Becoming: Life's Lessons

Amagi: Return to the Mother

2010-10-09T05:55:00.000-07:00

Urukagina, the leader of the Sumerian city-state of Girsu/Lagash, led a popular movement that resulted in the reform of the oppressive legal and governmental structure of Sumeria. The oppressive conditions in the city before the reforms is described in the new code preserved in cuneiform on tablets of the period: "From the borders of Ningirsu to the sea, there was the tax collector." During his reign (ca. 2350 B.C.) Urukagina implemented a sweeping set of laws that guaranteed the rights of property owners, reformed the civil administration, and instituted moral and social reforms. Urukagina banned both civil and ecclesiastical authorities from seizing land and goods for payment, eliminated most of the state tax collectors, and ended state involvement in matters such as divorce proceedings and perfume making. He even returned land and other property his predecessors had seized from the temple. He saw that reforms were enacted to eliminate the abuse of the judicial process to extract money from citizens and took great pains to ensure the public nature of legal proceedings.

In this important code is found the first written reference to the concept of liberty (amagi or amargi, literally, "return to the mother"), used in reference to the process of reform. The exact nature of this term is not clear, but the idea that the reforms were to be a return to the original social order decreed by the gods fits well with the translation."

"I’m just as fucked up as the man next door; I just don’t beat myself up about it as much as he does. That’s the enlightenment I know.... And sometimes I notice he beats himself up much less than I do. Those days he is the enlightened one and I’m proud to call him Teacher" – Eduardo Zambrano

I have been trying to bind myself to my family, in as much as it is my will to do so. I have chosen to do it for the rest of my life, I have been away from them for too long and it begins to weigh on my heart. Fifteen years is a long time, too long for a people like us that pride ourselves in having strong familial bonds.

Education can suck; the stuff you are taught in the classrooms can be downright nasty and mean and have you burn holes in your heart. It would tell you that some are merely dependants, those you would only see as extra mouths to feed and beseech you to lessen your company with these. It would have you believe that you are less than enough; that were it not for want of a pretty horse you would but be king. It would have you pen your name to countless pieces of paper, tell you that you are less without them but I say that the wee lad and lass that etch the symbol of their innocent love in the bark of an ageing mahogany tree, are more in substance and spirit than you that garners endless accolades from whence you would extract neither knowledge to build a life nor save one. The rains will fall and the tree will grow and if that symbol is etched deep enough, the years will be gentle and kind to it so that many a wayfarer and one day a logger will glimpse that kind of love. For even when man, with all his mighty tools stands before the tree, he cannot help but marvel at the intricate patterns etched on its face. I would be the bark upon which you etch your name, though I may not stand forever, I would build a house of love from this knowledge that I have sought.

Is it possible to know the true wisdom that is held by an entire race? For even though we would not keep long and winding scrolls, regaling all of our valiant feats in this land and those beyond, have we not been here from the start? Human life itself began here, thus there is knowledge within us that we would do well to heed; when you feel the fires rage within you and find yourself torn between the wants and needs of this world, is it not right to ask what wisdom mother heeds? For I have seen her live a life. Short and tempestuous but there have been smiles and mirths that fill my cup of love. I would want for that wisdom.

My mother put a clock to her life. Aware that she would be gone sooner, she sought to impart as much wisdom as she could. She willed that when she passed on, my brothers and I would inherit the spirit of sharing and giving, that we would always have need of each other in life. We used to own a tee vee, a vcr and a sound solo. She once said to me that when she died, she would that each took one so that we would have need of the other from time to time and thus be bonded as always. I will that I would keep her dream alive, but my kin like I are what we are; the material will not suffice and my heart would have and know more.

There will always be life. That, at the very least, is one lesson you can take from it. It will endure. Even when your days are hued with blues, and the tempests never far and such would pass your days even unto the ending of your world; it will endure. In as yet a grand and complex a puzzle, as that which sets a flutter, the heart that wills and wants and would know more and yet there is enough too for the simple delight, the sharing of fruit in nature’s garden, where none but the birds and the beasts bear witness. I will sow my seeds in the garden, tend to them and nurture them, for life gives unto life and I would be an instrument of its giving.
Where I come from, they tell us that we are enough for life’s purposes and that to allow ourselves to believe otherwise is a path to our own destruction. Would you that any man will lead you?

Isaac, a philosopher friend of mine tells a story thus.

The little boy sits at the dining room table, he loves Saturday mornings. He gets to have a heavy breakfast, watch tee vee and perhaps go play with his friends. The day is full of endless possibilities; aaah! If only life could forever be this way! He turns to the task at hand, a bowl of cereal, weetabix with banana slices in cold milk just the way he likes it. He turns the page, and admires the pictures, he wants to draw.

The man enters the room; he could murder a good breakfast he thinks, that was one hell of a night. Time to take stock of the night and weigh the world. He pours of a glass of juice, the fruits of passion, hmm, he likes and nods both in approval and acquiescence to his son’s greeting. This is his blood, he would that he will teach well how to live a life.
“Isaac?”
“Yes daddy?”
“How is school?”
“It’s okay daddy”
“Come”

They walk, father and son, without the house, compound and the man bending to pass through the metallic gate’s pedestrian’s entrance, emerge onto a busy road in the suburbs of Kansanga, circa 1997. The land is strewn with all manner of constructions, from hastily assembled pieces of tin roof, mud and wood to the more elaborate brick walled assemblages, they litter the foreground while nature’s tree strewn hills and skyline frame the scene.

“You see all that”

The man points to the street, bustling with the industry of humanity.

“All these houses, roads, shops, streetlights, electric poles and all manner of constructions are there because of man. Do you understand?”
“Uh, yes, daddy.” The boy timidly replies.
“Don’t ever tell me that you can’t do and be anything. Okay? Let’s go and finish breakfast.”

The little boy stares down the road; just beyond that turn, he knows a panya that leads to Joseph’s house. He will go and play games with him later on, and they will talk about girls and movies and have a grand old time. He would paint big robots in the sky, if everything is just a construction of man, big robots with wings.

My grandmother called me jajimondi and many variations thus, having given up on pronouncing my name. She is the kindest, old lady I know in the world. I have not seen her in years, yet I remember a stain toothed smile, strong hands and a gaiety that never changed with the seasons. We would walk to the gardens together, oftentimes to the one across the road, where the peas grew, next to mama Bright’s household. We would fallow and plough, seed the land, weed and watch nature and time take its course. Methinks there is a lesson there. She still lives, my grandmother, though I am almost certain her memories are a little less than before but she is grandmother and will always be.

I remember things as far back as one stormy night, hurried feet and heavy laden arms. Bag of soldier’s boots needing shadow. Smell of fear in the air, down the hole to never return, boots, bag and bones forgotten. Yet I remember. Is it a curse? To hold on, even when the passage of time bids you free your heart, is it weak to remember?

One day I will build a home, not too far ahead now, for now I know. Tomorrow, we will build a house of dreams, we will lay every brick with love and care and bid it stand through the ages, the house that you and I built. Such as it may be, it will be, but for me, it will be “The House of Tomorrow”.
I have passed through the fire. There are those of us for whom the ways will not be easy, for we must learn that which lies on the fringes, in old knowledge and dead beliefs. We are the bands that give our essence to the race, we that practise the ways of old, the ways of mother. I would be worthy to be weighed and measured one of you, if you should look with favour on this scrip of mine, it may not count for much in today’s world but it is borne of love.

