Living Zack's Utopia

Goodbye

2010-10-26T02:29:00.003+01:00

After much thought and consideration, I have come to the conclusion that I will not be blogging here any more. It could be because I've lost two close friends over the time I've been blogging and had to painfully write about it or perhaps I've only just out-grown a phase of my life. I don't know for sure. And I don't wanna stay long enough to find out. However, it's been nice while it lasted. And for now, I will sing along to that '60's John Denver classic, "I am leaving on a jet plane and I don't know when I'll be back again" Until another day, ladies and gen'men. It's been a great ride!

Brian Bukenya. Gone too soon.

2009-11-13T09:27:00.011Z

I have often joked that a school and a prison are very similar institutions because in both one is given an enrollment number, locked away and sentenced to share a common history with people not of their own choosing, for what may seem like eternity. In this case, I would like to retract my school of thought (pun unintended)... I met a remarkable fella in 'Brian Bukenya' while I attended part of my secondary school in Uganda. And even though I may have some poor experiences of going to school, my friendship with 'Buxo' (as the other fellas christened him) was one of those that gave me the 'joie de vivre' on those pretty difficult school days. My 'comrade-in-arms' I thought of Brian back then. In retrospect, I'm thankful to God for those little things and the times that we shared together as carefree teenagers. Some of these memories shall be indelibly printed on my mind cuz little things as they might have seemed back then, al grown up now, I realise the little things we take for granted are really the big things that matter in life.

Meeting Bryan

For our accommodation, we had an L-shaped dorm room with bunk beds stacked in neat rows across the two sides of the wall and one long and large aisle separating one side from the other. Taking breakfast cereal as a midnight snack would never raise an eyebrow where we lived. If it were illegal, I think we would all have been culprits. When we were all done with the 'snacking' as it was called, someone would put out the lights and then we would continue having our chats with each other in the darkness, each one under their blue distinguishing bed-covers as we wandered off to sleep, one by one.

A few days into our established 'culture', along came this medium-sized boy that preferred to change the culture after the midnight snack by baring down to his usually bright red or black designer underwear, to do 3 or 4 sets of 20 press-ups. You might be wondering why I point out the bit about being designer but when a brand name is the most conspicuous item on a mono-coloured piece of clothing, it surely has a way of standing out and sticking to memory. Because he took his time while doing his press-ups and also did them with so much pomp and fanfare, this meant the lights would have to stay on longer through the night (or morning since it would be past midnight anyway). And it's these antics of his that first sparked off a verbal fighting contest of sorts between Brian and the bigger boys in our accommodation hall who preferred to have the lights out as soon as the 'snacking' was done with. That's how I first became aware of Bryan Bukenya - the boy who dared to shout back at our seniors, the bigger boys who occupied the light-controlling side of our accommodation hall. That's the structure of leadership that we had in those accommodations. The fellas in the higher classes always had an advantage over their juniors. In this case it was being closer to the light switch. It still beats me to this day what the logic behind that was. But to give you a more detailed picture of our lighting system, we had long fluorescent tube-lamps suspended from the ceiling by these archaic metallic strings. These lights were activated by a starter switch that was conveniently placed just under the lamp holder but above the lamp itself. Their mechanism was such that if there was no starter switch inserted, the lamp would not light up when the switch was pressed on. On this one night, someone that presumably must have been fed up of Bryan's 'ante meridian' antics seemed to take advantage of this lighting system and took the starter switches out of the lamps on our side of the accommodation hall so that should the lights be switched off the first time, they wouldn't come back on, even when the switch was pressed on again. That night, Bryan seemed disappointed but nonetheless, went ahead with doing his press-ups. I think he must have done about 20 at the time, as he made sure to count out rather loudly for all to hear... From my bunk, I could the counts come out through heavey breaths...16-17-18-19… and then a loud bang at 20 as he collapsed on the floor, an exhausted mound of bone and muscle. That was Brian for you. A brilliant performer and one that never gave up easily. About a week or so later, we had our first one-on-one encounter when one afternoon after classes, he brought me a starter switch that I think he must have nicked from somewhere. He asked me to keep it for him to use to start up the light lamps later that night. I personally enjoyed reading the Asterix-Obelix and Moses-comics selections late into the night. My own bunk bed was located directly below the fluorescent lamp holder our side of the dorm room so having the lights on a bit longer wouldn't bother me in the least. And that's how our friendship started, from tackling a common light problem to sharing many other experiences together both within and outside of school.

The Bryan I knew

I was never one for football but when the English premiership football craze hit our lot, I remember cheering Manchester United's Fabien Barthez along with Bryan and some others. "The greatest team of all time", we had all sang out then in reference to Manchested United. Along the way, Brian being an ardent football player took on the trade name 'Blanc' after a French footballer at the time, Laurent Blanc, if I remember correctly. I think it must have been Arsenal that took the day that season. The next school term, Bryan amazed us all that had supported Manchester United with him when he professed his love and undying support for Arsenal Football Club. I say 'amazed' because it was virtually unheard of for one to switch allegiances so easily and especially with such seemingly determined passion. The sheer unpredictability. That was Brian. And yet even in his unpredictability, he maintained a rare sense of loyalty for his new-found cause; whether it was a football team, an idea, a friend or even something as mundane as a designer brand. It's this quality in him that I think had many clamouring for Bryan not to be on the opposing side of their arguments. When Bryan believed in something, it was usually to the death. I only learnt later on in life when we were both out of school that he would actually soften or even change his stance on something if you laboured to convince him enough, carefully laying your facts and figures correctly. If they weighed out against his, you'd succeed in having him see it your way.

Political Education had been one of the newly introduced teachable subjects for our school syllabus and the school administration had brought on a new visionary teacher to kick-start the process. Perhaps it was the man or simply his teaching style, but in retrospect, I cannot remember a single soul back then that wanted to let go of the Political Education teacher even after the bell signalling the end of his lesson had gone. Bryan was one of those that would literally tug at the teacher's coat, to keep him inside the class taking to us a little longer. With Political Education, it was for us usually an insatiable hunger to learn. Bryan would take those political debates back with him to his accommodation hall, drawing up even more controversy when he differed in opinion with others (or vice versa) on a particular issue. Another time, when one of our teachers had given birth, Bryan had led the entire class to raise funds towards the purchase of a congratulatory gift and in small visiting parties of ten had marched us to the teacher's home, a few kilometres outside the school campus. I was in the last visiting party and on our way back, Bryan took me on a detour for a small treat: to have a hair-cut in a real salon. Back then, that was a lot better than the single school barber who came in only once a week and sometimes even less frequently, to serve a population of 500+ students. Brian got something they called a crew cut then while I went for a fade. It was much later that I realised he would be visiting an all-girls' school the next day, hence the convenient detour. All the same, he had shared what he had with me and that was something. Brian loved to dress up smartly. He was actually one of the few boys I can remember in my class that kept his school tie on for the most part of the day. Once, when Sylvia Owori, a clothes-designer of sorts in Kampala was the 'new thing' in town, Brian had gone off to her newly opened ‘Sylvie's boutique’ and picked up a pair of classic sleek shoes for school. That was the first time I (and many of the other fellas in our class) heard of a shoe designer called 'IKON'. Brian not only brought the shoes but a style magazine introducing the IKON as a classic shoe design. Our whole class and maybe a couple more others heard of IKON too then. Bryan certainly made sure of that. And again in retrospect, I think Brian's 'IKON' became the most famous non-living member of our class. Brian Bukenya, a man of style!

Once, for a whole year, I was paired up with Brian in class. This meant that we sat next to each other and we also formed our study groups together too. It was during that time that our bond as friends grew even stronger and we each learnt a great deal about the other's life. One day, going back to our accommodation halls after classes, Bryan looked at me and said he was tired of having a 'skinny' friend for a neighbour and that I had to start working out so I could add some muscle mass to my 'frame' as he called it. 'Kabawo' (as flat as a log), is the term he actually used to describe what he thought my torso actually looked like. At the time, Bryan and another friend had this private gym thing going and this was more or less my invitation to the exclusive club. So at sweet sixteen I was introduced to the world of weightlifting in an improvised local school 'private gym'. We would work out for an hour or more after classes for 4-5 days a week doing the same range of exercises everyday. We didn't know any better at the time. Later, when I progressed to a real gym and a professional trainer on leaving school, I learnt that we had been doing a lot of things the wrong way and it was little wonder I couldn't see much for myself in terms of the weightlifting effects during those school days. But at that time, Brian and the other friend were my personal trainers. I did whatever they did or told me to do. It was like family how we worked out; fluctuating between 48 and 50 Kgs at the time, I was the lightest and obviously weakest member of this exclusive club, so I needed a 'spot' most of the time especially when I would get to the last 5 reps of my set of exercises. Bryan would usually offer to 'spot' each one of us, cheering us on, encouraging us to complete the sets. Bryan never gave up on you. One day, tired of the monotony of these exercises, I had abandoned the 'gym' to go and play some basketball and when I had just made team which was quite an effort in itself, I saw Brian coming out to the basketball court as he pointed at me... "Man, I can't leave you here. You know where you have to be!" he shouted out at me. You couldn't just say NO to Brian. He pulled me by the arm and walked me back to the 'gym' as he lectured me about 'collective responsibility'. Apparently, I should have let him know first, before I wandered off like that, and then that 'gym day' would have been cancelled for everyone, allowing all of us to go for the field sports. "Besides," he said, "You have all the weekend for basketball." Bryan was caring like that. We would later exchange notes on the correct techniques of weightlifting and dieting when we both moved on from secondary school. Once, I remember Bryan waking me up at 1.00am in the night with ice-cold water over my face and literally dragging me out of bed to go to class so we could study for our exams. We would study for up to 2 hours at the most and then he’d pull out his stash of letters from girls and have me edit his replies. Once I had been replying a letter of my own and Brian had asked to see it but I told him I didn’t think it was any of his business. He pulled it away from me anyway and read it amidst loud guffaws. When he was done, he told me everything about me was his business because I was his friend. That was Bryan for you!

And then outside of school, there were the parties and the girls... One thing I'll say about Brian first is that I think he was one really focused young lad. For all the time that I was with him and even when we went to new places after our time together in school, Brian was usually in a committed relationship. Whenever I asked, I never heard him say, "Oh, I am single now" or "I am open to anyone" as most boys our age were wont to do. No, Brian was usually seeing someone and I think that saved him a lot of trouble in the long run. Brian loved and knew how to have a good time with his friends. If he wasn't hosting one, he was inviting you to go with him to one party. Not being one for loud parties myself, I usually had to decline his invitations. I remember Brian distinctly telling me how he would be happy to stop by in the Emirate city of Duba'i where I lived at the time, if only I could get a good party thing going. Miles apart, we’d kept our friendship alive chatting everyday on messenger and it's also during that time that I introduced Brian to blogging and then a few days after opening his own blog at: www.bbukenya.blogspot.com, he had instant messaged me asking, "but Zack, who ever reads that stuff?" I told him in reply, "Brian... it's simply a blog... whoever wants can read." Blogging seemed to lose its appeal to him after a while so he quit but I asked him not to delete the blog as I hoped that it would serve some purpose in retracing his history once he had ‘made it up there’ someday. Of course we never realise the irony of our statements sometimes until life deals you this way but thinking of what I said again, it takes on an entirely new and ironic connotation. In retrospect, I’m glad Brian acquiesced to my request because his blog is perhaps the only unadulterated cached memory of his that we may still have online. And of course, a few months later came the revolution of the social networking sites. First, hi5 and then later Facebook following closely on its heels. Even as he pursued his cumbersome law studies as he liked to refer to them, Brian was never one to be left behind by trends. His social profiles were usually awash with dual traffic between him and his many friends.

The other side of Bryan

Now before I go any further, I would like to state that this is my obituary to someone that I think I knew for more than 10 years of my life, someone that I also called a close friend and with whom I shared many personal experiences with and so I don't really care how or what some people may think of some of the things that I'm saying here. This is simply how 'I saw things' to borrow on a more literal phrase.

To some people, it may have seemed that Brian was a young lad who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. I wouldn't say that. In fact, I think that in many ways, Bryan went through the toughest circumstances, trying to make his own luck somehow until he persevered. Self-made Brian Bukenya. To someone seeing him from a distance Brian may have carried himself erect and might have even seemed to exude some power and solidity. But what they didn't know was that inwards was a more fragile young lad doing his utmost best to conceal inner struggles, passing off as the kind of person who wouldn't be easily hurt, a person who tried to ride all the blows that life dealt him. Beneath the mask he wore was great pain, there was really a little boy struggling to be accepted, to be called 'beloved' or even simply, 'son'. Brian worked very hard to get his father's attention in his life. Now, I have seen people in a similar situation simply give up and settle with eking out a living on their own. But Brian was different. I remember once accompanying him to this building somewhere in the up-scale surburbs of Uganda's Kampala, where his father worked and we were made to sit for what seemed like eternity before Brian was eventually told that his father would not see him due to the latter's busy schedule. Just like that. I could see the tears well up in his eyes and before he shed any, I quickly made to leave because I felt as though I had intruded on a private moment and my presence there at the time might have retracted from him the macho-image that he'd worked so hard to build of himself in the public domain. But Brian didn't give up. I was to learn that a few weeks later he had gone back and once again had gotten the same result. He kept on going until he finally got that appointment with his father. Brian loved his father dearly and he was almost the only one person that featured consistently in most of his conversations. More than anything, Brian longed to be recognised by his father as a beloved son. To earn his father's love, Brian humbled himself to do every chore at his father’s beck and call. Now, I don't mean to critic a father's style of bringing up his child and I think Brian's humility to his father was quite exemplary but I think that at some point, it was a little too harsh on him. But it paid off. During his university years, Brian would later became his father's closest confidant. What saddens me the most is the fact that Brian had only just started to enjoy this close relationship when his life was suddenly taken from him. And my last sight of him, as he lay deprived of life in a green metallic casket, most of what he had been longing for the most part of his 26 years... love, public show of affection, suddenly came aplenty. How ironic life can be!

I know that I hurt as a friend but I just cannot imagine the pain and sorrow of losing both a son and a friend that both his father and mother must be going through at this time. My heart goes out to them!

Fare thee well my good friend

When I first heard that Brian was gone it all seemed so surreal to me. Just a bad dream I thought. And it's only now that typing out this obituary I am suddenly realising he really is gone. There's not gonna be another Brian on the other end of the phone-line anymore. There's no more 'How are you, Boss?' or 'Chief, watagwan?' or 'Obulamu bugamba ki, dirham ne dollar ziriwa?' (boyish banter) from him. No more of that!!! And it’s painful. Very painful. The pain starts as a thick lump in my throat as I try to imagine why he had to be taken away from us so soon. The pain gradually finds its way to my eyes, welling up tears that I didn't know I could still shed. And as the tears cloud my vision, I have to take off my glasses and clear my eyes with the back of my hand to finish typing this. Only God knows if I will be able to read it again while holding myself together. Rest in peace my friend, Brian. I will miss you. All your friends miss you. Brian Bukenya. 1983 - 2009. In loving memory.

Equal Access

2009-03-29T23:53:00.009+01:00

Last month, I met a very interesting man whom I'll call 'Hal' for now. Hal communicated in a different language from mine or anyone else's in the room where we were. His was not an audible language and so someone had to interprete for all of us in the room what Hal was 'telling' us. You see, Hal was deaf and dumb. And because he couldn't hear us either, we had to get our messages across to him through the only other person in that room that 'spoke' his language, the 'sign language' interpreter. Hal 'told' us something that I reckon I shall remember for a very long time; he asked us to consider the fact that since we (the rest of us) couldn't communicate directly to him (and vice-versa), perhaps that was a disadvantage on our part and to reflect on the fact that at the time he was actually 'speaking', all the rest of us in that room could be considered to be 'temporarily disabled' until his interpreter 'enabled' us with the interpretation of what he had communicated through his signs.

And he was right. While Hal 'talked' with his hands and made facial gestures, all the rest of us in that room could have but only wondered what in the world could be going on. I had known before about sign-language but from our communication with Hal, one couldn't but marvel at his perceived eloquence even though the 'sign language'. This got me thinking about my own perception of disability and I was a little embarrassed at the fact that I had never seriously given much thought to disability and how it affects development in our world. Since my interaction with Hal I have tried to recall various interactions that I have had with people with disabilities. Sadly, the biggest number of these have been from my own country, Uganda -of course this could also be due to the fact that it is the one place that I have lived for longer than 10 years at a time. That notwithstanding, Uganda is also one of the poorest countries in the world and for the disabled people in Uganda that I have interacted with, the majority of them have been living under conditions of desperate poverty. Some of them because they could not tolerate it any longer transferred their misery to the streets where they stood a better chance of survival by making use of their (usually visible) disability to solicit sympathy and inadvertently a few coins from people that saw them and that cared to give.

According to UN estimates, there are more than 500 million disabled people in the world. Approximately 80% of this number live in low-income countries. Estimates vary from one nation to another but on average, disabled people account for between 4 - 10 % of the population. These numbers are however on the increase with every new day because of such precipitating factors as: violent conflict, accidents, HIV/AIDS, environmental pollution and ageing populations.

Now I have met disabled people in almost every other country that I may have been to but like I said before, never on the scale as Uganda's. Disabled people are a part of every community, everywhere in the world. However, in the developing world, disabled people are also among the poorest and most marginalised people. Quite ironically, disabled people have the least access to public services, which exacerbates their isolated condition by stigmatising them, and/or denying them the opportunity to participate in policy-making processes within their communities and consequently keeps them in poverty.

Poverty is not only about low income. It is also about limited opportunities, choices and social exclusion. When people are denied opportunities for economic, social and human development because of a disability, it feeds the vicious cycle of poverty by creating a negative imbalance in the attainment of their human rights through decreased participation in their communities, which makes them the more vulnerable to poverty and/or ill health.

Now, I am sure that disabled people do not expect more or better facilities than other people. Only to be included. So they too, can have equal access. For the majority of disabled people in low-income communities, their human rights to life, food, water and shelter are a daily struggle. The only way they will access these basic needs and rights is through inclusion in the mainstream services and programmes. Today I thought about back home and of all of the construction projects that are going on all over the country -from the sprawling shopping malls in Kampala... to the water projects in Bukedi... to the northern Uganda reconstruction programme in most of Gulu et al- and I wondered about the plight of the disabled people and whether their needs were being seriously considered in the planning of those vital public services, so that they are accessible even to people with disabilities. I know, 'Equal Access' can be a hard nut to crack. But we've gotta start somewhere.

In writing this particular blog, I thought I would appeal to each of you reading here to reflect on your own perceptions of disability -Uganda could be any other country for you- and how in your own life, with your own means, you can make a difference today by improving accessibility for people with disability and other special needs. In my last blog here, I talked about Millennium Development Goals. One other thing that is resoundingly clear about the attainment of MDG # 4 - poverty reduction - is that unless poverty reduction/eradication measures are made disability conscious, this particular MDG will not be equitably met. And on an economic perspective, the cost of excluding disabled people in a development programme far outweighs the cost of including them. Make a difference today! Alutta continua...

Other useful links on disability as a poverty issue:

United Nations: Disability Statistics

UNICEF: Child Disability, Statistical Tables

Identifying Disability Issues in Poverty Reduction

MDGs: an attitudinal change for conflict areas

2009-02-05T10:38:00.002Z

At the dawn of the 21st century and new millennium, 2000, while at the United Nations Millennium Summit, 189 nations pledged to end the conditions and precipitating factors of poverty that people world-over face. The representatives of these nations defined a number of targets and indicators to mark progress and set a time-line. By 2015, everything from universal access to primary education to reversing the spread of HIV/AIDS should be accomplished according to that pledge. Together the United Nations at that summit referred to these targets as the 8 Millennium Development Goals, MDGs.

Periodically, each of the governments of the 189 nations is supposed to present a candid report of progress made towards the attainment of the 8 MDGs. In the preamble to the MDG declaration, a part of the phrase read: “...(to) free men, women, and children from the abject and dehumanizing conditions of extreme poverty.” Living in extreme poverty means living from hand to mouth, without any comfort or confidence in the availability of the fundamental elements that ensure human survival. Poverty, especially in Africa is also inextricably linked to conflicts and political instability -conditions which make an easy solution equally difficult to achieve.

Today, my heart goes out to the hundreds of thousands of people displaced by wars and strife all over Africa -Darfur in western Sudan, eastern Congo, northern Uganda and more recently north-eastern Congo and areas of the southern Sudan, to mention but a few. For this group of people, the continued strife remains a major hindrance to poverty reduction and ultimately human development as income is continually lost out through abandonment of economic activities -farming for one that represents a nearly 70% contribution to national economies in most African countries south of the Sahara- in some cases estimated to the tune of billions of U.S. dollars.

While the implementing governments seek to appease their respective MDG-programme donors this year with politicised statistics of progress made towards the attainment of the 8 MDGs, we should also seek to ask the question, are the MDGs any relevant to the millions of human lives living in 'conflict areas' - where the population of AK-47s, machetes, and axes seems to double that of the population- a sore-thumb still among many of the participating developing nations? Given that without a sustainable resolution of these conflicts, the plight of the majority of the population remains in a precarious state and this reduces the chances of any of the MDGs being realised effectively! In my opinion, there shouldn't exist even a semblance of a dichotomy between conflict resolution in war-ravaged areas and the implementation of the MDGs, because the success of the latter is also strongly hinged on the realisation of the former.

If we continue to ignore this glaring fact, we as participating nations in the MDG-framework shall continue to put our countries off target for meeting the MDGs, especially on 'elimination of poverty' and who knows, regional imbalance may even get worse! My plea is that we all take appropriate action. Alluta continua...

Storm's Eye

2008-11-24T15:05:00.001Z

In less than a week from now, we shall be marking the 20th anniversary of the international annual World AIDS Day -1st December- a day when people from around the world that are passionate about fighting HIV/AIDS come together within a single effort to focus on global shared action and raise public awareness on specific issues related to HIV and AIDS. Some of the issues that will be raised on 1st December include the continued importance of fighting stigma and discrimination due to HIV and the disproportionate impact of AIDS on women and girls. The fight against AIDS is over twenty five years old and although some people choose to deny it, while others unabashedly ignore it; the AIDS epidemic is a global emergency that affects people in every country on this earth. That some of us would choose to hide our heads in the sand over such a matter is more than simply shameful. It is tragic. As we mark this 20th anniversary, will you stop to ponder for a moment on how your own actions have affected the global fight against HIV/AIDS. What are you doing to stop HIV/AIDS? This year's campaign theme from the World AIDS Campaign is LEAD-EMPOWER-DELIVER. Choose your pick, do something about HIV/AIDS today!

And before I sign off, I thought I'd bring this matter to light. It's a news article I just culled from IRN PlusNews about the on-going humanitarian crisis in the Democratic Republic of Congo. A classic case of 'between a rock and a hard place'. As you mark World AIDS Day next Monday, please say a prayer for the people of the Congo!

IRN PlusNews
18/11/2008
*************

Violence in the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) has forced thousands of people to flee across the border into neighbouring countries, but relief workers in Uganda admit that HIV is low on the list of priorities.

"[NGOs] are prioritising water, sanitation, basic health; they are doing a broad intervention," said Innocent Asiimwe, a repatriation officer at the United Nations refugee agency, UNHCR. "They might do immunisations next week, but until that's sorted, they won't have time for HIV. We need a health partner to target HIV on the ground."

So far, no refugees have asked for antiretroviral (ARV) drugs or Septrin - an antibiotic commonly prescribed to avoid opportunistic infections associated with HIV - and it was unlikely they would do so unless there was an organisation specifically sensitising the community to HIV, he said. According to UNHCR, the violence in eastern DRC has displaced an estimated 250,000 people. About 12,000 have crossed into Uganda, with around 7,000 passing through the transit site at Ishasha, near the border of DRC's North Kivu Province. Although some returned to DRC after only a few days, others have gone to a permanent refugee settlement area in western Uganda called Nakivale.

There are approximately 4,000 refugees in Ishasha, but the transit site is not equipped to provide such a large influx of people with water, sanitation, food, condoms, and health care. There are only three latrines for this large population, and no garbage
disposal pit or system, but Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF), the international medical charity, is building a water-filtering system.

"[The need for] sanitation is immediate, but health care is needed in the long term. We need a more permanent intervention because people will keep coming," Steven Sebudda, the district health official at Ishasha, told IRIN/PlusNews.

"The population is at risk of HIV, but it is not useful to do VCT [voluntary counselling and testing] if we can't provide condoms or medicine afterwards, and we can't provide condoms until there is somewhere to dispose of them." He feared that small children would get hold of used condoms and play with them or use them as water containers, creating a huge public health risk. UNHCR is encouraging the refugees at Ishasha to go to Nakivale, where there are well-stocked health centres, plenty of medication, and trained counsellors and doctors who can assist people living with HIV. The Inter Agency Standing Committee - a mechanism for coordinating humanitarian assistance by key UN and non-UN partners - notes in its guidelines on HIV interventions in emergency settings that it is crucial to incorporate HIV into the overall emergency response.

The guidelines state: "If not addressed, the impacts of HIV/AIDS will persist and expand beyond the crisis event itself, influencing the outcome of the response and shaping future prospects for rehabilitation and recovery."

Right against poverty

2008-10-15T20:38:00.000+01:00

Today bloggers around the world stand up to be counted as they unite to blog against poverty. As a joined up campaign member, I am dedicating this blog post today towards the global campaign to end conditions of dehumanising poverty around the world. I also dedicate this post to all the men and women around the world that have dedicated -small/big/entire portions of- their lives to this fight.

Whereas recognition of the inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world,
Whereas disregard and contempt for human rights have resulted in barbarous acts which have outraged the conscience of mankind, and the advent of a world in which human beings shall enjoy freedom of speech and belief and freedom from fear and want has been proclaimed as the highest aspiration of the common people,
Whereas it is essential, if man is not to be compelled to have recourse, as a last resort, to rebellion against tyranny and oppression, that human rights should be protected by the rule of law,
Whereas the peoples of the United Nations have in the Charter reaffirmed their faith in fundamental human rights, in the dignity and worth of the human person and in the equal rights of men and women and have determined to promote social progress and better standards of life in larger freedom,
Whereas Member States have pledged themselves to achieve, in cooperation with the United Nations, the promotion of universal respect for and observance of human rights and fundamental freedoms, Whereas a common understanding of these rights and freedoms is of the greatest importance for the full realization of this pledge,

Now, therefore, The General Assembly, Proclaims this Universal Declaration of Human Rights as a common standard of achievement for all peoples and all nations, to the end that every individual and every organ of society, keeping this Declaration constantly in mind, shall strive by teaching and education to promote respect for these rights and freedoms and by progressive measures, national and international, to secure their universal and effective recognition and
observance, both among the peoples of Member States themselves and among the peoples of territories under their jurisdiction.

I believe that it is the right of every man/woman to live in their full dignity -a life free from the conditions of poverty. The bigger question is: does everyone else share this opinion? Once we are beyond this stage, then perhaps we can pose the next question: How do we go about lobbying the world body that prepared this beautiful preamble (see below) to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights to also declare the universal right of every human being to live a life free of all conditions of dehumanising poverty?
Do something against dehumanising poverty today!

"You can never win a war against terror as long as there are conditions in the world that make people desperate -- poverty, disease, ignorance, etcetera," -Archbishop Desmond Tutu

http://blogactionday.org/js/7c5838a6c5f182e005b3bcb4906dc2c44990ae51

Medicus curat natura sanat

2008-10-11T06:54:00.005+01:00

(The doctor treats, the nature cures)

The day before yesterday, October 9th, the Republic of Uganda celebrated its 46th Independence anniversary. Ugandan Independence day to me brings connotations of such things as the Uganda Argus, jolly king Freddie, the legendary Elly Wamala and his music, Apollo Milton and his chauffeured Rolls Royce, the National theatre, Warrant Officer II Idi Amin (also the first of the only two decorated Ugandan military officers at the time), club Susana and Nakasero market filled with a new rising Ugandan middle-class society doing their shopping on a Saturday morning. And I wasn't yet born at the time. These are all images however, that I have come to associate with this event only over the time. Of course the picture is incomplete without 'the marching men in green' and oh, "the sankalewa (did I spell that right?) dancers"! One of my friends, aptly named "Uhuru" (kiswahili for independence) also celebrates his 46th birthday on this day. Heri za siku ya kuzaliwa rafiki! And Happy Birthday Uganda! Tunakupenda sana! I was on my way to an interment the day before Independence Day when I totally lost my way and had to solicit the help of school boys on their way back home to point me into the right direction. They obviously looked excited when I offered them a ride in return for their routing. As we negotiated the hills and bends along the way, we talked about their UPE school and I was surprised to find out what 'a typical day in the life of a Ugandan UPE student' seems like. My 'navigators' told me that they actually spend a larger chunk of their mornings playing (and fighting) before their 'school-master' allocates to them a boy/girl in an upper class to teach them. The reason for this, I was told, was teacher absenteeism. I was then reminded of Millennium Development Goal (MDG) # 2: achievement of universal primary education, and probably how of little consequence the Ugandan UPE might be for these little children's development. Without negating the Government's impressive progress towards achieving universal primary education in Uganda, I think it is worth mentioning that the policy is fraught with a number of challenges, like this one highlighted, that are counteracting its efficacy. And when that is said, it's worth our commitment to take responsive action!

I was prompted to blog this today when I came across this selection of children's quotes in a (UgandaDebtNetwork) report that I have been reviewing today. I thought they (the quotes) might perhaps put this UPE issue better into context:

“There is a problem of shortages: shortage of textbooks, shortage of pens, shortage of chalk and shortage of balls with which to play. There is even shortage of teachers. Why can’t government do something about these shortages?”

“I take no breakfast at home. I get nothing at school. When it is lunch time, teachers go home to eat and tell us to play. Can you imagine spending a whole day without eating anything?”

“We have classes under trees. We are either beaten by the sun, rain or distracted by passing people, bicycles and occasionally cars”. “Because we don’t have enough desks, we sit in the dust and end up making our uniforms dirty. When we get home parents beat us because it is expensive to buy soap to wash our dirty uniforms more frequently than is necessary”.

Which brings us back to the blog title and inexorably begs the question, are we only washing to hang in the dirt again? To throw all caution to the wind???

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On a more personal note, this is to my dear friends that lost a loved one recently. It is something that I wanna share with you that my own father oft said to me when I was a little kid growing up (I hope you find some solace in the words and e'en still our prayers are with you):

"The days in our lives may not all be bright and fair, but the same life holds both sunshine and showers. When we look hard enough through the showers, there'll be a rainbow close by. And you'll always find hope shining there."

Alluta continua...

African solutions to African problems?

