#Rant

There is something to be said about how so little you know. There so much you could see but you choose not to because you’re apparently above human emotion and coming to terms with what it means to be a person. There is a lot you should understand because you’re at the forefront of the storm.

You have experienced her and survived her vicious tag. Why haven’t you been torn apart yet? Could there be something special about you? No.  Of course not, nothing. You are nothing! Nothing special…not anymore.  She feels the vulnerable aura that envelopes you and tries to protect that part of you from being extinguished.

She no longer blazes for fear of ripping you apart. The very reason why the eye of the storm exists, you. And what do you do? You wear that smug face when you approach her because you have been disillusioned into believing you are carved differently from the rest. Have you forgotten her fury? Don’t you remember when you trembled in fear once?

I remember, I remember the gruesome fear flowing through your tears. I saw the possibilities reflected in your eyes and the horror you felt as you stammered through her manifestation. You couldn’t even birth whole words let alone full letters. They came out all broken and disabled. A sorry attempt at creation really.

Do you honestly not remember how you hiccupped your pleas to be saved, spared in fact. I remember the impulsive promises you made about living larger, better. That old saying about a drowning man clutching at straws. It saddens me that you believed them yourself.

It’s beyond my understanding how broken she looks because of one mere mortal. Scattered in a million places because she gives you time, her stubborn heart refuses to heal because she hopes for you. But she knows now, that voice in her head was right all along. He is nothing.  Oh you. I feel bad for you. Time strengthens her, it’s a magnet to those fragments of hers.

I guess you deserve it, that triumph you envelop yourself in. You conquered a force of nature and only by being ordinary. She is coming for you, she is evolving because of you. Oh I can’t wait for you to see. The excitement threatens to tear me up. You subdued the storm and by doing so birthed a tsunami.

Well don’t you know?

Hell hath no fury…

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FATHER SAYS…

 

Father says I am older now and that I have grown into a beautiful responsible woman. I want to believe him and maybe I do, but that’s just what fathers say. He says he is proud of me and that he wouldn’t trade me for the world if the chance was given to him. I know he means it. I have seen him rip mountains apart just to hide me from the cold hard world. While everyone is terrified of him and can’t approach him without trembling, he warms up a little when I come to greet him. He says no matter how old I get, I will always be his baby girl. You probably don’t know yet but he holds a gentle soul, a beautiful soul. Of course he has got to be tough; it’s what cages are for. To hold the most wanted things.

When I was little, he couldn’t bear to let me out of his sight even for a second after mother passed. So I became his best friend. He took me to work sometimes and we made a habit of daily. We were so close him and I. Nothing could come between us, at least until I hit puberty. We sat together when he ate and shared his meal no matter how little it was. His goal was to fatten me up, I know it. But I never wanted to be fat; I wanted to be as bony as those women I watched on television that could strut their stuff on the runways. Yes the way their collar bones stood out, oh wow! That was absolute beauty.

He still laughs at me whenever he finds me struggling with some new diet. He says and, “No man fights for the bony piece of meat. They all want something to chew on.”  Of course that always offended me and I would hold a grudge for a few days until I could no longer to be mad at him.

I never grew into one of the models I envied; my thick genes would not allow it. But even so, father still tells me I am the most beautiful woman and would bulldoze through anyone who dares to tell me different. He is my knight in plaid pants and occasionally shorts. I’ve long since outgrown my slimming phase and grown into myself, or the version of myself I have come to understand right now. A version that is openly detached from him but internally longs for the open affection we once had.

I am much older now and I have grown into the strong woman father meant for me to be, perhaps wiser but it doesn’t take away the need to have father as my rock whenever something goes wrong or to have him tease me lovingly. He is a force my father, there is just something about him. It could be the sharp angles of his face and the constant determination he wears on it. Oh maybe the strength that oozes from him even from a mile away. He never shows his weakness and pretends to be tireless. But I know the truth, I see how life wears him out, it’s etched into the creases on his face. It reflects in his slow movements. It’s a tired breath that comes out labored and raspy. It’s everything that causes him to sigh repeatedly before gets up from his seat.