I will walk as God among you, but only in my world and over myself. The lines of my ethics and moralities, I will hold only for my conduct and thus do as best as I know how, for I have learnt that it is what you do that matters most in life.

...moving on or life in cartoon motion...

2010-02-02T05:54:00.001-08:00

I think I will forever be engaged in the pursuit of a better me. Even when this life is done, wherever it is that my spirit and soul will venture, I believe that I will always be searching for answers. There are so many questions, so many things we do not know for sure; our totality of knowledge is woefully incomplete to appease such a soul as mine. I am therefore not content to bind my definition of life to only this existence. I will dream fondly of what was, expectantly of what is and hopefully of what can be. I will create my world as best as I can, I will allow only those external influences that I wish, I will influence that which I can to the best of my ability. I will approach life with one guiding principle;

"I will be true first and foremost to myself and that which I believe to be right and proper, I will seek the betterment of the lives of my friends, family and my fellow human being to the best of my ability, I will hold no ill will against any man without justification. I will never resort to violence except in the just defence of another human life. I will seek knowledge to refine, experience to define and the little things to divine. I will move on, even from the greatest tragedies, I will always move forward in search of wisdom. I will give away as much of myself as is humanly possible, I will love, I will embrace, I will sing and dance, I will kiss, goodnight and one day goodbye. I will do what I must and in all this, I will always be me."

I believe that to truly experience life, you must go out there, you must be willing to let go of yourself and all that you fear to lose. You must be willing to experience other people's emotions as much as possible, to sit and share experiences and dreams. I think that the more people you truly know, the better your world and human experience.

It is a concept that is faced with the fundamental human flaw, our belief that we are inherently selfish. I do not dispute the fact that biologically speaking, we are all animals yet we do not esteem ourselves so. We believe that we have somehow attained a level of consciousness that sets us apart from all other life on this earth, that we are blessed with an inherent dignity that cannot be violated by anything physical except our actions, that we are more than the base instincts written in our DNA. How we come to be like this, we do not know for sure. Some will say that it is divine providence but I think that because we have always felt different from all other life on this earth, we came up with that idea to satisfy that part of ourselves that would otherwise not make peace with our existence. I think that the idea of adherence to an unchanging religion is outdated, that we are ready to know more about life on our own terms. I think that it will perhaps take another hundred years or so but one day we will all be rid of that idea and perhaps the one that takes its place will hold true for thousands of years to come.

I believe that the idea of the individual, his or her liberty and the enjoyment thereof will live on long after we are gone. It is not new, this idea, it was planted long ago, perhaps even before some of these other ideas we hold so dear but it has so far been best defined for me by an Englishman named John Stuart Mill and his wife Harriet. In "On Liberty", their collective gift to posterity, they put forth a passionate and intellectual argument in the defence of the idea that;

"...the sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively, in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number is self protection. That the only purpose for which power can be exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not a sufficient warrant. He cannot rightfully be compelled to do or forbear because it will be better for him to do so, because it will make him happier, because, in the opinion of others, to do so would be wise or even right. These are good reasons for remonstrating with him, or reasoning with him, or persuading him, or entreating him, but not for compelling him or visiting him with any evil in case he do otherwise. To justify that, the conduct from which it is desired to deter him must be calculated to produce evil to someone else. The only part of the conduct of anyone for which he is amenable to society is that which concerns others. In the part which merely concerns himself, his independence is, of right, absolute. Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign."

This idea has taken root in the world, it is yet to truly blossom but when it does, mankind will know an age like no other. I wish I could be there to truly experience it but I can imagine it will be something else.

I like to think that every human interaction I have is an opportunity to understand better, to seek another point of view. I try as much as I can to understand why people do the things they do, I put myself in their shoes and try to imagine whether I would act the same way or differently. I believe that every person that comes into my life has the potential of making me a better person and I in turn can have a positive impact on them. I am bound to trust implicitly my fellow human being without question until given reason to do otherwise, it is a risky approach to human interaction in this day and age but I feel it is the best way for me to live. Trust and respect are earned by words and most importantly deeds, they can never be bought with material things or threats of punishment.

My mother subscribed to the idea that a child could be reasoned with and made to understand the consequences of their actions and choices, she didn't spare the rod entirely but always tried to make me understand why I was being punished. One day instead of making my way to school, I opted for a carefree day in an open field near my cousin's school, Nakasero Primary School. I was in primary five and I was avoiding corporal punishment at school for not having done homework, I spent a glorious day in a green field, playing and reading comics. Unfortunately while I was enjoying this short spell of truancy, I met an uncle who asked me what I was doing so far from school. I have never been a good liar and I knew the moment I started spinning some story about sports, I was doomed. He sped off and as his car disappeared into the distance, I knew I was in for a rough evening so I settled down and enjoyed the rest of the day. When I got home that evening, my mother was patiently waiting for an explanation. She lulled me into a false sense of security by not saying a word about it until I had finished my tea and then she asked me how school had been that day. I set about explaining how Buganda Road Primary School had had a joint sports event with Nakasero, how I had spent most of the day there and how I had run into uncle Benon at some point. I had tried to construct as believable a lie as possible but there were too many gaping holes in it. My cousin for one would not be party to this, I was convinced that his cooperation with me on this matter would quickly settle everything as my mother wouldn't need to investigate any further if he gave favourable testimony, I promised to be eternally indebted to him if he pulled this off. My mother however was not easy to lie to, she had that discerning look that made you volunteer any information you had willingly and when she questioned my cousin, I knew the jig was up so I confessed. It was the worst beating I had ever received from my mother; I wasn't even interested in the "Do you know why I am doing this?" session of the events, I was more interested in getting out alive. I remember there was a wire and a lot of whipping involved; needless to say, I resorted to more creative ways of dodging school, like faking mysterious illnesses that involved skipped heartbeats. Even a few lashes couldn't make homework any more interesting.

Tales of uncle Warren's disciplinarian attitude were known to me long before I went to live with him, I had been told that he was not one to entertain dissent and that his home was run like an army. It wasn't quite like that. Most parents it seems develop a sort of tag team when it comes to raising children; one of them is ever-present, gentle and never threatens punishment directly while the other is a little more distant and will mete out physical and emotional punishment when necessary. Aunt Jennifer, Warren's wife, had two daughters and two step sons so when my brothers and I went to live with them for a while, she ended up with five boys from three different mothers in her household. I can't imagine it being easy for her to deal with such a situation, inevitably one of the boys always ended up facing the "grand inquiry". To my surprise, I found that uncle Warren was a rather reasonable man, he pretty much lay down the law but he made you understand why it was important for you to follow it to the letter. He gave you a chance to explain yourself and then tried to get you to see his way of thinking as well. My sessions with him were the closest discussions I ever had with a father figure in my childhood and it made an impression on me. He treated me with respect and invited me to explain myself to him whenever I ended up in front of him for one reason or another. He made me feel that I mattered, he explained why it was important that I do well in school, why he thought I had the mind to succeed in life and why I should always strive to excel. One night in 1994 I stayed up to watch the world cup, it was being held in the US so it always showed in the wee hours of the morning. He woke up and found me waiting for one of the games, dozing off every now and then, then he brewed two cups of coffee and we sat down and waited. I imagined that this was what intimate father and son moments were like. I have since forgotten the game, its result and the contents of our conversation but I still remember how I felt. I spent a year and a half in uncle Warren's home before I had to go and live with his elder brother, uncle Godfrey.

