This essay was first published in the Kalahari Review platform on 25th December 2019. “Away in a manger; No Crib for a bed. The little Lord Jesus lay down his sweet head. The cattle were lowing, the baby awakes But little lord Jesus, no sound that he makes. The little lord Jesus, asleep in the … Continue reading A Very Weary Christmas
I live in Uganda. It is an unpolished pearl sliced in half by the equator. In Uganda, we don’t trust numbers, statistics, or headlines. However, every morning, you will find us squinting at the rack of the dailies we don’t intend to buy, reading the many versions of the truth cooked up by the media, … Continue reading The Pearl Of Many Colours
For days and then for weeks the sun had shone so fiercely that I had begun to wonder whether I had started receiving some of the wages of my sins on earth. In a few short weeks, the sun had barbecued the iron sheets and baked the dusty streets. Even the animals, unable to take … Continue reading AN EYE ON THE SKY
Of course I am angry. I am angry about racism. I am angry about sexism. But recently I came to the realization that I am angrier about sexism than I am about racism. Because in my anger about sexism, I feel lonely.Because I love and live among many people who easily acknowledge race injustice but … Continue reading Of Blood & Vinegar
Whose face do you see when you imagine your greatest love?
Photo by Mat Reding on Unsplash Uncertainty and Dread Disappointment and Doubt Self-pity and Lust Day in Day out. No! I say Night melts into day No! I say again Every Daydream has an end.
I used to be an open-air bar. I was Legends on a Saturday night. My door was never closed because I had no door. My heart could not break because I had no lock. Everybody could come in and everyone could stay... I used to think I couldn't change who I was. I was right. … Continue reading The Black Fountain
This is a poem about the strides we have taken in setting the women of the world free.
"I liked my childhood, but I don't miss it much. Yes, you paid no taxes,Your trouble was with soup. Though the adults got too much, Yours was never enough..." Translated from a Luganda song by Elly Wamala "Njagala Obuto" When as a child — a female child — you smell blood for the first time, you don’t realize that … Continue reading A Few Bloody Lessons
The sweet smell of dirty sheets in a damp corner of the bathroom greets me each morning as I wiggle my left foot into the wrong shoe and hop off to work. Our bathroom — modestly made up of blue tiles stained brown and cracked like a cheap mosaic — is a sight for sleepy eyes. The burning of … Continue reading A Home Amidst Houses
SMOKE & LEAVES 