Cycle (never ending)

My patience runs dry.
Too thin in fact, a thread bare.

How much more can anyone take? 

To insanity perhaps?

Some day, I’ll scrape my skin raw as I drag myself from these chains, everything.

Even with my flesh torn and oozing defeat,

I’ll be glad to break away from these shackles,

To lick my wounds and nurse the last fragments of my broken spirit back to life.

Just you wait, because someday might be tomorrow, perhaps even tonight.

” The norm” versus the real

​The world as it is, is so screwed up that we have learned or have been forced to accept uncouth behavior as the norm. And am not talking about morals or morality here. Granted we’ve been brought up from different backgrounds and that certainly has it’s effects on us and how we behave. But, there’s a baseline! There’s generally accepted standards on how one should carry themselves. These standards maybe civil, social, cultural and otherwise. Once someone derails from these basics, they are sure to get frowning and questioning stares from their peers.

I’ve noticed and have experienced a general shift to the left on how relationships are made these days. This observation is solely out of my own experience and the few close friends I interact with daily. Lest it seems like I’m speaking for every woman although I’m more than sure most will identify with me. There’s a growing inexcusable trend of total disregard to the respect that must flourish between two human beings.  We’ve come to accept what men do, especially the uncouth, ill mannered and disrespectful type. Before the whole woman and man or relationship situation even happens, it’s paramount that two people cultivate respect between each other solely because every human deserves to be treated as one and not like a cardboard cutout. You ought to acknowledge the dynamics that is another fellow human. To respect their existence and what they represent. To agree they are another important piece without which the big puzzle called world is incomplete and that you owe them utter respect the same way you’d want someone else to accord it to you. Then comes other parameters. Once this basic is established, you can work your way around the other parameters.

The level of disregard has become so bad that when we finally experience some goodness, honesty and a healthy degree of respect from the opposite sex, we are left astounded and astonished. It is like sighting a rare gem after donkey years of toiling and excavation. It is fast becoming a rare thing to witness. But my questions are, isn’t that really how it’s ought to be? Why does this come as a surprise? Shouldn’t we all be shunning and frowning at the mannerless fellas? Why would you be comfortable settling for someone who behaves like a degenerate and is far from respectful with you? We should be going over and above civility. 

I love that am growing up and finally coming into the woman am meant to be. Not to say, that I’ve always had a firm head on my shoulders. But am happy that there are things that my person just can’t deal with or stand. And here is the simple reason. I know for a fact that I’m extremely respectful of others. That, I’m thoughtful and mindful of others. It matters a lot to me how I make others feel.That, I cherish very much to be treated with the utmost respect as I give it. So there’s just no abso”fucking”lute way I’m going to accept another person to treat me otherwise. If it doesn’t work or suit me, I ship out as fast as my boat can sail out of the dock. I don’t stick around to assume and wait for it to get better because let’s face it, there certain things you just can’t change. Someone has to decide to do that on their own. So know your worth, know what you deserve and above all demand for it, unapologetically!

Xoxo

Fatiha

La Lluvia

Dear Rain!!!!

Please don’t hold back,

Let your tears flow,

Nourish my mother earth,

Spray the wind,

Wet the sun,

plant kisses on my face,

wet me with your wetness,

blind me with your beauty,

scorch this heat with your cool,

Let the dust raise its voice,

then come down in hush,silence him,

Lend the wind your tempo,

now watch the trees dance wild,

their calm, gentle sway distorted,

Dear rain, don’t!

don’t you hold back,

part the clouds with a kiss,

Open up, go on and sprinkle,

Now watch the world take calm,

in your grey embrace.

Dear Rain, its time for you to rain.

Tales that never cease

I fell in love!

Deeply and madly too.

It was many moons,

Before I could finally meet her.

In my world everything was a dream,

Hearing her honey kissed voice,

Fading into the haze,

Her tearful whispers when she sorrowed.

Her melodic cackles and giggles when,

She was thrilled and mellowed.

My heart painted her pictures and I was amazed.

She was perfect! the axis that held my basis.

The blue print of my existence.

Her perfection beyond fathom.

From her essence sprung beings.

Many she nurtured but,

Her firm body put Madonna’s to shame.

 

Her selflessness left me completely baffled.

Her fertile soils gave and gave so much,

Yet she asked for nothing in return.

Like the sweets waters of Zamzam,

Her well instantly replenished to brim,

With each and every draw from her healing.

 

On days that nimbus lay so low,

Her heart grayed.

Yet when her gaze locked mine,

Tongues of flames flickered and leaped

Into life in her heart.

Her eyes mirrored her heart’s inferno.

