I thought to write of Yuletide past – singing Noel, the plays, the Christmas Carols, Cantata, the tree, decorations, balloons, new clothes, that Christmas cassette, the lights, family photo in matching clothes – the longest church service , village visits, new clothes and that Christmas meal that almost always left me feeling ill!
Kulya Christmas – to eat Christmas! That’s what it was…
Now two days to and I can’t seem to feel the buzz – it is a break from work, a chance to go on holiday, every family member planning their own gateway – bills, jam, worrying about January – oh! How the years go by
Somehow we forget to put the CHRIST in Christmas
– replace with X – where X stands for food, bingeing, holiday, leave from work etc
And whilst we wait for the spirit to kick in, it escapes us the real reason for this season…
I don’t know what X stands for in your case but you could say in the comments section
Merry Christmas to you all and all the best in the new year! Feliz Navidad
Something happens once that makes you think again –
Like opportunity, they knock once.
Here’s to fresh beginnings, to newness and to Friday the 13th!!
..on a cold, drear
Kampala day,Friday the Thirteenth, with a haze covering the city and the clouds too, a dark unmoving cold thing – i try to find my happy place, i picture a colder, cleaner greener place with rolling hills and trees and birdsong, breezes, streams, mist and fresh air.. a place to call home
..and then i don’t feel so bad..
I staggered backwards, eyes transfixed on the spot where my night-time companion had been. Slowly I inched away, overwhelmed by emotions I barely knew. I kicked over the mug in my motion, slumping into the ever-welcoming settee. Chin in hand I sat and sat, blinking slowly as if expecting the television to reappear when I opened my eyes – like a mirage, a disappearing act, a magic trick!
My eyes held steady and then I lay back, head on armrest. I pulled the other blanket over my legs against an invisible chill and then looked towards the ceiling. In the middle of the sagging formerly-white cardboard were concentric circles of brown. So, the roof leaked1 I would have to confront the old hag about it. But how when I was a month over due in rent arrears? I lay back sighing, the sofa in engulfing me in familiar embrace. I thought about calling in sick at work. “Eff work! I don’t really care right now! In my mind, the previous night’s events replayed like a technicolour picture. I bit my lip and clenched my fist as I reopened the door and relived “hospitality 101”, cursing myself for not asking questions. My thoughts strayed to other regrettable incidences, like a movie screen behind my eyes. “Oh! What a loser I am”, I thought.
I turned over to face the back of my seat-cum-bed, the effort causing it to creak as I shifted my wait. And the tears came, large and hot on my cheeks, salty on my lips. Then the sniffles. Where was my hanky? I blew my nose into my blanket, folding the adulterated corner away. I tried not to, but sobs shook my body with every effort to stifle them, my breath in short gasps heaving my chest. And then I let loose! Like a man on a mission, silently yet all out. Spent! I cried for mother Theresa, for World Peace, for my TV and missed opportunities, rejected advances, my broken heart. For my exes, my parents, the suffering in the nation. I cried! Why did life to be so unfair? I cried with abandon, trying not to be loud. Like someone had opened up a jerrycan and turned it upside. I cried til my head pounded behind my eyes. My temple throbbing like my heart was nested therein. I cried and hoped to sleep or die. I cried. Amidst the torrent I thought I heard a knock. I ignored it. Then it came again. Three deliberate taps.
“Knock!!… Knock!!… Knock!!”
I held my breath, trying hard not to give myself way. Sniffling. I waited, hoping the knocker would leave, willing them away. They must have for it was silent again. I thought I heard the shuffling of departing feet. And I had no more strength left, no more cry, no more tears. I just lay there in my old sofa, oblivious to the dampness beneath my cheek. And then the rap of knuckles on wood, followed by silence. I held my breath.
“Knock!!… Knock!!… Knock!!”
I often write of things that hurt
Sometimes,not always, the murmurs within,
The joys also that life imparts,
And the feelings..
I often think of what might be,
Dreams and goals,of hope to achieve,
Maybe I delve into fantasy..
But never the meanings!
Yet now I write and know not why
The script unfolds of its own accord,
In wine, and in fine-print,I can’t deny,
The truth there-in!
this green backed american currency that i b arely see or touch is causin me so much grief i could shoot someone!!!
so eons after we laughed at bazungu and bubbles and AON..Thanks to al jazeera-it finally comes to Africa…
was beginnin to believe that only occured with good things and technology..HIV and Ebola going against the gradient but clearly there’s always an exception to the rule..so why would the dollar affect my barber’s prices, the charcoal woman and the Obama chapati?(that i can understand seein the only thing American bein the name)
why would sugar, soap and fuel suddenly rise way before Col Qaddafi blows his wells or closes his taps?
so we are goin to ration at my house..new rules!! whoever can not live by em should leave by em… abide or die!
Doodo for sauce..uneaten ugali we shall refry..no music, no visitors no sharing, no milk, no sugar, no salt….
so here i am eating rice and tomatoes(tomato sauce too expensive)…
if i do not pick your calls it isnt you..tis everyone
maybe i should let my debtors miss my creditors…besotinge!!
but this dollar! dollar bill!1 eeh????