2008-09-16T08:11:00.003+01:00

AFP/Getty Images

On being the change that I want to see...

2008-08-22T10:35:00.010+01:00

As I reflect on the recently ended XVII International AIDS Conference in Mexico city, I am overcome with emotion to, in the famous words of Mahatma Gandhi, "be the change that I want to see in this world". This December I shall mark exactly 5 years since I got myself involved in the global fight against HIV/AIDS as a campaigner for both HIV/AIDS Awareness and Behavioural change as well as a proponent for the psychosocial support of individuals affected by HIV/AIDS. Again this December, together with Cheri (then) and a few others, it shall be two years since we resolved to wear the Red Ribbon proudly as proponents of the fight - and also began the GLOBAL BLOG campaign to challenge our peers to 'wear a red ribbon today' as a tangible testament of the continuing battle - against HIV/AIDS. In the words of (deceased) AIDS activist Debbie Hood Johnson, "HIV/AIDS is 100% FATAL but it is also 100% PREVENTABLE". By wearing a red ribbon, we show our solidarity with individuals that are living positively with HIV and we are also reminded to mainstream HIV/AIDS in everything that we do.

The Mexico conference presented an opportunity to be among passionate young & old activists, renowned researchers, and those living positively with HIV. In addition, the lessons that I learned from the youth activists as part of the YouthForce Mexico team will not soon be forgotten. I might be (almost) 5 years old as a proponent in the fight against HIV/AIDS but that does not mean that I know everything there is about HIV/AIDS. Matter-of-factly it is only by attending such fora as this one (IAC 2008) and others that we seek to know and learn more and then at the end draw up strategies on how we can together seek to redress the common challenge that is AIDS, even in very small ways!

Somewhere in the photo exhibition stalls was this collection from the last held AIDS conference in Toronto. It was by a little child and in one picture it had what appeared to be a table, in another a clock, and in another a refrigerator. Under each of those pictures the captions read: 'my father's table'; 'my father's clock', and 'my father's refrigerator'; . At the bottom of the photos, it simply had written: "missing my Dad". At that moment, even I was moved to tears! There was a glaring (in your face, if you like) AIDS statistic with a very human face to it. Suddenly it dawned on me that for all the seminars and workshops and a myriad other educational opportunities that I have had chance to attend about HIV/AIDS, none of them actually amounted to the understanding on HIV/AIDS that I had received that day in that instant as I looked at the little child's photos. Someone once said, "there is power in art", and another that 'silences make the real conversation between friends -not the saying, but the never needing to say is what counts!". Go on and take a silent moment with art, maybe you can learn something new, like I did.

***
It is sad to note however, that in some countries (and territories), the legislation still denies the entry, stay or residence of HIV-positive people because of their
HIV status only. Such legislation is very discriminatory! The consequences of these travel restrictions were made even more clear during the conference plenaries. A few people shared their own experiences of how such restrictions had affected their personal lives.

Fact from the International AIDS Conference 2008:
As of 2008, it appears that 67 countries still impose some form of restriction on the entry, stay and residence of people living with HIV. Some 9 countries bar entry of all people living with HIV based on their HIV positive status only; with an additional 5 countries denying visas for even short-term stays. Thirty countries deport individuals once their HIV infection is discovered. Ninety-six countries have no HIV-specific restrictions on entry, stay or residence. For 21 countries, the information is contradictory; and for 12 countries there is no available information.

I shall share with you in a subsequent post at the group blog:Wear a Red Ribbon Today! how even you reading this can participate in the advocacy initiative to help eliminate HIV-related restrictions on entry, stay and residence in the listed countries!

Fortunately, American President George W. Bush signed into legislation the bill (now law) repealing the travel restrictions placed on HIV-positive individuals visiting or immigrating into the United States. During one session at the conference, California Congresswoman Barbara Lee shared the process that concluded in this repeal. Somewhere towards the end of the session the conversation was brought back around to other human rights areas where the United States is lacking. One lady approached the microphone to congratulate Ms. Barbara Lee on her role in repealing the travel restrictions, but also to say that she would not personally attend an AIDS conference in the United States until an official apology was issued for all the human rights abuses that the United States commits in other countries. Although using the session on travel restrictions against HIV-positive individuals as a platform for chiding the US over the Iraq-issue, or as she put it "marching into other countries in the name of democracy", seemed slightly inappropriate, one could say it is a part of what the conference is about. Congratulating and celebrating to encourage progress, along with questioning and criticizing to show that we have not forgotten what remains to be addressed.

On a significant development for Africa, at the end of the Mexico conference, Ugandan Dr. Elly Katabira was elected next president of the International AIDS Society. He shall be the first African representative to hold the position when he assumes office in Vienna, Austria in 2010.

"Six decades after the [Universal Declaration of Human Rights] was adopted, it is shocking that there should still be discrimination against those at high risk, such stigma attached to individuals living with HIV. This not only drives the virus underground, where it can spread in the dark; as important, it is an affront to our common humanity... I call for a change in laws that uphold stigma and discrimination – including restrictions on travel for people living with HIV (emphasis added)."
-Ban Ki-Moon, United Nations Secretary-General, at the United Nations High Level Meeting on AIDS, June 2008

Alluta continua (the struggle continues)...

And as a final note, I thought I would share these statistics with you (taken from: Global Database on HIV-related Travel Restrictions):

Countries/territories/areas that appear to have a complete ban on the entry of all HIV positive people: Brunei, China, Oman, Qatar, Republic of Korea (South Korea), Sudan, United Arab Emirates, United States of America (until recently) and Yemen.

Countries/territories/areas that deny applications for entry by HIV positive people for stays beginning as short as ten days up to 90 days: Egypt, Iraq, Singapore, Tunisia, Turks and Caicos Islands.

Countries/territories/areas that deport foreigners once they are discovered to be HIV positive: Armenia, Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (North Korea), Jordan, Bahrain, Republic of Korea (South Korea), Bangladesh, Kuwait, Sudan, Brunei, Malaysia, Bulgaria, Moldova, Mongolia, Tajikistan, China, Taiwan, Egypt, Oman, United Arab Emirates, Hungary, Qatar, United States of America (until recently), Iraq, Russian Federation, Singapore, Sri Lanka, Syria, Uzbekistan, Saudi Arabia, and Yemen.

? is the Love @

2008-08-07T12:58:00.004+01:00

It has been an interesting couple of weeks that I've had. I wanna mention my gratitude to everyone that's been a part of the joy and fulfilment during each of the past 14 days. Thank you. Life is certainly such a story -of course you miss the beauty of it when you are so caught up in your own little world trying to make it better, losing out on the details in the bigger world picture. I am not the most important thing in the world; you are! Sometime ago I was discussing this with one of my close friends: who is more important? you or the other person. Later I figures that one can only be in a good position to answer that question when they 'die to self'. Only then can one begin to realise the true meaning behind such words as -'LOVE', 'FRIEND' and 'NEIGHBOUR'. Archbishop Desmond Tutu captures it best in his definition of the African humanist philosophy, Ubuntu: I AM BECAUSE YOU ARE!

"A person with Ubuntu is open and available to others, affirming of others, does not feel threatened that others are able and good, for he or she has a proper self-assurance that comes from knowing that he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed." -Archbishop Desmond Tutu

Shall we all say that together again: U-B-U-N-T-U -the African concept of loving your neighbour. Who knows, that could be all the difference we need in this world! One wise person said once that you begin to get wiser when you realise you actually didn't know very much. If we knew any better, we would be advocating for our children to learn the simple notions of Ubuntu right from day one at school.

***

Last week I encountered an animal back home that I'd never before seen in my life -it looked a little like a raccoon except its snout was much rounder and its tail longer. It moved with extreme caution and calculated dexterity. When I came eye-to-eye with it, we both froze instantly -it possibly because it wasn't expecting a stranger in its path; and me because I had never seen the little thing in my life. I had heard stories of stubborn little creatures that could bite through the girth of a 5-tonne truck because it obstructed their way. And I also once saw an angry colourful salamander chase a fully-grown man down a tree and pursue him to a cabin house on an Indian ocean island. With this little animal, I didn't know what to expect. I was in its way because I was trying to get a nice photo-shot of a rare species of butterfly (I take nature photographs for a hobby) that I had followed into an overgrowth. The little animal shook its head and made some sounds with its teeth then disappeared back from where it had come. I thought it was over until a few moments later, still transfixed in my spot, because I was awaiting 'my butterfly' to settle down onto the flora before I could take my shot; the little animal returned with a whole army of similar looking creatures in line behind it and they all marched past me -each one stopping only just a metre short of where I was, for what seemed like a fraction of a second, to make the same sounds with their teeth that the first had made on our previous encounter- until they all disappeared into another nearby thicket. As the last one went by, I thought I'd return the gesture and make a few sounds with my own teeth, but I only managed a poor imitation of whatever it was that they had uttered. 'When in Rome after all...' I was fascinated at how extremely sociable the little animals seemed -among their species and also at what I considered their stopping to acknowledge mankind with their -however annoying- sounds. So I thought about our own species and then it hit me that quite increasingly, we (mankind) fail to do that even for ourselves. It's every (wo)man for themselves most of the time.

Today when I reflected upon that episode again, I fancied to believe that perhaps the little animal upon our previous encounter had respectfully gone back to bring with him his whole family to say 'hello' to the 'representative of mankind' that had suddenly appeared in their habitat. Of course he could have just been scouting the territory too before he called out the 'all clear' signal so that his colleagues could pass but I'd love to go with the former perception -it's more appeasing to the mind. I guess the moral of that strange encounter with an animal of the wild for me, was: are we (mankind)really the most social beings on this earth? And if we aren't, what are we doing about it?

***

The XVIIth International HIV/AIDS Conference is on now here in Mexico city. The sessions are more than just interesting! Incidentally this is also the biggest global gathering of HIV experts from all walks of life: doctors, researchers, advocates, development workers and people living with HIV. What are you doing to fight HIV/AIDS in your community? A group of fellow bloggers and I are doing our bit here as we wear our red ribbons proudly. Check it out and see how you can add some value to what's being done already. See you guys later.

Sweet sound

2008-07-20T20:02:00.001+01:00

There's probably no sound as sweet as that of many voices praying, yes, even silently to God. Lately, I have had chance to sit down and listen even to the wind talk -I know that might probably sound a little crazy but that's how close I can get to writing about my "listening" experience. Getting back to the praying voices, it is as though the sound of a great waterfall -the rushing of many waters! Today I had about four little children -the eldest could have been 6 or 7- gather around and pray for me. Again, there was nothing as beautiful as the sounds that emanated from the four pairs of lips. It is oft said that little children, when they put their trust in someone, it is usually for the long haul. Perhaps you've already heard the one about the little girl who believed her Dad was the strongest man in the world or of the little boy who believed his father was the fastest driver on the road. As my four little friends did their laying-on-of-hands, eyes closed, and each one muttering their own words, I couldn't help to wonder at how awesome the Living God is, that even such little ones could attest to His greatness! Glorifying!

A couple of nights ago, I was at this house and one of the little girls there who should be only 2 and a half years old I was told was being bade goodnight when her mother said to her, "God loves you". I guess it should have been such a recurring experience for the little girl, her mother speaking to her that way each night, so this time she asked back, "Where is God?". "God is everywhere", her mother replied to her. "O.k. so you can go now since God is everywhere", she told her mother back. We all had a laugh when the mother recounted their experience to us as she joined us again in the parlour. And then I got thinking, that little girl simply believed what her mother told her. She trusted her mother. Why does that whole 'trust-thing' become increasingly difficult for us when we get older?

***

On another note I would like to say my piece about "peace-keeper predators". A recent report from Save the Children -U.K. shows that U.N. peacekeepers and aid workers from more than a dozen organisations have sexually abused refugee children -even as young as 6- in the Sudan, Cote-d'Ivoire and Haiti. Many of these incidents had gone unreported or the culprits unpunished. Which begs the question, what does one do when the very organs vested with the authority and power to guard them from human rights abuse instead turn back on them and exploit them... perhaps even more than what they were supposed to protect them from. Should the hunter now become the hunted? I'm sure it's only a case of a few bad apples but surely Secretary General, Ban ki Moon should see to cleaning up this mess. God help us all.

DO UNTO OTHERS...

2008-07-09T22:33:00.004+01:00

I had my feet washed by someone last Monday -it is a very humbling experience- in an archetypical representation of the Bibilical creed, "If anyone wants to be first, he must be the very last, and servant of all". It reminded me of another similar portion of scripture, "whatever you do unto the least of my brothers, you do unto me". After that symbolic gesture, we then had communion and later a dinner together. There was something enchanting about that whole experience!

Exactly a month ago now, I think I reached the peak of a rage that I never even knew existed in my life. The phrase, 'boiling with anger' could have never been more true with me at that point. What surprised me the most was that I had always considered myself extremely cool-headed even when provoked to the utmost. I wasn't this time. Perhaps it could have been to do with the fact that 'he' had exposed himself as a sheep, although a viscous wolf beneath, and I had fallen for the trickery. Because it is now forgiven, I shan't dwell on the subject of that anger again. But therein lay some great lessons for me: 1) that mankind is such a fallible creature for one to place all of their trust in; and 2) that we might too, just be the same as the wolves masquerading as sheep in the eyes of God whenever we turn around and commit the same sins that we repeatedly ask for His forgiveness. Surely, God's love is such a gift!

A few weeks after that episode, I got some good news and chose to celebrate it with a choice dinner at an exclusive place. Because it would be such short notice if I sent invites, I chose to surprise everyone that I asked along, by simply bundling them into my car and asking them to make it all easy by not asking any questions so that we could all be there in a few minutes. Kampala city, compared to other capitals offers very little in terms of choice spots, so the moment we hit one road with very little traffic and a number of empty flagpoles, it was pretty evident where we were headed. At the end of the dinner, everybody present said something small. Each one had something interesting to say but the one that stood out from the rest and even moved me to tears was... (let's call him) Jimmy's. Jimmy first looked me in the eye and then shifted his gaze to the floor as he fidgeted with a wine-glass in one hand and his keys in the other before he said... "I had never dreamed of being a guest in this place... I have passed by on several occasions and even tried to wish it out of my head as simply another landmark because it was evident that this wouldn't be for my lifetime... but now here I am too, being attended to, every beckon and call... Now I am sure there is a God and that he certainly loves me and hasn't forgotten that I exist." Jimmy then went on to say to me, "Zack, this may be just a celebration for you but for me, it's given me a new hope in my life, a renewed zeal for life. I feel very humbled. Thank you."

Of course it wasn't a simple celebration for me because I am not usually as extravagant, but it certainly marked a new resolve for Jimmy at that point in his life; and who knows, maybe that was the core reason that God had me choose that place and ask Jimmy when I did, to join the party from his work-station -manning the gate. Again, there was something particularly enchanting about that whole experience.
"Whatever you do unto the least of my brothers, you do unto me". It's only been four days now since my own feet were washed by someone. It is a humbling experience.

Do unto others, as you would to thyself.

Not here anymore

2008-06-29T15:40:00.008+01:00

I had to get out of the comfortable covers, walk across the room so I could switch the 'loud thing' off. It would get louder the longer I held it off -that's how it was wired to work. And already it was more than enough decibels loud to interrupt my sleep; usually I get up earlier, but given I had attended a late night dinner the previous night and had thus gotten back home late, it being the first day of the weekend the next day, I had thought that I would perhaps sleep a little longer through the morning. That loud irritating thing again -I'd gotten it from one of the shops outside the Hyatt Regency Dubai famed for their fair prices. But even there, it had cost me an arm and a leg. I gave in to the price because Esmail, the shopkeeper promised that it would be 'an almost magical' device while he showed me the demo. Brilliant technology. Of course, as a salesman, that was his job! And when he added, "with this device sir, you have no worries beginning 10 years (sic)", he had hit the home run with me. I bought the 'magical' PDA/phone and received a complimentary gift as well from Esmail's shop. I have had the same phone for almost three years now. Since then there's been only one newer model in its bracket but I feel pretty much comfortable with mine -it's all I could ever want in a gizmo- so I don't think I would do a trade-in.

Once I took the liberty of synchronising my online birthday calendar with this device. The results were brilliant! I surprised friends and kin alike with 'my good memory' of the most important days to them when I would either call or text just to say, 'happy birthday' -the device saved me lots of 'girlfriend tantrums' in retrospect!

Today was a little different however, that 'loud thing' was actually my PDA/phone playing a birthday ringtune reminding me of yet another friend's birthday this morning. When I finally got my drowsy self across the room to where the device was, it said, "Anita's birthday today". And when I got the alarm off, it prompted me with, "what do you want to do: call/text/mms/email/send e-card". For a little while I seemed shocked that I was seeing that and in that moment, I re-lived the feeling of sudden emptiness that comes with losing a friend so dear. Anita would have been a year older today and perhaps I would have teased her again about how exactly a year ago she had run a personal ad on Facebook. I know she would then threaten to kick my insides out. And then we would all have such a hearty laugh about it as I finally said, 'happy birthday'. But that wasn't to be. She's gone. They say 'time heals wounds', but perhaps they should also add that: some wounds take a pretty long time to heal. It seems like only yesterday when we had that 'Facebook' joke and today, well... it's so empty.

As I stared down at my PDA this morning, my eyes becoming somewhat cloudy with fluid, all I could do was make with a long sigh and tap 'cancel' as I turned the device over and placed it once again -silent- on my dressing cabinet. "Nitah" wasn't here any more. So there would be no special call to make today. Then I couldn't sleep any more.

Rest in peace old friend. Happy Birthday.

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See related story: Fare thee well Anita Gatare.

Selfish Altruism

2008-06-26T00:38:00.008+01:00

I care passionately about humanitarian issues -sometimes I can't help it so it shows even in my writing- and this is one of the reasons that must have prompted me to continue with my work in the field of both local and international development, over the past few years. Because of the nature of my work, I am wont to travel quite often, both within and without. Therefore it is from some personal experiences that I speak about certain matters in this blog post.

Many-a-time I have found myself the youngest member of every team, panel, action group, etc... that I am participating in to pursue and realise a common goal through our work. In some instances, a few people have taken offence to that but have been quickly turned over the moment I had proven myself. So in a way, proving myself as a person capable of rationally discussing and working with people considered "elders" in a community to collectively address inequalities as we bring about social change and justice through our work, has been a normal routine for me. So much so that I'd even devised various strategies of going about it among the different communities that I deal with constantly in my work -from African to Caucasian. The plus side of proving yourself this way is that the same respect that you accord your target group is usually reciprocated on your part by the same people. Usually I give more hours of my time towards connecting with people whenever I am new in a community -it is very important for me to do that- as then I can perhaps be seen as less of a stranger, an intruder into their normal way of life. To some other people in my line of work, that would be a wastage of an important resource -time- as it would deviate from the stereotypical approach of "engage & leave" that most are used to. My work involves analysing issues that affect people's lives, setting goals for improvement and taking action, by means of empowering and/or encouraging participative processes. However, in some cases, we may be met by highly demanding situations that necessitate the intervention of "relief workers". A relief worker is someone who works for a short period of time, in a high-risk area. Being a relief worker also requires an ability to adapt to intensely challenging situations and being able to withstand emotional strain. In return, relief workers compared to development workers, usually have such model neat and short working contracts, and are also compensated for their services much more highly than the latter group who spend more time working in an area or working on a specific issue. Because of the intensive nature of the work there usually exists a rapid turnover of staff and consequently, frequent breaks for rest and recuperation are required so that workers are kept in such a mood as to keep their eyes focused on the work they are mandated to do all the while. As a result, people are usually constantly flying in and out of the conflict/disaster zone.

From my experience, the sudden increase of foreign currency in the local area as a result of an influx of development and relief workers is usually a formidable disruption to the local economy making life even harder for most of the indigenous population as the economics of demand and supply takes over. I am not arguing the case that relief work is not good. Far be it from me to say that. Relief efforts have actually saved hundreds of thousands of lives and most of those working for the United Nations and other non-governmental organisations as relief workers have done such a good job. It is however the paradoxical contrast between relief and development work that I would like us to focus on:

A day ago now, I was meeting with a continent representative of another international charity organisation in our location. A few minutes into our meeting, I felt belittled and insulted by some of her comments about what we (my team & I) were doing. For (her) good measure, she had mentioned to us how she had just been meeting with the steering committee of the charity she works for only the previous day in Toronto, Canada. She also said she would be in this location for about another week and then move on to another country the week after that and another the week after that... For all I know, I didn't care if she went to Mars the next month. My issue of contention with her came about when we talked about what strategies really work in typical African communities. As a relief worker, her mind was set on the strategies laid out in the manual(s) that she had perhaps been given and she had gone through before she made her trip. Needless to say, she too, would be very well compensated for her "relief efforts" while she was on this trip. As a development worker, my mindset is geared at considering the best strategies that empower the intended beneficiaries of a program to become active participants in the community development process that directly affects their lives, rather than become passive recipients of relief interventions conceived and implemented by the relief agency. Getting back to my mate and I there, because we come from two divergent schools of thought, we failed to understand each other and then it soon became about how 'still young' I was and therefore 'not experienced enough' to pass judgement on a matter like that. I couldn't answer her back because at that point I felt that perhaps I would give her more than my mind and possibly then, lend actual credence to her accusation there. And for a moment I tried to remember all of those times that I've met with community leaders from both high and low echelons of power in various developing countries (and you know what power they can yield!) and how a few minutes into our conversations, I have usually been called "a brother". Then it hit me that surely, for some people, disaster should be big business. And when it comes to (some) relief workers, they actually inhabit a rather odd international hinterland which is not really within the confines of any one location/country that they maybe working in. To them, one disaster may as well be the same as another, although the details and geographical location may differ. And that my friend up there possibly lived in this other world too, miles apart from mine.

But it's this absurdity that niggled me. Why is it that acute disasters have such a high profile and such generous budgets while chronic disasters grumble on, ignored and getting worse and worse every year in most if not all of the so-called 'developing countries? I am not saying that this money should not be spent but surely its logic should be questioned. Isn't there an alternative? The very way in which we fail to avert these disasters by failing to commit to managing them in their nascent stages and then dramatically or even extravagantly, dealing with them when they finally occur as "emergencies" is most certainly illogical and very uneconomic! Why should the resources and motivation for real development be consumed by our heroic 'relief efforts'? Because this makes us as a society feel good?

Tonight I go to bed with tears in my eyes. Alluta continua!

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{Photo in post is of a bird's nest with a cuckoo egg, among a nest of songbird eggs. Bio: When the Cuckoo egg hatches, the tiny hatchling Cuckoo pushes all of the other eggs out of the nest. These unfortunate eggs drop to the ground and perish. The adult songbirds then feed and care for the Cuckoo chick, not realising what has happened.}

New beginnings

2008-06-21T21:39:00.004+01:00

It's official. I have been away for too long. I'm not gonna go into the myriad reasons for my disappearance here for nearly half a year now so I guess I'm going to have to accept to take the rap for that solely. That's one other thing that I've been trying to have developed lately -the art of 'THE BUCK STOPS HERE'- Let's see how far I can get...

And it certainly feels good to be back home. It's interesting to note however, how the chickens will always return home to roost, because even while I was away from Living (my) Utopia, I kept web-logs of at least two different initiatives that I was involved in over different months this year at separate blogs. And while I did that, I would occasionally visit here myself and wonder too when indeed this blog author would be putting up a new post! Many times I've been asked by folk what it is I mean by Living (my) Utopia, and I've always given them the same response. For documentation's sake I shall repeat it here. I usually tend to borrow on the understanding that sir Thomas Moore (1478 - 1535) had when he coined the term - Utopia - in reference to his imaginary perfect island. Therefore Living (my) Utopia is only my way of espousing the ideals of living in a place in which all conditions are ideal although mindful of the reality that we can never achieve perfection, but we can work towards it. Living (my) Utopia is also about speaking against injustice as well as heralding those acts of courage with which humankind continues to live.

Ubuntu - I am because you (we) are.

Here's to new beginnings at this blog! Thank you to everyone that's persistently dragged me back here. Although I still maintain, I never left, I only disappeared for a short while.

Man bites dog -it's really a genocide in Kenya!!!

2008-01-01T22:08:00.001Z

Photo credit: BBC News / AFP

Down becomes up and up becomes down in this East African nation after the announcement of the December 2007 election results when suddenly there are increased cases of (civil) unrest in Kenya, widespread reports of acts of genocide, and a thick cloud of uncertainty continues to loom over the country's future as more people remain holed up in their homes unable to venture further than a kilometre away without running into a road-block of some sort; and as they remain prisoners of their own homes, they also continue to be fed on government-controlled news and simpleton TV shows -in an attempt to draw their attention away from the country's current problems- from the only running media; state controlled and influenced television! The only news media (international) that have so far reported about the crisis in Kenya have all fallen short of using the 'g' word, merely settling for the weak-willed phrase, "ethnic cleansing".

The term 'ethnic cleansing' signals the lack of will to stop genocide. It also usually results in escalating deaths, and the whole while undermining international legal obligations of acknowledging and reacting to a genocide. As I type this out, the BBC reports that at least 30 people, a vast majority of them being children have been torched to their deaths as they took sanctuary in a church in Eldoret, eastern Kenya. Using the term ‘ethnic cleansing’ also corrupts public observation and ethical judgement, thereby bleaching the atrocities of genocide, and ultimately leading to widespread inaction -internationally- in preventing the current and (perhaps) future genocides.

Once again, it's a GENOCIDE in Kenya! Please blow the horn people. And will all the international community NOT just sit back and watch -at least this once!!!

As the Kenyan government under president Mwai Kibaki clamps down on both government influenced and free media with their media blackout, these impassioned men and women around the world continue unabated in their resolve to bring you live commentary from the epicentre itself:

www.kenyanpundit.com

www.wendwa.yakuti.org

www.mentalacrobatics.com

www.geraldbaraza.blogspot.com

www.mzalendo.com

www.blog.thinkersroom.com

www.whiteafrican.com

www.jessemakai.com

www.kumekucha.blogspot.com

www.chrisblattman.blogspot.com

www.josephkaroki.wordpress.com ***(new picture blog)

Telling the story as it is might well be the next best hope for action that this blog suggests for this Kenyan political quandary. The better hope always being PRAYER. Please refer to my sidebar for more on the crisis. Mungu saidia watu wa Kenya. God save Kenya!

WHATEVER IT TAKES

2007-12-29T11:12:00.000Z

The year was 1994 at a prayer breakfast in a hotel in Washington when one of the several hundred participants, Mother Teresa (RIP) made her famous speech, “You did unto me”. And it was that speech that I vividly recall Mother Teresa quoting from John the Apostle when she said something to the effect of it not being enough for us to say that we love God and leaving out our ‘neighbour’. St. John actually writes that you are a liar if you say you love God and don’t love your neighbour. How can one love God whom they cannot see and yet hate one’s neighbour whom they can see? Somebody killed Benazir Bhutto last Thursday. Or perhaps many people killed Benazir Bhutto last Thursday as in the late Bhutto’s words to her husband before she returned to Pakistan, “what matters (in the case of my assassination) is not so much the hand that pulls the trigger, but the hand behind the hand that pulls the trigger”. It’s such a shame what has happened but also such a cripple to a precarious democracy such as is the republic of Pakistan. Bhutto’s assassination has largely been linked to the work of extremists –after bearing their hallmarks: a suicide attack- and once again we are brought to re-examine this, just what amount of faith (or the lack of it) would tolerate the cold blooded killing of another human being in hope of living a better after-life? Only a madman’s perhaps! Madmen teaching their beliefs to even madder men (and women) and the latter carrying out the murderous intentions of their fearful tutors! When will this come to an end? At this point, I am reminded of a line in the famous movie, Star Wars:

“Who is more foolish? The fool, or the fool who follows him?” –Star Wars (Obi Wan)

Bhutto’s death, and certainly at this point in the time of Pakistan, is regrettable. It shall not be enough to find her killers, but to stop this whole madness sucking in generations of young men and women in the (false) hope of a better after-life. Whatever it takes!

“I, therefore, wrote to the United Nations Secretary General, highlighting the human rights abuses. I was castigated by the regime for doing so. I was criticised for washing Pakistan’s dirty linen in public. They weren’t concerned that they were dirtying the linens; they were only concerned that I was washing it in public.” –Benazir Bhutto, in a November 7, 1997 speech at the J. F. Kennedy School of Government, Harvard University.

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There’s a new Uganda-centred site up: www.citizenuganda.com It’s probably still undergoing a little construction now and again but I’ve been impressed by it so far and I realise it has a good prospect for advancing Uganda online in the foreseeable future. Pay attention.

I just got a text message on my phone now. It reads (in part): “…sme tension buildn up, cz of delay of announcn presidential results, I jst pray they be out tday cz…its gna be crazy”. Kenya went to the polls yesterday. It’s still a little close to call but this sizeable East African nation could be having a new president by the end of the day today. News just in is one side have already declared themselves winners of the presidential election –in spite of the delay in official results announcement. I just called up Reena to make sure she was alright after she sent me that. Well, when I see or even hear about something as this; millions of people queuing up to exercise their democratic right to vote in (and out) their leaders, I thank God for this picture, especially in third world countries. To me, it really means a lot. Three cheers for democracy. And once again, whatever it takes!

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And oh! We are still very much in the season. Happy Holidays yet again!

The one memorable thing about Christmas and the entire Season really is taking the time with those whom we love and perhaps didn't get to spend as much time with over the year -getting the chance to slow down, reflect, and have the opportunities for moments with those who matter.

Sometimes they say, “It's often hardest to love those in your own home” Well, I hope that each of you got the chance to make each moment count for your loved ones this Christmas.

And as we draw to the close of the year 2007, we certainly don't know what the future may hold for us, each one, but we know Who is holding us securely there. It is finally my prayer this year and in my last 2007 blog entry that that same One, who holds us all securely in that future, may bless you and all your loved ones with the peace of knowing that whatever is going on in your life right now has reason, and that even though you may have experienced some tough times this month, December might signal for you, the coming of a new year, one with greater lessons learned, and victories from seeming defeat. The world only seems to get more messed up, as we know...but peace of mind is something that will keep you through all of that.

Have a prosperous 2008 lads and lasses!

What goes around...