...to be continued.

Metamorphosis

2010-01-30T10:47:00.001-08:00

I like to think of myself as having a highly developed sense of morality; I believe that the only person I have power over is myself. Of late I find myself battling with questions of morality, truth, liberty, justice and peace as well as metaphysical questions of being. I struggle to understand why certain things happen as they do what they mean in the grand scheme of things and if I have the power to change anything. I like to call this process "reinventing myself" and it involves an analysis of life as I perceive it, that which is written and speculation as regards a future sense of fulfilment. I have done this twice before in my life; first, I lost religion and then the romantic fantasy that is always shattered by unrequited love. This is my third attempt to make sense of life as I know it and the world I live in with more than six billion other people. I do not know if I will survive or if I want to. I begin to suspect that reality does indeed bite.

I am not perfect nor will I ever be until I truly grasp the concept that all life is sacred. I have committed my fair share of sins and I will add some more to their number as the years go by. However I have come to be ruled by a fundamental understanding of the fact that we are all one species and that knowledge fills me with an unrelenting yearning for peace and the simple wonders of life. I have come to understand how insignificant all our lofty pursuits are and sometimes that depresses me but most times it liberates me. I have also come to understand what power truly lies in self belief and it makes me uncomfortable.

I remember the first time someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I quickly replied, "I want to be a scientist". I didn't know that the term encompassed a host of disciplines; all I knew was that a scientist pretty much tried to get to the heart of things with many colourful results along the way. I guess I have always had an inquisitive mind, and if life had been content to leave me alone, I would probably have invented something or discovered some other thing. As it happens, life has seen fit to point me in the direction of metaphysics, a realm so murky and formless that I wander it at great risk to my sanity. I desire to know as much as is humanly possible concerning the nature of life, being and reality. I always seek to test myself, physically, socially and emotionally. From all these experiments, I have come to understand a few things about myself and the life I live, some dreams have been destroyed and new ones have taken their place.

I have always been a hopeless romantic, one of the dreams I nurtured from an early age was to find a lovely girl who completed me and spend my days with her. Maybe I read and watched too many fairy tales. I feel that is beyond me now, I find that I am too independent minded to even accommodate the idea of compromise. I want to always be able to do what I please with myself, I want to know that if I so desired, I could pack my bags and head off to the ends of the earth without having to consult, hurt or disappoint anyone. Any shrink would probably tell me that I have commitment issues, that I because I have experienced loss and grief every so often in life, I am scared to get attached and I am fine with that. I therefore no longer have a burning desire to be a father or a husband, let alone own a piece of land. I do not feel well equipped to raise children; I think I am too liberal to be of any use; hence I have no desire for progeny and am quite content to have my line end with me. If it wasn't for the fact that I have two brothers, I'm sure my poor father would be turning in his grave. Incidentally I don't know what it feels like to have a father, I have seen some of my friends struggle to live up to their fathers' names and expectations while some have struggled to live down their fathers' infamy. My father's gift to me, besides DNA, was perhaps anonymity like no other. I don't really know who he was or who his friends were. Consequently I have always been content to stay in the background and live my life quietly. I now find myself very opinionated; feeling that I have learnt some fundamental lessons in life, I am not content to go quietly. I want to stand on rooftops and scream. I want to shout, about Palestine, Life and other things.

Love: If any one of us could truly define it, those would perhaps be the greatest words ever written. I have tried to understand what this little word means in as many ways as I can but I don't think it is possible to know it all. Love is truly all encompassing, it can perhaps be described as one of the absolutes in life, the one thing we can be sure of and it truly conquers all. Humanity as a whole engages in nothing less than the love of life simply for its own sake! I once thought that it was ultimately defined and expressed as the love between a man and a woman but I now know that it is so much more and so much simpler. I have chosen to define it for myself as simply giving a damn about my fellow human being despite all our differences, quirks and peculiarities. I still have certain fantasies when it comes to it but I have come to believe that I should take my moments where I get them. No one is perfect and perhaps true beauty lies in imperfection; the knowing that we are simply human and each have our own shortcomings. When it comes down to it, I like any other human being, desire to be loved, and for me that is to know that someone else gives a damn about me and the crap I care about. That simple knowledge lets me know that at the very least, they will keep my interests in mind when going about their lives. I am content to have that kind of love and whatever else comes with it.

Loyalty: The word conjures images of devotion, submission and grandeur. I see men attempting herculean tasks all in the name of one belief, person or cause. I see men willing to die for their friends, men willing to kill for their families. I think it all begins with the family, that single unit of human society. There is an intricate bond there that is not easy to break. I have the liberty of looking at it from the outside and I think the reason people come together to start families is because every human being likes the assurance that there is someone who, under normal and most times extraordinary circumstances, will always have their back.

My family broke apart when I was young; after my mother's death, my two brothers and I were split up and sent to live with different relatives. I do not know my brothers as well as I should but I know that if I was ever in a matter of life and death, it would be them that I turn to as my avenue of last resort. There is however an understanding between us, unspoken as it is, that none of us can presume to tell the other how to live their life. I remember my brother trying to lecture me after my uncle had decreed that I not return to his home, he tried to make me see reason and I simply told him that my life was my own and I would live it on my terms. We have since had that respect for each other, that each of us will attempt to make our own way in this life and help each other out to the best of our abilities. I will always be loyal to myself, my family and my friends; I will do everything in my power to better our lot but never at the expense of my beliefs. I am always reminded of Rorschach's parting words in Alan Moore's "Watchmen", just before he leaves his friends to tell the world the truth, "Never compromise, not even in the face of Armageddon." Life may not be that black and white but there are beliefs that each one of us holds so dear, that no amount of loyalty would have us act contrary to them.

Life and Liberty: There is no single answer to the question of why I am here, if there was, I wouldn't need to write these words. Much has been written about man and his purpose and much more still has gone unwritten but the one simple truth is that no one really knows for sure. Men will stand up and claim to speak in God's name, others will speak of the greater good, and others still of fleeting moments and feelings but there is no absolute truth. Life simply exists because it can, we don't know for sure where we came from or where we are going, what we know is that we are here and we must find some sort of meaning in all this madness. Let no man tell you how you should live your life, it is your own and no else's. Each man must do as he does and his actions will be judged by his peers, for that is the law of the land.

I have come to a point in my life where I have to consciously choose what the remainder of my days should mean to me, I have come to believe that I am content to know what I have come to learn about the human condition and that even if I stumbled into my grave tomorrow, I would take with me enough knowledge to be at peace. We are simply the sum of fleeting memories, moments, feelings and all those ecstasies that make us feel alive. I will try to collect as many of them as I take part in this tragicomedy of errors, I hope you do likewise or better.

My Inspiration or Rock N Roll Will Never Die!