On days such as these,

The sun mused in absolute envy of her.

In total confusion of her heart’s fast changing

Seasons.

Then she would flash her perfect pearly set

Into a smile.

Damn! the moon would swear,

“Nay! Never have I seen a curve so divine.”

Clouds of confusion, would fade into total oblivion.

Instead of spite,

The sun would borrow her shine.

 

Way before love was punned,

I loved her!

When love she spoke, damn! cupid was put to shame.

See, love was her staple and nurture her dessert.

With simply a touch all blues yellowed.

And all grays marigold.

 

My mind goes blank .

My speech totally messes up.

For not even half of what I’ve spoken measures up,

My feelings swell up,

My eyes well up,

My cheeks wet up,

Impossible to scribble,

My hands go feeble,

Emotions begin to prick like needles,

My voice trembles,

My pen freezes,

For tales of such awesomeness never ceases.

 

My emotions take control, swept into a whirlpool.

My mind on a hushed roll,

My ink won’t drip no more,

My paper won’t say no more,

Letting this pen slide off,

And this heart to take hold,

For only in its chambers is this story best told,

I stop and cry!

Behold My Mother Dear!

 

My Mother has, is and will always be my everything. I am a woman now but I still wish I’d grow up to be at least half of what she is. I might never measure up but I won’t stop trying. I live through her. I worship the ground upon which her feet walk because right there is where my paradise lies. And I’ll forever be thankful that no matter what that this will always be the love I’ll ever have incomparable to none.

Poisonous Ivy

There are people who get you combing through your brain for the slightest and tinniest possible clue to hold on to in order to understand them. You are kind enough to lower yourself down to their level of understanding to justify what they do. All in vain!
These people push you into an involuntary debate with God just to prove maybe when HE created them, HE forgot and gave them a pea for brains then went ahead and coloured it purple. Do not ask why purple! See, that there is the problem! When someone makes you want to drag God into such petty nonsense then they have a huge problem. Here’s why.

You are the peddler of gossip. You manufacture, market and deliver it. Your entire life thrives on other people’s business. Another’s privacy is like life support for you. The EKG to monitor your heart pace without which you will cramble into a sorry state. Gossip to you is like holding a hot burning coal. You just have to dispose of it. You are the person that will cook up any story just for the thrill of seeing how far the bushfire burns. From another’s one letter said you deduce and make a 500 paged book. You trade your life’s private details just to hear what the other will exchange about their’s or another person’ s in return. As pathetic and miserable as your life is for cheap popularity and friendship. I pity those who buy the trash you sell. Whenever there’s a ”so and so said this” situation, your name must appear. You are that ugly cheap tattoo one gets after a drunken night high on cheap gin and hand down crack. You go about carelessly wrecking people’s lives, relationships,  esteem and self worth just because it suits you. It doesn’t take too long before people start avoiding you when you get in their midst. Everyone has to think twice before saying a word to you lest you twist it. And you wonder why every one detests you. Innocent conversations suddenly turn into conspiracy theories because of you. Pure intentions turn vile. And what is amusing is you are aware of what you do but you choose to think otherwise. What a sorry way to live.

Which makes me wonder. Do you have a life of your own? Do you even know yourself? Considering 24/7 you are living other people’s lives.
Do you have a soul or are you just a piece of cardboard cutout?

Breath

Laying in the dark listening to and counting my heart beats, I live!

Julio Iglesias belting his heart out the only way he knows how, I live!

In this stillness and calm I live!

Every breath lending tempo to each perfect heartbeat. I live!

Shutting and blinding the world out.

Appreciating the ease with which my chest dances this all so familiar rhythm, I live!

The flesh at one with the spirit.

An effortless communion with the soul.

With my body I feel, my spirit bleeds as the soul heals.

I live!

One drop at a time

The morning rain falls gently on the earth like she’s a virgin.
Softly,
Tenderly letting each drop nourish every depth of her curves.
Gingerly,
Ferociously she yearns for more!
But like a skilled physician he knows,
Knows just when to administer the most potent solution, now hush!
Soothe,
Carefully working his magic on her fragility.
Like a mother tending to a new born,
Longingly wishing for her baby’s first smile,
Yet patiently loving to teach him how.
He caresses here as he fondles there.
Plays with this and pats that.
Torched up!
Her crevices crack open, as she
Eagerly anticipates his tsunami.Praying to the heavens to shower her with his blessings.
His heavenly wetness one drop at a time!

Ambition is priceless

How about tossing caution to the wind

Life is a risk, but has to be lived

Flap out your wings, get ready to soar

The sky is the limit! Who do you deceive?