2007-12-25T16:36:00.000Z

In a final moment of defiance, he refused a hood to cover his eyes. Hours after Saddam faced the same fate he was accused of inflicting on countless thousands during a quarter-century of ruthless power, Iraqi state television showed grainy video of what it said was his body, the head uncovered and the neck twisted at a sharp angle. A man whose testimony helped lead to Saddam's conviction and execution before sunrise said he was shown the body because "everybody wanted to make sure that he was really executed." "Now, he is in the garbage of history," said Jawad Abdul-Aziz, who lost his father, three brothers and 22 cousins in the reprisal killings that followed a botched 1982 assassination attempt against Saddam in the Shiite town of Dujail. The post-execution footage showed the man identified as Saddam lying on a stretcher, covered in a white shroud. His neck and part of the shroud have what appear to be bloodstains… In Baghdad's Shiite enclave of Sadr City, hundreds of people danced in the streets while others fired guns in the air to celebrate…. It was a grim end for the 69-year-old leader who had vexed three U.S. presidents… The execution took place during the year's deadliest month for U.S. troops, with the toll reaching 108… Within hours of his death, at least 56 people died and scores wounded in three bombings — two nearly simultaneous explosions in one Baghdad neighbourhood, and one south of the capital. Ali Hamza, a 30-year-old university professor, said he went outside to shoot his gun into the air after he learned of Saddam's death. "Now all the victims' families will be happy because Saddam got his just sentence," said Hamza, who lives in Diwaniyah, a Shiite town 80 miles south of Baghdad. But people in the Sunni-dominated city of Tikrit, once a power base of Saddam, lamented his death. "The president, the leader Saddam Hussein is a martyr and God will put him along with other martyrs. Do not be sad nor complain because he has died the death of a holy warrior," said Sheik Yahya al-Attawi, a cleric at the Saddam Big Mosque… A couple hundred people also protested the execution just outside the Anbar capital of Ramadi, and more than 2,000 people demonstrated in Adwar, the village south of Tikrit where Saddam was captured by U.S. troops hiding in an underground bunker. In a statement, Saddam's lawyers said that in the aftermath of his death, "the world will know that Saddam Hussein lived honestly, died honestly, and maintained his principles."… Saddam's half-brother (Barzan Ibrahim) and the former chief justice of the Revolutionary Court (Awad Hamed al-Bandar), were not hanged along with their former leader as originally planned… "We wanted him (Saddam) to be executed on a special day," National Security adviser Mouwafak al-Rubaie told state-run al-Iraqiya television. Sami al-Askari, the political adviser of Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki, told The Associated Press that Saddam initially resisted when he was taken by Iraqi guards but was composed in his final moments. He said Saddam was clad in a black suit, hat and shoes, rather than prison garb. His hat was removed and his hands tied shortly before the noose was slipped around his neck. Saddam repeated a prayer after a Sunni Muslim cleric who was present. "Saddam later was taken to the gallows and refused to have his head covered with a hood," al-Askari said. "Before the rope was put around his neck, Saddam shouted: 'God is great. The nation will be victorious and Palestine is Arab.'" Iraqi state television showed footage of guards in ski masks placing a noose around Saddam's neck. Saddam appeared calm as he stood on the metal framework of the gallows. The footage cuts off just before the execution. Saddam was executed at a former military intelligence headquarters in Baghdad's Shiite neighbourhood of Kazimiyah, al-Askari said. During his regime, Saddam had numerous dissidents executed in the facility, located in a neighbourhood that is home to the Iraqi capital's most important Shiite shrine — the Imam Kazim shrine. Al-Askari said the government had not decided what to do with Saddam's body.

It’s Christmas day and I was going through the news archives on my computer when I came across this. Then, I had just culled it (the news item) from the Associated Press. This week, it shall be a year since the demise of the subject of that news item. It’s almost implausible that the world did not end through the year 2007 without the presence of some people. This morning I looked out my window and lo! a butterfly spread his wings to fly but alas, the morning dew still had its hold on him. It would only be a few seconds until he’d dried and was off to start his day as well. But what fascinated me was my knowledge of the little flying friend’s lifespan. In only a few more days, perhaps 10, perhaps 14, he would be decomposing somewhere and another one taking his place. The continuity of life! Charles Darwin, in his “origin of Species” wrote, “…the structure of every organic being is related…to that of all other organic beings, with which it comes into competition for food or residence, or from which it has to escape, or on which it preys.” Personally, I do not subscribe to the theory of evolution but I do, to natural selection. What fascinate me even more are the hard hitting facts about this afore-mentioned competition; “…the struggle almost invariably will be most severe between individuals of the same species, for they frequent the same districts, require the same food, and are exposed to the same dangers.” In other words, no competing organism has such similar requirements for survival as another of the same species. Can we say the same of mankind?

“Here, you see, it takes all the running you can do to keep in the same place.” –The Red Queen (to Alice) in Through the Looking Glass.

One and one makes a December bundle

2007-12-23T21:23:00.001Z

It rains every December. It snows every December. It's cold every December. It's hot every December. Depending on where you might be on this globe, there's a extreme of weather every December. This 'December rite of custom' brings us closer together as family, even as a human race at this time of year. I particularly love the way even the hardest of hearts are somewhat softened every December; if not by the story of Christmas, then by the hope of making amends and getting into a New Year at peace with most people, if not everyone. Thank God for December. I have a fetish for pens and I just got myself two new ones this morning, that really struck my sight but which I am sure I shall not have need of now; the little man at the duty-free shop took too much trouble explaining how the mercury enabled the pen to write better, et al. I forgot to tell him I had more than enough mercury pens already since I was more fascinated by his thick rimmed glasses. So I didn’t hear much of what he said until he was done. For all his trouble, however, I said I would take two. Typical salesman that he was, he showed me an even better one (with a higher price tag too) while I was counting the money that I still owed for the two pens that I’d taken. In the spirit if Christmas, I said I would take that too! The little man was delighted. It was probably only one of a handful of such pens (the last one) that he’d sold all year. I could tell because of his mixed reaction of surprise and awe when I said I would take that too. When you’ve been collecting pens for over 10 years, you somehow begin to take notice of even such little specifics. “Merry Christmas my friend,” the little Asian man finally said to me as he handed me a courtesy chocolate bar, I believe as a Season freebie. “It will be merry indeed!” I replied, "Have a merry Christmas yourself".

It was also my birthday a couple of weeks ago. One of the other reasons that I love the month of December so I guess. In one part of her message to me that morning she had said, “…because in our lives, if there’s someone that’s treasured, it is you…” That sweet lady has always remembered that day since she gave birth to me many years ago. Come to think of it now, I think birthdays should really be about our mothers –they bore all the pain after all, while we only wobbled out! I love you mother! Several phone calls, messages and a day later, I received one particular phone call on my mobile as I was just rising to give a speech in a breakfast meeting. I promised I would call her back later and when I did, Judy said she’d only wanted to apologise for not having called the previous day to wish me a happy birthday. Out of all of the myriad calls and text messages that I’d received until then, I think at that point, my heart actually did melt. Thanking God for great family and friends. I shared out the last of the birthday cake two nights later with (let’s call him) Tom, a home-guard. The latter had been away from duty for sometime. When I saw him, I thought he looked a little haggard as he held his gun in his right hand and overcoat in the left. The weight of those things was beginning to bear on him I imagined. Together we sat out on the front lawn gazing up into the dark African December sky lighted by a few shining stars as the lake breeze blew in, carrying with it sounds of soft music, perhaps from the new resorts dotting the beaches now. Tom pointed at a moving light up in the sky. I hadn’t seen it at first so I had a little trouble locating it. And then he asked, “There… is it true those aeroplanes drop their waste over the desert whenever they fly over one?” Before I could reply, he was giving me his account of how the hyacinth plant (water weed) was dropped over the river Nile from one of “those” and thus started one of Africa’s biggest problems. You never win easily when you argue with Tom so I let him give me an education this one time. It was December after all! We talked about his days in the army and slowly progressed to our variant opinions over George Bush and American policies in the MiddleEast and then to his (Tom) family. And then we had this one very long silence. After a while Tom said, “You know you are my brother. Thank you”. It could have been a whole minute later until I replied, “I know, I know Tom.” Sometimes silences can be the real conversation between friends.

My family and I are taking some time out over this holiday –as FAMILY. So I shall largely be unavailable to blog. Season’s greetings to all of you out there this Holiday! Have a merry Christmas and a joyous Holiday Season! And may the peace of God that surpasses all human understanding be with you all. Amen.

Friend of Hope

2007-11-27T22:50:00.000Z

“Men apt to promise are apt to forget”goes a US proverb.

So we need to constantly remind them of those promises because even in our African culture, “a promise is a debt”. When I first met Aisha (not real name, altered for privacy’s sake) four years ago in Uganda, she seemed such a jovial slim mother of six boys engaged in a group activity with fellow women like her as she cracked the occasional joke that riled up the whole group every once in awhile. I found out later that Aisha’s lively stories were one of the reasons these ladies kept coming together twice every week in their rather chatty group of about twenty women. Almost all of the women in this group were HIV+ and all of them shared one common denominator –they were all single parents with an average of five children between them together. What I found most touching was the fact that Aisha had to walk 5 miles / 8 Km (to and fro) to an AIDS service centre where she would pick her ARV-drugs from twice every month. I met Aisha again a second time and this was when she was coming from her Friday JUMA-prayers and very happy that the day had coincided with her date to pick her next batch of drugs from the centre. She told me again very cheerfully that she walked 5 miles to and from her home not because she didn’t have the money but because she would then save enough for “at least quarter a kilo of powdered milk”, which the doctors recommended she should take because of the strong combination of drug therapy that she was on and also “enough for my two boys in primary school to take lunch with them at school tomorrow” –a rare treat she added… Three weeks later I visited Aisha at her home; it was only a couple of months towards the end of the year, last year and while we talked, she was in tears. Reason being she had only been given just a half of the combination drugs that made up her usual ARV dosage and asked to pay more than she could afford for the other half because it was in limited supply and only available in the private clinic. That was also about two months into the Global Fund to fight HIV/AIDS, Tuberculosis and Malaria’s suspension of the Uganda AIDS-fund over allegations of gross embezzlement and the government’s inaction to fight or react to the rampant corruption in the fund’s management. Of course no one up there knew of Aisha’s or other people like her’s plight. Not many people cared that Aisha had to sacrifice even the little that she would save from her 5 mile walk to compensate for the completion of the combination of drugs she was on –even more saddening was the fact that her top-up would not get her a complete dosage nor would she be able to buy any more powdered milk or send her children to school the next day with some lunch anymore! But isn’t it the responsibility of the government to treat its citizens? Or just maybe the country’s national budget didn’t cater enough for healthcare? Well fast track forward and the government of Uganda became a signatory to the Abuja declaration in whose development it was also a key participant –the leaders, in that declaration, committed to allocating at least 15% of their national budgets each, towards health care. Currently, i.e. 2007/08, the GoU’s projected spending on healthcare as a percentage of the national budget is a measly 8.3%, even much lower than 2004/05’s 9.7%. Oh, how our leaders forget! I think our HOPE now for the future should lie in taking the lead to remind our leaders of these promises for better healthcare. Who knows for every living Aisha, there could be 9 dead ones now –those who couldn’t perhaps match her determination and perseverance to walk 5 miles a day and give up all her earnings for just a morsel of healthcare. On this year’s World AIDS Day my message to you all is that you are not alone. We are standing with you to take the lead in asking our leaders to show better leadership by committing to their promises. After all wasn’t it one of them, the leaders I mean (Tony Blair, former UK prime minister), that said at the end of the G8 summit in 2005,

“...people will hold us to those commitments, they should hold us to those commitments”.

Have a great World AIDS Day everyone!

Are you ready for AFTER-CHOGM?

2007-11-15T08:23:00.000Z

It seems I have been gone for quite awhile… and then again it feels as though I never went away at all. Well we’ll go with the former mostly cuz it’s even more evident really… the previous post has a tag-date somewhere about the first days of last month. Before I go on I’d like to do something totally out of my character: give an award. A virtual one. To the blog of the year, or at least my version of what different aspects of a blog qualify for its being voted best blog of the year. In my close to three years on blogger now, I consider this the most consistent, informative, edifying and welcoming blog that I’ve read at. It’s such a pity the blog author has quit active blogging now; but nonetheless the blog remains on the world wide web for all to pick and share from; and from this piece of work, God has continually been glorified, many have learned, others have taught, also many have had their true character revealed. So there we go: Living Zack’s Utopia’s Blog of the year 2006/7 award goes to Aoko’s SHIREL.

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I consider myself strong-willed, also one not given much to display of emotion. Today was different though. I was just getting my stuff packed when I noticed Kye (not real name) seated outside and with a newspaper in his hands. I smiled casually as I gave him a little wave. When I got outside, I heard someone call out my name. “Zack,”, he said, “you know I can read this English (sic) but it’s only translating some of the difficult words into my native language that I find most difficult”. Somehow, that just touched me and I realised this wasn’t just another of the usual simpleton conversations that I usually engage Kye in on my way in or out. He was being deep, he was being real. “You know I tried to enrol in adult school to learn some more English but the timing wasn’t so favourable for me so I opted out after two days…look, what does this word here mean?” Kye is somewhere in his early 30’s for a better picture. Until this point I hadn’t replied a word as I was still spellbound from his earlier statements. Why had he chosen to say that to me I had imagined, and why at that particular time? As all these thoughts coursed through my head, I was staring him in the eyes and suddenly, my tear glands gave way as I felt this warm liquid stroll down both of my cheeks. It was very touching how Kye said it. I’m sure Kye is still wondering what the tears were all about but I haven’t told him it was because the profound honesty in the revelations that he made. I was in a rush to get out of there before but confronted with this, time seemed to cease as I got Kye down and helped him read the rest of his borrowed newspaper, explaining to him, sometimes animatedly, the meaning of some of the ‘difficult’ words. Later I suggested he get himself a dictionary when he asked for advice on how he could help to better his comprehension of the English language. That wasn’t before I told him however, about the Chinese lesson –in short that knowledge of the English language is not an education in itself, but really a prejudice. Kye had been repeatedly blaming himself and his father for failing to go through primary school. This lad however does have a lot of resolve; from his simple knowledge of the alphabet and the vowels, he has been able to read to himself many words in the newspaper everyday, most even without knowing their meaning, but just so that he could move a step further to better comprehension. Very interesting. Why shouldn’t the Queen on her CHOGM-visit meet with such people as Kye?

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And while we muse over events in the CHOGM-infested land, I pray we do not forget the tradition of thanksgiving that this month is most synonymous for. I am sure we all have a life-story that’s worth being thankful for. And even more, in the next 17 days we shall be marking yet another World AIDS Day –December 1st. Let’s all remember to factor HIV/AIDS in everything that we do. Please wear a red ribbon today! According to the most recent annual UNAIDS/WHO AIDS Epidemic Update report (2006), 39.5 million people are now living with HIV. There were 4.3 million new infections in 2006 with 2.8 million (65%) of these occurring in sub-Saharan Africa and important increases in Eastern Europe and Central Asia, where there are some indications that infection rates have risen by more than 50% since 2004. In 2006 alone, 2.9 million people died of AIDS-related illnesses. [statistics source: UNAIDS 2006 world report]

The theme for the World AIDS Day this year is LEADERSHIP. This theme shall continue to be promoted with the campaigning slogan of STOP AIDS. KEEP THE PROMISE. Last year I blogged about one State’s disregard of the global theme in favour of another that was less critical of current events at the time. Let’s hope we do not have an encore performance of the same this time.

Let’s fight AIDS.

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While we continue to talk about the urgent need for international intervention in the Darfur genocide (there, I said it!), let’s not forget to mention the plight of people in the Democratic Republic of Congo, a country that has seen internal conflict for over 10 years now. The hundreds of thousands of women and girls who have been raped by the military and other armed forces; both old and new wounds that need to heal. And let’s not give in to taking such excuses as sexual violence being an act of war. It springs from social attitudes and gender inequalities as well.

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And then finally, I thought this comment on China by Global Insight’s senior China analyst, William H. Hess absolutely took the biscuit:

“…the real manufacturing crisis facing China today is how to get Chinese consumers to value domestic brands as much as foreign ones (many of which are also made in China)”

. It doesn’t come any better than that now, does it? Until again soon, folks. I’m out.

Give One, Get One

2007-10-07T08:35:00.000+01:00

Seeing as I'm very passionate about this topic, I thought I'd share here, an article published in this October's first issue of Newsweek. The Chinese say, the journey of a thousand miles is began with one step. Have a nice read if you missed this.

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By Stephen Levy

Walter Bender, the software chief of One Laptop Per Child—the much-ballyhooed, as-yet-unproven project to deliver millions of cheap computers to kids in developing countries—recalls a recent conversation he had with a woman at the World Bank. Now that the project is finally rolling out its innovative XO devices (which are manufactured not at the promised $100 price point but $188, a discrepancy I'll get to later), he was trying to entice the bank to support the project. In my country, the woman said, kids learn outdoors and there's little shade. Bender told her that the XO screen is great in bright sunlight. But access to books is central to learning in my region. Bender said that's why the XO easily transforms into an e-book reader. There's little energy in my country. That's why we made it solar-powered, replied Bender. This went on for a few more questions, with Bender parrying every thrust until the woman had no more objections. But the meeting ended with no commitment on her part. "It's like they're looking for reasons to say no," he says.

This is a season of joy and consternation at the OLPC program. The nonprofit project has nearly completed the three-pound green-and-white plastic XO, and it is a design and tech triumph. You can feel the excitement at the company's Cambridge, Mass., headquarters, where tables are stacked with working prototypes (and other units are cooking in 140-degree ovens to simulate conditions in the Nigerian desert). I've been playing with the laptop for a couple of days, and this is no hand-me-down for poor kids in struggling countries. It's cool enough to impress the most tech-sated American teenager, as well as a genuine advance toward a mean, lean machine to run Web-based applications. The 7.5-inch screen is indeed bright in sunlight, and the software suite is impressive. Unlike my iPhone, it can run Flash video. Its Wi-Fi connectivity finds more hotspots than your average Windows laptop can hope to locate. And OLPC's drop tests show that the device can absorb a fall more gracefully than a Panasonic Toughbook. On the other hand, big goals have not been met. I'm not talking about the price—rolling out laptops for under $200 is pretty impressive, and costs will only come down with scale. The problem is getting someone to pay for them. When I spoke to OLPC's chairman, Nicholas Negroponte, last January, he estimated that there would be a million laptops in the field by October. Now that's the month when assembly lines begin churning out XOs, and Negroponte is hoping to ship 260,000 by the end of the year. Even that number is contingent on someone's actually buying the laptops, an achievement proving more difficult than debugging the software system. Still, he's optimistic. "It's like triggering an avalanche," he says. "We just need a few pieces of snow to get it started."

Negroponte admits to naiveté in pursuing his plan to have developing countries themselves buy the ultra-low-cost laptops. "I had a handshake agreement with the leaders of three countries—Thailand, Nigeria and Brazil—all agreeing to buy a million laptops," he says. "That got it going. But between a handshake and a closed deal is a world of difference. Everybody has a pit in their stomach when it comes to going first." To get the snow tumbling, Negroponte is making "a very major change" to the business plan. Beginning this week, the Web site xogiving.org is accepting $200 donations to buy a laptop for a child. (Negroponte says the first ones will probably go to Peru.) And for two weeks beginning Nov. 12, benefactors can get one of the little devils for themselves. This "Give 1 Get 1" option allows you to purchase a laptop for $399, a price that includes a second XO to be delivered to a kid who may use it to do something great. (You also get a tax deduction for the donation.) "Almost every day someone asks, 'How can I get one?'" says Bender. "This gives people that opportunity, as well as a chance to get involved." The fact that this thing actually exists could make a big difference. Eventually the XO may even reach that long-promised price point. "I still call it the $100 laptop," Negroponte says. "We're committed that this is the price it's going to be in 18 months, maybe 20." He'd better check first with his colleagues. OLPC's chief technology officer, Mary Lou Jepson, told me, "I want to go for a $50 laptop for 2009!" Maybe that would start the avalanche.

© 2007 Newsweek, Inc.

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Let's keep our fingers crossed for this one. Who knows? The future of the new world could depend on this very project! Have a nice day everyone.

Dogs bark but the caravan moves on

2007-09-22T03:06:00.000+01:00

“Dogs bark but the caravan moves on.” -Arab Proverb

Now, this one is an all over the place one!

I have just noticed how a lot of the blogs on my blogroll are either on a hiatus or their authors have simply moved house; which also goes to show the little attention I’ve been giving this blog too lately. Just the other day I was having lunch with a Rastafari and although at some point his Patois had almost become unbearable for me, we had a very interesting conversation at the end of which he called me his family. I made mention of the fact that until he put his faith in a real God, he just might go it alone to his ‘kingdom-come’ without the rest of his ‘family’, and he said back, “Ah, Haille Selassie. Jah bless. No one cyan test”, or simply that no one could compete with his Haille. I love the Rasta man/woman. But I just don’t ascribe to such poor (my opinion) actuality that one can put their trust and faith in a man or emperor, fallible to error just as any other man, and call them a 'god'. And no offense to the Rastafari but however much peace and love one might preach, there just is something very wrong (for me) about that whole picture! Else, if God translates for Jah in Patois, then Jah bless the Rastafari nonetheless!. Getting back to the story there, so “mi new bredda” and I were talking about the new breed of Information Technology (IT) executives and its implication upon especially the business-side of things in sub-Saharan Africa. There’s this one report that was issued by Gartner last September that predicts that by 2010, six out of 10 people affiliated with IT will assume business-facing roles. Read entire report here. Gartner says "technical aptitude alone will no longer be enough" as IT execs will need to "possess expertise in multiple domains." CIOs want IT pros with breadth and depth of skills and diverse experiences, rather than deep and narrow specialization, the report goes on to say. It is really imperative that the new wave of African IT students gain as much business knowledge as they possibly can in the very likely event that business shall now require IT professionals who understand how IT relates to the basics of the business that the business does. Leveraging technology to get into a functional position, which means understanding the supply chain and applying the technology to the business, for the new IT professional, should be the ultimate goal! Somewhere in our conversation, the subject changed to the recent humiliation of Uganda’s largest public university by a government-cum-private owned power company. Read entire story here. Taking matters into their own hands, the Varsity administration went on to sanction the use of power-consuming items by students in their halls of residence. That would be understandable to some extent, but then among the blacklisted items were computers. Reaallllly! Firstly, my Rastafari “bredda” wondered why the government couldn’t just loan the Varsity the money to pay the outstanding bill as it (the government) has so done to “choice investors” over the time who have failed to pay thier own bills. And after all this amount which is just about $100,000.00, would only be peanuts really compared to the other "loans" that the GoU has lately been known to dish out to the same "choice investors". And then I was reminded of a one passionate exchange I was involved in at the Communist Socks and Boots blog about low power and low cost laptops for developing world students. With the situation at hand continuing at this rate, I guess the government of Uganda just might need to get the OLPC project started already with the computer-deprived students at the university first. Who said the chickens don’t come back to roost now?

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I didn’t quite get the meat and bones of his story. But from the little that I picked up reading at his blog, this one Ugandan blogger was forced to flee from his country sometime last week over a few remarks he made on a radio talk show or on one of his blogs (not quite sure which of the two). Personally, I think that’s despicable, the fact that one can be harangued for what they write/say and moreover in a nation that is a member state of the UN general assembly, and by default, a subscriber to the universal freedom laid down in article 19 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

“Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers.”

Interestingly, there is an organised community (UBHH) of bloggers for Uganda (not necessarily all Ugandan I gather) and if the facts about the said blogger above are correct, I guess this would be an apt cause for “the blogren” to champion –freedom of expression. Curtailing freedoms, it usually starts out like this and before you know it, we could have us another Tibet situation on our hands. I’m sure UBHH architect Rebekah would be keen to see how things play out on this one while she too is away.

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Juma (not real name) and I have been friends for about three years now I think. Juma’s a bit of a jack-of-all-trades really so I can’t tie him down to one thing. But whenever I am home, Juma fills the slot of catering for my printing needs; he supplies my ink cartridges, cleans out the printer, et al. He is also a salesman representing I-forget-which Health Products Company, and usually when he comes by; he brings with him a few products that he talks people around into buying. Sometimes on his visits, when I have the time, I spare a few minutes to just chit-chat with Juma. He has got such an ebullient personality really and is always eager to learn something new. Once before I travelled, I had been working at my computer all night and in the morning had Juma over to replace an old catridge so I could make some prints that I needed with me for my destination and while he was at it, he noticed my eyes had reddened and said how I was ‘such a sight’ and that he had just the thing for me. He promised its effects were so long-lasting they would get me feeling spirited even after the flight. I didn’t really need his “supplement” but he made sure I took it there and then, and of course after taking a tab, I had to buy the whole 60-capsule thing. He said he didn’t have the smaller one’s with him. To be honest, I don’t remember ever taking them (the capsules) again or even whether I felt spirited or not after the flight. But well, that’s Juma for you, always the salesman! Well yesterday I thought I’d surprise Juma and give him a call. I asked about his family and all that goes with it and as is characteristic with our chats, they get very animated if Juma is the other end of the line. But one thing that struck at a chord with me was when he told me he was now involved in some work to build a Korean-supported orphanage home for AIDS orphans in his village in Uganda. And then I got thinking…what really is the best way to support orphaned children? Institutionalised care as with orphanages or care accorded to them within their communities. I have always argued that extending support to communities raising orphans is by far a better option since it’s not only less costly but also enables the children develop better social skills and adjust better psychologically to the death of their parents. Nais Mason is a senior advisor on HIV/AIDS to UNICEF in East Africa and she and I met last year at a workshop in Nairobi -Kenya, at the end of which I engaged her on the same topic and she told me about UNICEF’s changing attitude towards the same school of thought, basing on past experiences where they had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on orphan care and support in institutionalised settings and ended up with very little done (especially psychologically) in the lives of those little ones. Most had still felt alienated even after emerging from the same homes. Matter-of-factly she told me, UNICEF is even going a step further now and working at prevention strategies by helping the children’s parents (in cases of paternal/maternal orphans) live longer, for those who are living with HIV/AIDS, by supporting expanding access to treatment with anti-retro viral drugs. The rationale being that if parents can maintain their health, then they are better able to support their children –reduced rate of (double) orphans. Recalling all of this, I mentioned it to my friend Juma and he said it was quite some ‘food for thought’. That wasn’t before he mentioned he would be leaving for me a ‘gift’, a packet of Ganoderma Chocolate until I got back. I was thankful. Of course the inference there was that I would have to buy a box of the same stuff from him soon. Quite a salesman, Juma! Well so since we were on phone, I had him spell it so I could google it later and look what I found! I’ll be back to share once I’ve gotten a hold of my ‘gift’. So a hot cuppa Ganoderma Chocolate anyone?

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A sweet friend of mine was “teaching” me yesterday how to work the laundry at a Laundromat and when she said you need change and not paper money to work it, I just couldn’t hold it anymore so I burst out laughing. She was actually “teaching” me. It was so funny when she got the joke and started to laugh, she actually laughed our connection off there! I had to call her back and actually clarify that the “lesson” was unnecessary. I thank God for those small things with sweet friend. Bless her heart. And I guess this one is one of those memories that are indelibly printed on my mind now. See, I’m laughing all over again. At the moment I have to share my nights out reading four different books. Excluding the Bible, I think Learning to Eat Soup with a Knife: Counter insurgency lessons from Malaya and Vietnam by John A. Nagl is getting me very interested; I’d recommend it particularly if you’re into what I would call “high-level” war analysis. My protégé and also my ‘son’ moved here. He has me saved under the pen-name Thomas Moore. I am yet to confer the meaning of that and also which of the two Moore’s it really is he has me referred to. It wasn’t always that bad son! Recently I’ve been repeatedly moved to reading Proverbs 31 by this blog. I think it’s a good thing there that Pea has going –a lot of female (and male too) folk here could pick a lesson or two (I have!).

Once again, congratulations if you’ve made it to the end (almost)! It was one very long one!!! I’m gonna be up and about some more now especially over the next month but that’s good news for this blog since I can always retire here at the end of a long day and let my keyboard take it. That said, we put up another post too at this blog too. And then there’s this other one too for which we shouldn’t really wait until December 01st to fall ourselves over to do.

And lastly, this is an appeal to everyone and anyone. Please do what you can, each one (pray, give, etc...), to come to the aid of these people in northern and eastern Uganda that have been displaced by floods.

For Marybeth: school excuse notes

2007-09-10T23:30:00.000+01:00

O.k. I haven’t really given much attention to this blog lately but I’ll be back soon to. In the interim, I thought I might share this hilarious piece I came across last night.

Actual School Excuse Notes
These are excuse notes from parents (including original spelling) collected by schools from all over the country (we keep it a secret)....

1) My son is under a doctor's care and should not take P.E.today. Please execute him.
2) Please excuse Lisa for being absent. She was sick and I had her shot.
3) Dear School: Please ekscuse John being absent on Jan. 28, 29,30, 31, 32, and also 33.
4) Please excuse Gloria from Jim today. She is administrating.
5) Please excuse Roland from P.E. for a few days. Yesterday he fell out of a tree and misplaced his hip.
6) John has been absent because he had two teeth taken out of his face.
7) Carlos was absent yesterday because he was playing football. He was hurt in the growing part.
8) Megan could not come to school today because she has been bothered by very close veins.
9) Chris will not be in school cus he has an acre in his side.
10) Please excuse Ray Friday from school. He has very loose vowels.
11) Please excuse Pedro from being absent yesterday. He had (diahre) (dyrea) (direathe) the shits. [words in ()'s were crossed out.]
12) Please excuse Tommy for being absent yesterday. He had diarrhea and his boots leak.
13) Irving was absent yesterday because he missed his bust.
14) Please excuse Jimmy for being. It was his father's fault.
15) I kept Billie home because she had to go Christmas shopping because I don't know what size she wears.
16) Please excuse Jennifer for missing school yesterday. We forgot to get the Sunday paper off the porch, and when we found it Monday, we thought it was Sunday.
17) Sally won't be in school a week from Friday. We have to attend her funeral.
18) My daughter was absent yesterday because she was tired. She spent a weekend with the Marines.
19) Please excuse Jason for being absent yesterday. He had a cold and could not breed well.
20) Please excuse Mary for being absent yesterday. She was in bed with gramps.
21) Gloria was absent yesterday as she was having a gangover.
22) Please excuse Burma, she has been sick and under the doctor.
23) Maryann was absent December 11-16, because she had a fever,sore throat, headache and upset stomach. Her sister was also sick, fever and sore throat, her brother had a low grade fever and ached all over. I wasn't the best either, sore throat and fever. There must be something going around, her father even got hot last night.
24) Please excuse little Jimmy for not being in school yesterday.His father is gone and I could not get him ready because I was in bed with the doctor.

And that wasn’t from Africa or Asia, or even Europe! I laughed my heart out. ‘be back soon again! Out.

EVOLUTION….NO SIREE!