2009-09-16T09:19:00.001-07:00

Brenda's birthday is in two days time. On Friday it will be the 18^th of September and I will celebrate her life. I have been feeling sad for a while now; I guess it's bound to be more pronounced at this time of the year. I was telling my good friend Martin that I think I will always be sad, I believe I must make a conscious effort to be happy at all times, that happiness is not my natural state. I ask myself why I believe this to be so and I always come to the realisation that she was the best thing that ever happened to me. My life does not make sense without her, if I decided to move on, I would be nothing but shadow. Knowing and loving her has brought me to a realisation of some of the grandest things in life. It has awoken in me an intense love for mankind and a burning desire for peace. It is a shame really, it is a shame that I could not be this person when she was here, I know in my heart of hearts that we could have been perfect together. Knowing that leads me to the realisation that I will never love another as much, perhaps I am afraid of getting hurt that much again but I cannot help how I feel.

Somehow, my life has always been punctuated with such losses and I believe that they have served to make me a better person. I ask myself how it is that she should change me and I arrive at peace and love always. I yearn to touch the world and tell it that I know a thing or two about love, life, death, grief, joy, sorrow, happiness, anger, hate and all other emotions that make us human. I want to shout that here lies our beloved and it in no fault of man. She is gone from us by the will of nature and nature's God and there is no court of appeal. I want to tell you that I wish that every death that happened in life was that simple. That we shouldn't kill each other, that we should be peaceful and let nature and God be our judges. I want to say so many things but I feel sad.

I feel sad because I believe that there will never be enough of me to love another girl like that. I cannot truthfully say to a girl that I love her beyond any other because I am that foolish, I am in love with a dead girl. That leads to the knowledge that I will most probably never start a family and so I give up such desires. Such things like owning a piece of land, buying a car and other material things that I deem unnecessary. I decide instead to desire nothing less than peace and love; one I am owed, the other is freely given.

I look at my life and wonder what has always kept me going? I realise that music is a big part of who I am, it is hard for me to be more than two inches away from inspiration. I look at my playlists and I realise that most of these songs remind me of whom I have been, her and of what I am reaching for. And so I come to share this music, this peace and love and I pray that you enjoy it as much as I do and that perhaps one or two words will inspire you.

Of Dream’s Elder Sister

2009-09-03T04:08:00.001-07:00

There is a little known graphic novel called "The Sandman" by Neil Gaiman that will always speak to me. Within its pages lies the entire history of mankind and perhaps its future. The protagonist of this classic piece of literature is "Dream" who is the ruler of the realm of dreams. He is one of "The Endless", a family of seven beings who rule the realms of human emotion and experience. I will always be fascinated by Dream's elder sister Death and Neil Gaiman's presentation of a phenomenon that has shaped human lives throughout the ages. Death is a very big part of life for without one the other would have no meaning just like God and the Devil. Gaiman presents death not as the life sucking grim reaper of many a horror movie but rather as a gateway or guide to the beyond. The premise is simple, no one truly knows what comes after this life, we invent Gods and Devils to justify our actions here and hope that these worlds we create will come to pass but we cannot truly know until our time is come. Therefore death, for me, will always be a release from this life and a beginning of my next great adventure.

It is only human that we grieve for those who have gone before, for when they pass on, they take our dreams with them and we must build new ones as long as we draw breath. Yet these people have served to teach us things about life. We should all be better people in their memories. We should dedicate our lives to making them proud of us and hope that wherever they may be, they will look upon our deeds and smile.

The first death I ever experienced was my father's; I was about eight years old and my world experience was only that much. I didn't really know my father because I can list you the things that I know about him on one hand. I know him as Nestor Banyenzaki of Nyakijumba, Kabale. I know that he had a lovely smile. I know that he was one of the founder members of TASO. I know that he was unfaithful to my mother and that he loved music. That is about all I know of the man whose blood runs through my veins. I wish I had had the maturity then to engage in a conversation about death with him, I imagine I would have learnt something.

I remember seeing his coffin; it was wooden with a little glass window through which I could see his face, pale and cold, his nose stuffed with cotton wool. I remember a subtle smell that I have never been able to identify but which I consider to be "the smell of death". It has haunted me, that damn smell. Perhaps it was that first death that taught me that "life goes on" because life for me proceeded normally after my father's death. I did not grieve for him, I hardly knew him.

The last time I talked to my mother was to say bye for a few days, she was so sick that she had to be taken to the hospital. Whatever was eating her from the inside was taking her mind because she didn't seem to recognise us as we stood beside her bed gently whispering goodbye. My brothers and I had been told that we were going to stay with Uncle Warren for a few days while Mommy was in the hospital. Little did we know it was the last time we would see her alive. I have forever felt guilty for wanting to leave, the fact that she wasn't making sense made me uncomfortable and I wanted to be elsewhere so I welcomed the idea of spending some time with my cousins. I should have stayed, if only I had known, I would have stayed.

Her funeral was held at All Saints Cathedral, my brothers and I arrived on the back of a pickup. I guess the enormity of the situation had not registered for me because a woman came to my brother weeping and I couldn't help but smile at my brother's discomfort. I remember being asked to stand up in church so that everyone could see us, I remember Uncle Godfrey giving the eulogy but not its content. I remember standing over her coffin the night before her burial and Aunt Noerine saying to me, "death robs you of your childhood." I remember standing over her grave as they put her in the ground, whispering "goodbye mommy" at Aunt Noerine's insistence.

I felt the first pang of loss a few weeks later; I was looking out the second floor window of my uncle's flat and it hit me that I would never see her again. I wanted to jump out the window; I wondered whether the drop would be enough to kill me or whether I would simply reap further undue pain and trouble. It was the first time I longed for death.

Four years later, as I trawled the streets of Kampala one Friday night looking for a place to lay my head, I longed for death yet again. My life had come to a point where I was homeless. As a teenager I could not help but be rebellious, such is the nature of human beings. I drove my uncle up a wall until he had no choice but to send me away from his home. The precipitating factor was a heartfelt letter I had written to him during the school term. I was tired of lectures from him and longed for simple understanding. I told him as much and pointed out to him that saying such words as "fuck you" would serve to teach me nothing good. In anger, he photocopied my letter and sent it to all my relatives. I was labelled ungrateful and undeserving of any kindness. Shortly after this incident, Uncle Warren came to visit Gordon and me at school. He relayed Uncle Godfrey's wishes that I not return to his home. When school closed that term, Gordon asked me what I would do and I told him that I did not know. I left SMACK that Friday and headed to an uncertain future, my plan was to go to one of my father's brothers and find shelter. I found none there; I was turned away and told to run back to Uncle Godfrey and apologise for my mistakes. At no point did anyone ask why I had written the letter and what problems I had. I met my classmate, Lemo Ronald after having been turned away from my place of last resort, in Bugolobi, and on discovering that he stayed in the flats, asked if I could keep my belongings with him for a while. I had made a similar request of my aunt but she had declined and it was pointed out for me that day that a friend will always be there for you, something that I would learn in earnest the following day.

