Skip to main content

Passing the Buck...

Dear (Dis) Hon. Buck Passer,

I started out thinking that the past partners were the 'problem', somehow choosing to disregard the fact that the sower chooses the seed and therefore is responsible to a certain extent for a poor crop.

And then, I thought obugahe  was the 'problem'...that the mugahe was inexperienced and insensitive and that the mugahe needed to eat humble pie and learn to be meeker, quieter, more submissive in order to 'fit the purpose'...

I have since gradually realized that the buck stops here...at 5268.com and all I can think to say in the circumstances is, grow some balls! (or a vagina, for that matter considering that vaginas world over have been through some nasty things and still come out on top :-) )...

Point is, passing the buck has always been dishonourable. It is a sign of immaturity, weakness of character, failure to admit to one's mortality. It is evidence that you think of yourself more highly than you should and are hence unteachable; and, really, who wants to deal with a mule?

Employers can't stand a mule, friends exclude Miss 'I know-it-all', would be partners would not deign to fall into the trap of never ending 'I am right' arguments, would be business associates would rather not deal with 'Miss Business Acumen'...

In essence, one would rather not be the human with a reputation for passing the buck. I admit, I have passed my fair share of bucks in this life but I have always been aware of my responsibility to, when the dust has settled on the matter, acknowledge my role and to make amends where need be. I have not walked away, nose in the air, pumping my chest in false victory.

I repeat, as soon as is possible, grow some balls.

Best,

Concerned citizen.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Mother to Son...beautiful piece

A LETTER TO MY TWO YEAR OLD September 2, 2011 at 9:12 am by Pumla Nabachwa Every year, during the week of my children’s birthdays, i shall write them a letter and keep them in separate boxes and present them with these boxes the day they graduate. (& graduate they will) Today, I write a 2nd letter to my first born son…..now Trey Gateja……My pride…….My joy! My sunshine, It’s been 730 days & we’re both still alive………let alone sane. I’m not sure how I haven’t strangled you to death yet or left you out at night hoping that a hawk will grab you & take you far away from me. I’m quite perplexed that am not in a mental hospital, let alone 6 feet under. The doctors promised me that the pain stops immediately after the baby is delivered but nooooooooo…….we’re here today & I’m still pulling my hair out. Somebody once said; “it takes about six weeks to get back to normal after you’ve had a baby”…… that somebody doesn’t know that once you’re a mother, ‘normal’ is his

The Third Day- September...The Big 3-0!!!

So, today, I begin a new decade of my life. I am thirty (30) years old! W.O.W! These past couple of days, I have been meditating on Womanhood. Walking with God and Worthiness. I want to be part of something great this next decade. I desire a fresh start in many areas of my life. I regrettably spent the greater part of my twenties trying to be a man; to be tough, rough and seemingly brave. I numbed feelings, suppressed emotions and smiled little in bid to avoid fighting like a girl because girls are weak, they are shallow and they gossip. My best friends were boys until my femininity came to the fore as a  natural course of life and giving boys 'uncensored' hugs started 'causing problems'. All my ambition, my pushing and shoving to get ahead could not erase my innermost (very feminine) desires to be loved, to be treated kindly, to be listened to, sought after, and protected. I was with the boys but not of the boys. Revelation No. 1: I am a Woman and that's ok

Dad

Dear Dad, Today, nine years ago, you changed your major  area code leaving many people pretty upset including uncle Kizza Besigye who I know would have appreciated your level of loyalty  considering memories of my S.4 vacation driving around Kampala with you as you manually tallied the Reform Agenda's votes at different polling stations:) Just so you know, Uncle K.B. is hassling; what with pepper spray, kicks, blows, gun butt beatings, being shoved under the car seats of police men (who we are all quite convinced are paramilitary- but that's a story for another day), insults, threats to his life...etc...you would have frothed at the mouth seeing how bad things have become for political opponents of the 'Great 1986 Revolutionary'.  Am sorry for putting such a lousy pic of you on the www but you hated pics so it's kinda your fault :) I cut my hair and decided I would like to keep it that way for the rest of my life...in fact, I am contemplating going complete