“Let me tell you about the year I unraveled. It was 2017. The kind of cold that lives in your bones. I’d built a life like a house of cards, shiny promotions, dutiful nods, a LinkedIn profile polished to a high gleam. Then, in one gust, it collapsed. A project failed. A trust fractured. A door slammed with finality. I sat in the rubble, picking shards of my ego from the carpet, and laughed. Not the laughter of joy, but the kind that comes when you finally see the punchline of a joke you’ve been living. So this is failure, I thought. Not a monster, but a mirror. Here’s what the mirror showed: I’d spent years sprinting from failure’s shadow, only to realize I was fleeing my own silhouette. My fear wasn’t of stumbling, it was of soaring. Because success demands a tax. It asks you to trade pieces of your soul for standing ovations. To become a statue on a pedestal, frozen in the pose of someone else’s admiration…”
The Great Word Revolt
Outrageous! Outlandish! Overly austere!
Preposterous! Pernicious! Profoundly… uncheer!
Quoth the dictionary: “This quarrel’s quite queer…”
From Whispers to Roar: The Unjust Detention of Kizza Besigye and the Erosion of Democracy in Uganda
A Symbol of Suppression The recent arrest of Dr. Kizza Besigye, former president of Uganda’s Forum for Democratic Change (FDC), in Nairobi and his controversial extradition to face a military court in Kampala is not merely an isolated incident. It is a chilling emblem of a regime determined to silence dissent through legal theatrics and…… Continue reading From Whispers to Roar: The Unjust Detention of Kizza Besigye and the Erosion of Democracy in Uganda
Soles That Become Souls
“They’ve carried me through decades, these faithful companions, their seams holding stories tighter than stitches ever could… They were buttery brown then, unscarred, smelling of cedar and possibility. I slipped them on, and the world became a sidewalk eager for my footprints… At 30, they became silent witnesses… Now, at 35, the shoes are relics… Life’s not an egg hunt for lost things. It’s the wearing-in, the weathering, the walking—even when the path feels like a maze…”
The Unseen Blossom
“When the first petal opened, white as a moonlit prayer, I wept. It smelled like her kitchen. Like forgiveness… Last week, a woman stopped me in the park. Her son, she said, had carried his jasmine to chemo. “He said it reminded him… things grow in the dark.” I nodded, throat tight. She hugged me, her tears salt on my collarbone…”
The Dance Of Ink & Air
“What is a sport but a dance with gravity?
A sonnet spun from sinew, sweat, and sky
where bodies bend to hymns of almost and why,
and every loss is just a vowel away from victory.
Poetry, my first love, leaps from the page,
a gymnast of the mind twisting through time,
while basketballs scribble parabolas in rhyme,
their swish a haiku whispered to the rim’s edge…”
Turning Kampala’s Trash into Treasure
The Rise of Composting Imagine a Kampala where food scraps and garden trimmings don’t end up clogging landfills, but instead transform into rich, black gold: compost. This isn’t a far-fetched dream, but a sustainable solution that’s gaining traction in our city. Composting is the natural process of decomposition that breaks down organic waste into nutrient-rich…… Continue reading Turning Kampala’s Trash into Treasure
DMT 