Yes, I have been on the streets, I know what it feels like, I have seen a side of life that many have not and I am that much better for knowing it. Many would wonder why I did not simply apologize to my uncle and do my time in his house but upon reflection I guess I have never been one to take the easy road. I was ready to die with certain beliefs in my heart; I believed I was owed a little happiness, just a little bit. I trawled the streets of Kampala looking for a place to lie down and make the hardest decisions of my life. There is a class system complete with property rights out there, you don't just chill on anyone's corner. I was bounced from Kampala road all the way to Lugogo stadium, where I finally lay me down. I was resigned to taking my own life and then I remembered I had a friend named Roger. Perhaps I had mentioned my predicament to Roger earlier, I do not remember but I decided I would talk to him the following morning and make one last throw of the die. Thus I spent my night on the streets, in a green field underneath the stars, conversing with Dream's elder sister, Death. That is how Roger took me, gave me a second chance and a different life. How he became my brother from another mother. I would not be here if it wasn't for him. He gave me a home and family when I needed one. He was under no obligation to do me any favours, despite attempts to prove to me otherwise by my uncle, my belief in the innate kindness of people held firm.

I don't have any grudge with my uncle; I think he did not trust that I would understand if he explained things to me. He was prone to the old belief that children must never question their elders. I washed my hands of anger and decided to start afresh. I remember standing over the flames of my diary, something I regret now for in it were my original musings on God and religion, complete with the plight of my ancestors thrown into the equation. I let go of all my anger then, I decided to learn the lessons life had taught me hitherto and move on with my life in search of knowledge and dreams.

When Geri's little brother Semei died, I knew that there was not much I could say. When her dad passed on, all I could do was sit at the back of the church and cry. When my little sister Anne died, I wanted to take everything I had and throw it at life. I wondered what lessons it was trying to teach me. Why did death taunt me? She hurt those I loved instead. I had already given her my "pound of flesh", what more could She take from me? I moved on promising myself that an answer was out there to be found.

Then She came for my dreams and I watched in despair as She took the very last bits of me and the lesson was finally learnt. Peace, let there be peace among us, for we will all die one day and we will take naught else with us but the love and friendship of those we have known. I am resigned to preach it from the rooftops, that there must peace among us. Let us not make each other's lives unnecessarily harder. Life will do a good job on its own.

We last talked in a foreign land, She offered to take me but I told her life still owed me. It still owes me and I will collect!

My Education

2009-08-27T11:51:00.001-07:00

I spent the better part of my Primary school years in Buganda Road Primary School. One day, I think it was in Primary five, I came home from school beaming. The term had ended and I was carrying my report card. It was designed in such a way that all the pupils' names were printed in tabular format from the first to the last along with the corresponding scores in the different subjects. Each student received a copy with his or her name underlined in red and the teachers' remarks could be found on the last page along with those of the headmaster. I was beaming because I had come second in the class, beaten only by one girl, Ingabire Rita.
"Why does this girl always beat you?" my mother would ask and I would always give some feeble excuse. Frankly I never really cared much about it; I was always in the top five or thereabouts with little effort on my part. I was always averse to homework as I saw it as an inconvenience and something that simply ate into my fun time. I was the kind of child who would be caught reading a novel or comic during lessons and I received my fair share of canes as a result. Anyway, on this particular day I found my uncle Warren at home and I could not help but show off my academic achievements. He congratulated me, patted me on the back and told me something I have never forgotten since.
"Raymond, you're an above average child and you should never forget that" he said. I would remember his words many years later in SMACK (St Mary's College Kisubi) when I was languishing in the unfamiliar territory of a three digit position report card and spur myself back to where I belonged.

"Buggie Road" as it is known to our generation was an excellent school albeit a bit too crowded. I never had a problem with the number of pupils; in fact having developed a love for anonymity I liked it a lot. I could always get lost in the crowd. I made many friends back in Primary school some of whom I'm still cordial with to this day. I learned how to read and write there and I will always be grateful to my teachers for that. I remember starting with "My Big Book of Bible Stories", Asterix and Obelix, Tintin, Dennis the Menace, Archie and graduating to Enid Blyton's Famous Five and Secret Seven before moving on to the more thrilling Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys. By the time I finished Primary school I was reading Robert Ludlum's "The Matarese Circle."

I learned the language of mathematics and was captivated by it, this language started off with the simple premise that if we had the right equation, and made the right assumptions about the unknowns, we could solve any problem presented to us. I think it is a mindset that I have carried with me since first acquiring it and I must confess that it has helped me a lot in life. The science and social studies I imbibed as well, fascination always spurring me on. However, the most important lessons I learned in Primary school were not taught in the classroom.

I have no military training but I think one of the things you learn in the military is that you should never engage an enemy who is better armed and has the higher ground. One evening in Primary Six after the bell had gone; I was struggling to rush out of the classroom. We had no sense of order when that bell went, it was mayhem and we could hardly be asked to explain why we didn't leave the class in an orderly manner. I had my hand on a desk as I waited for the crowd to thin and then this girl who had decided to run along the desks stepped on it! Ha! This called for war so I quickly turned to the girl and asked her why she had stepped on me. She quickly apologised but being a boy I was under the impression that girls did not step on you and get away with it, how would I live it down if I just walked away? I looked up at her and decided that since she was standing on the desk, my only course of action was to give her a slight push and tell her not to do it again. I proceeded to implement my plan ignoring the fact that this was Marjorie, who took no prisoners when it came to such nonsense and that she had a pair of Bata shoes in her hands. She decided to use my head for percussion practice and when I came to I was in the sick bay! To this day, it is still the harshest beating I have ever received.

My mother passed away at the beginning of my Primary seven and my world stopped. I felt that everything needed to come to a standstill and acknowledge this fact. I couldn't have been more wrong. I remember one day during break period, I was lost in thought and a friend was constantly trying to provoke me so that I could chase him around. With all the anger I could muster I screamed at him "leave me alone! Don't you know I lost my mother?" He was oblivious to the fact but either way it made no difference to him perhaps because he couldn't understand what I was saying. I looked around and then it dawned on me that the world was moving on no matter what. It was the first time I realized that life goes on no matter what and I have never forgotten it. I left Primary school at the end of that year having learnt a few things, among which was that girls were kind of cute.

I managed to get into SMACK for my Ordinary Level education in 1995 and begun four years that were very instrumental in defining me as a person. School was an escape for me because I loved being there more than home. In fact I never really felt welcome at home. Holidays were full of fights with my uncle and I always looked forward to the school term. In SMACK I set about parenting myself; I was free to make any decision regarding my life as long as it did not break school regulations and when it did I had to hope that I did not get caught. I met some of the best and worst people I know in that school and I made friendships that endure to this day.

My education begun with an exploration of academic freedom, I chose to pay as little attention to the books as I had done in my Primary school years. In retrospect, I should have learned a foreign language such as French; it can only be a good thing for communication to speak another person's tongue. SMACK was full of the brightest in the country and this should have been obvious to me when I found my name in double digits on the admissions list. By the end of Senior One I was in "Umofia" and I had to pay more attention to the academic side of things. However I experimented widely as regards my associations and I hung out with all sorts of people some of whom nearly led me down the wrong road. I joined all sorts of clubs to find answers to my questions including Legion of Mary, the Charismatic club which was anything but that, the school choir because I loved the hymns and many others. I had my only brush with power as the senior one dormitory prefect and found it not to my liking. I started playing rugby, enjoyed it immensely and acquired a nickname for life.