2007-08-11T21:52:00.000+01:00

I like the Boston Globe because of its objectivity. Take this story for instance. They could easily have picked another story title – like mine – but they stuck to their guns and consistent with good journalistic approaches only presented us the facts of the matter leaving their readership to formulate its own opinion, and ultimately, decision. It was different when I went to school; objectivity was punishable –by fewer grades I mean. So we still had to run around calling each other little monkeys because Darwin said, or at least implied we were and the knowledge of his theory was critical to one’s getting good grades. Personally I fancied learning more about the means of transport he used to get to that eminent island, Galapagos, where he compiled notes on the evolutionary study. Her Majesty’s Ship Beagle. But that’s a story for another day. My teacher at the time, a practicing Christian, told us at the end of her Darwinism sessions that Sir Charles Darwin the man, had on his deathbed renounced the theory of evolution and embraced Christianity. Down the years, I wondered if that was true and why if it were, we were subjected to going through with the studies anyway. I also wondered about how really placatory that little endnote she gave us made her feel, considering she had spent a sizeable amount of time expounding on the theory of Darwinism to these young minds –you could almost think she made the finds with Darwin. Personally I always wondered if this theory were true, why it was that the monkeys and all those other “people of the forest” still existed today and did not evolve themselves. When I hear about evolution, I still have the same questions and as such, this post rests on those little inadequacies, so I shan’t be objective here. Lady Hope, the author of that last claim, I later learnt had been dismissed by members of the Darwin family and so there was little to ride on that the theory of evolution was only the work of an amazing mind’s eye. Before I go on, I’ll paste here some pieces from the Boston Globe story:

A 1 1/2-million-year-old skull and an equally old jaw found in Kenya are helping to rewrite the history of early man, eliminating one reputed ancestor from the human lineage and suggesting that another was much more primitive than previously believed, researchers said yesterday.

The jawbone shows that Homo habilis, previously believed to be a direct ancestor of Homo erectus and thus of humans, lived side by side with H. erectus, making them sister species rather than mother and daughter.

"They coexisted at the same time and in the same place for half a million years," said anthropologist Fred Spoor of University College London, a co-author of the paper appearing in the journal Nature. "How likely is it that one would give rise to the other?" Co-author Maeve G. Leakey of Stony Brook University in New York added, "The fact that they stayed separate as individual species for a long time suggests that they had their own ecological niche, thus avoiding direct competition."

The situation is similar to modern Homo sapiens and Neanderthals living side by side in Europe 50,000 years ago, said anthropologist William Kimbel of the Institute of Human Origins at Arizona State University, who was not involved in the research.

Researchers once thought that Neanderthals were a predecessor of modern humans, but it eventually became clear that they were an evolutionary dead end. Now it seems the same is true of H. habilis, he said.

At this rate I believe one by one by one, more finds shall be made placing all those supposedly predecessors of ‘modern man’ in the evolutionary ladder, in one timeframe… and then what shall we have left of the great piece of work that was evolution! Or maybe we really shan’t know since this news is only mostly hushed up and if brought to light at all, is found in the deep pages of protracted newspapers, even as the Boston Globe. I guess something like those cigarette smoking warnings that are usually written in the least attractive and easily missed font on their packs.

My point is in writing this post, I believe it would be the greatest case of living in denial for people who (adamantly) say man only really evolved from less primitive creatures, a paraphrase to the statement, there never was a creator. It’s opinions such as these here that usually stir up hornet’s nests I’m sure, but for all the world, it’s hard to look around at all creation, the trees, birds, mountains and hills, the seas, even DNA, and say, “But there is no creator!”. Which reminds me of the story of the man who after seeing a great painting asked the man who showed it to him, “Where is the painter?”, to which the latter replied, “But there is no painter!”. Of course the answer is in the question!

Moving on...

2007-08-03T23:03:00.001+01:00

Thank you to everyone that's visited here and said a prayer over the past couple of weeks. Thank you for your kind comments too. My friend is gone and I guess it's something whose reality we shall have to slowly come to grips with. It's my hope that she's resting in God's bosom now.

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It's only about 2am now and I've just been doing my morning scoop of the news. This piece from Wikipedia really caught my attention: The two Antennae Galaxies (NGC 4038 on the left and NGC 4039 on the right) are a pair of interacting galaxies in the constellation Corvus that are undergoing a galactic collision. They are known as the 'Antennae' because the two long tails of stars, gas, and dust thrown out of the galaxies as a result of the collision resemble the antennae of an insect. The nuclei of the two galaxies are joining to become one supergalaxy. This is likely the future of our Milky Way when it collides with the Andromeda Galaxy.

Photo credit: Hubble Space Telescope

Quite a sight that will be, don't you think! And speaking of sights, I just thought you might wanna keep an eye out for this one folk... Planet Mars will be the brightest in the night sky starting this month, August. The climax will come on the 27th (August) when the planet shall appear, from the earth, as large as the full moon to the naked eye. It will look like the earth has two moons. Apparently, the red planet shall be within 34.65 million miles of earth then.

Be sure not to miss the sky on Aug. 27 12:30 am. The next time the Red planet may come this close to the earth is in 2287!

FARE THEE WELL ANITA GATARE!

2007-07-23T07:55:00.008+01:00

“Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through HIM who loved us…For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,…shall separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:37,38-9

“So, you guys are staying in the building, are you?” I asked as we got out of the escalator… “Yeah, we are just going to see someone, a friend who works on the first floor,” Anita replied for the both of them. “Goodbye Zack,” she added. And I hesitated before I replied because I never said goodbyes. I disliked the notion of saying goodbye and then not having to see the other person ever again. So in my own little world, goodbye was not a term I used. Instead, I gave them both my ubiquitous parting line, “God bless and take care!” And only as an afterthought did I add “Goodbye!” - never really meaning it because I was certain we would be seeing each other again soon. That afternoon, as we had lunch together, we had touched over a question about the future and finally resolved to leave the response for later when she was done reading the book, 'Rich Woman' – by Kim Kiyosaki, that I’d gotten her for a birthday present. Anita had just turned 22 only a week ago. As we chitchatted, we talked about our plans and aims for before we each made the 30-mark and I think I must have said to her how I would have much loved to see her not taking orders from anyone but being her own boss before then, that being my inducement for getting her that particular book for a present. On the back of the peeled-off birthday wrapping paper, I'd drawn and expounded on the Robert Kiyosaki idea of the Cash flow Quadrant, that was so fresh in my mind, to the both of them before I finally asked Anita rather emphatically, "So what's your plan for the future from here?" and then we all just laughed it off.

One of life’s unpleasant jokes. That was unknowingly our last goodbye. Anita Kamaliza Gatare will not be answering that question about her future. At least not in this lifetime. Anita passed away on the eve of last weekend in a motor-accident on the Kampala-Mbarara highway as she & some friends tried to make their way to another friend's father's funeral in Mbarara town. I’d only just had lunch with her exactly one week ago at Workers House in Kampala. My first reaction on getting the news of Anita's death – in a flurry of text messages on Sunday morning - was one of disbelief and later a sheer obstinacy to accept that it was true. And even after a series of poignant phone calls and a visit to her parents' home, I could only bring myself to half-accept that of the two friends I was having a vivacious conversation with just the last Friday, one was suddenly no more. Just like that, Anita was gone. Why? - The same ominous question that we all ask ourselves when faced with such a sudden shock of life as death robbing us of the ones with seemingly the most to give still. Anita. So full of life. So innocent. A soul that wouldn't even hurt a fly. So much promise and a lot of it still untapped. Why do they have to go like that… the best of them? Why?

I had teased her only about a month ago when I went by to visit at hers which was also the first time that we were meeting up again physically in almost four years since I'd been out of the country. And when she poured me a cup of coffee, I had jokingly inquired about the brand and on realising that it was one of the imports, had started to complain about it. "I never take these imports", I had teased her, "...they're the fruits of unfairly treated labour," I added, and had taken the occasion to deliver a mini lecture of sorts about fair trade and my preference for "Rwenzori coffee" (Good African it's called now). I banged on about the inspirational stories behind the Rwenzori coffee farmers and their company chief executive, Andrew Rugasira. She graciously heard me out but we had to reach a consensus and it was that I would be a humble host and take what I was given. She had put me right back in check. We enjoyed that sort of relationship with each other. Because she had gone to so much trouble to prepare the coffee for me, I gave up on getting in a rejoinder, shut my fair-trade talking mouth and began to sip the cup of imported coffee I was given. "And you have to finish it all, Zack!", she had warned. "Yes ma'am", I acquiesced. It wasn't the time to tell her that the coffee mug she'd given me was much bigger than the ones I was used to. When I finally finished my coffee, she had asked to check and see if I had left any in my cup and as I handed it to her for the motherly inspection, had remarked how surprised I was that it had actually tasted great. I must have mumbled some words of gratitude then before the conversation shifted to why I wasn't letting go of the laptop bag that I was carrying even while I sat down. She really wanted you to be comfortable when you were around her. All the little things, she would notice.

Anita was a lovely person. She was a hero's hero if there's anything like that. She was well refined both in speech and in her manners. She exuded a rare form of elegance, almost without making any effort to on her part. It rents the heart to bring memories of her life to mind again and have them juxtaposed with the reality that she is forever gone now.

It almost feels like a few days ago when she was giving me some mature advice about a couple of private issues that I had to deal with at the time. Our long talks on Friday afternoons and weekday evenings about almost everything and nothing in particular while we attended final year of high school together suddenly come to mind. She would constantly remind me about the fact that I was a 'people-person' and was really not cut out for handling blood and so was preparing to train for the wrong profession - medicine. I'm hurt she'll never know how spot on her analysis had been now!

Well, to the God who gave Anita her life and blessed ours with knowing hers, even for what seems to us as only a short moment, we are grateful. Amen.

To Anita's other friends who must miss her too upon her untimely demise, I feel your pain friends, but let’s all take courage and glory in the knowledge that we have each been blessed by God through Anita's life and though she may be gone now, we can each one, be a part of the good that she so naturally exuded - that way her memory can live on forever.

To Anita's wonderful family; parents sister Judith, I cannot say I understand well enough what pain it is to lose a child, a grandchild or a sister, but I can say that my heart hurts with yours and it is my prayer that the same God who gave Anita to you comfort you and cover you in His wings at this time.

I will miss you Anita. The whole world you knew will miss you. And the answer to that question, "So what is your plan for the future from here?", I think it must have been divine when we both chose to stay the response for later because although we make our plans, God makes his own too and at the end of the day, God's plan is the best plan. Fare-thee-well my good friend. Anita Kamaliza Gatare (1985 - 2007). Rest In Peace.

SINS OF MY FATHER

2007-05-27T16:17:00.000+01:00

You only get this in Africa!

On a Friday morning, 26th May 2007…BBC reporter: …(among other things) you have been widely referred to as a warlock, what is your response to these claims?
Congolese-Tutsi warlord: I do not believe I am a warlock. We are not fighting a war here, it is a liberation.

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On the 28th of this month we shall remember events that transpired over six days and culminated into the redefinition of our world’s geo-political landscape…some may add ‘yet again’. Events whose consequences we still live with even to this day. Memories of the six-day war that resulted into the (re-)establishment of the state of Israel in the Middle East in 1967 still send tremors and shivers up the spines of the few veteran men and women still alive that participated in this war –mostly fighting against the Hebrew nation. Two years ago now I was watching a documentary about this war and from the narrations of veteran officers and men of the two warring sides, one thing was evidently clear. It was more than a war of men. One does not have doubts about the authenticity of a story of war told by a 72-year old colonel of the Syrian army and backed by similar incidences recounted by a staff sergeant of one Palestinian army cohort and once again confirmed by an Israeli prisoner of war. Stories of ‘white light’ blinding Arabian army companies and of ‘guns failing to shoot’ and ‘of being surrounded by strange-looking four-legged creatures’ and countless others all with a tinge of the paranormal about them. But all are stories told by survivors of the six-day war. “Yahweh (Blessed be His Name), not us, fought that war”, an Israeli army general said finally at the end of his interview in the documentary. Someone said that the biggest lesson that the human race can learn from history is that we do not learn from history! Maybe aptly said because when we check with this place again, it’s the same thing happening all over again! News just in as I type this is a second civilian casualty (on the one of the warring sides) who’s just died of shrapnel wounds to his head as he was being rushed to hospital. And further, that a total of two hundred and forty rockets have been fired into Israel by Hamas militants since the resurge of hostilities between the two warring sides only a few days ago. Who should live, who should die? More importantly, who should make that choice? When is this all going to stop? It’s a question we’ve all been blithely asking ourselves since the first Israeli-Arab collisions in the Middle East and maybe the same one that the people who existed before us in the pre-A.D. times asked themselves.

[Abraham sired Ishmael who sired the present-day Palestinian race. Abraham sired Isaac who sired the present-day Hebrew nation.]

A rivalry that has kept sucking in and destroying the best of young wits for years on end now! In the interest of world peace, it is something everyone should look to involving themselves in with the sole objective to contributing to ending the pain and suffering of the myriads of innocent people. But the irony of it comes when people that might be key-players in bringing about peace in this region tell the world with no holds barred that: ‘…(the hostilities) continue to exist between Israel and its neighbours because it is the will of God’ –Col. Muammar al-Guardaffi. What do we do then?

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I love Uganda. There isn’t a place you can get better entertained without having to pay for it. From the arrest of opposition leader and FDC party president, Col. (Rtd) Kizza Besigye, to his trumped-up rape charges, to the near-giveaway of the country’s biggest forest reserve to the spectacular arrests of two former ministers and one of them a vice-chairperson of the ruling party, NRM. They don’t come any better than that! Over the past week charges of corruption, mismanagement and embezzlement of public funds were brought against three former ministers in the government of Uganda’s only man with a vision. Read entire story here. One of the ministers and also alleged ‘chief embezzler’ of the three had earlier travelled to the United Kingdom for medical treatment just two days before his colleagues were rounded up and arrested. Some claim he must have heard something from the grapevine before his colleagues did and appropriately arranged a life-saving (pun intended) medical appointment. I wouldn’t want to dwell on that. A man is only as good as his word and if Jim says he’ll be back, we can only owe him that vestige of trust as an honourable man who will hold to his word and heed the tolling of his bell. The bigger issue I believe is who, these three claim is ULTIMATELY responsible for okaying the diversion (sugared-up word for embezzling, stealing) of the funds and eventually what will happen to him/her, as well as to the scores of other public servants who have been found out to have stolen funds from the public coffers and used them to their own gain. And if we are to go by the current name-dropping, we are in for quite a BIG ONE. Let’s hope people don’t die/disappear mysteriously inside or outside of jail on this one and maybe if we are lucky, we can see the father (whoever he/she may be) pay (I tried to refrain from using ‘hang’) for his sins on this one. And for all I know the GAVI funds are quite new in the picture here. A lot of the public knew (mistakenly) that this was the Global Fund Against HIV/AIDS, malaria and Tuberculosis, for which a public commission of inquiry into their alleged mismanagement was carried out under the now-famed ‘Ogoola Commission’. This gives us two different funds with a common denominator –all embezzled!! So what happens next? Do we just brush away the Global Fund embezzlement and deal with the GAVI first because the GAVI donors are more persistent in their clamour for justice being served to the embezzlers of their ‘gift to Uganda for exemplary performance in the fight against HIV/AIDS’. What is the standard for the prosecution of plunderers (alleged if you like) of national resources being carried out? And when do the bells for the others toll?

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Only a few days ago I was coming up behind this beauty of a car, a BMW X5 I think it was and along the way its driver leaned out and threw (onto the road) an empty water bottle into the road like it was the most normal thing one would ever do. I wondered how much more this little thriving and up-coming African metropolis had to overcome to reach the standards of its contemporaries in the region firstly, and then in the rest of the world. Quite a lot. And then a little later as we wound a corner on one avenue of one of the city’s quiet suburbs, the same driver in question stopped (he was a couple-a vehicles ahead of me now), majestically strolled towards one of the trees and (for cying out loud) E-A-S-E-D himself there!! I mean he emptied the contents of his gall bladder on the tree trunk –poor coniferous tree; if only the dejected things could talk! It was a residential area alright but this was just besides the road/avenue –a road constructed with public funds. You would think some people can have a bit of shame but then you meet people like this and get the shocker of your life! And then you get thinking maybe to achieve the desired status quo as a city of international standards, you need people getting in to take some kind of behavioural test just so you can eliminate people like our BMW-driver there from ‘the city’. As I thought of that I was already into the city myself and the call of nature was beckoning for me as well. Because my first stop was one of the new sprawling city malls, I thought I could help myself to one of their lavatories in there. Inside, I paced up the five floors of the mall looking for a one lavatory and was told there were only four of them and of those, just one at the first floor was functional. I got there and (shocker of shockers!!) had to pay to use the urinal in what I later learnt was a ‘privatized’ (in other words the owner of the said ‘mall’ had let out the toilets to someone else to collect revenue from them) unit of the ‘mall’. And then it got to me, there was no use for the behavioural assessments/tests I’d first thought of since the people we would be trying to rid were already here with us. And even more, they had constructed such permanent structures smack in the middle of the city. To men such as these, growing up, I bet the existence of lavatory facilities in their communities had been seen as such a luxurious fixation that they probably couldn’t afford having, especially in light of other needs and when these same children grew up and got a bit of money to go into the city, they still maintained these hamlet attitudes as they put up magnificent buildings upon every inch of space that they could get their hands onto. I mean of what use is lavatory space when you can make more money converting the space into another small shopping unit for rent, right? Or: Why should we bother having lavatory facilities at every floor when the people at the ground and first floors can race out to the trees in a nearby residential surburb, right again? The Good Book talks about training a child in a way that he should go so that when he is old, he might not turn (away) from it! Which takes us back to that BMW driver... as I wound the same bend he had before he stopped his vehicle to ‘take a leak on the roadside’, I gave him a very cold stare to which he shrugged his shoulders in a way that I interpreted to mean, “It isn’t my problem lad!”. I guess he might as well have begged the question, “Must I be held responsible for the sins of my father?” In that same instant I shook my head …and later nodded as I joined the highway still pondering over the same realisation.

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Otherwise I’m very o.k. and had only taken a blogging hiatus. I’m back and we’re back here as well. Have a pleasant day folk. Zack out.

SILENCES SPEAK VOLUMES!!!

2007-04-13T17:10:00.000+01:00

I was gone for close to a month there and it’s amazing how much can happen in just 30 days. Shiran and I tried to keep this piece up though. It’ll be blazing hot this Saturday. Most surprising (and audacious too) is the pending decision (or the lack of one) by the Uganda government to de-gazette the country’s biggest forest reserve, the Mabira. A prelude I’m sure, to gross deforestation which will probably culminate into the hitherto known ‘pearl of Africa’ becoming part and parcel of the vast Sahara. Read the entire story here. It’s interesting to see how cities like Dubai and Jeddah are working hard to bring more green into their already industrialised metropolises. Come to think of it; our beloved president hasn’t perhaps in his entire life been to the two nations that host these great cities. It would do the green-activists in the nation a lot better if they could sneak up one of those cities on His Excellency’s itinerary for his next globe-trot. Maybe then our vision on things could get a little bigger. For all I know we could just as well start packing up to Chad now. So the pundits here put up a petition to save our forests, which the search-sites are reflecting has had the most attention so far. If you haven’t signed it, please go here and add your voice to millions of others. More effective I believe would be the sugar-strike that some people have suggested and others have already started on. As soon as I got wind of all the circumstances too, surrounding the intended forest sale, I thought my voice would be more effective if I dropped all the sugars in my teas and coffees altogether. Not just one type of sugar, but all sugar. If you think hard enough you’ll get my point in this. But for now, it’s best left (or said) unsaid. Silences can speak volumes. Kampala, Uganda saw another of its now almost routine demos-gone-violent. Once again innocent lives were taken! This all could have been avoided if the powers that be just issued a simple statement on their stand over the issue before the demos ever got into motion. Silence! That notwithstanding, it was very wrong again for angry crowds to lynch that dear Asian man. Where do people get such hearts from? And to know that we walk in on the streets with such beastly-hearted people lurking about, maybe one of every ten or even more. Gross! Maybe if the Asian expat-community had too spoken out on their stand with the forest sale issue, it wouldn’t have had to come to this. Once again, the silence spoke volumes. When I got back here I had to see Dr. Patel, my optometrist over a new prescription; an appointment I kept on procrastinating for about a full week until finally I was due in at his yesterday. I had about three more hours until my appointment with him and then I receive a call from his receptionist saying they had to cancel the appointment because it was getting rowdy in town and they had closed as a result. That dear man went the extra mile of ensuring his receptionist delivered me that message, you don’t get better customer care here than that! Why would anyone want to group such a man and his dear family in the bunch of those that want to take the rainforest away? Where does all this HATE come from? It’s a new day and folk at Patel’s are still closed for shop, fearing for their safety I believe. There was that lucid girl on the TV news last night that I believe represented her whole community when she begged the question, “…why should we all suffer for the actions of one man?’ Perhaps if she kept a blog, she’d get even more issues out… we all need to speak out sooner. Someone get that little girl blogging, please Aga Khan!

I’d been keeping tabs on my native as well as other African states’ online press the while I was away and really, it keeps getting better (or worse, depending on how you look at it) all the time… sometimes one would wonder whether they were reading real or simply made-up news. Take for instance this 83-year old head of state who is gonna be competing for another term in office in his state!! 83?? Whatever happened to Africa’s new breed of leaders? Once again, silences, from Libya’s Guadaffi to Uganda’s Museveni even to Liberia’s Sirleef Johnson. If we’re not careful this silence just might become our undoing…one by one by one.

It’s the same silences that exacerbate the AIDS problem we, along with many others in the developing world are facing. Uganda was once considered a success story in the fight against HIV/ADIS due to our candidness with the awareness message. The president too, got lauded as the first African leader to openly come out and talk about this problem and how we needed to resolve it. We broke the silence. With the late nineties however, came reduced efforts to be more open about this. Are lapsing back into the silence abyss! Inky addresses the same issue rather eloquently here; I believe her take is quite affirmative! We’re posting the mentioned article here for your debate as well. And breaking silence is what we’re onto when we blog here to keep bloggers worldwide aware about the ever present danger that is HIV/AIDS. Perhaps when you wear a red ribbon today, you’ll too, break a silence without ever having to say a word. True, an oxymoron there! But yes, silences speak volumes –and we can make those same volumes work to our advantage as well.

"SADIQ, NOW I SEE IN THE AFRICAN LIGHT!"

2007-03-08T11:47:00.000Z

MakePovertyHistory has largely been a campaign to get developed nations do so much for developing ones in the event that the lives of the myriad of impoverished people in the latter can be better economically. Someone asked me only last week what I thought was Africa’s biggest problem and I told them the problem was a Siamese twin; Poverty&AIDS. I then had to go through the elaborate task of defending that opinion I held. By the time I was through we had a new convert to the MakePovertyHistory campaign and I particularly loved the way he said, “Sadiq [arabic word for ‘friend’], now I see in the African light!”, because it reminded me of this lady’s last entry, one where Cherie rightly wondered at how ‘green’ some people can be in spite of the fact that we are living in the 21^st century global village. But then as my friend Khalid’s statement reverberated in my mind, I considered that it could as well be rightly so… we always see things differently or sometimes even not at all. Khalid’s ‘in the African light’ might as well have meant you just gave me a feel of the African’s shoes. You see Poverty and AIDS as I’m sure most of you know are so interrelated, you cannot see to trying to solve the one without taking on the other too. Some African countries, including my native

Uganda

have been lauded as success stories vis-à-vis the fight against HIV/AIDS. Last December I blogged here passionately about an increasing trend in new infection rates and said it wasn’t the time to yet rest on our laurels as a success story. The ultimate to these rising rates is increased poverty in more households. It’s such a vicious circle that way. So to stop the monster(s) in its tracks, we still need to go on if not even revivify the AIDS awareness campaign! Wearing a red ribbon could well be a good start. Thank you for keeping that up Cherie. Watch this space closely!

Getting back to the developed and developing nations there, under the theme; “Trade, Not Aid”, a consortium of African heads of state has been lobbying their counterparts in the developed world to increase the opportunities for free trade of African products being opened up in their markets. That is a good thing. But before I go on I’d like to remind you of someone I blogged about here last year. ‘Carl’ (not real name), a Ugandan global businessman turned urban-intensive farmer. Here’s that entry. Well I found out Carl was in the same city as I now, and so I called his wife back home to give me his number here so I could get in touch with him. Apparently I was a few minutes late since she told me his out-bound flight had only just left and she went on to tell me that as I called her, she had been embroiled in a day-long argument with Uganda Customs over a consignment of theirs that had been held for the most of a month now. Their consignment is some machinery to deal with the intensive farming initiative I blogged about last year and it’s been held up in customs because someone over there would like to be bribed (expensively too) to release it to them or over-charge them for taxes. On a humorous note, I couldn’t stifle a laugh when Carl’s wife told me they would be seeing the president about this once her husband got back. He seems to sort out everything, the president! But on a more serious note, it is really exasperating the fact that state officials demand bribes to let even the most basic of goods into the country. And then we shout about making poverty history! As I see it, external factors are only a small part of the problem here. To make poverty history, we’ve got to start at home. I found it most odd as I was googling some information on the republic of Tanzania, when I got to the state’s website, among the countries that are mentioned it carries out trade with, Uganda, Tanzania’s neighbour to the north is not mentioned! Out of curiosity I went to the Kenyan website and also noticed Uganda is quite left out. So if we are to go by this and the fact that it takes an arm and a leg (high taxes, etc.) for Ugandan traders to get their shipped goods out of the Mombosa and Dar-es-salaam ports, but the former mostly, and into Kampala, then we have us a very big problem. So of what use then are institutions such as COMESA and EAU that talk about creating free-trade zones, one is left to wonder! So there we have us the extensive customs checks, bribe-demands and inevitably even the most patient trader would be frustrated when a simple business expedition that should last only a few hours is turned into days of agony in waiting and begging and pleading…and raising funds for bribes for the customs officials. This is not to mention the loss of property that may be incurred during the whole process! When governments deny their people the right to trade, they simply encourage and perpetuate corruption. And as the saying in business folklore goes, “the price of corruption is paid by those who can least afford it, the poor consumers”. For them, corruption increases the cost of living and before you know it poverty levels are rising. And if you don’t have that checked soon enough, there’s always its Siamese twin [see first paragraph] whose head would just be awaiting that opportune moment to pop out!

Free trade is an effective tool against corruption, as it does not require goods to bribe their way into markets. The easing of customs restrictions, especially with regard to fellow and more especially neighbouring African countries to allow the free movement of goods within the region would enable African countries to avoid victimisation and as such enhance their better competition in the global markets. Larger markets allow businesses to take advantage of economies of scale. Competition among producers forces uncompetitive industries and businesses to close shop or change their operations to produce a better product. This is a great boon to consumers, who have access to high-quality goods at low prices. All these measures contribute to an increase in a country's economic growth, and if you want to keep the investors coming, this is your bait. They will keep coming in all ranges -local and foreign.

Once we have settled this can we, I believe, comfortably lobby the developed nations’ governments for more trade and not aid. The good book teaches about first removing the beam in your own eye before you can take the mote out of your neighbour’s. Such wonderful wisdom! And subsequently as our developing economies are given a chance to grow, so will the demand for imported goods create a larger employment boon in the developed economies. After all, isn’t this the very essence of trade? That both parties gain something in the long run, you win, I win too! Let’s continue to lobby to make poverty history and while we do let's also not forget the sage wisdom in the clichéd saying, ‘charity begins at home’.

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It’s only but a week ago when my native country joined scores of others for the first time at the BIT MILAN fair in Italy to sell (could we say ‘trade’) the nation’s tourism potential to the international community under the ‘Gifted by Nature’ campaign. For awhile there I was extremely proud of Uganda –this gifted by nature thing was having a good go! I guess when Elsie called to tell me she’d been to Uganda’s stall, I had rejoiced only too soon. You see, Elsie, like me is Ugandan. Except she’s been living with her family of three in that far-away land for as long as I can remember; only until recently had she began to consider to making a permanent comeback to her cradle land. Elsie's never been back home since the days of Idi Amin. Just about a week later back home, the whole nation was horror-struck at this news. Elsie sent me an email along with lots of news links last Tuesday… she’d found out a little late herself but I’d been following the news online closely since day 1. I haven’t brought myself to click the ‘reply’ tab on her email yet because I don’t know what to say. What do you say to someone who tells you they had just watched the LKOS with their whole family and a few friends when they decided to head up to the Uganda stall at a trade/tourism fair because they believed in a healed nation and only a week later hear about this… what do you tell them? And what do you tell them again when they tell you they had friends who still asked them when they mentioned they’re from Uganda, whether the literal ‘Last King of Scotland’ was still reigning over Uganda? What do you tell them? I guess it was for moments such as these that the English saying was coined, ‘when silence seems the best ship home’. I got your email Elsie.

Nkosi silkeleli Uganda. Out.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRANDMA SELSA!

2007-02-27T09:54:00.000Z

Firstly, something new is up here. And before that was this. Hope you find all blessing!

Well I had the most interesting phone conversation with my grandma the other day. I thought I’d share some excerpts…

Both of us: (yada…yada…yada…)

Grandma: Oh by the way, your Dad’s aunt (grandaunt, if there’s such a word, to me) came by to see me last week… and oh my, she looks so terrible!

Me: Terrible?

Grandma: Yes, terrible! She has this crown of all white hair and she had to be supported to climb up and down the stairs in my house [my grandma lives in a two-storey house in the city] and she finally got to my living room, she was breathless.

Me: Why, but that’s sad. I hope she’s o.k. though. Nothing major, is it?

Grandma: Hmm. Me, I think it’s that white hair! How can a woman have such loads of white hair in this day and age? [my grandma I think lives in and out of the salon herself; constantly having her hair dyed among other things] That white hair makes people senile.

Me: But grandma!

Grandma: Yes, it does!! And I’ve told the woman [my ‘grandaunt’] several times to just get a little black dye in her hair and she’s so stubborn, she always refuses to.

Me: Maybe she’s happy that way… I mean you can’t force it on her.

Grandma: Yes, but it makes her so SENILE [said with a lot of emphasis] and very soon, we’ll be hearing she can’t even walk at all. I can’t believe she’s even younger than I am.

Both of us: (laughing a lot)

Grandma: Hmm… if even your grandpa would look after himself (by this she meant ‘dye his hair some’), how about her? Now even I am calling her ‘JAJJA’ [Ugandan vernacular word denoting a person of grand-parenting age]!

Me: But grandma!

Grandma: Yes! When she left my house I was having more guests and they wondered out loud at how old the lady was! Me, I don’t like people who can’t do something about helping themselves when they’ve got means to all around them. I really don’t like that. This weekend I’m going to go over to her place with a can of black dye and administer it to her hair myself.

