Where would you like to live? Why haven’t you moved?

Italy. Italy.Italy


Because it’s too serene. the flowers, the architectural work, the atmosphere, the water (even if am water phobic) I love to watch and listen to the sound of the ocean and sea. Italy is just so beautiful. Why havent i moved?  The cost of living is high Jeez. That means i have to find a job that bays above $20,000 a year.

Washington DC because I dream of living on such a street


and walking to work. or riding a bike. Pick up coffee by the roadside. Enter office in my short round skirt and stockings and boots and am doing something I love. And going home to my simple studio apartment and the street isn’t exactly quiet. I just want to live in a city that’s is a little bit faster than my Kampala yet less Chaotic.

Why I havent moved, I havent yet..please note the yet. got a job because i wouldn’t want to move and then spend 2 years trying to find a job i would be frustrated. And the winter season freaks me out especially that even in kampala sometimes i need double warmth. but bodies adjust.


What stands between you and your happiness?

How do i even respond to this question!

Well one person said nothing and i believe her for i know her determination and energy. Nothing should be able to come in between yu and your happiness but sometimes life happens and we cant avoid but slide in an obstacle.  Many times we also think its the best way to live (be sad while you have others happy). Well, you cant pour from an empty jar, you will realise later that those people you sacrifice your happiness for are also not happy because i mean emptiness cant fill emptiness.

But like i said, sometimes life happens and self happiness is tucked away and we sulk. Happiness is like self love.IMG-20170415-WA0049

Are you a Quitter

Well, It depends on what. Mostly I fight till the last drop. But i also know how to choose the battles i fight. I refuse to lose sleep over things that are not in my control (that’s not quitting because i don’t even begin).

So, I might call myself a coward but not a quitter. I don’t easily give up. However, sometimes i take long to deliver so one might think i have given up. But mostly i know that it’s not about who wins or loses. We are all winners at whatever level we choose to drop off. Trust, some things we think we can and then along the way Patience, energy,strength, team work, fail us.

My Facebook people didn’t respond to this. So I will ask. Are you a quitter?

pic from pinterest


Is it okay to be the one that loves more?



I kenat keep calm, Is my Birth Month!!!

Henewe. Last year, same month. I had #questions that I was asking on Facebook. I don’t recall responding to any but some people did share their ideas. This yea i shall respond and i shall start with the 5th  question.

Mostly, they said its okay. Some went ahead to say if you aint the guy in the equation. Another said those that usually love more get hurt more….Love is a commitment and at least should be respected.

well, one response got me thinking. This gentleman said “Col.3.23. Whatever you do,work at it with all your heart as working for the lord,not for human masters…basically you do your work and let others do theirs..if love is what you have in your heart, do it to your best”.

I agree with all this and this is what I have to say. Love is unconditional, It doesn’t matter who loves more or less. Give and give and give until you can give. Going by the holy book, If Christ had thought of who loves more or less, Calvary would have never covered a pinch of anything. Love even when its hardest to love. Love when it snows, love when it shines. Love without expecting anything return. Love like your whole life depends on it and never walk out regretting you didn’t love much or loved less. Give it your best. Do it to the best of your potential.


I knew one thing for sure, life has no manual although my niece keeps asking why it doesn’t have one. 

So I had my future planned out @13. (Like head off planned out) I knew where I wanted to be and what I wanted to be doing. @15 I taught some Sunday school and I loved it but then after a couple of years my church (COU) nolonger had sheep. They had all left for the well structured buildings and miracles and all those cool things. So I moved church to the one that led my small church. I secured my self a seat and every Sunday I woke up and when to attend the 9 o’clock service and I sat in the same spot made a few friends. These few people always expected that I stayed back after service to chat but then (my mother was an administrator in church. I hated how long we stayed at church because she had to say hello to everyone till they all left then we could go home). Church was strictly a place of worship for me after I have done what has brought me, am out. I liked to stay atimes but mostly I left. 

School was not exactly as I expected. I was taught too many things that I don’t apply but even then I still went because “education is the key to success”. I knew what I exactly wanted to be and do in future. no sciences but I still had to pass and stay in school or my mother would rebuke all the demons. I attended to many schools and made too many friends and passed so I was average at it all. I didn’t excel in all those fields but I did good. 

So, maybe I grew up a little first but for the first time at the university I chose everything. The university I attended, the place I slept, the clothes, the course, I was in charge. Sometimes and many times I still got and get overwhelmed but life happens. I ventured into the field am passionate about in my form 6 vacation and I loved to wake up knowing am going to write and share with the world even though I mostly write for myself. I WAS WRITING For one of the big media houses and I had very cool supervisors and mentors. Through university I did this. I moved media houses and I loved it. But sometimes if not most times Passion doesn’t pay bills. A friend told me about blogging we sat down with her and I came up with this beautiful “Kadali” and I found a job. Not a passion. A job. And worked and it paid bills. It was out of everything I ever dreamt of doing but yes it does pay my bills. 

So the dream was and maybe one day it will leave my head and get into action. To write and write and start a publication of my own and write and touch souls not just hearts and bodies through the ink. Something that I love.  Wear stockings beneath my short skirt without people asking why I don’t show my legs off. Wear trench coats on rainy days without a car and walk on the streets chewing roasted maize. Sitting at the bus station with a cup of coffee and writing a new piece. And just live without worrying. But since I have no manual, one day at a time.

