Tag: #7daysblogging

On The Wings Of Love #UgBlogWeek (2)

she soars like an eagle

learning not just to fly

but flying with a broken wing
on familiar path with an old friend

he cheers her on through the pain

you are strong, he says

she turns her eyes to him

and he sees the tears in her eyes

he flies closer to her

and whispers,

“it takes a while,tomorrow will be better”

on his back he carries her to rest.

on the wings of love, every height counts.

on the wings of love, home isnt just a place.


7 days of Xmas(1) #UgBlogWeek

time check, 3am…

why is everyone up?

she crawls out of her bed

tiptoes out of her bedroom

the corridors are dark

and all she has are the walls for direction

a light at the end of the corridor

just behind the door to the living room

soft Xmas carols being sung in whisper

and their they are,

below the bright Tree,

decorated with cotton as fake snow flakes

it smells fresh,

disco lights are dancing

and then her own santa

a ballon mannequin in red and white.

everyone on their knees unwrapping their gifts

gift wrappers cracking as though fire crackers

and then she joins,

her very first christmas president

a small tea cup and saucer.

she was seven years.

Christ3257fab374ab934e385978e3468f9becmas is about love and sharing (mama said)

her heart warm with love

she teared.

she had no dress, but she had a cup,

a cup to dine, to play, to share.

On her kness before the tree she knelt

said a prayer for santa

a prayer for a dress next season

and thanked God for the love. she was just seven.


#UgBlogWeek Day 6. Coupling

bc1f03d7818df0c8b27ba35a14b53195Weekends and after night preps were my best days or school. (I am not sure what lesson that was) COUPLING! Oh! Plus those interact outings.

In one of the many schools I attended, girls would leave the prep room 30mins early to be able to use the canteen and go to dorm before the boys. But, girls would delay at the canteen on purpose. (But we coupled. God!). They would have coupled in class but, also don’t want to miss the Goodnight hug so the canteen was a meeting place for the hugs.

In another school, we had a lovers park (anha, you heard me right). It was named by the head teacher and you would hardly see singles. After class and weekends, couples would carry mats and head to the park. A very beautiful, serene place on the hill overlooking the pitch covered in tree canopies and a well-trimmed lawn. Always quiet and clean. All you would hear were whispers and birds singing.

All the schools I attended had weekend TV programs, but being Sharon I hated the girls’ wing because they repeated all the soaps on television. The boys watched action movies so I preferred watching with the boys. We however had a curfew. As soon as it clocked 7pm, all girls at the boys wing would retire, I stayed back on that fateful day because the action had only just started and I was seated next to my couple mate.

Mr Bigalo as we called him (it was a nickname I found and till this day I don’t know his real name) came to see if all girls had left and I was seated at the door leaning against my “other half”. (We called him Bigalo for slapping. He was thorough!) He called me out and said, “Atwine, you are coupling?” (It was like my English names never worked in school only my surnames.) I just smiled as usual because that time I wasn’t just coupling, but watching the movie beyond curfew. The dude couldn’t slap me so the case became a coupling case and being a Muslim school it was punishable by the sharia law 45 sticks of the cane or expulsion.

He reported me to the matron (who I was related to) she had no words so he decided that the sharia court handles it. That meant being caned by the president or the sharia court. I turned to my couple mate and inquired which option was better and we both agreed to expulsion. For the rest of the week our classmates were more worried than we were and when the teacher realised we weren’t bothered he dropped the case. And we now real coupled. When I changed school my weekends were never the same.

Then one day in my new school as my club practiced a dance in the night during prep because time was out and I was late because I was away because I was sick, we were caught. It was a ballroom dance so the boys had to be part of the practice. The deputy got us and said we were coupling and our parents were called after three weeks of committing the crime (that’s how unserious the case was but guy needed to prove a point). My mom came and asked to see the guy they said I coupled with and her response was, “she is stubborn but has taste in guys this one was just a dance practice like she said.” Luckily we were only suspended. But, if there were sticks people “ate” coupling sticks were hot. Jeez! Every Friday assembly was “stick” day.




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 Today I feel, spanish.