Me: But grandma!

Grandma: Yes, yes, yes! And if that girl resists… that’ll be the last time she ever comes back to my place. I can’t have her wearing out my ka Timothy (my grandma’s minder) supporting her large mass all over the place just because she can’t do a simple thing like dye her hair and keep from going senile. No, no, no.

Me: (laughing very hard) Now this is really serious!

Grandma: Yes it is but I’m doing her such a big favour!

I thank God for a grandma with whom I can have such conversations. It’s interesting sometimes the topic ranges of most of our conversations… from long days at the salon, to politics, to cooking, to my love life! When it gets to the latter I hasten to say first, there wouldn’t be need for another since customarily (African “Bantu” norm) she’s supposed to call me her husband. It’s an immutable fact that we all grow older everyday and inescapably a day closer to our exit from life’s stage but whenever I take my grandma’s life for an example, it’s a whole new outlook to life I get. It may not be the ‘forever young Peter Pan’ notion she holds but living each moment in its fullness and in no worry of what the morrow holds -now that is something to look forward to!

My grandma believes the internet is an American tool being used to spread Americanism all over the world...she's entitled to her opinion. Well, as such she only uses it to send and receive email. It's highly unlikely my grandma will be visiting here to see this but in the unlikely event that she does, I'd like to say, I love you very much grandma! And Happy Birthday to you!

LESSONS FROM THE SERENGETI FOR MY UNCLE TOMMY

2007-01-29T06:35:00.001Z

Meet my Uncle Tommy (not his real name) who is not really my uncle but one of those people whom you grow up seeing around your family long enough you consider them a part of the family. Uncle Tommy loved to pat my head a lot when I was little. I didn’t quite like it -particularly when I’d just had a haircut- until once whe I went off to boarding school and then saw him again after six months and then I was a few inches taller than him. So I started to pat his head too. O.k. I just made that up about patting his head. But I fancied to think that I could pat his head. Getting back to the story now, my Uncle Tommy is an Investor. Once a door is opened, he seizes the opportunity to be the first to go through it. Sometimes he’s shrewd and other times he’s only plain lucky. My uncle Tommy is also a straight-faced liar. He argues however, that when he tells a lie, he does it to bring about good or in his words, ‘ I lie to tell the truth’ and he absolutely has himself convinced that when he tells a lie, it is justified. I could vouch for him being a good-natured and well meaning man but not for his last dogma. Before I got committed with my other engagements, Uncle Tommy loved to go over his business proposals with me. He said he fancied that I would take on after him but I have a mind of my own and besides I know that part of why I’d be taking teas with him was so he would pick my brains. Every once in awhile over those teas and discussing business proposals, I would mention to Uncle Tommy how I thought the best advice for his game would be found if he went on an excursion to one of the highest fauna-populated jungles in East Africa, particularly the Tanzanian Serengeti. There, I told him, he’d have most if not all of his questions answered just by watching the traits of the myriad wildlife.

You see every investor aspires to be the king of their game and so very easily, the simple laws of the jungle apply. One of my favourites being ‘Don’t hunt more than you can eat’ and ‘Don’t hunt what you can’t kill’. Uncle Tommy believes in spreading his risk, which is a good thing, but when you concentrate more than two thirds of your investments among the top ten performing companies in an unpredictable third world country economy, you’re riding on a little less than luck there. In the African wild, we're told, only a third of the lion cubs born ever make it to adulthood. And for those lucky few that do, an even slimmer three percent of them ever make it to leading the pride! In Uncle Tommy's case, once one of those top ten companies posts negative results in the first months of their quarter, that goose is cooked –keeping in mind that the majority of companies performing this way early in the year do not survive later on in the year. In the African wild once again, much of the lion cubs’ survival we're told, depends on the mother’s ability to conceal her cubs well in the wild, fend off other predators who may want to kill them before they grow up and add to the competition for their prey. Overlooking the group outside the top ten blinds any investor to this little lesson of the wild; which explains how those little companies that come from nowhere but with ever-steady rises finally get to the top. Like the old saying in business folklore goes, someone’s over-performance comes at the cost of another’s under-performance.

Uncle Tommy courses the globe burning himself out as he looks for and follows various markets looking for the best deals. I recall the guide of Maasai origin telling us as my party once went on tour in the Serengeti that, “Simba (the lion), she sleep fifteen, sixteen hours…then she’s hunt the BIG ONE”. Literally I think that must have meant this king of the jungle, male or female spends about two thirds of their time inactive and when they got up to hunt, would only focus on the BIG KILL. Energy Conservation. A very important lesson. Perhaps if Uncle Tommy had taken that trip with us to the Serengeti, he too would have learnt that getting the big picture right was what really mattered at the end of it all.

I wasn’t planning on blogging soon but I just got off the phone with Uncle Tommy and among other things he’s just told me about a potential deal that he might be closing at the end of the month… but even more importantly that he thinks he has finally gotten the time to take that visit to the Serengeti. I’m only praying that perhaps it’s not too late for him. Uncle Tommy intends to take his whole family with him for the trip. Since I am the one who continually cajoled him to take this trip in the first place, I feel a little downhearted that I just turned down his offer of going along with him. The thing is, his safari timing wasn’t so perfect for me as I too, shall be attending to urgent matters at about the time. I hope I can make up for it by recommending him the same Maasai-guide that took us for our tour. I only hope he’s still there! It’s a marvel though what we can all pick from our wildlife, and it can be such a comfort (or discomfort, depending on how one perceives themselves) to know that for every successful predator, there are thousands of less clever wildebeest.

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And I thought you might find this blog interesting too.

No M & M?

2007-01-26T14:37:00.001Z

Until I was about ten years old, I never knew that the 'game of many hats' as politics is called, and more especially global politics would have any effect on the simple lifestyle of a hitherto unknown little African lad. And as such I didn’t care much for whatever the people in that game said, let alone did.

But before I can go on, I thought I might share this piece with you. Reading that again quite made my day yesterday; and in spite of the fact that I co-authored it, I too, began to see a lot in a new light. Perspectives -how we see things! If you’ve persisted reading on without going there first, well then I’ll probably place another link at the end of this post so you don’t miss out…again.

Getting back to my story… my disinterest lasted only until I realized that what started as light talk here could end up being discussed here and ultimately here, which would get people here and here working against each other and culminate into people from here and people from here moving out to here to tussle it out with people there. And as a result, people here wouldn’t be able to sell enough of this product to people here to make this every kid’s favourite since the petroleum that powered the vehicles carrying the product would have risen as a result of depletion of oil reserves here caused by the burning of oil wells by people here unhappy at the prospect of having people from here meddle in their affairs. And as the little African boy made his way to the store to buy himself an M&M, he’d be told the store had just sold the last of its M&M’s and didn’t expect another batch to arrive because demand for the M&M’s had risen everywhere around the globe and as the laws of demand and supply dictated, the M&M’s would only be found in stores here where the suppliers were assured of a higher pay-check. And as that little boy made his way back to his home M&M-less he would recline into the settee and watch this network report on another statement being made here. And finally the light-bulb clicked…it all was related. The man in this office, the oil, the M&M’s. Next time that little boy would pay closer attention to statements made at this annual event.

The odd thing about it is it’s a vicious cycle that repeats itself almost every other day. The boy in that story might not be little anymore and could probably afford to order a case of M&M’s from anywhere around the world now but the point of the story is another boy or girl certainly took his place now, and it may not necessarily be the M&M’s in short supply now, it could even be worse. All of this because of statements made here.

So watching President Bush’s televised state of the Union address the other night (read transcript), I couldn’t help but thank his speechwriters this time round for giving Dubya a chance to save face in spite of the decline in poll ratings that he’d began to suffer since the last same address the previous year. The struggle, however, goes on for this man in a difficult position. History will judge him for who he was and who he wasn’t. Either way, choices have to be made… however unpalatable they might seem or actually be. And it’s men in such difficult positions that usually hold the mantle to make those choices.

On January 20th, this woman officially announced her bid for the presidency. Because she is the first woman presidential candidate with a serious chance of winning, she doesn’t have any role models to be judged against. There are some however that are saying, she will be inevitably measured against that one man, with whom she shares the same last name, and with whom she shared the white house roof over her head for eight years. How she will hold up, let’s only wait and see… Out.

And now that entry!

I RAN OUT OF RWENZORI COFFEE FOR JANUARY

2007-01-15T07:12:00.000Z

"There be four things which are little upon the earth, but they are exceeding wise: The ants are a people strong, yet they prepare their meat in the summer; The conies are but a feeble folk, yet make they their houses in the rocks; The locusts have no king, yet go they forth all of them by bands; The spider [one can] taketh hold with her hands, and [yet even] is in king's palaces." Prov. 30:24-28

I could have been eight or nine years old when I developed a keen interest in watching insect behaviour. I could have passed for an epidemiologist once with my father’s magnifying glass, and lots of insects (dead&alive) collected in a plastic bag together. During that time I studied (a keen eight-year old’s variation) as many types of insects as I came across. One thing I found consistent though among all of them, I could borrow on an age-old English phrase to describe, they take care of their own. Fortunately or unfortunately, I didn’t carry that new obsession at the time with me into my teenage years. That isn’t to say however, that I forgot my lessons learned then. Take the sugar ant for example; he’ll gladly help his mate carry a morsel of food to his family even when he’s been on the same journey twice already before finally returning to pick one for his own family. And then there’re these little guys who for my poor recollection of their proper name, I’ll just refer to them as I did when I was still little, dudu (aren’t all insects?). The wadudu in this case are those little insects that you find well, almost everywhere (about the size of two full-stops, periods if you may, in Arial 10 bold font (..), there I’m sure you know ‘em now). Getting back to the point now, the dudu I always remembered for their tenacity and politeness as they executed their day-to-day duties. I’d seen ‘em once work together to decimate the carcass of a an 11 Ibs New Hampshire poulet that’d had the misfortune of being attacked and killed by rogue cat (rogue because he hunted and killed more than he could eat, a gross violation of the unwritten jungle law) and left in the way of these wadudu friends. Of course the stench was unbearable but every day for the next ten days I’d return to those bushes behind my grandma’s chicken house to check on the progress of the wadudu and at the end of the tenth day, there were only a few feathers and very hollow bones left. Needless to say the insects’ pathway was unobstructed once again. That’s tenacious for you. And polite because, everywhere I went and stopped to look for this kind of insect, I’d always see them stop to say hello to their mates along their way (a series of greetings which always began with a hug from the left, meeting of four antennae and finally a hug with the right side). I was convinced then before I had this confirmed later in school that a lot of information would be exchanged in just that one show of affection among these wadudu friends.

It’s a New Year already. Oh by the way, I couldn’t blog since my last post because I ran out of Rwenzori coffee; I don’t take any other. Ah, but that’s a red herring now. Getting back to the point, it’s a new year already and it doesn’t look like the rat race’s gotten any different. Yes, we may celebrate new beginnings and everything but really at the end of the day, not much has changed. My newspaper still reads the same and so does the news coming in from my Roberts world transistor. People steal from people. People lie to people. People kill people. People hate people. WHERE IS THE LOVE AT? Usually I like to see the good in people however unpleasant an attitude towards others they might have. I believe they deserve that for them to get better. With some the wait is painful and arduous but like every liquid has got its melting point, sure that time comes and at the end of the day one could say it’s been worth the wait. If only we can stop to see the man on the street as just another man like you and I looking to exist as much as we are too, then maybe we’d be a better people. As a human being first before anything else; for we all are of a common origin. In retrospect, that’s how the insects see each other…as members of one family first before the other divisions (that surprisingly we put upon them for our ease differentiating them) set in. They take care of their own.

Which brings us to that first paragraph; Proverbs 30:24-28. There’s a lot of underlying wisdom in that…you only need read between the lines.

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HAPPY NEW YEAR everybody! So hackneyed yet only so best apt for the occasion. There’s this one event that I think a lot of the world missed on the opportunity to consider while the news of the execution of former Iraqui president, Saddam Hussein, for crimes against humanity made the rounds. It was the passing on of the torch at the indispensable ‘common house’ of the entire human family on January 1st 2007. From one Secretary General to another. Annan to Ki-Moon. History will judge the former critically for his (in)actions while he was head of the Department of Peacekeeping Operations (DPKO) between March 1993 and December 1996. The Srebrenica massacre of up to 8,000 men and boys and the slaughter of more than 800,000 people in Rwanda happened on his watch. In both Bosnia and Rwanda, UN officials directed peacekeepers to stand back from the killing, their concern apparently to guard the UN’s status as a neutral observer. A great shock to those who believed the UN was there to help them when weighed against the moral fact that it (the UN) was founded by the Allies in 1945 to “save succeeding generations from the scourge of war” and “reaffirm faith in fundamental human rights”. Its key documents – the Charter, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and the genocide convention – are the most advanced formulation of human rights in history. Documents that have been flouted by UN member states for decades.

And then there’s that sore thumb, Darfur. The crisis in Darfur erupted in 2003 after rebels rose up to demand a greater share of resources. The government in Khartoum’s responded ferociously, launching a systematic “scorched earth” campaign that left hundreds of villages burnt down, over two million people displaced, and over 400,000 dead. The perpetrators are members of a mainly Arab militia, the Janjaweed, trained, armed and funded by the Sudanese government. The Department of Political Affairs (DPA) at the UN repeatedly ignored reports from humanitarian officials of atrocities because they were politically inconvenient. True, the UN has launched a large-scale humanitarian operation that has saved hundreds of thousands of lives. But the more powerful DPA helped ensure little pressure was exerted on Sudan over Darfur, for fear of jeopardising an accord that ended a separate, decades-old conflict between the government and another set of rebels in the south of the same country. Over 10,000 peacekeepers have been deployed in Unmis, the UN mission to southern Sudan, to implement the accord, but there are still none in Darfur. And innocent people continue to die in this dare I say, political war, everyday. Nkosi sikeleli Afrika!

This isn’t to write off Secretary General Annan as a non-implementer at the UN. Nay, matter-of-fact I admire his courage when he took his stand as President Bush in his address to the U.N. General Assembly as the latter sought acquiescence from the UN to his war plans for Iraq, when he (threateningly) asked, “Will the United Nations serve the purpose of its founding, or will it be irrelevant?” In Annan’s address later he said back to President Bush, “Don’t bash the UN, Mr. President; you’ll find you need us later.” But as they say, the record on one wrong erases (in the minds of people) the record of ten rights. In Secretary General Annan’s case, it’s a record of consistent mis(in)actions that’s largely erasing his rights. And that’s without mention of the scandals in the Congo and the oil-for-food saga. Well let’s all hope and pray the new administration at the UN under new Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon will do Africa and the world better.

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It certainly is a long read this one. This time though I shan’t congratulate you reaching this far because I’m sure I’m making up for all the past days when I’d ran out of Rwenzori coffee (I hope you shouldn’t be asking where you can get a pack from since even Tesco is increasing on its stock since recently). The doctors told me last month I had stress and along with prescribing me some medication advised that I should take sometime out and relax as best as I could. I did go on holiday (semi independent island country, beautiful sights) over the season but that’s a story for another day. Thing is I discharged myself from the medication last week since I figured that if stress was of the mind, it could as well be dealt with the same way…thinking it away. Only I’m making sure I do not renege on taking the vitamins and irons. I’m already feeling much better since I discharged myself you see. Thing is I really love whatever I put my mind to –so much at times I’ve been known to be ‘extremely’ selfless. I only call it doing one’s duty. I surprised myself yesterday morning when as I shared a car with my father and another friend we got to some point where we couldn’t go any further cuz visibility was very poor as it was raining very hard. I was at the wheel so I pulled in behind another driver who’d also parked along the side of the road, obviously for the same reasons. And the kicker; I thought I could take a little rest so I adjusted my seat and leaned back and surprise, surprise, the next thing I remember is waking up an hour (yeah, a whole 60 minutes) later breathing fast. It was still raining heavily and the two people in the car besides me were sleeping too! For all I know we could all have passed out because of carbon-monoxide poisoning since all our windows were shut and even the a/c was off. A miracle! Isn’t God just so amazing!!!!!!! Instantly I was reminded of that piece of scripture in the Bible that says, ‘unless God watches, the watchman watches in vain.’ Mungu yiko!

Last Friday a very good friend of mine quit her well-paying job to be with family at a critical time. This gesture reminded me of some words on a wall hanging I read once somewhere that talked about how much of ourselves we pour into our workplace(s) and yet it takes only a few moments to have us replaced, and the less time we pour into our family compared with the fact that at the end of the day, family’s all we got. Jill and I have had a wonderful relationship both in and outside our work together. Of course her exit doesn’t mean the end our amity but she’s certainly someone whose absence will be missed. If ever you read this Jill, all of God’s blessings in Denmark and Zambia. Alutta continua…

A friend and I opened a new blog, Fear not the sons of Anak, for which I’m placing another link in my sidebar under the blogroll. Until you’re there I shan’t be saying what it’s about but I hope you’re blessed by it even more as we progress. Between us we believe for bigger things for you all in that regard. Be blessed.

A wonderful 2007 to you all lads and lasses!

IT RAINS IN DECEMBER AND THEN RAINS SOME MORE…

2006-12-19T07:14:00.000Z

“Hark goes the bell, all seems to say, Christmas is here,…ding…dong…ding…dong… one merry merry little Christmas, one merry merry little Christmas…ding…dong…” Anyone remember that one? At one point in time (my early years actually, gosh, saying that makes me feel a lot older now!) I could actually sing that whole song, word-for-word. Now I had to strain to even faintly recall that chorus.

Aren’t we all just thankful to God for December? Every December I get a year older and I could say that’s one of the reasons I look forward to this time of year. This time round my birthday was on a weekend; I had waited six years again for that one…the bonus is it’ll still be on a weekend too next year and then God willing, I hope to have as great a time if not better, as I did this time. I had a few friends complaining about why I hadn’t done a birthday blog entry comme les autres but I guess sometimes (e’en on my birthday, yeah!) it doesn’t really have to be all about me. I can be like that.

Of course to some minds December translates one thing, the Christmas, Christmas, and Christmas!!! When one’s seen more of these seasons than they’ve gotten fingers (and toes) to count, they tend to get the hang of it. The season then becomes as just as one other phase of life –something you go through, almost plastically. I was that way the last season. Couldn’t wait for return to normalcy after the New Year! But this season is different, you see, when you’ve gotten little ones in the household, it’s reason enough to re-live some of these age-old experiences. My two petite nieces came over to ours yesterday and our place was still bare of any Christmas decorations…yet. “Don’t you know it’s almost already Christmas Uncle?”, the elder of them asked me, “where’s your Christmas-stuff?”. I particularly liked the way she said ‘Christmas-stuff’, like she was sure it was in the house somewhere and only we weren’t too willing to bring it out. Of course I couldn’t dash the little one’s dreams and hopes for an exciting Christmas with my ramblings about how I thought people had long lost out on the true meaning of Christmas and that it didn’t really matter whether I went along with the whole world or not to celebrate Christmas. But no, that would have been very wrong. In that instant, I decided to let the little girls humour me with what they thought Christmas was all about. It was an interesting rendition, each of them had; particularly when it came to the bits that they all knew so well. And then there was an argument over how many stars the magi saw (that one is not resolved yet! One says three, the other one, but they all agreed ‘twas one that pointed at Jesus’ birthplace) and whether the animals in the sty that day really talked. Hmm… little children! Well finally it was my turn to tell a Christmas story and I told ‘em the old classic, of Ebenezer Scrooge, the lawyer who scoffed at the prospect of spending even a dime on Christmas. It was pretty ironic telling that story as I said in the beginning, at ours it was still devoid of any ‘Christmas-stuff’, to borrow on an expression there. Then it finally dawned on me; that whatever Christmas might have been made to look like now, it still is gonna be that time of spreading good cheer and being merry. After all that’s what the angels did that first Christmas over those hills and valleys in Jerusalem while the shepherds fed their flock. “…Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people…” Luke 2:10. Christmas I figured shouldn’t be just about us, whether we feel in (or not in) the mood for it; it’s about giving to others, how God set the best precedent, giving to all of us His only begotten Son. And there it was again in my face, it shouldn’t be about me or what I feel like (or not)…what I like to do with my birthday, to be about others, I should do even better for Christmas… And the other reason I hadn’t been so upbeat about it was that I would be travelling soon anyway so why all the fuss. All of that changed in that instant; I realised I had held a very selfish opinion of what this season must be.

My nieces and I set about searching for and decorating the place with all the ‘Christmas-stuff’ there was. And I realised one other thing too, I think I still have quite the knack for interior design! Or to paraphrase, the girls and I, we set up quite something. When the others finally got back later that night, they were in for quite the surprise. So the season’s already started at our’s and I’m glad e’en though I won’t be home for the big day, I’ve still been a part of the whole season thing-thing! I guess it really does rain and snow then in December. A Merry Christmas to everyone!!

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I blogged about the World AIDS Day twice here at LivingZack’sUtopia; I’m glad a lot of folk here in Blogsville picked this up too. Have seen a few blogs that’ve taken on displaying the AIDS banner (ribbons for some) and others on some debate. But just as I like to emphasise now lately, AIDS is still real and I pray ya’ll continue to remember this fact every day and factor HIV/AIDS in a lot of what you do.

Speaking of the World AIDS Day, it’s interesting to note how the powers that be in this state handled the day’s theme. Globally, the day’s theme (prepared a year in advance by the World AIDS Day Campaign) was ACCOUNTABILITY: how have our leaders been accountable to their people vis-à-vis stopping AIDS and keeping the promise. But I learnt (sadly) that in this state, only three weeks to the global World AIDS Day, someone in their wisdom decided to have Uganda run an alternate course from the rest of the world and substitute the global theme for a new one, UNITE FOR CHILDREN. UNITE AGAINST HIV/AIDS. I mean surely, surely, if this isn’t L-O-W, what is??? It’s common knowledge now about how this state has mismanaged resources meant to fight HIV/AIDS both from the Global Fund to fight HIV/AIDS, TB and Malaria and the Bill & Mellinda Gates Foundation. But that’s a story for another day. Else I’d say dillydallying the whole process of accountability can be tolerable; however, avoiding being accountable to the extent of having the World AIDS Day theme changed to suit the preferences of a few people is LOW, and using the excuse of children is the ultimate LOWEST of LOWS. Using children to fight the battles of grown-ups doesn’t only happen in the killing fields then, does it?

Which set me thinking, if we can sink this low, how lower do you think we can sink the next time? God bless and help this republic. Ku lwa Katonda n’ensi yange.

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On another note, thank God for this new airline. K.a had been giving customers plying the EBB-NBO route quite the raw deal for their money (and lots of it should I add). If you’ve flown this route with them and compared with another airline, you probably know what I’m talking about. Well, I guess that’s what happens when you let someone have a monopoly over such a service. If I’m to trust the word from the grapevine, the Uganda government owns a few shares in this new airline, VIA. Way to go Uganda! But Ugandans still deserve better (I mean like a real airline of their own too) so don’t rest on your laurels yet! For the relatively fairer fares with this new one though… (MIDI sounds: applause in background)

Next in line should be those mobile phone companies and internet service providers. Open the markets to more competitors and we can call it a fair fight. For now a lot of people are still having their hands (and feet?) tied.

As is common with times approaching the holiday season, a lot of people love to throw Christmas parties (actually I’m thinking the former word is another excuse for the growing Ugandan spendthrift culture to throw just a few more parties); I’ve had more than a fair share of invites to these such do’s. And it’s no secret that a lot of people expect much (some, too much!) back when they invite you to a one such do. When I say much, this means much, like making huge business concessions, now that’s quite something. I guess the phrase, ‘there’s never a free lunch’ holds water here. That’s why I’m ultra –selective when it comes to whose I might be attending. You see, I believe in freedom, the freedom of all men. And I believe that a debt is an anachronism in life that must be settled as fast as it is noticed and not left to run on for more than that, for it is then that people start to get used to it and before you know it, it has them all up in chains. To ya’ll during this season (and beyond as well), look before you leap. I bet many of you know the epic about the frog that was put in boiling water…he leaped out almost as fast as his feet touched the surface of the water. Well his mate who was placed in cool water that was then simmered up slowly till it boiled didn’t quite make it. A great life lesson there!

As we all indulge in the Christmas festivities this season, these children, their mothers and fathers shall continue to live the race of the rats under the squalid conditions of internally displaced people’s camps. Between the Uganda government and the rebel LRA side holding peace talks in Juba, Southern Sudan, one side continues to dillydally the peace talks. So much the peace-talks cynics are almost having their money back and more. But more seriously, do these innocent children, women and men deserve to live through their 20th Christmas under fear and oppression. Where is justice when you need it? A heart out for you Gulu. Of course by Gulu here, I mean all people that have been affected by this madness in both Northern Uganda and South of the Sudan. I’m hoping this December can be a lot better than the last nineteen they’ve had. Thank God for December!

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Congratulations if you made it thus far! Sometimes I got the whole world to say. Somebody recommended me this read, ‘s called: More than just a carpenter. A captivating account proving that Jesus Christ actually walked this earth some two thousand or so years ago. Now I don’t need a book like that to actually believe that Jesus Christ is real –cuz I already do! Rather I thought it might make good reading for a few friends of mine. I hope to pick some few copies while I’m away that I can bring back home with me. Who knows, I just might share a line or two here at this blog as well!

I just had the best three-days-in-a-row quality time with my God the past week, it would have been four but the fourth was only a few hours so I’ll stick to saying three. I talked and I listened too. It’s pretty interesting having a God that loves and cares for even mortals such as I, not that I think low of myself but sometimes I think I haven’t really been such a model child and that I don’t deserve what He gives me. But God, He’s One! He always got me covered. The last three days I found out some new and amazing truths as well…maybe soon I will share here at this blog. For now I can’t get that hymn out of my head, “the precious love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies they will endure till the end, they are new every morning, new every morning, Great is Thy Faithfulness O Lord”, and I think it’s quite a good thing. Reminds me of those words @ Paula’s blog: Imbo nami…Sifu nami…Huu ni wimbo wangu.

Christ rules!

Once again, a very merry Christmas to ya’ll and your loved ones. And thank you for living with me through my Utopia the most part of this year. And I hope that together you and I have learnt over this time that even though we cannot really have a Utopia, from the Utopian values put forward and suggested at this blog, we can look to perhaps having a pseudo-one. Peace & Love. I’m out.

STOP AIDS. KEEP THE PROMISE: WORLD AIDS DAY 2006 (2)

2006-12-01T06:43:00.000Z

For about a month and a half now I’ve had a World AIDS Day banner flying just below my headshot in the sidebar of this blog. And for about the same time I’ve been wearing a red ribbon at least somewhere on my piece of clothing everyday, wherever I have been. I got some strange looks many time, especially when I would wear my ribbon so conspicuously. It wasn’t until last Monday that a friend of mine (bless him!) who had just noticed the ribbon on my jumper for the first time asked, “so you’re HIV+?” Well I guess with folk like my friend there, we still have a long way to go. But at least he’s one less now since when I was done explaining to him the ‘what’s’ and ‘why’s’, he too, asked for a red ribbon which he told me he’d be wearing till today. Well the banner here and the red ribbon on my shirt pocket now has been a constant reminder to factor HIV/AIDS in everything I do. AIDS is real and still is a big threat even to the entire world. Yesterday I posted here some pics too, originally I’d had about twenty of those but a lot of them were grotesque I thought, so I got another set that would still tell the AIDS story in relation to today but keep a bit of decency (& humanity) too. I’m hoping my efforts were efficacious in that regard.

Today, 1^st December is globally recognised as the World AIDS Day. World AIDS Day is a day when people from around the world come together in a single effort to focus on global shared action on HIV/AIDS and also raise public awareness on specific issues related to HIV/AIDS. These issues include the importance of fighting stigma and discrimination and the disproportionate impact of AIDS on women and girls. The fight against AIDS is over twenty five years old. The AIDS epidemic is a global emergency that affects people in every country on earth. UNAIDS and WHO released the latest ‘statistics’ (mark that word) on HIV/AIDS last week. The high figures are worrying to put it optimistically. The new statistics reflect a world in which 40 million people are living with HIV. 63% of these people (25 million) live in sub-Saharan Africa. 2.1 million of them are only children under 15 years of age. UNAIDS estimates that, by the end of 2005, a total of 25 million people had died of AIDS since it was first recognised in 1981. In 2005 alone, some 38.6 million people were living with HIV, 4.1 million people were newly infected and 2.8 million people lost their lives. The statistics also reinforced the fact that women continue to bear the bigger brunt of the pandemic: 59-60% of HIV infected people are women; and between the ages of 15-24 years, 77-78% of HIV- infections are in young women and girls. Now you’ll notice I said to mark that word, ‘statistics’. To many people out these might just as well be only just numbers but I’d like you to think of them beyond mere numbers, look through and see someone you’ve perhaps known, a friend, a relative, a neighbour or the guy who delivers your paper every morning or the milkman. It comes down to flesh and blood human beings, like you and I. AIDS could just be next door or even inside your house. In short AIDS can catch anyone. I come from a country that has largely been affected by HIV/AIDS. But my country also has another story to this, Uganda was branded a success story in 1999 as new infection rates decreased drastically. That’s a story for another day. What I’m wont on saying is that this piece of achievement was perhaps too overblown that a lot of people began to rest on their laurels, metaphorically speaking and now new HIV infection rates in Uganda are too reflecting a rise. Square one? That is the question. The World AIDS Day theme this year is accountability; the primary objective of this theme is to ensure that policymakers keep their promises on AIDS. And how accountable have our policymakers been? For now that will remain a rhetoric question. Well, AIDS is still real everyone. We all shouldn’t rest just yet. When the leaders of the G8 met at Gleneagles last year, they made promises, among which was to fight AIDS with HIV treatment for all by the year 2010. Yesterday I found out that the Global Fund to fight AIDS, Tuberculosis and malaria is $1billion short for 2007. With this campaign, we hope the beloved leaders of the G8 shall not renege on their promises. Many lives are holding on to that promise. STOP AIDS. KEEP THE PROMISE. And we can all do something to stop AIDS before it stops us.

Heart out to all persons all over the world who are living everyday with the consequences of HIV and AIDS. Also remembering the 25 million who have died of AIDS up until now. To borrow the words of my good friend Jill, “keep the promise and let’s remember that every statistic has a human face and… story.” I’m encouraging you to do something about this today World AIDS Day 2006. Peace & Love.