I learned the meaning of the word solidarity or "solida" as we called it back then. The idea was simply that you stuck with your classmates no matter what and boy did we get up to no good. By the time we left SMACK we had locked horns with virtually every other class in the school. We begun by beating up a Senior 4 student who had somewhat overestimated his importance and over the years worked our way through every class. They gave as good as they got and to our dismay, sometimes better. When we didn't have any quarrels with other classes, we played the most barbaric games amongst ourselves. "Equator" was a favourite which involved a tennis ball and lots of legs. We simply kicked the ball around with the aim being to get it to go through another person's legs. If the ball happened to go through your legs, you were said to have "laid" and was considered fair game for a good beating until you touched a tree at which point the game started all over again. It was immense fun.

I discovered the school library in my Senior Two and the words took me once more. I read all sorts of obscure books about all sorts of things. I found Stephen King and he gave me many sleepless nights. I remember reading "Salem's Lot" and "The Shining" in the dormitory after lights out with a torch! The terror! I contemplated religion and did away with it. I discovered women, wine and song and to this day they still lift my spirits. I found poetry and fell in love with its beauty. I met too, a certain David whom the words consumed completely that he began spending his days in the library writing novels. I acquired an appreciation for logic and those who displayed it. I started writing letters to Aunt Becky and Samantha in far off lands. I discovered rock music and made it a core part of me despite my cousin teasing me about liking it. I became the kind of person who could shift social circles quite easily. I almost took a trip to Karamoja to look for gold with a classmate of mine and also nearly joined the army with another one.

Senior Three brought with it literature, accounting and commerce. Chemistry stopped making sense to me with all that crap about balancing equations, moles, ions and what not. I did my bit in all the other disciplines I was called upon to take on but literature had an allure to it. I was simply called to read a story and say what I thought about it, it was easy and enjoyable. I remember enjoying one of the first tests I was required to take and then being horrified by my score in it. I had thought I understood this stuff but as it turned out I was required to present interpretations that were in line with what someone somewhere thought, perhaps the author? My simple belief was that the words spoke to each of us differently but this view was obviously not shared by the examiners.

Senior Four was perhaps the most interesting year of Ordinary Level. We considered ourselves elders in the school so we set about stamping our authority on everyone else. We teased, bullied, taunted and intimidated almost everyone else. We clashed with Senior Six so much that in the end some of us had to sit our exams while commuting from home or nearby accommodation. Senior Six students should have been at the top of the student hierarchy but we were not about to put up with that. We laid our claim to that seat of power and our struggles produced the most interesting outcomes. We understood that might lay in numbers so if any fight with Senior Six students was reported, we all rushed to the battlefield and vanquished the enemy. So effective was our strategy that they resorted to "Slave Trade", capturing lonely travellers who ventured near their camp. In the end we all left good friends having received the best education available in the country.

I went on to spend a term of my A' level in Kitovu, on the outskirts of Nyendo in Masaka but in truth I never wanted to be there so I spent the entire term in the library discovering such masterpieces as Rudyard Kipling's "If" and Edgar Allan Poe's "A Dream within a Dream". I moved on to Makerere College School (MACOS) and discovered what being around girls felt like. I set about gaining entry to the promised land of Makerere University all the while trying to discover what these girls were all about. I fell for a lot of them if not all; I guess I will always be a sucker for a smile, good conversation and stolen kisses. I studied mathematics, economics and geography, I would have loved to study literature but alas I was informed that I could not combine it with mathematics and economics. I will never understand why. All these decisions I took on my own with wise counsel offered from those that cared.

I discovered the internet in my A' level and it was like finding the great library of Alexandria, information was just a few clicks away, I could not believe it. I was so fascinated by it and computers that I started experimenting on my aunt's computer until I messed it up. I had to write up what I had done to it so that the technicians could figure out how to fix it. On reading my write up, the techies told my aunt that I had some sort of skill and that I should come to their workshop and do some training. That's how I got into the Information Technology industry and I have worked there ever since. I trained for six months after my A' Level and was taken on as a full time employee.

My years in A' level and university were perhaps the time when I was most exposed to a diversity of people. I had a Scottish boss, an American aunt and uncle, a family with roots across the country and beyond and a collection of amazing friends. I like to imagine that these people have pushed my thought boundaries beyond those of the average person and I guess that is why I dream of peace on earth. For I have made friends all across the world, I have had words with people from Cambodia, India, Pakistan, Somalia, Australia, Thailand, China, Kenya, Tanzania, Uganda, South Africa, England, Scotland, Canada, Singapore, Hawaii, Russia and hopefully I will have more words with many more people the world over. I have learned from these people that we all desire "peace on earth and goodwill to all men".

I feel blessed because I have come to know and experience certain things and I believe that I am a better person for that. I have seen my fair share of tragedy and I have taken my lessons from it and thus I believe that I have been educated.

I have contemplated death and what it means to life and come out with the philosophy that it is a release from this damn life, this life that tortures and yet amazes us. We weep because we have lost those that we love but forget to celebrate their lives and ours. I have found that the answer to grief is to live your life in memory of those that you have lost, to make them proud of you. Only in living your life to the fullest can you truly celebrate their lives.

I have pondered religion and why it divides us and come to the conclusion that at its heart is a divisive message, that there are those who are not with us and if so, then they are against us!

I have contemplated the meaning of life and come to the conclusion that even though it seems like material wealth is exalted above all, we should aspire to loftier heights like freedom, equality for all, the pursuit of knowledge and happiness. Most of us do not aspire to anything more than what tradition sets before us, some of us ask ourselves what else we should aspire to. I believe that the uniqueness of every individual means that we should each find that which we were born to do. There is something for each one of us in which we will find happiness, it would be a waste of life to not find it and do it. Material wealth should be an enabler, something that lets us be who we are.

I have contemplated personal values and responsibility and realised that oftentimes they clash and that perhaps understanding these things should be the first step in understanding other people. I believe the core of an individual's beliefs should come from within. I find that the reason most people get hurt or are disappointed by others is because they somehow define their lives based on external influences. We seem to forget that the definition of an individual should come from within. A person must have certain values that define who they are. The people we meet in life should complement who we are and make us better people, if they don't and somehow make us worse then we must learn what we can and move on. No one should have to compromise who they are for the sake of pleasure or survival!

I have contemplated such lofty things as the future and survival of mankind as a species and come to the conclusion that we are perhaps destined for extinction unless we change our ways. We make each other's lives unnecessarily harder when life does quite a good job on its own. We spend our short years waging wars and destroying our brothers and sisters when we would be better served by savouring our brief moments here.

I believe that I have learnt a few things about myself and the world and all I can say about education is that at the end of the day, a piece of paper does not determine who you are, only you can tell yourself who you want to be and what you want to achieve.

Loving Brenda

2009-07-24T08:57:00.001-07:00

In retrospect, you can always tell the moments that changed your life forever. I remember one English lesson in Primary three, the teacher asked for the opposite of the word "bright". I knew the answer, I knew it was spelled "dull" but I did not know it was pronounced "dall". Somehow the rest of the class seemed to be ignorant of the answer. This was my moment to shine. I was fresh from the village and I wanted to show these city dwellers that I was a clever boy.

