound by friendship towards one another, even in stormy moments they still stand. He who that has no friend is the poorest and on earth no one would love to be so, I mean the poverty of the heart and the greed in us, but there is one foundation to friendship and love, that foundation is God. Let us believe in him. We shall always die of the thirst of friendship and in friendship.

Yours In Friendship, Raymond Mayanja.

 

THE CHAIN OF THOUGHTFULNESS.

Everyone in life craves for a bond of togetherness, a toast of unity, a smear of care, a touch of love and a sip of comfort, no matter what distance is between them and those they cherish. May be that is the reason why with the above qualities, it is difficult for distance to betray memory.

In this world of curvature, there is only one special bond we all yearn to get, that is love, no matter what distance and time say. This is only possible through the power of thoughts of others in us, even when they last in us for just a second.

This aspect has several driving vehicles that justify their existence in the sphere and world of humanity, words like “I miss you,” “Am thinking of you,” “I prayed for you,I will never forget you,” “I have brought you something.” Just to mention but a few! These are not simply sketches of alphabets and grammar, they are words that touch the marrows of the heart to the bottom of its strength.

The purest and most thoughtful minds are those which love color the most,” says John Ruskin in his “STONES OF VENICE.” Colors truly are representations of that, that we love, remember or hate the most. So it is, with being thoughtful and having ones thoughts represented in our minds. No wonder John Ruskin states, “those thoughts give birth to words,” words like “I miss you,” because he or she is trying to get founder of another in their absence. This is actually a true aspect in friendship, for close friends are never close not until they get founder of each other.

Just like love, so is the secret of the heart,  and so it is with thoughts of others in us, nomally they are secret not until we reveal them. From that, we ought never to wonder why people prefer falling in love than growing in love because “people are more than emotions. They have thoughts and reasons for doing things,” as Veronica Rossi states it.

I wonder how close we shall ever be if you never think of me and I never think of you,” one of my friends lamented. This is because to be thoughtful is to love, to love is to accept others in us and provide them a place that is secret in our hearts. Then we ought to stand up tall and say “I LOVE YOU” because it is deep within us and among us.

Just like thoughts, so is the strength to confidently tell a comrade in a wisper “I love you.” Yours in thoughtfulness RAYMOND MAYANJA.