The wife of the born-again Christian husband in Kampala

The faithful wife of a born-again Christian husband is a baffled woman. She will slap her cheeks with a Bible So that she doesn’t laugh at the jokes of a pastor. After all her husband is supposed to provide all the humor that is necessary. She will hold her aching thighs together and pray for…

Good Morning Kampala

Clouds are racing above Kampala Sunrise peeps from the head of its hilly protrusions. Suddenly, rapid gun fire exchange invades our atmosphere Heavy feet scamper to find footing on our broken roads “Hooligans are demanding for change!” They say. Arrows of rain armed with hail stones join in the human pelting But you Rain where…

Beauty in Brokenness

Write about your brokenness This is what My heart whispers to me every time I try to create something beautiful. How ironic because most of my life I’ve been trying to find wholeness so I can finally feel beautiful. But what is beauty? Is there a formula that determines what we can classify as beautiful?…

A Woman’s Chapters

In my earliest chapters, I have been taught A young maiden should be clean, House chores are her field of expert the front porch defines you my dear In my younger chapters, I have been warned Your skirt matches your behavior A woman’s place is beside her man Your breasts shall carry your man And…

A Kind Of Architectural Grief

In the place of slaughter blood stains are not an anomaly. Normally,     the stain of love begins with a government’s betrayal,    a sacrilegious feast on the battered dreams of migrant workers    chimurenga wars and forgotten anthems of freedom.             a salary and a salt plea for…

You Must Know

You must know As little girls, we write about the struggles of our mums We glorify their pain as borne out of resilience in duties never understood The choring, the caring, the back-from-work, good enough to keep her a mother As little boys, we wonder what could be wrong with the masculinity of our dads…

Mother’s Touch

In the village compound which was cleanly swept and tidy a compound not easily accessible by road a group of old women sat huddled together. Sticks and pipes jutted out of their mouths which occasionally moved in unison. A sigh here and a look to the sky up here. Some sat with their chins in…

Take me to the river

We say “take me to the river”but what the river wants is the body of a stonethe kind of stillness that can be worn.It runs from its destructive natureand we run to its healing waters. What the mouth wants is wetnessa torrent of forgivenessto baptise flesh with abandon. We sing of the rivers of Babylonand…

Oh, Woman

Woman, I see a woman Everyday in the mirror I see a woman And anytime I look at mama I see a woman Wonderful woman, an African woman, mother of nature Yeeea yea Beautiful woman, Yeeea yea Beautiful woman, Yeeea yea Yeeea yea…Yeeea yea… And so the storyteller tells his tales His tales of an…

Forgive to be Forgiven

If forgiveness had a formula I would pursue a whole course just to master it. It’s not that I’m in love with the whole concept of forgiveness But I need to learn it and become it. See I’ve been searching for forgiveness for a while now. Singing praises and turning my life into worship just…