The class was quiet; the teacher looked around with expectation, a single hand slowly reached up seeking attention.
"Yes, Raymond, what is the opposite of bright?"
"The opposite of bright is dull", I said with all emphasis on the u.
"That is correct, but it is pronounced "dall", class repeat after me, dull"

As the entire class echoed the teacher, I sat down and felt waves of discomfort wash over me. I had known the word but not how to say it, I felt ignorant and stupid and from then on I never willingly raised my arm in class to answer questions no else could but whose answers I knew. I slowly gravitated towards the back of the class and became the consummate "back bencher".

I am forever amused by my reaction that day, if I had taken it in stride and seen it for what it really was; I know without a doubt that my life would have played out differently. Perhaps I would have been that guy who follows all the rules, but I know beyond any doubt that my life changed that day.

Looking back on my life now I can discern most of the moments that have made me who I am and none stands out more than a kiss. Underneath a starry sky by the river Nile, Brenda kissed me and I have never been the same. It was a day of many firsts; my first cigarette, my first blunt and it was the first time I really ever opened up to a girl.

A few years earlier I had gotten my heart broken. I had fallen in love with Geri, a "born again" Christian and I guess I never really did stand a chance against God but I had to try. I still harboured notions of an all encompassing love; I was by all means a hopeless romantic. She was sweet, kind, gentle and beautiful. She still is all these things. I got so tangled up in her life that I would spend time at her home, chatting comfortably with her dad and playing with her kid brothers. I was there when Semei died. I couldn't find anything to say, I had been here before and understood that no one really knew what you went through and the best I could do was just be there. I remember getting up to leave the vigil and her asking me not to go. The idea that I could give any comfort was in itself comforting, so I stayed. We buried him in September 2001; I will never forget it because it was the same time terrorists levelled the World Trade Centre. The world was changing and I with it.

A few months later I managed to get the courage to tell Geri how I felt. We were walking somewhere on campus, I think she was going to catch the bus to her hostel. I blurted it out and just like that my life changed yet again. It should be a matter of record that the worst response to "I love you" is without a doubt "thank you, I'm flattered". This was the beginning of a hard lesson, a realisation that fantasy and reality are indeed miles apart. That love perhaps does not conquer all, that contrary to popular belief, it does keep a record of wrongs. I tried hard to understand why she rejected me, maybe I wasn't cute enough, or wasn't rich enough but I knew her better than that. So I asked her if it was because of my beliefs, she said no but to this day I believe that more than anything else was the problem. We tried to be close friends after that but I just couldn't handle being around her and told her as much. Her father passed away about a year or so after that and to this day I marvel at her strength and her faith and I still feel deeply for her.

Throughout my earlier years, I had been told to forsake all sorts of indulgences. I was apparently against a harsh world and could not afford such things as most teenagers experience. I was told to mind my books and all would be well when I got to the university. I could have gone to America for my university but I had waited for so long to get here. This place called Makerere was where I had been promised my life would begin in earnest. I wanted to experience it. So with my broken heart I considered the prospect of burying myself in books that were quickly becoming boring. This was not at all what I had been promised so I decided to embrace the wild side. I decided to reinvent myself, I became a bad boy. This was partly based on Patrick's analysis of my heartbreak, stating the old adage that "nice guys finish last". I changed my social circles and instead of spending evenings with Geri or one of my born again friends, I opted for wine, women and song. I felt empty still, I could not find someone who truly understood me and it was mostly my fault because I couldn't bring myself to open up to anyone. I embraced the concept of the individual that sometimes I didn't care about hurting other people. It was one of the best decisions of my life; I didn't give much thought to the future and just trusted that somehow it would work out. I partied like there was no tomorrow and indeed whenever I would think about my future; I felt that familiar sense of discomfort.

I always searched for someone to complete me. Ever since my mother died, I felt alone in the world but somehow I always knew that there was someone out there I could share my life with. I think that belief always pushed me on despite the darkest of moments. I met Brenda one unremarkable day while I was doing sit-ups and push-ups in my room on campus. I shared a room with Roger and Patrick in my first year so there were always people coming and going. I was probably on my fourth push-up, wondering if I could make it to twenty let alone ten when I heard a knock at the door. I was all sweaty and my eyes had gone crimson because of all the blood rushing to my head. I opened the door just wide enough to stick my head out and there she was with Rona, Roger's cousin. They were looking for Roger and after informing them that he wasn't around and that I would be sure to let him know the moment I saw him, they left. To be honest it was a rather unremarkable event but I never forgot it. She would tell me years later that the way I looked at her that day made her feel like a child, all I remember is the way she looked so innocent.

The weeks and months passed, she got involved with Roger and I ardently explored the campus life. If there is one thing I cannot be faulted on, it is enjoying myself. I am happy to report that campus was all they had promised it would be. It was a time of building friendships that will forever endure, of experimenting and self discovery. If there was proggie, I did it and it was on one of these proggies that we got talking. I don't know what drew to her but somehow I found it easy to talk to her. I could tell her things I didn't tell anyone else. She had broken up with Roger and I could tell it was hard on her. I did my best to ease her self doubt. One Saturday my friends and I struck upon the idea of taking a trip to Jinja. We were the kind of people to organise such a trip in two hours flat. Jorge quickly organised transport and we bundled everyone into the taxi and headed to Jinja. I remember when we drove to Googz's hostel so that he could pick a change of clothes and we found Abbas, his roommate, bored and idle.
"We go to Jinja" I said
"Now?" He asked
"Yup, get a change of clothes and we go"
"Okay"
It was that easy to organise proggie, there were always takers. It was a trip that none of us will ever forget. I think that all of us on that trip became closer and have always been since. That was the trip that took us to that place by the river Nile, where she pulled me close and kissed me and I was never the same again.

There is an unspoken rule among friends concerning the girls they date. It is called the code. I broke this code; I threw caution to the wind and fell in love with this girl. In my defence she and Roger had broken up and he was seeing someone else. His being my brother did not make it any easier. I had the most exciting months of my campus life and by the time we convened the "clear the air" talks I was too far gone. When a guy breaks the code, somehow a conversation between the two parties is arranged. From this conversation it came to light that I had erred, that despite what I thought, a guy could have two girls and be equally in love with them. I acquiesced to this and promised myself that I would be only a friend.

I left campus later that year still trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life. She became "my person" and I hers. She was the one person who knew me truly and I could not help myself but talk to her. We would meet for beer and a chat every now and then. I remember one day when I was depressed by the fact that I didn't know what I wanted to do with myself and she said to me "I believe you can do anything you want, you're that kind of person." From then on I was "Superman" and she was "Wonder Woman". Somehow we never talked about Roger. I always assumed she saw me as his brother. I knew her as the kind of person who did something because she wanted to. I knew that if she wanted anything more than friendship from me I would know it. I remember one night when I was dropping her home, I kissed her and she asked, "Are you sure about this?" I should have been, but all I could say was "Who's sure of anything?" I tried to distance myself after that. I got involved with someone else and predictably it didn't work out, but I gave it my best shot. She was always there though, at the back of my mind.

At the beginning of her last year, I told her that one of my resolutions was to see a lot more of her. There is no doubt that was one of the best years of my life. It was full of stolen kisses and the most intimate conversations. We shared dreams and hopes and I built a future in my head. I told her how I wanted to take a year off and head east to see the world and she asked me "and what will some of us do when you go?" She knew that I always felt I would never settle down but I told her that if ever there was anyone I could spend my life with, it was her. She kissed me and I built dreams. Still there was Roger between us.