Some quick facts on HIV/AIDS:

HIV stands for Human Immunodeficiency Virus. It is called this because it’s a virus that affects humans by attacking their immune system (making it deficient) so that it can’t fight off diseases.
You can’t tell if someone is infected with HIV from his or her appearance. They may look completely healthy for many years. It is only when a person’s immune system gets very weak that they start getting very ill.
Over 15 million children had been orphaned by AIDS by the end of 2003.
2.3 million children in the world were infected with HIV by the end of 2005.
No, there isn’t a cure for HIV infection or AIDS but there are medicines, called anti-retrovirals (or ARVs) that can help people with HIV infection live healthy lives for longer. In rich countries, most people with HIV infection receive ARVs but in poor countries, only around 20% of the people that need them get these drugs.
Most children with HIV infection became infected through their mother during pregnancy, labour or through breastfeeding.
HIV makes people ill through attacking the immune system that is responsible for fighting off illnesses.
It is possible to reduce significantly the risk from becoming infected with HIV. HIV is most commonly passed on through sex so by not having sex, by being faithful to one per son or through using condoms you minimise your risk of catching HIV.
HIV can also be transmitted when the skin is cut or pierced using an unsterilized needle, syringe, razorblade, knife or any other such sharp tool.
People who inject themselves with drugs or have sex with drug users are at high risk of becoming infected with HIV.
15 - 24 year olds are the category with the highest number of people living with HIV. Of all the people living with HIV throughout the world, half are between 15 and 24 years old.
There is a difference between HIV and AIDS. HIV is a virus that attacks your immune system. This causes AIDS.
You are classed as having AIDS when your body has very little defence against infection and you are, or are likely to become, seriously ill.

Zack out.

A picture paints a thousand words: WORLD AIDS DAY 2006 (1)

2006-11-30T15:36:00.000Z

THANKSGIVING AND BUILDING THE NATION

2006-11-24T07:29:00.000Z

I just got back from a thanksgiving do this evening hosted by a joint-collection of some embassy staff for the American community living here. It isn’t a US-only thing cuz non-Americans are usually well-represented at these such do’s and this evening’s wasn’t an exception too. Out of respect for the event and for the privacy of most of the people that make up the guest-list (some honest and hard-working locals and foreigners who do their best to stay out of the public eye), I shall stay describing the lovely evening until a further more opportune time. It’s only as we began to leave that I noticed (and for the first time!) something I thought was quite odd. There, in the parking where some cars with drivers, and some, yawning while others were yet still feasting on their portions of the sumptuous dinner and niceties. I’ll further break this down.. you see usually at these parties, guests are encouraged to share rides so as to have as few vehicles as can possibly fit securely in a residence parking lot. The alternative is you can have your driver drop you off and come back to pick you up later when it’s time to leave. But there’re always the few for whom showing a bit of pomp at almost everywhere they go is almost like a trademark and so you still have folk who come over with their monstrous SUV’s, chauffeur-driven, et al, so they can perhaps let everyone know they command some respect around this little state. That isn’t so bad. But they have the poor chauffeurs-cum-drivers sit it out the entire duration of the do, in the parking. That wouldn’t be so bad too if at least they let their drivers too, partake of even an ounce of the hospitality that we’re accorded during this whole do. As I was leaving this evening, I noticed it was these cars that belonged to such pompous folk (and surprise, surprise, all of ‘em were actually Ugandan) that had their drivers yawning. I thought (and I hope I’m wrong) that these drivers would probably feel embarrassed to come out and serve themselves from the same table (since it’s mostly informal, we all serve from the same table at the do) as their masters, even after their masters were done and were engaged in other chit-chat. And the only drivers I saw feasting were actually two and these drove well, embassy vehicles. This unfairness nagged at me all the way back home and I couldn’t help recalling the late poet, Barlow’s poem, BuildingtheNation. This social divide thing, we make such a mess of it! I just sent out a text message to one of the day’s hosts mentioning this and I think the next time, people should be told to strictly follow what the instructions on their invites say. I hope you all had a happy thanksgiving people. See, I’m thanking God for blogger here too!

IT DOESN'T RAIN ...IT POURS!!

2006-11-20T08:37:00.000Z

I kept postponing writing this new entry since Saturday last week. It’s amazing how much can happen in the space of a week. Over the past seven days I’ve had my patience stretched both by circumstances and people; I’ve been able to keep my head above the (murky) water though, amidst it all. The one that takes the crown I guess is this one lady, let’s call her Halle, who has recently made it a habit to sing noisily very early every morning and late at night for the entire neighbourhood where I live. Surprisingly Halle does all this believing that she’s doing a very o.k. thing since it’s God she’s singing for. Now I have nothing against folk who do this kind of thing, praise and worship God openly. The only bone I’ve got to pick here is with those folk who think they must do this at the expense of peace and tranquil in a 1 mile radius from wherever it is they are conducting their business. Up until Halle moved into the house across the street from mine, I’d have proudly said I lived in one of the quietest and most serene neighbourhoods this part of the city. Surely you can say that when the only disturbance you ever hear is just distant voices of people at the beach carried over the lake by almost silent breezes at night; and even then, those are more like whispers. Lately that has been ruined by Halle’s early morning rackets and songs in Tanzanian (by that I mean the country’s version of East African, sorry kiswhahili. And yes, Halle is Tanzanian too!), she beats a drum (or something that sure sounds like one), prays loudly, oh sorry, very LOUDLY and sings in this high-pitched voice with a resonance to match and all of that is interspersed with bouts of thunderous applause. And that’s just one phase of it. We have to endure three such phases every morning and night. You’re probably thinking why don’t folk walk up to her house and ask her to stop it. Well this is 21^st century Africa for you now, with everyone having a bit of space they can call their home erecting a minimum 2-metre high fence to perhaps keep everyone out of their space or to further emphasise the point that they actually own the plots of land on which they are staying. Well yesterday I couldn’t take it any more. See, I happen to love my peace and quiet and more to that, the times that Halle chooses to begin her ceremonies (because it’s now so religious so I refer to it so) are about the same time I take personally to do my own reflections and her rackets do not enhance this in any way. I’m Christian too, you see but when I get talking to God, with me it’s more impersonal. I may not do the long prayer thing and everything that goes with it but I’m sure even when I speak with God for a couple of minutes, He’s actually heard me cuz His word says He hears us when we call and I don’t doubt that. I thought I could mention this to Halle too in addition to clarifying from her whether we pray to the same God, in which case if she’d answered to the affirmative, I’d mention that it’s nowhere written He is a deaf God but rather an omnipresent and omniscient God. After rehearsing my EastAfrican lines, I made my way outside the gate on across the street to Halle’s gate and before I could get my hands on her bell, noticed there was an argument going on inside her fence. I’d never seen Halle too before but from the voices within; I could tell it must have been her and one of the other neighbours having an exchange. A neighbour who peddles some political influence around this state had gotten to hers before I did. I hate to be a crowd so I made my way back to ours and went on to have a normal day. The night was very peaceful, as those our neighbourhood was used to having before Halle came into the scene. Well I only think now that Halle’s visitor that morning might have been a little harsh in getting his point through so next weekend I’m gonna bake a cake and take it up to Halle’s house, after all I didn’t quite make the visit yesterday. I hope we can get along; and we could have a thing or two to learn from the other too.. I’m thinking resilience from her and a more positive attitude towards prayer from me. So you see, God really does put people in our lives (and neighbourhoods) for a reason. Tell you how it goes…

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One thing I might have forgotten to mention here too is that I’m a recovering tech-giz addict. It’s never easy especially since the industrial revolution came back in the 21^st century through new daily technologies. You heard the latest? That soon we could burn an entire DVD collection onto a single disc!! Almost phenomenal if you ask me but these guys go on to break it down for all of us. Apparently it has something to do with taking a conventional laser, attaching two tiny gold rods which then focus the beam to a point about 40 billionths (!) of a meter wide. This is about ten times finer than those made with lasers that write DVDs. Fancy an ipod anyone? Jan and Jerry, my two Irish friends who are here on a short holiday were surprised to find 8 in 1 DVDs out here on the open market. “The quality of these things isn’t too good Zack, don’t you think we were conned of our money, aye?”, Jan asked me today. “A dog begets a dog Jan,” I replied “You don’t expect to have great quality video watching an ‘8 in 1’ DVD, it’s obviously, however well packaged, obviously bootlegged!” This was a day before the official movie premiere of Casino Royale in the U.K. and their DVD salesman promised to get them all the Bond series, replete with the newest in the pack, Casino Royale on one DVD in a week’s time from then. “But for that one, cash, she come more (sic)”, he added. I guess the phrase it doesn’t rain, it pours is best apt here!

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My little sister when she was still little would ask me every morning after the obligatory ‘good morning’ of course, whether I’d had any dreams and if I did, what they were. And often I’d reply, I dreamt of the next day’s news. Pretty interesting that, she kept getting the same answer from me everyday until she finally gave up on asking the question. But in all earnest it was true. And matter-of-fact I still dream of tomorrow’s news every once in awhile now. It isn’t in any way psychic my dears. Nay, I guess it only draws from the fact that usually before I went to bed I would have my world transistor tuned in to BBC or one of those other international news stations around our globe and possibly my mind picks out pieces of this information subconsciously and processes it again into news as I dream. A habit that I haven’t broken! Before I remembered to come here, I was preparing to go to bed and that transistor (a very faithful servant this Roberts gadget is!) was already tuned into the BBC. As I began typing this out, I could subconsciously hear a rapport about the Netherlands parliament proposing to ban the burqa, an Islamic way of dressing for the women where they have every part of their bodies but the eyes covered up in cloth. And I think it’s pretty ironic since it is from the same Netherlands where most things odd in Europe originate, like demonstrators who march along streets in the nude. Now where is this country’s allegiance? To be or not to be? Nonetheless even in the Moslem countries, it is only a small proportion of the female population who dress this way, and if it be comfortable for them and we have had none of them complaining, then what do we lose if they continue to dress up this way? It’s also traditional to add to that. We don’t complain when the Scottish (men) were kilts, even when they look so glaringly skirt-like. I say live and let live. If I knew any better I’d say this were bordering on an abuse of the concerned parties’ rights to express themselves freely without necessarily posing any harm to anyone. Where are the rights campaigners when you need them? Which brings me to another thing; a friend of mine, Laila is a globetrotter, her work as a journalist inevitably takes her many places. Laila is ethnically from Gaza and also loves to wear her cultural dress, the Hijab. However, Laila at almost every airport when she travels in Europe, has to be stopped and asked to be ‘SSed’ (airport jargon for searching suspicious looking persons for anything that might be of harm to fellow passengers and or the airline, but in all earnest just double checking to ensure one doesn’t belong to the Al-Qaeda or any other such network). It’s really embarrassing at times having to endure all that cuz there are sometimes when Laila has had to travel with her four-year old son and heaven knows what kinda questions these children can ask. So Laila has had to contend with spending more time at check-in and immigration counters than any other normal passenger because of what she wears. Quite a harsh way of treating a fellow human being. No wonder some people get driven to the wall. My plea is that this all must stop!! One love. Zack out.

THE HOT WATER BOTTLE

2006-11-11T09:48:00.000Z

Finally I'm back too! I'll have to give it you all bloggers that do this thing while on the move, travelling I mean. Quite a feat, that. Usually I like to blog with what I call the perfect conditions around me.. alone in a room after midnight when both heroes and villains are retiring for the night and with a teapot-full of Andrew Rugasira’s Rwenzori coffee (Whenever I travel, I go with at least a pack of that with me) besides me and headphones over my ears playing Hillsongs Worship music at volume one. LivingMyUtopia, I call it.

I just received another forward, I guess like a lot of ya’ll, I receive several a day from various friends. What makes this one different however is that it’s from a friend with whom I have been out of touch for a long while now. Of course my first reaction was of disappointment at receiving another forward from someone I least expected to play the forwarding game. lol. Dee and I last saw in person 35 months ago. She was such a lovely young lady, still is I’m sure. Many thanks for this Dee!! Of course like all forwards, it’s too got that ubiquitous line at the end, ‘send this to so many people, yada, yada’. The other thing that made it stand out from the rest is the message it contains, strong, almost overbearing. Why it came at this particular time when I’ve been experiencing such a spiritual stagnation in my life, only God can tell. The message’s already revived me now and one thing I’m sure of, the Lord takes care of His own. I’m gonna have this made into a plaque that I can hang up my wall and also some little keepsakes which I can have with me, even while I blog. Well before I do that, l am pasting it here for ya’ll too. Perhaps you’ve seen it too before, perhaps you haven’t. Eitherways, go on and read. Captivating. Inspirational! God is alive and well.

(This story was written by a doctor who worked in a country somewhere along the African equator)

One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labour ward; but in spite of all we could do, she died leaving us with a tiny premature baby and acrying two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive; as we had no incubator (we hadno electricity to run an incubator).We also had no special feeding facilities. Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts. One student midwife went for thebox we had for such babies and the cotton wool that the baby would be wrapped in.Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot waterbottle. She came back shortly in distress to tell methat in filling the bottle, it had burst (rubber perishes easily in tropical climates). "And it is ourlast hot water bottle!" she exclaimed. As in the West,it is no good crying over spilled milk so in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying overburst water bottles. They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways."All right," said, "put the baby as near the fire asyou safely can, and sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts. Your job is to keep the baby warm."The following noon, as did most days, I went to have prayers with many of the orphanage children who choseto gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem aboutkeeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle, and that the baby could so easily die if itgot chills. I also told them of the two-year-oldsister, crying because her mother had died.During prayer time, one ten -year old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children. "Please, God" she prayed, "send us a waterbottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, as the babywill be dead, so please send it this afternoon."While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer,she added, "And while You are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she'll knowYou really love her?"As often with children's prayers, I was put on thespot. Could I honestly say, "Amen". I just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, yes, I know thatHe can do everything, the Bible says so. But there are limits, aren't there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending me a parcelfrom homeland. I had been in Africa for almost fouryears at that time, and I had never, ever received aparcel from home. Anyway, if anyone did send me aparcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I livedon the equator! Halfway through the afternoon, while Iwas teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door!By the time I reached home, the car had gone, butthere, on the veranda, was a large twenty-two poundparcel. I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could notopen the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanagechildren.Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoingeach knot. We folded the paper, taking care not totear it unduly. Excitement was mounting.Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box. From the top, I lifted outbrightly coloured, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then there were the knitted bandagesfor the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored. Then came a box of mixed raisins andsultanas - that would make a batch of buns for the weekend. Then, as I put my hand in again, I feltthe.....could it really be? I grasped it and pulled it out - yes, a brand new, rubber hot water bottle. I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could. Ruth was in the front row ofthe children. She rushed forward, crying out, "If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly too!"Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulledout the small, beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyesshone! She had never doubted! Looking up at me, she asked: "Can I go over with youand give this dolly to that little girl, so she'llknow that Jesus really loves her?"That parcel had been on the way for five whole months.Packed up by my former Sunday school class, whoseleader had heard and obeyed God's prompting to send ahot water bottle, even to the equator. And one of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child - five months before, in answer to the believing prayer of aten-year-old to bring it "that afternoon."

"Before they call, I will answer" (Isaiah 65:24)

Thanks for this again Dee, all my love! Peace and Love. Zack out.

THE FUTURE OF THE AFRICAN SMALL-SCALE FARMER

2006-10-26T10:50:00.000+01:00

I spent a large part of last week interacting with Ugandan small-scale rural-turned-urban farmers on invitation from one of their societies. This whole concept of urban farming in a developing country has been alien to me, and only until recently have I began to appreciate the role of this extension of farming to the city. Carl (for the sake of protection of privacy I’m not using his real name here) is a 40 year old father of five and S.2 (Grade 8) drop-out from Sembabule, one of the newly created districts in Museveni’s Uganda, who moved to Kampala (Uganda’s capital) in 1998. When he moved, it was in search of a better standard of living, one which couldn’t be attained by simply tilling his family inherited 20 acre-piece of land back in Sembabule. When Carl moved to Kampala, he tried his hand at a myriad trades, and eventually landed the kill when he got into goods importation from some of the international trade capitals, Dubai, Beijing, Shanghai, Hong Kong and Tokyo. It was on a one such trip that he made to Beijing that he met Chang (not real name), a Chinese farmer in Central Beijing. Given the population of China, the Chinese methods of farming were such as to utilise the smallest of space in as best a manner as one could possibly can to produce sustainable benefits. When next Carl returned home, his farming chickens returned to roost too! They say you can’t keep running from something that is your natural calling; maybe they’re right. Carl revitalised the ideas he got from China into a farming heaven on his 5-acre piece of land he purchased in an up-scale neighbourhood in Kampala using proceeds from his trade business. From rice to simsim to maize to eucalyptus to fruits & vegetables to livestock and fish farming, Carl has got on just 5 acres! And it’s not enough to say just that, rather he’s making a good deal of profit from this. “Farming’s my first love, I could never see myself getting drawn away from it”, Carl later tells me. It’s 2006 now and Carl’s small, but not too small dream has attracted national attention. But before that, in 2005, Carl invited fellow small-scale farmers from back home in Sembabule to visit his little project and perhaps pick a leaf or two from it to use back home. Uganda’s ruling NRM government recently launched its nationwide prosperity for all (bonna bagagawale) programme; supporting Carl’s ideas to pick root in rural areas would be a more that apt style of implementing this programme among many Ugandan small-scale farmers. At the start of this month, Carl’s farmer friends and former neighbours launched a new association through which the government will support them to intensify small-scale farming to benefit them and their families using such ideas as Carl’s. Even more, Carl’s little project shall too, benefit from this initiative by being made a kind of pilot project, one from which all the others will pick. The biggest bottleneck was putting all of this to paper, in a language that the men and women who sit and talk about the fate of African farmers in conferences that cost much more than implementing their resolutions do, understand. This is where my invitation came in. Understanding the layout of the project and familiarising myself with every minor detail for the past one month and finally participating in the digging of a new fish pond has given me such an experience as I fill I’m one of these people myself. It’s been an amazing week, the last one especially as I interacted with the Ugandan small-scale farmer, laying strategies as to how best this intensification can be done; it’s amazing how much ‘latent’ (pun intended) talent there is just wasting in such a little developing country. I’m only wondering how much Uganda would move forward if the education level restrictions were lifted from parliamentary candidates’ qualification for the job (with all due respect to all Ugandan M.P.s), and such people as the farmers I’ve interacted with over the past week would contest and perhaps win these seats. Formidable! At the end of the week, Carl and his group of farmers asked what my fee would be; I was never as proud of declining something as I was then. An offer to nation building. It is highly unlikely that any of these farmers would be visiting here at my blogpage but nonetheless, I’d like to say, I wish you guys all the best. And this Friday as you present this work to His Excellency, even as I'm out of the country, my thoughts shall be with you. Forward Africa!

HOPE AND A SECOND-HAND REPUBLIC

2006-10-23T09:16:00.000+01:00

“For we are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for? But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.” Romans 8:24,25.

I love my old King James Bible. It’s particularly about that way in olden English that the message comes across as very authoritarian, and yet still embellished with that love that can only be God’s as the words come alive speaking, admonishing, encouraging, all in equally good measure. Don’t you just love God. I just read a hilarious but saddening piece of news online in TheNewVision and remembered an experience I had once in Kampala as I walked along one busy street, see, taking on this global trend, the Ugandan city hasn’t been left behind without its proportionate share of street preachers and doomsday prophets (with all due respect to both categories of people). I got to the end of the street just in time to see and hear a crowd of passers-by turned on-lookers (some of these scenes you can only have in Kampala!) argue with this street-preacher about the relevance of this ‘hope’ he talked about. I was in such a hurry and only caught a glimpse of this rather sweaty man presumably in his mid thirties try to open up scriptures from his much thumbed bible and not get at any that might have been relevant for the occasion, even as the mob that had surrounded him where growing more agitated. What surprised me the more was that only a few feet further away, was yet another street preacher, this time female, shooting out from her arsenal of bible knowledge a myriad reasons as to why whoever cared to listen wouldn’t be at God’s table that night should they die, unsaved. Silently I agreed as I passed by hurriedly again, only stopping short of asking her to help out her colleague, a few feet away, who was definitely at the lower ebb of being equipped with which bible verse should rise to occasion. Two days later I read the story of the Good Samaritan again in my bible; to say that I was remorseful for what I did (turning my face the other way) would be to plainly state it. I wished that I could re-live that moment. I have had a strong opinion on street preachers (but that’s a blog for another day!) but with this particular one, he was a wounded eagle that I self-consciously passed by in its precarious situation. I only wonder how many of us knowing the right thing, would find the time even amidst a busy schedule to stop and defend the truth of what we know is right when we see that truth being made out to be a lie. I failed my test that day but I have braced myself that I shan’t fail another should the same opportunity pass my way again. Maybe this is the part of the sinner falling down and rising again… a saint of God saved by hope.

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On another note, I stumbled onto a blogger somewhere in this blogweb who had the mind to collect all of those hilarious extracts of former Ugandan president Idi Amin’s speeches (truth or fiction –you tell me!) all the while he presided over the state as ‘life president of Uganda’. For most of us here in bloggerland, we shall never really know first-hand what it was like in the Idi Amin day in Uganda, the jokes he made, his achievements and shortcomings, etc. With the exception of perhaps Omar (anyone else I left out?), I think the rest (or rightly, most) of us shouldn’t be crucified for attempting to take a more balanced perception of who Idi Amin was. I personally, prefer to believe first in someone’s innocence before I can make such a sweeping statement as ‘guilty (as if the word in itself isn’t painful enough!) as charged’, so even in Amin’s case, I like to believe he wasn’t such a good man but he wasn’t such a bad one either. If I recall correctly, I must have left at the blogger’s comment site something to the tune of ‘I believe Idi Amin, at the level of p.3 dropout, achieved well beyond his educational expectations as president of Uganda and had he had a chance to further his education, might have who knows, made Uganda an African Hong Kong’. That’s quite a subject for debate. How far does an education open up (or close out) someone to extending their perception of the world? Mentioning this, Brazil’s president de Silva, who just won his second election, and his policy economic reforms come to mind. Well I don’t wish the old days back, matter of fact I believe Uganda is better off now than it was in many regimes ago but again, there’s just so much to speculate on…
The latest Idi Amin movie, which is in earnest not really about the larger-than-life late former African dictator, but rather his young Scottish physician, is out. I have had many an opportunity to watch this movie but I haven’t really seen it for myself yet because I would only prefer to watch it first when it’s being officially launched in a cinema in Kampala, the same city where this movie was shot (Spike, we’re still in on this!!). I’m hoping to let myself see this man once again from someone else’s perspective but I’m just not sure I’ll be letting it change mine of him. Well, aye, here’s to ‘the last king of Scotland’! (Note to self: Even for a movie shot on location in Uganda, why do the Ugandans get it second-hand??)

OF THE WAKING TALIBAN, A NEW WORLD ORDER COUP, KONY PEACE TALKS AND A POPE CALLED BENEDICT!

2006-10-04T11:50:00.000+01:00

It's not very long ago that I recall watching President George Bush's state of the union televised address last year where heaps of praises were being lavished on the spread of democracy across Afghanistan and Iraq… and you trust the strategists in the Oval office for effective props… two ladies, one Iraqi and one Afghan with ink-stained thumbs (to signify their participation in their respective country’s election exercises) were seated each at either side of American fist lady, Laura Bush in the gallery as the world’s no. 1 delivered his keynote address. A strong leap for democracy in the two countries, we were told. President Bush went on to eulogise Afghanistan as a successful model of transformation: “from a ‘failed state’ to a functioning and responsible member of the international community”. It’s being said now that you don’t have to drive very far from Kabul these days to find the Taliban. Somehow, the shift of global attention to Iraq seemed to serve well the shambolic Taliban fighters who had fled Afghanistan for the Pakistani hills under the hot pursuit of Coalition and Kurd fighters. They didn’t keep on running; they turned and came back, this time with a renewed vengeance as ‘jihadists’. What’s more, NATO officials say, the Taliban seem to be flush with cash, courtesy of their alliance with the flourishing opium trafficking curtails. So flush, they are paying out fighters almost twice what they would earn under the new Afghan National Army. Because Afghan President Hamid Karzai’s government barely exists beyond district towns, the Taliban forces have taken advantage of this, infiltrating the tribal units and local warlords’ armies to put to their cause. It doesn’t help much to learn either that President Karzai himself now devotes 100-hour weeks to micromanaging ‘petty’ administrative details in Kabul while warlords and opium traffickers man the countryside. Surely, the strategists in the American Oval office didn’t have this in mind. Because I’m sure before you know it, we could have a second Osama bin Laden in the offing. The present one was a result of the Americans’ walking away from a ‘failed state’ after the disintegration of the former U.S.S.R. If only they had stayed and actually rebuilt Afghanistan, maybe Osama bin Laden might just have followed in his father’s footsteps and gone on to become a contractor for kings and emirs across Arabia. (Key phrase: if only) Today, the same threat is looming… not enough is being done to rebuild Afghanistan. The real war isn’t military; it’s political and economic. If Afghans were provided a better infrastructure, or to paraphrase, given a chance for economic redevelopment to take hold, that would be the Taliban’s final undoing. Because as American General Wesley Clark is quoted as oft saying, ‘where the roads end, the Taliban begin’.

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It’s almost two weeks now since the world had its last coupe d’etat. I always had a lot of respect for the Thais, from their government to people and yes, even extending to their military. Perhaps some of you might have heard of it once too, I mean the highly disciplined conduct of the Thai military. Right now, whatever vestige of respect I might have had towards that military is all but gone. It could have been that over-hyped advertising! ‘Bloodless’ is what a lot of media now like to refer to it as. I think that’s a lot of whitewash. I’ll give coup leader, Commander Sonthi Boonyarathkalin his due for coming out and appearing on several international media to defend the army’s action repeatedly but that nonetheless, a coup is a coup. Whether bloodless or not, a coup d’etat is a great emasculation to the rule of law that’s synonymous with democracies. I first heard of it over the car radio as I was going on home and somehow convinced myself, I had heard wrong. Not Thailand! Poor (former) Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra may not have been the best of leaders but not everyone is infallible to error. And the Thais were only a few months away from their next election; I mean surely the coup plotters would have waited and exercised their democratic right to rightfully oust the man they so loathed. I’m not Thai and I can’t say I know fully well the gravity of Thai’s problems before, during and after Thaksin’s rule. But one thing I’m sure of though, that democracy in a small developing country in a worse still, fragile developing region has been dealt a major blow! Even in Africa where uncertainty rules the day in many places, it’s been a while since we last heard of a coup. Watching CNN later that night, sights of Thai military holding guns in the air (not shooting of course; remember, bloodless, eh!), tanks rolling by the streets and the odd little child bemused by the frenzy where to me reminiscent of scenes in a 1970’s (I’m trying to refrain from using the phrase Idi Amin) Ugandan movie. Like ghosts of the past, something very uncomforting there was, about that picture. Now we might have, God forbid, other instances of such happenings elsewhere across the developing world, what with Indonesia opening the old wounds. If Commander Sonthi falls short of his promises in the one year timeframe he and his group have imposed upon themselves, history will charge him very harshly.

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The old rogue, Kony is at it again. Or should I perhaps say his ‘London group’ (as Uganda’s President Museveni likes to refer to them) representing the LRA side in the peace talks is at it again. It’s another ‘more time’ for this. What, the ‘more time’ thing is already becoming a classic. As the Kony group continually ask for more time, innocent children, women and men continue to languish in squalid conditions in IDP camps. The latest is ‘more time’ to read and internalise the Ugandan Constitution (they forget to say, and see which new demands to make), a document that has been in circulation since 1995. For a rebel group that has been in operation since 1986, surely they must have a genuine cause by now and not need ‘more time’ to read the constitution and cook up one. True, the Museveni administration has made some blunders, yes, even with the situation in Northern Uganda, but at least they show their willingness to end this suffering with the expediency with which they are carrying out their business at the talks in Juba. There are too many breaks, it gets ridiculous…almost like a basketball match. Timeout this, timeout that. Only this time, whenever the timeout is made, the ball with which both teams are playing are lives of human beings like you and I. And this ball continues to deflate with each minute of the game, timeout ir no timeout. There’s only so much a person can take! Allow me make a few votes of thanks. Gulu L.C. 5 ‘Chairman Mao’ for his ‘Mao raps LRA team’, ‘Mao walks out on talks’. Uganda needs more men like him that can stick to their guns and mean what they say when they say what they mean. Ndugu Ruhakana Rugunda for leading ‘government business’ expediently at te peace talks in Juba and finally Southern Sudanese Vice President, Riek Machar; it’s not an easy job mediating talks between two parties with inflated egos...by that I mean the LRA and the Uganda Government… But of course there is that thing they call ‘national pride’, I wonder what the rebels call it!

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His holiness Pope Benedict (I wonder why I can’t get myself out of the John-Paul epoch just yet, before I typed ‘Benedict’, I had faster than I could think, already typed out ‘John Paul’) XVI got himself into a religious quagmire while giving a keynote speech in his native country, Germany. From chief of staff in the Vatican to the papacy itself might seem quite a big leap, but at least so far, Pope Benedict’s been the only one so close to the seat of power to get into the seat of power himself, if you know what I mean. Surely, he could have learned a few lessons from his predecessor first hand. Like what to talk about and what not to, who to quote and who not to. But again, the pope is only human too, after all, fallible to error just like any other of us. The first Pope (not that I’ve seen too many) I’ve heard apologise over and over for the same thing he’s done. To me, that’s top marks for his holiness, at least he realised he made a mistake and had the gall (some say ‘man’) to apologise to all grieved parties. Did President Bush (or is it the CIA, who of the both of ‘em takes the brunt for lying?) take a lesson from this? Of course it doesn’t pay to only talk about the Pope here and miss out the Muslims, his remarks (or is it quoted remarks) grieved. Islam doesn’t teach violence; of that I’m sure. It’s only when the teachings of Islam are misinterpreted and compromised to fit into the ideals of madmen that the whole cake goes bad. It isn’t right for people to hide behind facades of religion to justify irrational behaviour. For the Islamist radical groups threatening a jihad over the Pope’s remarks, even before they understand (or try to) under what context he made them is and was uncalled for. This again sets me thinking whether all of these groups do really have a genuine cause or only have leaders eagerly waiting on their seats for the next slip of the tongue from a non-Islamist to declare their next intifadah. But then I think again, these groups only represent a small percentage of the large Muslim brotherhood, it would be very prejudiced of me to make a sweeping statement of such an opinion. What I’m trying to say here is that such sentiments are borne of individual evil men. And evil does not wear a turban, a skull-cap, cross or a yarmulke. Evil is made of hearts woven with threads of fear and hatred. When you love your neighbour, you hate evil. If all religion does is tear us apart than bring us together, then maybe it’s time to re-evaluate some of these ideals that promote ‘apartism’ in religion. I love my Moslem brother as I would a Christian brother as I would an atheist brother. I believe it’s that love in me that would draw them the closer to learn ‘from whence comes its source’. Giver of life. It’s the month of Ramadan for our Muslim brothers and sisters. Ramadan Mubarak!

