EkiraboKyampaire

A dear friend has been badgering me to write here for a week or so now...'mbu'  my fans are craving my 'storro'. As I said to this friend, am not too sure, seeing as a fan base is ideally reserved for celebs and such other categories of human beings in which I am not...nonetheless, the following ramblings represent what has been on my mind in the recent past :-) So, Ms. Beyonce is with child...I congratulate her because since 2008, if she lived in Uganda, she would have endured a fair amount of ridicule from her in-laws by now :-)... Well, only a few days ago at the insistence of my little sister, I, for the first time, listened to her song, "Schooling Life" and I must say, she impressed my socks off...I had earlier 'snobbed' this particular album of hers, probably because there was so much hype about it and hype tends to bias me negatively :-) Anyway, this song, turns out to be deep, if ever such an adjective was allowed to be used in description

This afternoon I was foraging for food on my second attempt to step into a straight up Thai restaurant. One with no visible sign of English translations, in other words, one other than a handful of the western restaurants that screamed “Thailand: I am hungry, I am western, AND I am not even gonna try…” I had edged close to one, dipping my toe in to test the waters but jerked back in response to the blank stares that shot my way. As my stomach grumbled, I punked myself into going into one and not backing down (again).   So I wandered down an alley and settled on one with a few women at the front. To my surprise a simple menu with English translations (or perhaps I saw this from far away in a state of disillusion) was propped up on the table. I sat feeling simultaneously triumphant and a failure. My hunger would be satiated, and yet, I was still a wimp! I perused the menu wanting to flip it over and ask for the full menu. I see two things I want: fried noodles and vegetables.

It shows just how possible improbable things are, and reminds us that there is so much more than what we can immediately know. I think the value in being made to believe in improbable things, even if it's just momentary, disbelief suspended etc, is that it reminds you of one crucial fact: That just because you don't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there. That's what locks people's minds down: their inability to suspect, or consider, or let's just say imagine things beyond what they have felt with their own fingers. Fiction makes you realize that there are scenarios where aliens from outer space can plausibly kidnap the president and replace him with a clone, there are logical causal sequences that can lead to this. And if you can see your way into imagining that, then you are probably less liable to dismiss strange things or strange people or strange events as just stupid without examining them. Because you now know that there is probably a way in which this o

The following poem, I post with my friend Enock Kusasira in mind...considering that he is its original author...great poem, if you ask me :-)... GO WELL, UGANDA MUSEUM Born in 1908 to Mr.   & Mrs culture of Uganda A beautiful bouncing baby, God’s own hand work You stood there over the years with a mission To conserve, promote and interpret Uganda ’s cultural heritage You harbored research collections and ancient documentations Repository of cherished values, Databank of people’s history, There, you stood as a mirror, Giving us reflections of our true identities There, you have been, Keeping regalia of defunct kingdoms, Housing evidence of the early man’s existence Oh, Mother museum, Go well. You recorded the evidence of colonial rule, You captured the beauty of Uganda ’s independence, You survived the upheavals of 1970’s, And the temporary governments of 1980’s, Left you standing, unscathed, untouched. Your former curat