Reach out for heights, fulfill your needs

Discard your whims, fight for your dreams

Life is but a gift, utilize it to brim

Love your life, for its the only you’ll live

Step up, don’t hold back your steel

Step forward, strike with all your zeal

Fight with all your might and

Shine your light bright

Flash your smiles, and sunshine you’ll breathe

Count the stars, envision your dreams

Map out the moon, single out your success

The galaxy is your field, so come on out and play

Appreciate your blessing, get down on your knees

Forgive your mistakes

With yourself make amends

To others accord respect

For life is to be lived

Dreams to be pursued

Success to be achieved

Legends will always be sought because stars are meant to shine!

star

Matatu Chronicles (Tale 2)

Continued………

……………….(Ssebbo I have been robbed). “My wallet has been stolen. If you decide to kick me out of the taxi now, please do. I won’t even say a word.” I expect to be thrown out but we keep driving on and luckily towards my destination but each time the conductor turns back and looks me straight in the face with a blank stare very expressionless and I wonder what he is thinking. After a long silence in the taxi except for the buzzing of it’s engine and the other traffic on the road. The conductor says, “Nyabo kasta onzijukila notamvuma lumu mu kubo” (Lady as long as you promise to remember this face when you meet me again someday and never insult me). I let out a mighty audible sigh. I am even scared to tell him we are almost close to my stop. Conductors are known to have a sharp tongue. In such a case, a conductor would have insulted me, everyone of my relatives and anyone I’ve ever come in contact with. Or even grab me by the collar and demand for me to pay up. On extreme cases one can get thumped or undressed. They are lethal. I meekly tell the conductor my stop and the taxi comes to a halt. Fumbling with all my things I hop out singing all the “thank yous” my mouth could ever spew out in a second. He smiles and they drive off. All this while I hardly realized I was holding my breath.

The story however doesn’t end there. My life resumed normally. I learned to keep loose change just in case. That incident was embarrassing enough for me to let it occur again. I lost valuables, my ATM card, ID card and others. I reported the loss of my ATM and ID to police. It’s important to, you never know what crime scene your ID appears from one day. It’s just a precautionary move. In such cases it’s totally okay to be paranoid and assume whatever.

Two weeks later, I received a phone call from a number I couldn’t tell. The gentleman behind the line introduced himself and said he picked up my wallet from the Old Taxi Park. And that he had found a MTN mobile money form that had been filled in which showed a telephone number and he randomly called. I was baffled and thought perhaps this was the same stupid pickpocket who was trying to play nice for another reward. So I hang up and ignored any calls from the number for a while. What amused and surprised me though is that the gentleman persistently kept calling. And one day after having enough of the endless phone calls I answered again. The man behind the line politely assured me that he was no thief and that all he wanted was to give back my wallet because he had figured I might really need the cards that were in it. I told him I would plan to meet up with him just to get him off my back.

A month down, all is forgotten about the wallet and this man calls again. He asked to meet up on a Sunday in Bugolobi as he worked in one of the many warehouses on Luthuli Avenue. After so much thought, I gave in. He requested that I wait for him at the Bata shoe factory a street away from the warehouse he worked in as he would be on his way back from church. I stood fanning myself from the afternoon heat and then my phone rang. So I figured the caller would be one of the passersby.  I stood looking out see to anyone walking towards me who was talking on phone. Then I saw a man on a scooter and he was on phone. He rode up close and stopped on the other side of the road and waved across. I crossed the road to meet him. We exchanged pleasantries while I waited for him to pull out the wallet and hand it over to me. He surprisingly asks me to get on the scooter after removing his bible that he had strapped on the passenger seater. Then we headed towards the warehouse. To be on the safe side, I had called one of my friends earlier with whom I had shared with everything about all that had transpired and our meeting with this stranger. One can never be too sure. At the warehouse I was glad to see three other people on site even if they were only men. This gentleman gives me a chair and we sit outside the warehouse with its roof casting a perfect shade from the hot afternoon sun. More pleasantries were exchanged and thirty minutes later he gets up, goes inside and comes out with a wallet which he hands over to me and there’s no doubt that it is mine. Most of its contents looked muddy and of course no money in sight. The pickpocket after taking out what he wanted just discarded it. The gentleman had tried his best to clean up much of the mud and it was evident. He had earlier on mentioned that that wasn’t the first time he had picked another person’s property and gone all out of his way to give it back. He has picked up a bag with a huge sum of money and had traced the owner for over a year till he found him. I was humbled and left in awe that such genuinely fantastic human beings live. And to even think he didn’t want to take any kind of compensation for his time. I insisted to at least compensate his phone credit for all the times he called. I couldn’t have been more than grateful that day and very happy that he accepted the very little for his time.