And yet… none of that has affected the fight in him for family, for me. He is ever protective, always a comfort. He is tender with old age and yet he still manages to carry the weight of the world so that I don’t have to. I am in awe of how much strength is in him.

He is the pillar for everyone who needs to draw strength, everyone who needs stable grounding. Without him, the monsters under my bed would become real. Without him the cold world would have crushed me. Without, I wouldn’t have learned to see a beautiful world through the destruction everywhere. Without him, I can’t imagine who I would have been.

Father speaks about me with pride; I can see his chest swell up every time someone asks him about me. Yesterday as he addressed the family, he told them that I was his source of joy. He said, “She started working when she was still in school and now that she is done, she is fully employed. My baby doesn’t need me anymore.” After which he smiled at me lovingly. It saddens me when he talks like that because If only he knew, I need him now more than ever.  The world is moving out from under me and I don’t know how to maintain my balance.

But father still says I am stronger than I know and that nothing can bring me down. He says he has never seen so much fight in any other Ugandan girl. What he doesn’t know is his love is the fire that fuels me, his kind words are ever soothing balm for my broken heart and his undying belief in me empowers each day and with every breath I take. I know I will take shaky steps until I am at the top of the world; I know he won’t leave me. Father says that even if he isn’t there with me in person, he is with me in spirit and in my heart, forever.

And if father says it, then I believe him…

BN

LET HIM KNOW…

Source: LET HIM KNOW…

The rule of dibs…

 

The sky refuses to loosen her grip on the stars. With the turf war going on, she reached out to territories the moon and sun wouldn’t dare grab. The sun and moon squabble for the earth. Of course the sun always had the upper hand; he’d known early how valuable earth was and claimed his hold on her through devious ways.

He drugged her children and got them hooked on his essence so that they couldn’t live without his golden rays. Even so, the council could do nothing about it lest they kill earth’s children and all that made her prime. The moon however wouldn’t hear it, so she snatched the earth away as the sun napped. It was short reign, during the dark ages.

It wasn’t until 1500BC that peace talks were initiated and the the two of them grudgingly agreed to share the planet. Of course the sun called a quick dibs on the first 12 hours of the day and moon reluctantly agreed to the last ones, but only because once again the council’s hands were tied. After all, the rule of dibs was pretty clear to everyone, celestial beings or not.

Am I broken..?

Have you ever noticed how you  can never find the footprints you leave on the beach each morning? It’s always like you were never really there. Every trace of you erased because you will forever be insignificant to the beach, never able to make your mark on her for more than just a couple of hours.

Have you ever noticed how the sky keeps on losing tiny pieces of himself whenever it rains? I’ve always wondered if he does that willingly or if it has always been beyond his control. His body breaks out into millions crystal bulbs that drop to the earth from the sheer weight of themselves. You can see them form and drop so fast the only trace of him that remains are scanty clouds scattered across the blue sky.

I see these kinds of things like my eyes were tuned to zone in on the many breaks in life. I’ve identified with the peculiar gang in school and attended the school dance with the wall flowers. I’m like that camp fire, only magical when the dark breaks the light and easily forgotten when the light makes her recovery. I have these thoughts on my mind but I think you do too. Do they think I am weird? Do I belong?

The world’s been thrown into chaos! We live in fear of our own emotions and work so hard to be heartless life forms. It’s a revolution of the heart where I’ve become numb is the worldly motto and those who don’t know how just fake it until they make it. My heart can’t take it anymore! Is it wrong to hurt? Is it so bad to fall in love and to share it? The rumours come faster now. She is so weak, can’t she get a hold of herself?