What am I saying. You guys that follow me that read my blog. That make me wake up everyday knowing I will say and do something I love even for an hour are amazing. Thank you for letting me know that I don’t need a big office at a studio apartment (as yet) thank you for making me feel excited and happy (even when it hasn’t paid yet) your smiles. Your time. Your love is enough. I feel paid. You make me feel alive and I guess sometimes, that’s all that’s needed life+happiness=fulfillment. Thank you. May God always keep my head and speech in my fingers. May my pen never run out. And may my mind always be alive. May you live to see the publication grow.

Seasons Of Love


winter is no match for the warmth of love,she had said
whirling winds,
ravening clouds,
the roar of the sea waves,
wrecking of the boats.
She didn’t think she would see him again
yet she still couldn’t stand in the rain
covered in his shawl
she sat at the fire place
rocking impatiently.
later she wrote;
“sometimes love is frozen another its as hot as cinder
Every season has its impact”.

soon as she had penned down,
long after the sun had refused to shine,
she had him breathe at the door.


They said she was ugly

and no man had interest in her

20 years and no suitor visited her home

she went to the store yesterday

brought out a few coins she had picked off her savings

and handed them to him

she pointed to them and he got them out

she didn’t go home

she went to the henna store

had her feet painted

and she adorned them with her new anklets

Her face lit up

no one had ever seen her like this

she walked through the market

her payals making noise at her feet

he head half veiled

the single men stood at the sides of her path

yesterday four suitors asked for her hand

and yesterday she turned them all down

yesterday she said

am not the payals I wear

nor the henna on my feet.

i need more than just my name on another wedding invitation card




She walked slowly like she didn’t feel it

her clothes soaked and her hair dripping

her head bowed that she couldn’t see where she was going

it almost knocked her

and all he did was stop and scream at her through the window

she didn’t lift her chin even for a sec

she walked on

past the men at the bus stop taking shelter from the rain

she didn’t even hear the insults they made

how foolish and reckless she looked


just one woman


a lady almost her age

walked up to her and allowed to get wet with her

covered her with a shawl and led her to a chair by the road

she held her too close

like she was trying to offer some warmth

and when the rain stopped she said

“they took it all.

My dignity, her life

and I failed her once again.”d76ad978bccdd0bfe0d3b01b36c3a278.jpg

#UgBlogWeek. The Future of Story Telling #Day4

I was raised in a society that was never silent. It was unusual to spend the day with no Drama or have a silent night. It was either a woman screaming from domestic abuse, or footsteps thumping because a thief had escaped or a drunkard singing or loud music playing because someone bought a new radio. During in day it was policemen patrolling and drunkards trying to save the thief because its someone they grew up with, or co wives fighting. It was never silent as this morning.

He came alone on a police motorbike. The mob was furious. “Are you going to carry the corpse on your head?” Yet in the beginning they were all afraid of making the police report because they were afraid of being called suspects in the murder. He came with a notebook and after the hauling, he sent for a patrol and police dog. But like you know our societies, they had already stepped over the place but luckily the chairman had come quick and told them they were tampering with evidence incase they brought a police dog and even told them its easy for the Dog to report them when they are innocent (not sure how true that is). Anyway, she had been murdered, undressed and packed into a sack. No one recognised her so we couldn’t tell she was from the same village. But when the police dog arrived, it quickly took turn into the neighboring village. We have been watching these murders on news, hearing about them and as much as my society used to have drama, murders were never part of it. Rape a couple of times and just because we know each other try to have each others backs doesn’t make all our sins justified for the law. However, I was told about “Mayumba Kumi”. It’s hard to find a fenced house in my society, those fenced have no gates, so they are still accessible. It’s easy to tell who is new on the village because the village Drunkard will announce, The people’s chairman (we choose one just for just nothing political) Is always alerted. The water collection centers know because we don’t have many so either way one has to fetch from either of the five and the owners will tell the face is new.

Anyway, its #UgBlogWeek and the theme Whats your vision of the future of story telling. The silence on my village this morning wasnt because they were in shock, They were actually scared. They were afraid to speak. The Future will have more of these, media will be censored and people will be afraid to tell their stories. how does one tell the world they were raped? As much as its okay, the stigma is real on certain things. we have got all these talks about HIV/Aids and the stigma is still not dead even with positive living. We have stories of friends disappearing for political reasons but no one is quick to question. we are afraid, we shall be more afraid. We shall tell tales and stories only in the comforts of our homes due to fear of being misheard or judged or misquoted. We shall go back to times of sitting at fires and telling our children what the media never got courage to let the world know. We will write/blog and still refuse to detail because we are afraid.

Who will go for us?



Dear world,

You have never known why I call you world in all the ink i put together, well, you brought life to me and gave me my world back. Its been seven beautiful years and you have not changed the way you look at me and my stomach still makes that weird rotation when you kiss me. All the love i had tucked away went to you.

Thank you for being true to your word, you have kept my hear safer than I would or even will ever keep it. I tend to think i am a little bit reckless when it comes to hiding things. I never know what can easily be found. Thank you for keeping me on this love drug, maybe i would be lost now or to high from all the intoxication. I love the way you love me and make me feel. I still feel young even when i can’t rock those shorts anymore because childbirth improved all my love handles but i also appreciate the fact that when you chose to love me, it was unconditional. With or without limbs, with or without siblings you have stayed true. Thank you for loving our children and still not making me feel like we are sharing. I cant thank God enough for the blessing you have been. They said, love heals all wounds and the way you have loved me and my family has brought a reconciliation and an acceptance.You didnt try push your way through their hearts but still won them over.

We have heard our dose of fights but thank you for teaching me the basics never go to be angry. Today I look far back and see how close God has brought us and i am positive i made the rightest of choices. I chose you then and i still choose you everyday. We begun with Forever but allow me say, for eternity.

I love you always