Now I am only glad that after so much time, such events still play out in my head. I might never recognize the faces of those two extremely kind gentlemen but the faces of their kindness have forever been imprinted in my heart and mind. Wherever each one of them is I pray that God showers them with all the blessings they deserve for such good souls. To anyone who has ever extended to me a helping hand and any kind gesture, I forever thank you and forever remain indebted to you.  Cheers to a productive and beautiful NOVEMBER! PEACE AND LOVE……………….XOXO

Matatu Chronicles (Tale 1)

Something happened sometime back in 2010. I don’t really have specific dates to mind but the events of that day and those that followed are so vivid in my mind. Possibly because of what transpired and in the past two days I have had a nagging compulsion to tell it. I owe it to the awesome human being who crowned it off. The cherry on top!

It is a normal day with the usual morning preparations for a busy workday ahead. Done with all the necessary nitty gritty I head out to work. I live in one of Kampala’s many suburbs, Kawempe Mbongo and work all the way in Kisugu, Namuwongo. This means that to get to work I have to take two different taxis (matatus), the public transportation shuttles. I would have to ride in one from Kawempe into the City center, alight at the Old Taxi Park then board another to Kisugu. The journey back home is almost the same every day except for anything extra that comes along.

On this particular day, it turns out to be rather rainy and wet. From work I take a taxi to the Old Taxi Park to board the very last one to home for the day. Just before the entrance to the park is a supermarket and an ATM. I make a withdrawal to use the money for some minor home supplies shopping. Bundling my purchases in polythene bags I head to my taxi stage.

On rainy days or afternoon, the taxi park is rather not the place one would want to be. It’s very muddy and puddled.  An easy avenue for hasty taxi drivers skillfully making their way out of the narrowest passages, splash all murky water on you. It is equally easy for one to loose footing and slip on one of those wet stairs that lead down into the park. The park is unusually crowded after an afternoon shower too. Up until today I have failed to explain where those extra numbers of people suddenly mushroom from. A crowded park means the taxis available won’t be enough to ferry everyone to their particular destinations. Which means pushing and shoving as you have to fight your way to enter what could be the only taxi left till an hour and half later when other matatus stuck in jam finally make way into the park to pick up the stranded few left behind. That fight my friend, is not an easy one. Especially when you are “giraffing” in your six inch heels and a pencil skirt. When half of those pushing up against you are possible pick pockets. If you have no clue about elbowing at this point and  multitasking to keep your belongings at the same time, you quietly step aside and let it to the pros. Suddenly, you realize that besides sitting, your voluptuous behind is meant to serve as a weapon too and you only show remorse for using it until you are comfortably seated inside the matatu. So to perfectly fit in I had to ditch the Barbie doll cuteness and to go all rogue for a minute. I just can’t afford to be left behind. You would understand why, if you had to stand for an hour and half in your six inch heels in muddy ground. When other competitive travelers have ditched the normal entry and are scaling their way in through the emergency exit. Yes they usually are HEs. Tell me that six inch heels and pencil skirt even stands a chance. “Well yeah, me too. I thought not”. So while I struggle with my bundle and work towards my mission “Just find a damn seat in the taxi”, devising pick pockets are in action. But to God, that is the least of my worries at this point. All I want is the damn seat to go home.

Luckily I am among the few who gets a seat after enough push and shove. Gullible me had no idea that all this while I was fighting to get in with pick pockets all around me. I learned that after what happens next. With finally a seat in the taxi, I let out a gynormous sigh after all for a minute shit was about to escalate to a Spartacus “Blood and Sand”. So the taxi drives out, we settle in. Everyone sinks into their own thoughts. A dull lull from the back. Everyone is happy, I assume so because I am. We travel half way our destination and the taxi tout a.k.a conductor calls out for everyone to pay up their fare. Little rustles from everyone including myself digging through our  purses, wallets and whatever. I unzip my handbag to pick out my wallet. And good God! the horror! I frantically rummage through my bag, nothing!!! Wait! maybe I dropped it in one of my polythene bags, nothing!!!! Now fully entering panic mode. Maybe it fell under the seats, whom am I kidding? Zilch!!!! My neighbor begins to get concerned. She helps search with me, but at this point I am floored. I remember having another smaller purse I use for petty change, my coins. Opening the purse and there’s only 200 Ug. shillings for a taxi ride that requires 1,500 Ug. shillings. I am finished!!! Mustering all the politeness left in my blood, veins and body, I turn to the conductor. “Ssebbo, banzibye!”……………………………………………………TO BE CONTINUED!