I’ve tried to stand for my emotions but I am not strong enough. I cave every time. I’m tired of crying, of feeling sad. I’m tired of pretending, of being alone. I’m so tired of feeling crazy and being stuck all the time. I’m tired of needing help, of remembering and missing things. I’m tired of being different, of missing people. I’m tired of feeling worthless and empty inside. I’m tired of not being able to just let it go. I’m tired of wishing I could start all  over again. I’m tired of dreaming of a life I will never have. But most of all, I’m just so tired of being so freaking tired.

Now I walk around with my head up high in a sea of human faces, I am just another person with two lifeless eyes taking in what’s left our race. I walk and talk revolution while I hope for some kinda rebellion to save me now. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.Am I so broken that I can only see cracks everywhere I turn?

Cold nights…

It started out as a warm cosy day. The grey clouds were bold against the almost white sky. He watched the shy sun elude the spotlight all morning from the balcony of his one bedroom apartment. Even the clouds have company he mused. He both loved and hated the weather this time of year, people always moved in pairs and seemed to be joined by the hip. Something about how happy they looked made him feel empty inside, alone or was it unwanted? No one had followed him around the way those other girls usually followed the braggadocious boys.

His gaze locked on a couple on the opposite balcony, the way the man gazed into his lovers eyes. Whatever was between them was a thick line of emotion that he could feel from where he was. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kept planting little kisses on his face and when she wasn’t, her laughing eyes bore holes in him. They didn’t even notice him. Every second he spent watching them something formed inside him.

A heavy painful thing that rose all the way to his throat, somehow the force of it threatened to break open his chest. It is empty, i’ve no love to keep he told himself. He grudgingly tore his gaze off the couple and planted it on the shifting clouds. They moved in different directions, towards each other like old friends finally reuniting. The reunion filled the air until the sky was pregnant with rain.

The contractions started from his mind, imaginary at first and becoming real the more he materialised his thoughts. They grew in frequency and soon had him shaking uncontrollably but he refused to unwind. Just when the sky was due and its round belly sagging above the earth did he explode with emotion. And as if on cue, the sky pushed trillions of little beautiful babies out of her.

Only when they were completely empty did they both sigh in relief, the sky and him, not so different on cold nights.

Paint her crimson…

 

Have you ever seen people in color? And no, before you answer I don’t mean seeing the world as is. What I mean is can you color code people? I thought not, well I can, but today is not about me. Let me tell you about a girl, lets call her Ruby. She is not a hero and neither has she ever needed saving. Her heart’s not made of gold but it’s not entirely black either. I can see how you might want to classify her, gold for the nauseating goody goody, black for that intriguing bad girl or yellow for basic average like the rest of them.She is none of those and maybe that’s why I’ve always set her apart.

She has the patience of a dragon and the passion of a care bear. And you know I’ve seen her lose her way sometimes but only when someone tried to convince her to see things the gray way, I hate the gray way. She tried it and she failed at it because I guess that’s what happens when you try to fit a square into a circle, your edges need to pop. I guess she is selfish but honestly speaking, who isn’t?

But you want to know what gets me most about her? It’s the way she feels, not in those ordinary predictable straight lines, she actually feels with her heart and not people’s possible reactions and words. She feels excitement, when there’s something new, hurt when you break a part of her off, scared to start a climb and fierce when you try to take from her. She feels with her heart and follows it like a compass. I’ve not seen it lead her the wrong way yet. I’m not saying the heart won’t lead you down the valley once in a while, am saying that just a route of passage.

She is a thinker, uses her mind to solve the puzzle that is life. I don’t know why but maybe I like a girl who is a fighter, who knows what and who she wants to be, and doesn’t always need that masculine hand. Ruby is like that, I painted her crimson in a world of grays and black and whites.Imagine a world that’s completely black and every one in it is gray, if you’re looking for Ruby, she is the ruby. She is color!

I lost My Hairline to Discriminative Dresscode Policy At Work.

Elizabeth NABUNYA

Here is what my hair looked like before I had my job.

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Here is what it looks like after  nine months of work.

Why is the black woman’s hair discriminated against in the work place? Why is kinky textured hair a taboo in a society that refers to itself as progressive?