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Getting away from all of that and coming back here to blogosphere, I would like to welcome back all bloggers that had gone AWOL for a while. It’s such a pleasure reading at yours again, for some at new blog addresses. Was that a part of ‘out with last summer’? Of course it is a little belated for this but I’ll mention it anyway. Welcome back. Especially to some of my all-time favourites: JournaloftheRafikis, SongofaWarrior, SubliminalRealm, RandomReflections(nowKanyana’s), Wildflower(now a series of ‘Dear Mr. McCourt’ diaries), Savage (sometime this blog was undergoing a lot of restructuring), and JimzyMaster??. Of course some of you all are posting entries with such frequency as I can’t regularly keep up with, but fair enough, I do get to read all and I’d like to salute all your efforts and appreciate your letting your opinions public. And not to forget other favourites who have been posting very regularly at theirs and at whose I read religiously: DiaryofaMotherinGaza, VelvetInk, CountryBoyi (did I miss something in between the template change?), Omar’s, Ernest Bazanye, Desert Weasel and Rob’s. And a lot of everyone else’s at whose I get lucky to stumble upon; I say lucky cuz many times I’m so blessed to be there and wouldn’t have gotten there without the guiding hand of the Almighty. Thank God for blogger. Peace & Love. Zack out.

SNAPSHOTS FROM UGANDA:

2006-09-01T17:04:00.000+01:00

"You never see so much green anywhere else, everywhere you look … it can only be Uganda!" oli otya from Uganda! Through the window of the minibus; the orange dust and lush green trees dot the road into Kampala, at some points bordered with wooden shacks. The fronts of the shacks often serving as shops with women sitting outside and babies crawling in the dust. The wind and dust whipping my face as I cling for dear life on the back of a boda-boda (that’s motorbike for the uninitiated, one of several means of public transportation in this city), people and wooden shacks a blur. Kampala spreads before us… a sprawling mass of shacks, blue-striped ‘taxis’ (another and perhaps most common of several means of public transportation again), grandiose government vehicles, boda-bodas, and shops. In the distance the skyscrapers point to the sky shining in the sun. Taking a stroll through the myriad shops that compose the lower and other times all floors of the mini skyscrapers, I’m amazed at the influx of the latest mobile phones in this little African city. If I weren’t careful, I’d say every shop had someone selling these mobile phones. The divide between rich and poor here is clearly visible before my eyes. I can see the luxury of cities like Dubai and Sharjah and in the same day a posse of teenage children preparing to retire for the night under the shelter of cardboard boxes on the rooftops of the same shops that are occupied with glistening business during the day. On closer observation, the little teenagers seem to be sniffing some sort of powerful drug (aviation fuel I’m told, a powerful hunger-killer!), taking turns at this before they finally fall asleep. Here suffering is very real! The horizon in Kampala is dominated on one side by a mosque with bronze domes and towers, the other with a cathedral atop a hill. Yesterday I had tea with an ambassador’s wife. She revealed one of the truths about Uganda, “People here know there is a God… It seems that atheism is a western invention...here spirituality is part of life.” And she’s right. That afternoon I was part of a team visiting an orphanage home some 10 miles outside Kampala. It was raining heavily when we got there. The children weren’t able to have their midday meal because all the firewood in the home had gotten soaking wet! This meal (the midday meal), is usually served late in the afternoon because it’s the only meal they can afford to have each day, before they retire to bed at the last light of dawn. Although our visit brought with it some hope to the orphans and their caretaker, I can’t help but think of the bitter irony as the children together sing with amazing, loud and deep voices, “things already better”. I believe we have so much to learn from these children who can stand up and merrily sing “Everything already better” when everyday they are faced with the harsh reality of poverty. Great faith indeed.
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(Isle series: second sequel): The MV Kalangala I later learnt, unlike its sisters at sea; the MV Kaawa and another whose name I can’t recall, is well insured. However I find out later as I chat with the captain (one of the perks of riding first class on this ‘ship’) that the insurance deal for this particular vessel is placed with a foreign agency, contrary to local marine policy in the country. I can never understand this but as with all things Ugandan where there is some discrepancy, usually there is someone or some people that believe they could make a quick buck out the deal. What’s saddening though, is how low some high people can stoop too! All the while we chat, I can’t take my mind off the fact that we are waterborne and sharing the same vessel with two lorries, some 4WD vehicles and two taxis (14-seater omnibuses to be more exact!). Surprisingly, none of the people in these taxis ever alighted their vehicles during the three-hour journey to the islands. At least I wasn’t the most scared, I silently agreed. Soon we were at that point where wherever you look, all you see is water. My tummy took a somersault and I had to get back to my seat at this point. There was this big bulk of a man that sat next to me, American tourist I believe, for the way he wore his hat and the ‘big’ talk he had about him. He later confirmed that himself. He was such an animated talker and soon he had me forget we were ever on water. It seemed he was an island-regular for a lot of summers now. He told us about how he loved challenges in life and I wondered whether for all his visits to the islands now, they still posed a challenge to him. By this time, the vessel had picked up super-sonic speed; you’d think we were actually in one of those Ugandan buses that ply the up-country routes. And silently I wished eagerly, to hear that cry, ‘land ho’ (in whatever version at least)…
(to be continued…)
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Meantime in sister U.A.E., the Lagoons, a waterfront project comprising seven islands on the Dubai Creek is being developed at a cost of Dh65 billion. Spread over 70 million square feet near the Ras Al Khor end of the Creek, the Lagoons will be one of the largest property developments in the emirate. Comprising seven landscaped islands linked and interlinked with the mainland with a record 40 bridges, the project plan includes residential units, shopping centres, office towers and marinas.
Dubai Holding’s real estate ventures – including Dubai Properties and Dubai International Properties (DIP) – were merged under the Sama Dubai umbrella last April. DIP has large projects in Qatar, Saudi Arabia and Bahrain. But this is by far the biggest they have tacled so far. Other elements include parks, a boardwalk, resorts, marinas, five-star hotels, bicycle and jogging tracks, and waterfront malls and souqs, the company said. The finalisation by the Dubai Roads and Transport Authority of a new bridge linking Bur Dubai and Deira is close to completion. This will ensure smooth traffic to and from the the Lagoons development.

Andrew Kasagga (alias Zzimwe), a Ugandan businessman of repute and road magnate owner of the famed ‘Zzimwe Construction’ is also a frequent traveller to the Emirates. By now, he is also privy to the Lagoons project. If only he can take a few lessons from the efficiency and zeal with which DIP has undertaken this project in Dubai and apply some of those in his native Uganda, where the government has contracted his company to develop several roads and properties prior to the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting slated in Kampala next year, then perhaps the road magnate wouldn’t have wasted all of his trips to the great land of the emirs. For a while now, it has gotten beyond sickening to have to contend with road diversions on almost every major road in the city as a result of the snail-pace constructions taking place. For all the taxes paid by Ugandans, we surely deserve better! Peace and Love. Zack out.

I HAVE FOUND EXCEEDING JOY…

2006-08-22T11:22:00.000+01:00

"Living the vida without the loca". Thus goes a line in Mase's 'Welcome Back' lyrics. Whether Mase is back out there or not is a story for another day but I guess it's important that we grasp what he's trying to say here...ponder...ponder...
But one thing is for sure, you don't lurk around with all the rest of 'em fishermen and think you're gonna catch 'the big one'... for that, you gotta stay ahead of the pack...launch in the deep then you'll get-a catching some great shoals-a fish. Go Mase!

I got to the ‘ship’ just in the nick of time; too many things to do, very little time. I found it odd that there were divisions, albeit just two, on the famed ‘inland ship’; first class and no class. When you juxtapose that with the fact that all inland flights in the country have just one general class of seats, you wonder at the great ingenuity of a Ugandan mind! That notwithstanding, I figured since it was the only time I ever would be travelling on the ‘ship’ (cuz I’m definitely sure I’m not asking for an ‘encore’), not to mention my escalating fears, exacerbated by old wives’ tales of the myriad mysteries of ‘the lake of gods’ (I mean that same one that John Speke called ‘Victoria’ after his queen), that I might as well go (out?) in style –I took the first class. I was in for more surprises… it cost just a little over a dollar ($3.00 for a first class seat actually if you were paying in the Uncle Sam currency) than the other seating areas in the same ‘ship’. Gladly, I paid with Ugandan currency (7,000 Ug. Shs.) for a seat in the only ‘ship’ that plys the Ugandan side of the much famed lake Victoria. I was told it was actually a gift from the president to the people of the islands for voting him into office in 2001; although the truth is no one got to see it until a little before the next presidential elections in 2006. Did I hear someone say the word ‘gimmick’? Well that’s politics for you. As a result, the locals christened it ‘the president’s ship’. So there I was on a clear Sunday afternoon seated in a first class compartment in the president’s ship. I, along with all the other fellow travellers in first and the other class, never got a life-jacket, although we were constantly reminded of their existence in the excesses to cover for the entire human load on-board. Thus we began our journey from a landing site in Entebbe to the isle district of Kalangala. Anything and everything by African standards went on that ship too. From the 4WD vehicles that were going to take us through the isle district to cattle to chicken to you name it. I even saw one Samsung wide plasma screen TV with dolby surround sound being boxed and put onto the ship. Before I could ask where they were gonna watch that from, on the island, one islander who was taking merchandise from the mainland to the island couldn’t pass up on the opportunity of trying to market some of his goods right there on the ship. He showed me an array of V- and DVDs, trying earnestly to have me buy one. I offered to pass for next time. He wasn’t done yet… his last card: pulling out a copy of 24’s season five and waving it in my face as he went on marketing, ‘you see this one, on the island I sell 20 (thousand) but for you I can give 12’. His undoing was they were all sub-titled, if that is the right word in a Ugandan context for movies where somebody does an attempt at translating word for word of the storyline, but more often giving you a whole other story of its own for the movie. Again, I offered to pass but silently I wondered how Museveni’s ‘modernisation’ was fast penetrating even this often forgotten island and its inhabitants. Surely the organisers of this workshop I was going to attend would have never picked a more opportune place for the theme: HOW INFORMATION TECHNOLOGY CAN BE USED FOR DEVELOPMENT IN REMOTE AREAS. If you’ve gotten good business acumen, that island is one place that’s ballooned with great prospects for the future. I only left my comfortable first class seat but once during the journey to the island, to gaze briefly as the foreigners in our bracket did, at the ‘beautiful waters of Victoria’. It took us about three hours to get to the island district and believe you me when I tell you, each one of those hours for me, might as well just have been a full day! It was such a relief seeing land again. (To be continued in my next post…)

My old school, one in which I entered a boy and came out a half-breed of a boy and a man just celebrated 100 years in existence. Long live all alumni. In times like these, we always want to remember the good about the subjects in question. SMACK 100 is a major achievement both for those who went through or have had anything to do with the school. My four-year memories of times in the school are not all good; in my day, behind the all too nice façade, fear was the key word that ruled the old college... but I’ll save that story for another day! I’ll mention this though, I’m glad a lot’s been done now (I’ve learned) to rectify most of what was wrong in my day. Otherwise, for now let’s all bask in the celebration of a hundred years. After all, it isn’t very often that we have centennial celebrations. DUC IN ALTUM.

Yesterday but one (Sunday), I was hosted in the afternoon by a family that, to put it mildly, didn’t have much and yet were comfortable. You only had to be there to understand what I’m talking about. Reason I’m blogging about them is cuz I was awestruck by the simplicity and great equanimity with which they lived their lives. Sharing their Sunday dinner of maize meal and green vegetables with them, I learned many lessons of life in that little room in a Kampala slum. It struck me, the large extent of the disparity that exists between the growing middle-class and dirty poor in Museveni’s Uganda. For emphasis, Kampala, the capital of Uganda is one place where you can enjoy the same luxuries as in London and Cape Town and in the same day, have to contend with great toil and suffering only a few blocks away. In this female headed household, I learnt what it really means to ‘push on’. A lady, a little over 60 I believe has to contend with looking after her 3 grandchildren, who were abandoned at her place by her own children, who gave birth early and couldn’t take on their newly assumed responsibilities since they wanted continue ‘living life with da loca’. Finding food, and other basic needs of life for both her and the children, it’s hard to imagine how life turns out everyday for them. But then again, this is the same lady giving me a lecture about faith in God, and seeing it from her, I’m ashamed that with all that I have, my faith in God had waned at some times. Hers is a life of miracles everyday! And to say that God didn’t still work miracles, would be an insult to the lives of each member of her household…cuz it can only be God, not coincidence that they live through day after day, month after month, year after year under more or less the same circumstances. But they survive and live to praise God every morning and evening with each on taking turns to lead the prayers. First I had declined the offer of sharing their meal, since I had thought to myself I would be depriving them of perhaps having enough for their next meal but I was coolly scolded by the old lady, who said they would all be happier to share with someone from their little, since it was the same God who provided the little as He that provided the enough and the more than enough. We said grace and putting that maize meal and starch-filled vegetables to my mouth that was the best meal I had all week! Even faced with the harsh reality of poverty, everyone manages a smile along with a series of jokes as we eat our dinner. And finally at the end of my visit, we say another prayer once again. It was so overwhelming the feeling of peace and tranquil as we did. As I drove back home that evening singing along Hillsong’s ‘Shout your name’, I knew that I had just lived through a momentous time on God’s earth. This was a family that practically lived out every lyric of the song. And it’s amazing that these were people I didn’t have to travel thousands of miles to see…we lived with them everyday behind the same boundaries of land and sea. “And the fool says in his heart, ‘there is no God’.” –fourteenth Psalm. Peace and Love. Zack out.

Of Uganda's Kony, Arabia's Sandstorms and the G8 gaffes!

2006-08-05T08:26:00.000+01:00

In my last post I blogged about the enigma that was Joseph Kony. And now trying to see the world from Joseph Kony's perspective, it almost scares me that I’m beginning to feel even a trace of sympathy for the rebel leader. Reading the New Vision’s story, ‘LRA boss sorry’ in which Kony is said to have denied responsibility for atrocities committed against humanity in Northern Uganda and Southern Sudan, saying they were committed by the Ugandan army (UPDF) during his first ever news conference since the start of his guerrilla war twenty years ago, one would find this an insult to the people, the survivors of Northern Uganda and Southern Sudan for all the atrocities they have been subjected to. But then again taking Kony’s verbatim, “…only that I don’t have means… I don’t have good communication to the world which can inform the people that these things which happened, was not LRA (sic)”, it becomes less easy to condemn him to the electric chair. Is Kony presenting the world a new truth that’s been hidden from the world for all these years? Or are these claims of a desperate man trying to hold onto his life after realising he’s now short of options. Either way I’m sure the government in Kampala should start looking at instituting an inquiry into the deaths of civilians under circumstances of war in Northern Uganda. And this time the findings shouldn’t be left to just gather dust somewhere in a government office cabinet. We’ll have to cut the man who has spent his best years fighting in hills and jungles in Northern Uganda and Southern Sudan and most recently in the Congo, some slack for finally coming out and labouring to show an olive branch. “I am a man, I am a human being, I am a soldier, I am Joseph Kony… those words people say to me, that is propaganda because they spoil my name like that… so that people do not love me as a human being”. Well we shall just try to understand more the enigma that is Joseph Kony. At least now he presents a more human face behind that iron mask. Trust the government in Kampala to antagonise a process that has kicked off almost so well. With defence (state) minister and the Chief of Defence Forces arguing that there is no need for a ceasefire and that Kony would be defeated whether the peace talks went on or not (see story). Heavens, some people have gotten quite an attitude!! It wouldn’t be surprising given the lackadaisical commitment of the Uganda government to these peace-talks if Kony and his LRA pulled out anytime soon. A man can also be pushed so far. But what of all the efforts of the Government of the Southern Sudan to mediating the peace talks to end a generation-old war. Is this entire effort going to waste just like that? It’s almost commensurate to a woman carrying a child in her womb for eight months and asking for an abortion in the ninth. This isn’t the kind of attitude that we need from the Uganda government at this stage in time, after coming all this far. Where was all this macho-style bravado for all the twenty years? Go figure.

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As events begin to tend towards normalcy (or at least try to) in Uganda, all hell breaks loose in the Middle East… again. This spot can just not stay a month out of the news. Everyone has an opinion on what is taking place, who is right and who is wrong. It’s a great pity that amidst all the debate about who could be wrong or right, people still continue to die everyday, others maimed, both Israeli and Lebanese alike. I am of the view that there’s more to the constant bickering between the leaders of Israel and their contemporaries in the Hezbollah and Hamas. Like Col. Muammar-al-Guardaffhi once said in response to a question on why Israel cannot live at peace with its neighbours, ‘Because it’s the will of Allah’. Perhaps the good old emeritus Colonel (anybody wonder why he’s been all so silent all this while) should be put to task to throw some more light on that answer. Meanwhile, let’s everybody that can pray for the innocent people caught amidst this war.

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On a lighter note, it was quite an interesting one finding out what the world’s most powerful men talk about (and how they do it) when they are not under the onus of making an impression on their audiences. Uncle Sam’s Dubya and and John Bull’s Blair sure outdid themselves at the last G8 summit in Putin’s St. Petersburg. Now we have a better idea of who really makes decisions in our world. Certainly not old men in a senate, or House of Lords or Commons! Like every other story, this one too has a moral; always look about you, before you ask your neighbour for their take on the war between Israel and Lebanon, for a little button-size voice-recorder. lol.

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Meantime the weather’s been behaving quite contrary to the norm in many places about this planet of ours. Could the one world government (read: Uncle Sam) have forgotten a vital warning in one of the Global warming reports. And where is a whistle-blower when you need ‘em? Well somebody put the question to me, ‘Between a sandstorm in the U.A.E. and a dust storm in Uganda, which would you prefer?’. I chose both (a sand storm and a dust storm), but in Utopia! However alluring the U.A.E. might seem, it isn’t pretty being caught in a sand storm. The after-effects provide for a messy day, starting with teary eyes, to cleaning house, to having to manually open up every piece of equipment that requires operating on the laws of friction so you can have the sand grains cleaned out. Oh and not to mention poor visibility if you’re driving for another hour or two. And then a dust storm in Uganda, oh could the one incident when I had my shoes ripped open by an iron bar left hanging precariously in the ground (and don’t even think about having to sue anyone) and had to purchase another pair there and then suffice… Well some three hours later, I couldn’t even convince myself I had gotten on a new pair of shoes as the dust had already penetrated even the tiny curves I didn’t know there were curves on my new pair of shoes. Oh and by the way if you own a smart piece of technology and are living in Uganda, I’d recommend you have your piece blown out every so often just so you could keep it within its specified longevity. It’s no wonder the mobile-phone business is a big one in Kampala. What with all the dust everywhere you would have two for everybody a year!

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Well I’ve had quite a lot on my plate the last month; catching up on a lot of work from holiday. I hope I can now balance things with more ease since by God’s grace I have been able to bring my work down by such a tumultuous lot. Else my appreciations to all committed readership here, and more so to all you out there great bloggers, I always make an effort to read your blogs and many of ‘em are such a great inspiration. Peace and Love. Zack out.

DECIPHERING THE KONY CODE

2006-07-11T11:17:00.000+01:00

One post last month! I never quit blogging, only took some time off posting. To all dedicated readership here, here’s toasting to …blogging!

About a fortnight ago I had the rare occasion to listen in to the online interview between Joseph Kony, leader of the rebel army, Lords Resistance Army (LRA), and a BBC journalist. The notoriety of the LRA I believe precedes its name. Well listening in to and later reading the transcript of the interview, I couldn’t help but recall the same experience three years ago, albeit in a different setting, that Kony offered an interview with a Sudanese journalist. Only that time, Kony didn’t wait for the journalist to wind back his tape, he had him dismissed with a wave of the hand once the questions thrown his way proved more than he could handle at the time. And of course being a ‘spiritualist’, he also offered the journalist a casual explanation of how ‘the spirit’ had ordered him to stop the interview. That’s Kony for you!

Many times I wondered what really Kony meant by ‘Lords’ in the LRA acronym. And it was until this interview three years ago that I actually found out he was referring to himself and perhaps a handful of his ‘gallant’ fighters (butchers too would do) as ‘Lords’.
It’s interesting how a deluded man can lead hundreds of fellow men, some even of very bright minds to believe a lie and fight for its sustenance so long. Of course this isn’t taking into account the thousands of men, women and children who were drawn into this war of a forced will. It reminded me of a psychology class I once attended and this professor was on about a condition that causes one who has led many with lies to eventually begin to believe in the lies they tell themselves so much so that at some point in time, they take it as cardinal truth. I think this must be the stage Joseph Kony has gotten to now. With all his heinous acts and crimes committed against humanity in Northern Uganda and Southern Sudan, you’d think at this point as he tries to toe the line of talking peace, he would have the decency to at the very least not utter a word about all the killings, rapes, abductions, maimings, … the list is endless… But to come out and blatantly DENY all his crimes (for lack of a stronger word in the English vocabulary) in view of the whole world! Oh! I’m sure even the dead will turn in their graves at this.

I flinch at the prospect of Kony even talking peace now. You know it reminds me of that epic of the scorpion that rode the duck’s (or was it swan’s?) back across the river after constant pleas and a sworn promise not to sting the duck but just had to while they were halfway the river because ‘stinging was just the scorpion’s nature’. Kony is a rogue and a savage (no offense to a blogmate who goes by the same name) through and through. I’ve seen children, women and men who have been rescued from Kony’s killing fields and its ghastly what they tell. Some don’t even have the guts to tell anymore because their plight is one of lost faith in the human race. That one human can instigate such pain and suffering on their own kind is really hard to stomach. If Kony isn’t the devil incarnate, tell me who is! And you say that man can talk peace. It’s a shame. I loathe the fact that some people even give this madman kudos, saying how intelligent he is. If he were and we are to believe the story in the Ugandan press too, then how could he kill the goose that almost laid him the golden egg (read: almost got him international sympathy), how could he fight the SPLA under the late Colonel Garang even when his army survived in territories occupied by the SPLA, how could he influence who the people in Northern Uganda would vote in different political offices and yet not believe in the government in which the same people were to operate. I mean that is crazy!

I am anxiously watching this screen for news on the progress of the Uganda government-rebel LRA peace talks. But I still voice my support for the International Criminal Court that stands by its word to try Kony for his crimes against humanity. To forgive Kony, the world can but to forget his acts, most of which are indelibly printed on the minds of a whole generation who’ve lived all their lives in internally displaced people’s camps in Northern Uganda, and others who have had to walk miles every night in search of a safe place to rest their dear heads,…that (to forget) would be a very difficult and daunting task. I’m sorry I present no alternative to the peace talks between the Ugandan government and the rebel LRA but all I say is: you never strike a deal with a devil and don’t get short-changed. I think Uganda’s treading on some pretty thin ice here. Mungu abarike Uganda. Peace and Love. Zack out.

MINE'S BIGGER THAN YOURS

2006-06-18T11:03:00.000+01:00

I don't know of anyone who sits down to watch commercials on TV. Personally, when I watch TV (which is seldom might I add), commercials-time is about the time I get off my seat to do all those other things that must be done to have relative ease (and comfort) while watching the show. However, when you're in between flights and are stuck in a room of strangers who can hardly speak any of the languages you do, with one of those large screens up there showing commercials (or to paraphrase: when u're hard pressed for choices), I'm sure you'd choose to watch the commercials over and over.

Here's presenting advertising digressed... what do the folks that do these adverts really mean??

#1 A man's hand reaches to turn on a General Electric (GE, for short) lightbulb. A voice explains that htis man, about to start work, invented the GE jet engine. That the engine is flying a technician to an energy plant driven by a GE turbine, one powering s hospital where a little boy now clambers out of a GE medical scanner. Healthy, he skips off to a football (American) game broadcast by satellites made and sent into space by GE. A GE train, carrying the satellites, rushes past a factory fitting a car bumper made from GE plastic. The car drives to the home of a child who is opening a GE-made fridge to get her father a glass of juice. Work done, he turns off the light.

Now what was that all about? And you bet GE isn't the only company out there that's more eager to sell itself than its products! Anybody remember the Glaxo Wellcome one that used to run on CNN; "Man has no greater enemy than disease...disease has no greater enemy than Glaxo Wellcome". I'm no expert at advertising but it takes no, to borrow on the hackeneyed expression, 'rocket scientist' to figure out that advertising is targeted at ordinary folk like you and I, but really what does such kind of advertising hope to achieve, apart from giving the chairman a warm glow?

And then we got the commercials that are more specific, and given the time on my hands, I got thinking out loud on these too...

#2 "New Blubbers bubble gum is chewed by more professional ball players than any other bubble gum. Look for Blubbers in the bright green package wherever good gum is sold."

You know looking for facts in ads or commercials requires sometimes a bit of a Sherlock Holmes-kind of mind and that perhaps with a bit of computer logic too. Now where's the connection between gum and playing ball expertly? Going a little further, the claim that pro ball players chew Blubbers gum really means little. Perhaps each ball player was mailed a case of this gum at the start of the season. Well...

#3 "Brushing with Goodteeth toothpaste helps fight tooth decay. Nine out of ten dentists interviewed agreed that brushing with Goodteeth is effective in combating decay."

Now isn't that beautiful! How many times I've seen the word 'helps' used in adverts, I can't remember! And always the fact remains, 'Helps' means 'Helps'. Not 'Does'. Wouldn't it also be accurate to say that 'a bucket of water helps fight a forest fire'? But a bucket of water sure can't put out a forest fire. And the 'nine out of ten dentists...' means I guess, that the company was able to find nine who agreed. Which dentist wouldn't agree that brushing with anything would help fight decay? Brushing with water also 'fights tooth decay'; so do toothpicks. I'm sure the respectable dentists know that the proper brushing technique is what really matters here, isn't it?

#4 "Magnavox gives you more."

More what? You ask me!

#5"If it doesn't say Goodyear, it can't be Polyglas"

Oh, by the way, 'polyglas' is a tradename copyrighted by Goodyear. Goodrich or Firestone could make a tyre identical to the Goodyear one and yet they couldn't call it 'Polyglas' - name for fiberglass belts. Great commercial!

#6 "Great Lash (a mascara actually) greatly increases the the diameter of every lash"

Doesn't any mascara do that? Reminds of the 'water is wet' expression. lol.

Kinda interesting, commercials I mean! Spending time actually watching them just got me seeing them from a whole new dimension. And I just remembered the old Malboro ad when I was still a kid, I mean the one with the cowboy -rugged looking and riding a horse across the praires with a sunset in the background. In retrospect, that made me wanna smoke once too. Glad I didn't succumb. Nways, the ad didn't say if you smoked Malboro people'd think you were a rugged masculine man, but the pictures certainly implied it! And I feel for all those innocent little boys and girls (and grown-ups too) who fall prey to such kind of advertising! Somebody save our world! Zack out.

"The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God." Psalms 14:1 (KJV)

2006-06-04T13:48:00.000+01:00

"A fool finds no pleasure in understanding but delights in airing his own opinions." Proverbs 18:2 (NIV)

The other day a little girl, no more than five years old asked me what my favourite TV show was... and I was at a loss for an answer. So I asked her what shows there were, to which she replied (quite stunned too), 'don't you watch TV?' And I said back, 'No' but further went on to add that the only TV I watch is the TV that I'd make myself (that would be an amateur video recording). Katrina went on to ask why I didn't watch TV. I strongly believe that TV (by this I mean the shows and sitcoms and movies and whatever other names they have for 'entertainment TV') makes one think within the box (no pun intended) and greatly kills imagination, more so for little children. That's just a personal opinion! It was hard to explain that to Katrina, so I saved her the lecture and said in reply to her question, 'I just didn't find time to', which in itself is also true. I lead a hectic life...but that's a story for another day...

Well in retrospect there were times back home, when a little older than Katrina I'd gladly (an understatement) pass dinner for TV. Those were the times when South African Multichoice (and later Sanyu?) had just penetrated the Ugandan TV market and thus broken the state-owned monopoly over TV broadcasting. And shows like loving, and riviera where everyone's favourite. And when I grew older, got more exposed to the world, realised there was really much more to the world than make-believe entertainment. Then I started the search for what was only true; the stuff that happens and has profound effects on ordinary people's lives like you and me, and not just stories on love, power and influence. And believe you me when I tell you, it's a whole lot of a difference! Everywhere I've been and still go, I look out for such inspirational stories in the hope that they would inspire more people who wouldn't perhaps have had the chance to hear the story had it been left in only the place it was. A friend of mine sent me this email at the start of this week with the story of Nick Vujicic (thanks again Lynda!) and I in turn couldn't resist sending it round to a few friends I thought might find it inspiring. When I started keeping this new blog, I didn't mean for it to be a photo-blog since I'd always argued that words when used well, can certainly conjure up images in one's mind much more powerful than any picture. This once however, I felt less than speechless, if there's a word in English to describe that. I hadn't the best words to clearly tell this story and I guess I'll borrow on the cliche, 'a picture paints (or 'says'?) a thousand words'. When Lynda first sent me this and I glanced at the first image, I thought I was looking at a mannequin... until it struck that I was wrong when I began to read the story. Presenting the story of Nick Vujicic by Nick Vujicic...

My name is Nick Vujicic and I give God the Glory for how He has used my testimony to touch thousands of hearts around the world! I was born without limbs and doctors have no medical explanation for this birth "defect". As you can imagine, I was faced with many challenges and obstacles.

"Consider it pure joy, my Brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds." ....To count our hurt, pain and struggle as nothing but pure joy? As my parents were Christians, and my Dad even a Pastor of our church, they knew that verse very well. However, on the morning of the 4th of December 1982 in Melbourne (Australia), the last two words on the minds of my parents was "Praise God!". Their firstborn son had been born without limbs! There were no warnings or time to prepare themselves for it. The doctors we shocked and had no answers at all! There is still no medical reason why this had happened and Nick now has a Brother and Sister who were born just like any other baby.

The whole church mourned over my birth and my parents were absolutely devastated. Everyone asked, "if God is a God of Love, then why would God let something this bad happen to not just anyone, but dedicated Christians?" My Dad thought I wouldn't survive for very long, but tests proved that I was a healthy baby boy just with a few limbs missing.

Understandably, my parents had strong concern and evident fears of what kind of life I'd be able to lead. God provided them strength, wisdom and courage through those early years and soon after that I was old enough to go to school.

The law in Australia didn't allow me to be integrated into a main-stream school because of my physical disability. God did miracles and gave my Mom the strength to fight for the law to be changed. I was one of the first disabled students to be integrated into a main-stream school.