Yesterday I had three nationalities in five minutes.Ugandan, Rwandan, Cameroonian… my stomach spoke Italian I guess at that hour and yes I was white in color. My shout was no longer that traditional Ugandan ululation, but a foreign noise that read, ‘tense’ and smelt like fear.

My feet they were in a war zone area and the sun had punished me while I was trying to “decide” as if the decision was mine to make. ‘God, thank you for reminding me my place in all this, watching and praying’.

Today I feel English,

like my salvation and baptism happened yesterday. of course holding on to something but letting God for most of it. some habits stay longer than others I guess it’s why I am still a work in progress.

Today I am Ugandan or Kenyan in a few hours but see, this is what I have been turned into.

A coward!

freedom of speech only when you can afford a good lawyer

A fighter,

because death and life on some days mean the same


because this is who I really am


because society and religion grew me so I know which boundaries not to cross.


for Phil 4:13 is written on my heart.

Fort Portal

IMG-20151015-WA0016IMG_20151011_131434IMG_20151011_131601IMG_20151009_211554IMG_20151014_200644I had taken this same trip or so it felt. The smoothness of the journey the view, the stops,i had been to them all and seen them only that this was my first time (when i reason) to visit fort portal that’s if my memory didn’t fail me.
But well, a lovely trip it was. I wonder why i had not done this long ago(10 towns r on my bucket list now). Somewhere below the babies of Rwenzori like my new friend a called them, is Kichwamba a small village yet so cute Oh My! even the cold and rainy days didn’t just stop me from taking walks. For sure it was so cold it felt like winter during Autumn.Now the fact that the weather was bad in such a beautiful town, I didn’t forget to share my salvation Joy. A lovely Family hosted us(yes us, means i traveled with family) very prayerful, superb at cooking (Trust i have not eaten such food my whole life) Mushroom in beef stew, kalo, greens made like the Itesots’ bbo soup, pumpkin with salt,eeh! food was food and with the way i love dinning even when my intake is not much, they had me eating more than i normally do. Now, our host took us to visit her neighbors and before living each house we prayed with them, laughed and made fun of our Mpaako’s (pet Names) especially mine because i insisted i wanted to be called Araali which is for the male Gender yet its not possible according to culture yet the male can share some female pet names, it was frustrating but well i ended up with Atwooki which i didn’t like but well, blessings are not thrown away. There is this one family we visited. A lady in he 80’s barely strong enough to support herself getting up, tired, weary and sad and in her eyes you would see he pain and Anguish. While others grew flowers of had well trimmed lawns in the back yard (i was challenged at how beautiful these lawns in different households looked. The green was like of a golf pitch) hers had twelve, yes Twelve graves cemented and well kept. It reminded me of the army Cemetery i had seen in Jinja. Very well organized like they were on parade so clean yet sooo silent. Not even a cock’s crow would be heard in her home. The silence was deafening. At the front laid her mother in law and husband well fenced. She had 14 children a loving husband and a mother in law we all desire. (So,you have all your children and husband alive and you are still seeking miracles or can’t even remember to pray). She still believed in Christ and believed all things work together for good for those that love him and living according to his purpose. My Spirit told me ‘Sharon,this woman will not live to see more graves, to bury her children and feel this pain.’A new day for her at least she ought to be happy before she goes to meet her God one day. My heart sunk seeing these graves.(i have only seen my grandparents graves en burried only them, but even then I didn’t feel as painful as i felt. But i mean, we serve a living God. My darling Brother led us in prayer and we left.

Now each time i heard “Abaana B’engoma” I didn’t understand. we went to my mother’s friends house. From the drive way you would smell Royalty. A joyful not so tall lady living in this house by herself, with a house help and Her 95 year old mother (anha!you heard me.95years old) that is shocking and you could be wondering,if she has teeth,can talk, walk,my great grand died almost 99 she couldn’t do either so i was also shocked. What was more glorious was that she was reading her bible. From the six families visited, its the only house we didn’t lead prayer, this old lady led us. How humbling! (And you still see this and say i didn’t see God move) I wasn’t just challenged, i was brought to my knees to thank God i had lived long enough to see it all. I wont finish but Amidst the cold days, camp fires, fun on the trip, photos, visiting the palace, see rats as big as rabbits and the noise. I learnt to use everything God has given me for his glory and to always be thankful.