When I  wore a head wrap  to the work place,  my  supervisor called me aside  and  in low tone spoke saying; ‘Here we don’t wear head wraps, because they are not formal.’ She didn’t mention why. Later, I realise they didn’t even employ any Muslim woman.

I was told to always comb my hair and appear with it neat to work. If you are a kinky haired woman, you know this is one of the hardest things and most impossible goals to attain. Our hair strands are different lengths at different points on our heads, that’s just the…

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Oh my word!

You! Yeah you. You’re the one reading this right? What happened to you? To who you used to be? Where is your heart at? Why are you hiding it? What happened to the dreams your mind wove endlessly, that childish wonder in your eyes? You used to believe in possibilities, endless endless possibilities. I remember when you were friends with Peter Pan and Tinkerbell. You spent everyday flying over Never land, playing hide and seek with Captain Hook. Do you remember him too? He was really funny, just another misunderstood guy the world was too quick to sideline. But you didn’t, you were better than all of them. You saw the beauty in everything.

Where is my hero? I was blown away by you. Did you know that? No, of course not because I made the same mistake you’re making now. I hid my words away, from the world and from myself. You can’t do that anymore, its not right. Where are your words? They create your thoughts which give life to your world and make you who you are. But you’ll have none of that right? Wrong! Do you know how happy you could possibly be right now? Look at her, yes that girl/ woman who is in your life right now. Do you know how easy it would be to tell her what you feel, how you feel? She hasn’t asked what you dream about or what social media platform your addicted to, that’s not you. That’s just clothing of sorts. What she needs to know are the words that frame you. Words that construct your world, that’s what she needs to know.

And what about you? Yeah you, tell him you want consistency. It is so easy not to know what you want but I know for sure that you can tell what you don’t like. Tell him all it takes is honesty, just plain truth. And you’ve got to be ready for whatever that is because its not going to be rainbows and sun shines but it will be one hell of a fight. Tell them you love them, even  when you’re fighting WW3 against them inside your mind because who are you kidding, you do. Open your heart and release those words you’d imprisoned. And don’t forget those letters, all  26 of them. When did you become a jail warden? Who do you think you are? Love doesn’t just go away because you’ve closed your heart off no no. Love has life  and when you don’t let  it out you’re killing it. More importantly you’re killing yourself.

Words are real you know, they have life. They are everything, everyone. They are everywhere. Can’t you see it? That movie you love, words. Those friends you can’t live without, simply words. That music that speaks to your soul, more words. Your dreams, goals and principles, endless words. Words, words and more words! They are not empty air, they are simply magic without form. But you knew that right? Well now you do. You wan’t to know a secret? I’ll tell you anyway.  You are the chosen one. You’re part of a legacy of heroes. They were heroes who gave form to our words, that was their super power and now its you turn.

Where are your words deary?

SUN KISSED!

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You can hear them everywhere. Little and loud cracks of failing hearts, souls tearing. You can almost feel the raw emotions, so intense the air is thick with them. You can almost see millions of little lights go out every day. And for what? To belong to someone. They are all longing for someone who’s probably dreaming about another. The appeal of wanting what they can’t have egging them on, making fools of them all the while. I was one of them, my heart ached and throbbed. And one day, it died! But that was before him.

He is different, utterly brilliant. I know I know, a lot of people say that but I promise you he is the one. He rises for me and just me, watches me all day and misses me all through the night. He embraces me first thing in the morning and sends the chills on their way. Isn’t that what we all want? A one that’s whole heartedly into you?

I remember the day I fell for him. I was there busy minding my own business hating men, despising love and finding more excuses to be miserable when he painted the sky for me, shades of peach, yellow and mauve. Such a show off! He bathed me in golden rays and kissed my face and that was it, my heart melted. He is consistent, he leaves every evening just to come back each morning to watch me sleep.

I don’t need more. I want no other when I’ve got my sun, my true love.