I liked going to school, and just try to live life like everyone else, but it was in my early years of school where I encountered uncomfortable times of feeling rejected, weird and bullied because of my physical difference. It was very hard for me to get used to, but with the support of my parents, I started to develop attitudes and values which helped me overcome these challenging times. I knew that I was different but on the inside I was just like everyone else. There were many times when I felt so low that I wouldn't go to school just so I didn't have to face all the negative attention. I was encouraged by my parents to ignore them and to try start making friends by just talking with some kids. Soon the students realized that I was just like them, and starting there God kept on blessing me with new friends. There were times when I felt depressed and angry because I couldn't change the way I was, or blame anyone for that matter. I went to Sunday School and learnt that God loves us all and that He cares for you. I understood that love to a point as a child, but I didn't understand that if God loved me why did He make me like this? Is it because I did something wrong? I thought I must have because out of all the kids at school, I'm the only weird one. I felt like I was a burden to those around me and the sooner I go, the better it'd be for everyone. I wanted to end my pain and end my life at a young age, but I am thankful once again, for my parents and family who were always there to comfort me and give me strength.

Due to my emotional struggles I had experienced with bullying, self esteem and loneliness, God has implanted a passion of sharing my story and experiences to help others cope with whatever challenge they have in their life and let God turn it into a blessing. To encourage and inspire others to live to their fullest potential and not let anything get in the way of accomplishing their hopes and dreams. One of the first lessons that I have learnt was not to take things for granted.

"And we know that in all things God works for the best for those who love Him." That verse spoke to my heart and convicted me to the point where that I know that there is no such thing as luck, chance or coincidence that these "bad" things happen in our life. I had complete peace knowing that God won't let anything happen to us in our life unless He has a good purpose for it all. I completely gave my life to Christ at the age of fifteen after reading John 9. Jesus said that the reason the man was born blind was "so that the works of God may be revealed through Him." I truly believed that God would heal me so I could be a great testimony of His Awesome Power. Later on I was given the wisdom to understand that if we pray for something, if it's God's will, it'll happen in His time. If it's not God's will for it to happen, then I know that He has something better. I now see that Glory revealed as He is using me just the way I am and in ways others can't be used.

I am now twenty-one years old and have completed a Bachelor of Commerce majoring in Financial Planning and Accounting. I am also a motivational speaker and love to go out and share my story and testimony wherever opportunities become available. I have developed talks to relate to and encourage students through topics that challenge today's teenagers. I am also a speaker in the corporate sector.

I have a passion for reaching out to youth and keep myself available for whatever God wants me to do, and wherever He leads, I follow. I have many dreams and goals that I have set to achieve in my life. I want to become the best witness I can be of God's Love and Hope, to become an international inspirational speaker and be used as a vessel in both Christian and non-Christian venues. I want to become financially independent by the age of 25, through real estate investments, to modify a car for me to drive and to be interviewed and share my story on the "Oprah Winfrey Show"! Writing several best-selling books has been one of my dreams and I hope to finish writing my first by the end of the year. It will be called "No Arms, No Legs, No Worries!"

I believe that if you have the desire and passion to do something, and if it's God's will, you will achieve it in good time. As humans, we continually put limits on ourselves for no reason at all! What's worse is putting limits on God who can do all things. We put God in a "box". The awesome thing about the Power of God, is that if we want to do something for God, instead of focusing on our capability, concentrate on our availability for we know that it is God through us and we can't do anything without Him. Once we make ourselves available for God's work, guess whose capabilities we rely on? God's!

To the one true God, be glory and honour and praise forevermore. Amen. Zack out.

OF NOT SEEING THE WOOD FOR THE TREES...

2006-05-28T17:06:00.000+01:00

...But then again, some folk would argue that it would depend on how close or far you were from the forest. So perhaps the title 'PERSPECTIVES' would be more apt? I just got this new phone software that comes as an add-on uploaded on my mobile phone. It's actually a 'Merriam-Webster' multilingual dictionery (thanks again for the downloads, Josh!!). Nways back to the point, so I looked up this new dictionery (my first 'Webster' actually) on the phone and its first definition of the word is 'mental view'. I didn't have to scroll down more, that was just enough. I know a lot of folk that love to say, 'I always say what's on my mind (Zack note: to mean what what they feel on the spur of the moment)' and other times in an often rehearsed apologetic tone, 'Please forgive me, but I always speak my mind'. And I know a lot of the same folk that wouldn't wait for the subject of their conversations to be gone round the first bend and start talking about them again behind their backs (some of the stuff I'm sure they wouldn't dare say in the 'subject' 's face). And it beats me -the cheek to hear them relent on about how they are so straightforward they say whatever comes to mind. Which makes me think, these all must be pretenders. In fact, not must be but ARE. I'll labour to tell you some more about me; I'm private; I don't like to be a centre of too much attention. That doesn't mean I'm reticent. Matter-of-factly sometimes I'm too talkative (they say! but that's not all times). Well back to the point, in everything I do, I always try to put myself in the shoes of 'the guy on the other side'. That also doesn't mean that I'm obsequious. Matter-of-factly, I dislike boot-lickers in all their variances... from politician boot-lickers to clergy boot-lickers to beggar boot-lickers. I'm straight-forward, but when I say that, Idon't mean it in the sense that the afore-mentioned folk I know interprete their 'straightforwardness'. Before I say something to someone, I think it over, weigh the audience (by this I mean what kind of person it is I'm speaking to) and tone down whatever I'm gonna say to them just to mean the same thing on my mind, but in a more subtle way. If you just read between the lines, I guess you'd have noticed I'm an optimist too. I prefer to see the glass half-full than half-empty and would gladly tell it that way. But that also means before I'll say something, I'll have to consider a myriad options, and this in many cases would entail having a great many perspectives of something so I could consider the effects of my words or actions before I undertook any. And surprisingly, that all goes on in just a few seconds -sometimes split seconds. When I look around me and see a lot of hurt (wars, poverty, famine, heart-breaks, etc.) going on among people's lives, I wonder whether the cause of all of this isn't people refusing to, before they do something, consider how far-reaching the consequences of their actions might have. To consider different perspectives, paraphrased.

There's this one riddle I always use with friends and family when I find someone is being a little myopic (no offense) in their 'mental view' of something, and perhaps I could put it up to all of you reading here too: Two elephants are sitting on a log. The little elephant is the big elephant's son, but the big elephant is not the little elephant's father. How is this possible? Of course, if you've been following keenly from the start of this post, you might have the answer to this already. Else if you haven't, we could go back to analysing our societal behaviour once again. We have a zillion and more theories in this world of ours but theories are only useful if they change your reality. Shorter than that, they will always remain just like the word in 'T-H-E-O-R-Y'. The Chinese have a saying that goes, 'to fight for a man, you must first walk in his shoes'. Question is, how about to fight for a thousand men? (that's a rhetoric question Kenisha!) All in all, it boils down to one essential fact, that it's very prudent to have a wide perspective of life before you begin to question and judge its complexities.

The riddle above demonstrates how language and prejudice can make us leap to conclusions. And our daily lives are particularly rife with misconceptions arising from such rushly made conclusions, failing to see the wood for the trees metaphorically speaking. And that's why again, I don't like it when I hear some folk rant on about how they love to speak their minds but always have such a narrow-minded opinion of the effects that their words would have once uttered out. And also why such folk wouldn't just be content with keeping mum (Live and let Live) than having to erode any respect people might have had of them before they have said the things that they did, of course based on assumptions. Which brings us back to that riddle, of the elephants and the log. If you haven't gotten the answer yet, firstly, the moral of the riddle is 'never assume'. We assume that because we say 'big elephant' it must be male. In actual fact, the big elephant is the little elephant's mother. So next time before you come up with a judgement on anything, let's all try to have a wider 'mental view' of what we're on about. Peace and Love everyone. Zack out.

AN AFRICAN WEDDING... not so african

2006-05-20T09:25:00.000+01:00

Last week I was in attendance of two different wedding functions on the same day. Now when I'm invited for a wedding I usually try my hardest to be there at what I call the big 'do', when the two concerned parties are making their vows that is, and maybe later if I can, extend my presence at the wedding reception too. Now for many people in Africa (and not just my native country), a wedding starts at the wedding reception. You'd actually be surprised at just a handful in attendance of the actual ceremony and droves at the wedding reception. Which sets me thinking, "...where your treasure is, there your heart will be also".

Getting back to the two weddings now, at both were customs that I'd say must have found their way stealthily into our African setting and perhaps even overtaken our very own customs and norms. I could write a monograph on each but I'll only give the abridged version here; everybody (including me) was dressed entirely western, latest technology at work everywhere, drinks and eats (with exception of just a handful perhaps) were especially foreign, and even though I saw a local dance troupe at each wedding, the western music (replete with DJs and VJs) was truly more noticeable... and I could go on...

Once I had an European friend who was invited for one of these 'African' weddings, and she was so excited about it but rather concerned about what she'd wear. I told her she needn't worry about that since her western clothes would do just fine. I could feel the disappointment in her voice when next she answered, 'Oh!'. Be that as it may, I'm not against anything Western that has taken more centre-stage at many an African function, albeit, I may be concerned at the speed with which that is happening because soon there just might not be anything African at all, except the Africans in atttendance at their own functions. In that case, I'm sure a vociferation now is apt to perhaps wake us up and save us such shame somewhere in the future. I'm told in our cultures, before the Westernisation came in, occasions of weddings were done at the bride give-away at her parents home. In my local Ganda culture, we call that 'okwanjula' and at my best friend's, 'okuhingira' (Nkole). And what surprised me once is when I was invited for a one South African one, and it was called 'okwendula' (Zulu). So I made the right assumption that we did have weddings afterall, and they too, were such a big thing. Only now, the functions I just mentioned above (and more similar ones all across the Bantu Africa) have now been reduced in status by Africans themselves and now called mere 'introductions'. So essentially speaking, an African man or woman getting married to another African is going to have to do at least two weddings (the local so-called 'introduction' and the western wedding) in his lifetime. A bonus for them all but quite a waste if you ask me. Of course if I'm to follow the marriage road too, I shan't be an exception to the norm. But perhaps we can level down a few of the many speed bumbs on the road to create a more pleasurable ride.

Where is our culture at? I think much as we enjoy everything western, we don't have to forget our own and need to take even more pride in all things African. African is gold. At this billionaire's wedding (the second of the weddings I attended week last) which was a record 1400-seater actually, inspite of the 90% westernised everything, it was still a bit of an embarassment seeing on the large screen (from where I sat) the best man and groom at a loss of which knife to use for their meat and finally both settling for the butter knife (oh!) and somewhere in the middle, exchanging the fork-holding hand for the knife (double oh!). No offense to both guys (by the way, great family friends both, and I endearly respect them) but see, somewhere the African traits show out even of the much-covered act. Of course very few people noticed the butter-knife incident and maybe only a little more the fork-one, but that's again cuz even fewer people in attendance had been schooled in the art of which fork or knife for that matter does what. But then again to my point, if this had been an African wedding, I'm sure Uncle (Oops, no names please!) would have done best of using his hands to pick from I'm sure a wonderful 'oluwombo' (local way of preparing Ganda food) that would have been served him instead of the buffet-style dinner. And no meticulous Zack would've noticed any discrepancy there.

Well all the same, we all had a great time folks. And to the two sets of bride and groom even in the unlikely event that you might be reading here, I wish you all the happiest of marriages and may God keep and bless you. And to my African friends that hope to walk down that aisle soon, learn from others' experience and please love African. Love to ya'll. MUNGU ABARIKE AFRICA. Zack out.

SUPPORTING INSPIRATIONAL PEOPLE.

2006-05-09T10:22:00.000+01:00

"I was brought up with a strong sense that as Africans we were not inferior. We might not have the same opportunities but we were as able, as energetic and as dynamic as anybody else. And we could define our own opportunities." -Andrew Rugasira.

A man with a great business acumen and one of the few Ugandan and African businessmen that I know who have earnestly worked their way, inspite of all odds to be where they are -a head above the rest. That's briefly to define the author of that quote. About the time of the G8 Heads meeting year last at Gleneagles, U.K., Rugasira made another dazzling quote that so aptly presented Africa's main problem.

"We are ready for business," he said. “All we want is the same opportunity to trade that British entrepreneurs have when they come to my country... If Africa were able to increase its trade with the world by just 2%, it would produce $l50bn of wealth. Geldof, should not be lobbying governments to increase their aid budgets and create further chronic dependency; he should be lobbying (companies like) Tesco to make two per cent of its shelf space available for quality goods from African enterprises."

Now there's an inspirational person.

Last April I met two more interesting people (one I'd earlier met for the first time in April '05) that also among their work detail is to identify and support the work of inspiratinal people. That they would travel 8,000 miles and back in pursuit of this objective is something that struck me as pretty odd. Amazing and large personalitites the both of them. But when I come to it again, I re-think my position and inwardly say, I guess there are other people off the African continent that share Rugasira's line of thinking. It's a pity when we have such people, the first thing we want to do is mis-judge them and maybe some might even go as far as robbing the little they have from them. Andrew (not Rugasira), told us of his one-time experience in one African country, where after they had collected some money to buy some African farmers a machine (or was it fertiliser, I forget!), and he was robbed right in the city centre. Well his main problem wasn't that he's been robbed of money but here where the thieves taking what was going to be used to build their country and perhaps supposing that they had robbed a 'rich mzungu'. Who knows maybe one of the thieves that day might have had their grandfather as one of the deprived farmers then. This reminded me of one about another man who worked with a Humanitarian Organisation that was tasked to carry out some re-construction in another African country that was just recovering from a holocaust. So this man was the in-charge of a group of about 100 natives, who were being paid by the day for their services. At some point the natives demanded a pay-rise cuz they deemed they were being underpaid for their services -so much to a point where tehy all laid down their tools. So their in-charge, when he got to speak to them was all terrified cuz these were men that were just survivors of one of the worst holocausts on the continent all up and agitated. Somehow he got the courage and through an interpreter (the foreman of the workers and a native himself) spoke to them and told them of how he himself wasn't doing his job for a fee, and how he was battling with cancer before he came over. When his interpreter heard him say this, he exchanged with him briefly in English to confirm whether he really had said 'cancer', to which the man replied 'yes'. At this point the interpreter said back to him, "Please sit down and I'll speak to them for you; you have come all the way from wherever to rebuild our country and in your state, and here we are the natives asking for a pay-rise to rebuild our own country." The interpreter spoke at length to his co-workers and when he was done, everyone picked up their tools and went back to work. Now that's one of the ones with the good endings. Many places on our continent, people even lose the word, 'shame' from their vocabulary.

True, there is poverty in Africa, but let's not forget, there is poverty in many places in the world. And true again, Africa has had its share of corrupt governments, but Africa does not have a monopoly on these. Our continent isn't one of just begging bowls and discontended stomachs, but a place of tremendous opportunity and resourcefulness. And Rugasira is more than just inspirational, he has gone out of his way with his Rwenzori coffee project to support more inspirational people in his country. If we can have more people like Rugasira and Andrew and Jill, supporting the ideas of resourceful men and women on the African continent achieve their full potential, I'm sure we would fully explore these opportunities then.

As I end this post, I'll leave you a dialogue I copied from an interview of Andrew Rugasira with a Bristish journalist who followed him all the way to his coffee project in the Rwenzori, Western Uganda.

"Charles is full of intelligent ideas about how he could raise the coffee yields on his acre of land, about soil conservation, about the simplicity of the new methods, about the ways in which he trains his group of 50 farmers and how he is volunteering to take on more responsibility for a wider area - even working on Sundays to get the message across.

His pride and joy, however, are his beehives. He takes me round the back of his hut to show me. The hives are home- made - cleverly constructed in a variety of
styles. The bees produce wonderful honey, he says, and help to pollinate the coffee crop. He wants to try to have beekeeping incorporated into the Rwenzori project; he imagines the whole mountain buzzing. Charles based the design of his hives on a book about beekeeping, the only book he owns. Because the book is so special to him, he named his son Macmillan, in honour of its publisher. He (Rugasira) looks at his model farmer across the table. “You know Charles,” he says, “when I look at you, I see myself. We believe in the same things. I believe those things are part of the future of this country."

Sitting out under the African night sky , it is impossible, for a moment, not to agree with him. Further, it is profoundly strange to think that all that future might depend on is which coffee we choose to buy in a supermarket

Endnote: And it's such little things that we all can do to support the work of inspiritional people in Africa. Zack out.

GRANDMA is 80!

2006-05-09T10:13:00.000+01:00

They say 'age is just a number'. Well they just may be right! Last April grandma hit the 80 mark; probably the first time I'm going private at this blog, well just this time, I believe someone deserves the lauding. Happy Birthday Gran. Praise be to God.

U'know it's times like this that I'm sure get us all thinking about our own selves; I mean wondering how long you gonna be around on God's earth. True, not many of us wanna think this way, but the grim truth is we gotta face the reality of it sooner or later. The fact that with every passing day, we get closer and closer to the moment of exit. And then the question is paused, what shall you be remembered for? I don't know if it's just me, but I really think the whole 'legacy' thing is a sad excuse for man's mistaken 'immortality'. A form of trying to cling on... even after passing on. Don't nobody get me wrong: I believe it's great for one to leave a legacy but I strongly differ from the schoool of thought that others should be judged by that legacy... which brings us back to square one: why the person left the legacy in the first place... for people to be judged by? But of course some 'legacies' have been immortalised by people whose originator's didn't even know they were actually making a legacy as they lived their everyday lives. Ain't life great?! What do I believe, you might ask? I believe when a person passes on, they should be remembered. But this rememberance should in no way infringe on the rights of those still living to live a life measured out on the yardstick of a 'legacy' of someone passed on, with all due respect. The room for spontaineity should be left. Afterall, that's the beauty of the Human race. Unpredictable, ...spontaneous.

Now getting back to my Gran, we had a really nice time as family (great re-union, too) at Gran's last April on her 80th. I'll always remember you Gran as a very lovely lady that loved to talk, and kept the agility of her memory well into her 80's. Looking to many more such days with you. Grandma is 80. Zack out.

HTML-ing

2006-05-09T09:58:00.000+01:00

Sitting at my desk, with a bit of free time (a rare thing in my world now) on my hands; so I figured I'd mess around with a bit of HTML at my blog. Result: You tell me! Well, it's a pleasure to be back here (yeah, again!) folks. And to fit the cut, I just thought a new look would do as well. In addition, I would like to pay homage to the brilliant minds of men and women whose blogs I religiously read and find to contain remarkable ideas and perhaps an inspiration too, towards my keeping up with the blogging idea. Guys (random reflections, velvet ink, treasured milk, jimzymaster, afrika next, we live we die, subliminal realm, song of a warrior, nothingness everyday, pink, aboutrob, 8000 miles, and all else whose titles I can't recall now) ya'll are great, thank you and keep it up!! Post here again later. Zack out.

UTOPIA IN THE 21st CENTURY: Series 1

2006-03-20T16:12:00.000Z

Somebody just said to me I haven't expressed myself much personally in this new blog. Well, here's to that now. And I've been inundated wiht lotsa questions on what is a Utopia. Not so much in ignorance of the dictionary definition of the world but in the context of the word's depth vis-a-vis our 21st century world. That prompted me to write out a little intro to this blog (see above, below blog name). Fourteen days later, I'm still sucked up in debates both here in the cyber- and our literal world on what really is Utopia. I'll do this in series...

Socialist ideals have recurred throughout the history of literature; from Plato to Marx the elusive goal of a perfect state has occupied some of the best minds in political thought manifesting itself in literature. I've recently been reading the works of Sir Thomas More; in the midst of this historic tradition is the Utopia of More, a work which links the Utopias of the ancient with the utopias of the modern. And then we come out with the broad question: What values do the Utopians hold which are in common with other socialist Utopian values elsewhere, and which ideals of theirs are unique?

If one characteristic could be found which distinguishes a socialist state from all others, it would be the absence of social and economic classes. More's land lacks classes because everyone shares in the same work, everyone is equal, and everyone has the same rights. In More's Utopia there is an obligation for all to work a minimum of six hours everyday at whatever they are best at. All people spend time in the country working the land, as this is an agriculturally based society they must assure themselves of continued crop growth. In addition to creating the same conditions for everyone, this assures that they will have ample supplies to suppress the animal fear of want. All clothing is plain and simple, designed only for utility and practicality. More points out that if someone was dressed in 'finer' material, he would not be better protected against the cold, nor would he appear better dressed to the Utopians. In addition, to prevent any manner of ostentation, the Utopians exchange homes every ten years and eat together in mess halls. Hereditary distinctions do not exist because children are easily moved around from household to household, depending on which occupation he would like to learn. Since there is very little distinction in occupation, dress, lodging, riches, or use of free time, pride is almost non-existent in Utopia.

Like the communes of Leninist Russia, Utopia maintains collective farms. This is an example of the Utopian division of labour. Everyone learns the rudiments of agriculture, so that he may better serve the common good. "No one will have to do this hard work against his will for more than two years, but many of them ask to stay longer because they take a natural delight in farm life." -Sir Thomas More. It is like this such that the continuance of the Utopian food supply is assured, without cutting off any of the people from the civilized life. With many other examples from the More's thesis it can be shown that the division of labour is always equal. But More's Utopia differs from the socialist concept in that the Utopians are required to work for six hours each day if they wish to be fed. And should there be an excessive surplus of goods, then no one shall keep working without purpose, thus a holiday is declared.
It is true that there are separate groups in Utopia, magistrates, the prince, priests and the learned, but these groups by no means constitute a social or economic class. The syphogrants and the prince are elected autocrats whose power is derived from the people and who are removable if that power is abused. Although there are specialists in learning, these are not a sect isolated from the people, but the leaders in an institution in which all could participate. Learning is valued and respected, not as an indication of one's social standing but as a means of developing a man's specific capacities to the fullest. Of course there were bondsmen, but they were not a class anymore than modern convicts are a class, and their families had all the rights and respect of any other citizen.

Caught up by time here... I'll go on in the next series everyone. But this I will re-eho: 'Living Zack's Utopia' is a blog about my perspective of life. Although attractive, the notion that we can create a Utopia is misconstrued. I personally believe there cannot be a Utopia but ideas about the possibility of a Utopia are only put forward so that we can understand that Utopian values are only fundamental values of Human nature, and that our world is not a perfect place. Or to paraphrase, so we can learn as much as we can from the fundamental values of Human nature; Utopian values. Look out for the sequel to this post. Zack out.

KIDS SAY...

2006-03-20T16:09:00.000Z

A little girl: was talking to her teacher about whales. The teacher said it was physically impossible for a whale to swallow a human because even though it was a very large mammal, its had a very small throat. The little girl stated that Jonah was swallowed by a whale. Irritated, the teacher reiterated that a whale could not swallow a human; it was physically impossible. The little girl said, "When I get to heaven, I will ask Jonah". The teacher asked, "What if Jonah went to hell?" The little girl replied, "Then you ask him."

A Kindergarten teacher was observing her classroom of children while they were drawing. She would occasionally walk around to see each child's work. As she got to one little girl who was working diligently, she asked what the drawing was. The girl replied, "I'm drawing God." The teacher paused and said, "But no one knows what God looks like." Without missing a beat, or looking up from her drawing, the girl replied, "They will in a minute."

A Sunday school teacher was discussing the Ten Commandments with her five and six year olds. After explaining the commandment to "honour" thy Father and thy Mother, she asked, "Is there a commandment that teaches us how to treat our brothers and sisters?" Without missing a beat one little boy (the oldest of a family) answered, "Thou shall not kill."

One day a little girl was sitting and watching her mother do the dishes at the kitchen sink. She suddenly noticed that her mother had several strands of white hair sticking out in contrast on her brunette head. She looked at her mother and inquisitively asked, "Why are some of your hairs white, Mom?" Her mother replied, "Well, every time that you do something wrong and make me cry or unhappy, one of my hairs turns white." The little girl thought about this revelation for a while and then said, "Momma, how come ALL of grandma's hairs are white?"

The children had all been photographed, and the teacher was trying to persuade them each to buy a copy of the group picture. "Just think how nice it will be to look at it when you are all grown up and say, 'There's Jennifer, she's a lawyer,' or 'That's Michael, He's a doctor.' A small voice at the back of the room rang out, "And there's the teacher, She's dead."

A teacher was giving a lesson on the circulation of the blood. Trying to make the matter clearer, she said, "Now, class, if I stood on my head, the blood, as you know, would run into it, and I would turn red in the face.." "Yes," the class said. "Then why is it that while I am standing upright in the ordinary position the blood doesn't run into my feet?" A little fellow shouted, "Cause your feet ain't empty."

The children were lined up in the cafeteria of a Catholic elementary school for lunch. At the head of the table was a large pile of apples. The nun made a note, and posted on the apple tray: "Take only ONE. God is watching." Moving further along the lunch line, at the other end of the table was a large pile of chocolate chip cookies. A child had written a note, "Take all you want. God is watching the apples. "

Now ain't that cute? Zack out.

2006-03-08T08:58:00.000Z

GOD IS NOT MOCKED

I received this via mass email and was asked to forward it to a dozen more people. I don't ascribe to the 'forward this and you'll see sumn happen in two days, blah..blah..blah...' hotchpotch, ergo whenever someone forwards such mail to me, it's just gonna stay right there... in my inbox. "THE BUCK STOPS HERE!" Well, with this particular one, I only felt a lot of ya'll that perhaps haven't had a chance to see it might be missing out on sumn.

It is written in the Bible: "Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." Galatians 6:7

Make a personal reflection about this. Very interesting, and do read till the end...

Here are some men and women who mocked God:

JOHN LENNON:

Some years before during his interview with an American Magazine, he said: "Christianity will end, it will disappear. I do not have to argue about that. I am certain. Jesus was ok, but his subjects were too simple, Today we are more famous than Him" (1966)".Lennon, after saying that the Beatles were more famous than Jesus Christ, was shot six times.

TANCREDO NEVES:
During the Presidential campaign, he said if he got 500 votes from his party, not even God would remove him from Presidency. Sure he got the votes, but he got sick a day before being made President, then he died.

CAZUZA:
During a show in Canecão ( Rio de Janeiro ), whilst smoking his cigarette, he puffed out some smoke into the air and said: God, that's for you. I can't even explain how he died.

THE MAN WHO BUILT TITANIC:
After the construction of Titanic, a reporter asked him how safe the Titanic would be. With an ironic tone he said: "Not even God can sink it" The result: I think you all know what happened to the Titanic.

MARILYN MONROE:
She was visited by Billy Graham during a presentation of a show. He is a preacher and Evangelist and the Spirit of God had sent him to preach to her. After hearing what the Preacher had to say, she said:
"I don't need your Jesus" A week later, she was found dead in her apartment.

BON SCOTT:
The ex-vocalist of the AC/DC. On one of his 1979 songs he sang: "Don't stop me, I'm going down all the way, wow the highway to hell". On the 19th of February 1980, Bon Scott was found dead, he had been choked by his vomit.

CAMPINAS/SP IN 2005
In Campinas, a group of friends, drunk, went to pick up a friend. The mother accompanied her to the car and was so worried about the drunkenness of her friends and she said to the daughter - holding her hand, who was
already seated in the car: "MY DAUGHTER, GO WITH GOD AND MAY HE PROTECT YOU", She responded: ONLY IF HE (GOD) TRAVELS IN THE BOOT, COZ INSIDE HERE IT'S ALREADY FULL"

Hours later, news came by that they had been involved in a fatal accident, everyone had died, the car could not be recognized what type of car it had been, but surprisingly, the boot was intact. The police said there was no way the boot could have remained intact. To their surprise, inside the boot was a crate of eggs, none was broken. Many more important people have forgotten that there is no other name that was given so much authority as the name of Jesus. Many have died, but only Jesus died and rose again, and he is still alive. JESUS!!!

Hope you make sumn outta that. Good day peeps. Zack out.

SIGNS FOR AFRICA

2006-03-08T08:47:00.000Z

I just copied this from an email I received about a year ago; and ain't it interesting how this is actually FOR REAL. I guess when you mix a lot of the African vernacular with only a smattering of the English language, but then again mean to get your message across in the Queen's language, you're gonna get sooo mixed up. Have a laugh ya'll.

In a restaurant in Zambia:
"Open seven days a week and weekends."

On the grounds of a private school in South Africa:
"No trespassing without permission."

On a window of a Nigerian shop:
"Why go elsewhere to be cheated when you can come here?."

On a poster in Ghana:
"Are you an adult who cannot read? If so, we can help."

In a hotel in Mozambique:
"Visitors are expected to complain at the office between the hours of 9.00am and 11.00am daily."

On a river in the Democratic Republic of Congo:
"Take note: When this sign is submerged, the river is impassable."

At a hotel in Rwanda:
"Customers who find our waitresses rude ought to see the manager."

A sign seen on a hand dryer in a Lesotho public toilet:
"Risk of electric shock-Do not activate with wet hands."

In a Botswana jewellery shop:
"Ears pierced while you wait."

On one of the buildings of a Sierra Leone hospital:
"Mental Health Prevention Centre."

In a maternity ward of a clinic in Tanzania:
"No children allowed!"

In a cemetery in Uganda:
"Persons are prohibited from picking flowers from any but their own graves."

In a Malawi hotel:
"It is forbidden to steal towels please. If you are not a person to do such a thing, please don't read this notice."

A sign posted in an Algerian tourist camping park:
"It is strictly forbidden on our camping site that people of different sex, for instance a man and woman,live together in one tent unless they are married to each other for that purpose."

In a Namibian nightclub:
"Ladies are not allowed to have children in the bar."

And the prize goes to...
On the walls of a 'butchery' in Kawangware, SW of
Nairobi, Kenya:
"We sell all meats.......goat meat,
sheep meat, fish meat, chicken meat, beef meat...."

lol. lol. and more lol. Zack out.

SECOND BLOG: LivingZack'sUtopia

2006-03-06T14:51:00.000Z

Thanks be to God, I'm back to blogging. Greetings ya'll. It's been quite awhile... since 09-05 actually and yeah, i've finally caved in to public pressure to resume blogging. Thanks everybody that's been pestering me to. Note to self: m still puzzled by what ya'll find interesting in my ramblings. Otherwise, I'm really flattered to say the least.

So here we are; same address, new blog, I just cleaned out the only post that was here cuz it was completely irrelevant to what I mean for my new blog, "Living Zack's Utopia" to be. To all my audience, I'll endeavour to, wherever I might be, do more frequent posts at this blog. You shan't have to 'watch this space' for another five months again. lol. Let's pray for long life and good health.

Ok, that's fine for starters I guess. One conquest at a time; today Rome, another day Brittanica. Heart out for everyone. Zack out.