It was a Saturday night when I last saw her walk into a room. I was seated in a favourite corner of "Bubbles", an Irish pub my friends and I frequent, when she strolled in. Anything I had been up to till then was irrelevant; I only had time for her. We sat down at the bar and had that conversation that we should have had many times before.

"Why is it that you have never made a move on me? If I asked you to make love to me what would you say?"

I was speechless for a moment; I had waited for this for too long and here I finally was. The promise of a better tomorrow was finally here, life would finally make sense and that all so elusive peace would be ours. I looked at her, words threatening to fail me and I said

"I like to think that I know you better than most and to be honest I never could tell what you thought of me."

"Then maybe you don't know me that well" she said.

"I have felt this way for a long time but there was always this thing between us but fuck it! I love you, absolutely."

Then Mark walked over with a couple of B52s and made the strangest toast ever. "Here's to a life unfulfilled" he said as we did our shots and proceeded to get drunk. We ended up driving to the beach with Jorge to watch the sunrise and she slept peacefully on the way back.

We had our last meal together the following Monday, I asked to see her so that I could say all these things while I was alcohol free. She died two weeks later and took my dreams with her. Everything in my life now begins and ends with her, I am fated to tell the world stories and deep down all I want to say is that I met a girl and she still lives in me.

Losing My Religion

2009-07-03T03:56:00.001-07:00

There is a small village in the southwest of Uganda called Nyakijumba, near the town of Kabale. I was born there and spent the first eight years of my life calling it home.

I was baptized in the catholic faith, the religion of my father. One of my earliest childhood memories is one of waking up early one morning and finding that my mother had left for morning prayers without me. My mother was part of a group of women who met once a week for a prayer meeting. I had been to a couple of these with her and I quite liked them. The meetings were always in the wee hours of the morning and lasted about two hours. They began with the actual prayers which lasted an hour and the remainder of the time was spent comparing notes on pertinent issues and the latest gossip.

I woke up to find the door locked from the outside. I knew that she's decided to go without me. Perhaps she had failed to wake me or decided I could use the sleep. I quickly washed my face and put on some clothes, my exit would be the window. I opened the window and was greeted by the heaviest fog I had ever seen. I could hardly see a few feet in any direction. Unfazed I jumped out the window and made my way, mostly by memory, out the compound, across the road and all the way to the meeting.

My mother was protestant, something I knew from an early age but did not bother to question. She was much more than that to me. She was the centre of my world; she taught me a ton of things not the least of which is that I should always be kind. She taught me about God and all that goes with that. She bought me the only bible I have ever owned. I think my fascination with words begun with "My Big Book of Bible Stories". I devoured that and then the "Good News Bible" and any other books I could read. By the time she passed away I was in my mind a protestant.

I remember when she was in the hospital dying, I knelt down and asked God to save her. She was dying of AIDS but I did not know. I knew God was all powerful and he had said that if we but asked we would surely receive. My faith was strong and pure; he would hear and answer my prayer. I was a few weeks shy of my thirteenth birthday when she passed away.

For the next two years I questioned my faith and put it to a simple test of fairness as I knew it. My mother had been my go to person for spiritual guidance and it so happened that there was no one else to answer my questions. I had to turn inward, to the concepts of good and bad as I experienced them. I consumed anything I could. I read Mark Twain's "Letters from the Earth", Dan Barker's "Losing Faith in Faith" and of course the bible. But most influential was Robert Green Ingersoll's "Why I am an Agnostic" and discovering the history of the bible and Christianity. I was shocked to discover that throughout the centuries; Kings, Queens, Emperors and even Popes had all manipulated what was put down as "the word of God". This so called sacred book had been written and rewritten by all sorts of people down the years to suit their needs.

Nevertheless my faith could not die so easily, so I gave the good book its due consideration. I tried to understand its message as laid out in the pages. I found that there was a message of peace in this book. A simple commandment, that we should all love one another. But it was not content to stop there. It told of a God who entertained no argument, competition or remorse. You were to love him and no other, if you chose otherwise, you were damned. It was simple intimidation. I could not help but liken this God to my uncle who demanded respect rather than earned it. At the end of my inquiry, I came to three conclusions about the God that I had been brought up to believe in.

There was a God and a Devil and this God was all powerful. He held dominion over everything and his word was final. There was no court of appeal on any decision that he made. He had the power to make peace but chose war instead. He was malevolent, conceited and above all a warmonger.
There was a God and a Devil and none was superior to the other. In fact, one could not exist without the other and so passed the eons playing an unwinnable celestial game of chess. The problem this presented was that there was no motive for the Devil. He was always the underdog, so why keep playing? What the hell was he going to do with all those souls? Surely he had better things to do with his time than run around tempting people.
There was no God and no Devil. All these things were invented by human beings to satisfy certain needs.

I chose the third option and became an atheist.

Over the years, I have come to view religion as a divisive factor in the world. At the heart of its message is the simple statement that we are the faithful and anyone who does not believe what we believe is damned, that they are different from us and deserve all that befalls them as just punishment for their infidelity. While watching an evangelical programme on TV the other day, I heard the preacher say that Christian couples should see to it that they stop having divorce rates the same as of those people outside the church. That simple statement creates a division, a distinction between "us" and "them". It is not hard to see how this plays out eventually.

Most people today see Islam as the most intolerant religion but the idea of religious extremism is nothing new. It has been around for centuries and none have excelled at it better than the Christians. History is littered with their handiwork and despite seeming more tolerant today, it does not take much to incite violence in the church. The church, the mosque and the synagogue can and are all being used as platforms for hate and division.

I believe religion is responsible for a greater share of mankind's wars than anything else. Its ability to divide families, tribes and nations is rooted in the simple fact that at its core is the fact that there is a God who will not make peace or accommodate his adversary. Hence the question I have to ask all who believe.

How does a religion that has at its core a God who is eternally at war with the Devil teach the language of the peacemakers? If we, who are charged with making the peace, should look to our God for guidance and find that he or she has not made peace yet, what do we do?

Religion answers three fundamental questions that plague all human beings. The first is the yearning to know where we came from, the second is to answer why we are here and the third is to quell our fear of death and the hereafter. It will tell you that you are here by God's grace, that you should live by the law he set down while you are here so that you may be worthy to enter his kingdom after this life. It all sounds fine until you find out what God is telling you to do. To kill, disown your family, have nothing to do with unbelievers, treat women as less than equals and many other things. It will also tell you to make peace but this is not a prerequisite, to enter paradise all you need to do is truly repent and believe. All your earthly deeds count for nothing as long as you do not believe.

Most people today actually pick what they need from their religious tomes. The things they believe do not apply to their lives today they discard. We would all hope that you pick those words that teach peace and kindness.

I believe that human beings are born with an innate sense of morality. That the environment in which we grow up contributes greatly to how we view the world and our fellow human beings. That we should come to the realisation that each and every one of us is responsible for the things that he or she does and will be judged thus.

The only religion we need is a true religion of peace, one that simply teaches us to make each other's lives better when we can but at the very least, to do no harm.

Playlist Entry: R.E.M – Losing My Religion