Ribara Uwariraye

Moving on!

2011-12-29T14:27:00.000-08:00

It seems i have outgrown Blogspot and shall now move on to Wordpress. It has been a nice place to live, this blogspot area.
I hope you come visit me at my new digs, its fancier i think, and i have more room, to accomodate more visitors, and i hope you come often and stay a while.
This is my new (posh, lol) adress: Ribara Uwariraye
See you there!
(www.mamazumzum.wordpress.com)

He was my brother, but he was also my friend

2011-09-22T05:13:00.000-07:00

And they said you were gone, I figured it was true. A joke would be so cruel. They said you'd been sick, that's why you weren't picking up.
They said you'd been in pain, but knew it was the end.
And that's when I crumbled:
I realized I'd let you down,
I realized you'll never meet my son,
I realized I couldn't breathe.
And "burning my sins" would never be the same.
And I knew an era was over, and there would be laughter no more, but I was wrong. Your spirit is stronger than death.
It was six years ago.
I still think of you and skip a heart beat, and every day, I laugh at something you said a long time ago. You are still here in the hearts of the people whose life you lit up, by just being you. You did it very well. Rest In Peace my brother. My friend. My partner in crime. My teacher. Toni Jumper, the sound of joy

Twittering corn and cheese

2011-07-04T14:58:00.000-07:00

This morning my little giant of a brother twitted this line:
I sing the song of the mysterious.

and then i replied : I rise every morning victorious! Let's write a corny poem together!!

So this is how it went, back and forth, untill he probably got sidetracked by ... Oh,I don't know, some doe-eyed, much younger female he is not related to, maybe?

I breathe the airs of the gods, sipping from the cup of devotion

I dance, in a trance, throughout this maze in elation

I love like a bird, freely without reservation, my heart at my wingtips, taking me places unseen

I stand as a queen, with gold dust on my tracks, the wind at my back, and the sun as my crown

I smile with the universe, the moon beckoning me to flourish, I'm under the spell of my regal, the world is my kingdom

My stance breaks your enchantment, I am lunar mesmerized, I cause stellar coyness

To be continued,
edited,
and probably published some day i guess!
Visit the young man's blog here

The week that was

2011-07-01T08:24:00.001-07:00

This week seemed to never want to be over, and i know it still ain't yet...but men! It really was the week that wouldn't quit.

First a very close person to me was attacked by a criminal claiming to mean well and it was the worst case of treason i have ever seen.

Then good friends of mine lost one of them suddenly, a brilliant young man in his prime whose flamme was prematurely put out. It brought back memories of another such young man who passed away a few years ago, just before his 30th birthday. Sudden, absurd, tragic and just so unfair.

I sat and thought about all the people living first hand through these events, as I was merely a distant observer, even though i carry them all in my heart.

On the one hand, a young man committed to helping the most vulnerable of this world, while minding his own business and enjoying life as a young professional.I imagine he had hobbies and a favorite after-work hangout. Maybe a girl he planned to get close to, build a house and make a home, a family with. His family had hiigh hopes for him, his friends still had a lifetime to spend with him. And one morning it was all over. He is no more. They are mourning the loss of a rising star.

It is strange how one is familiar with the concept of life and yet we are constantly surprised by the end of it. We prepare ourselves to become parents, but nodody gets ready to lose a child or to become an orphan. We know it happens, to others mostly, we live with death in our midst but somehow we are oblivious to it's reality until it hits home.

On the other hand, you have an individual who goes the extra mile to harm another by making them vulnerable and bare to the world. He/She masquerades as a stranger while at the same time claiming to know and care for you better that anyone else,and then outs you in the streets without so much as a second thought.

It is is the feeling you get when are safely asleep in your own bed and you dream that you are standing in the streets with no clothes on, with strangers starig at you. Pointing and laughing. Imagine if that happened for real and someone once close to you had made that happen. Stole your clothes and locked you out of your own house.

I have been reminded that no secret is kept once it is said even oncce. That you may think people are smiling at you but they are really just baring their teeth at you. That nothing is sacred to some people, and that the more people you let into your heart, the more at risk you are of being brokenhearted.

This week has not left me more of a cynic than i was before, it has just tought me another life lesson. I am sharing with you this: This week-end when you go out and enjoy the company of the people who make you happy, tell them. Tell them how much they mean to you, and look them in the eyes when you do. Tell them at the beggining, before you are too intoxitaced to care. Let them know. It may be your last chance.

And the people in your life that feel more like a burden: put them down! You do not have to carry them if all they do is break your back. My father told me once: If you realise someone is using you, sit them down, ask them specifically what it is they hope to get from you, get it done if you can, and say goodbye to them. For good.

Go out and get yourself the right kind of roots: not the ones that keep you stuck in one place and stop you from moving. Get the kind that keep you grounded while nourishing your growth.
God keep you safe!

Devoir de mémoire

2011-04-14T02:46:00.000-07:00

Dix-sept saisons de pluies
et tout autant de sèches
Est-ce trop ou pas assez?
Mon oreiller en est devenu imperméable

dix-sept milles,un million
d'âmes royales massacrées
Je n'ai rien à leur offrir
à part mes mots vides
et mes yeux un peu trop secs

J'aurais aimé tout savoir avant
Et pouvoir tout te dire
ou l'écrire dans ta main
Et un jour,te montrer mon enfant
On écoutait Mc Solaar ensemble
On rigolait jusqu'aux larmes dans ma cuisine
Quand il voulait braiser la chat de sa voisine

Je ne suis qu'une marchande de rêves
qui sent la faillite la guetter
Mon frère a un autre visage que le mien
mais son sang est autant de fer
Et ses prières sont aussi sincères

Même un coeur brisé peut rêver
Seul un coeur brisé sait aimer
Alors pourquoi meurent les corps brisés
pourquoi n'ont-ils pas survécu cette chutte libre
Moi, je ne sais plus que faire de ma vieille Bible

Mes souvenirs sont en chair
et non des dessins que tu vends aux enchères
Ne vois-tu pas qu'ils saignent encore?
Je te demande de respecter la mort de ceux
dont la Vie ne valait rien à tes yeux.

Broken stone

2011-04-12T01:55:00.000-07:00

Barely twelve.
Thats how many rain seasons we knew before the last
and just as many dry ones,but they went by so fast
You cut through the thickest part of our innocence
and left our lyrics unsung
our poem, unwritten
our dreams,unseen
our life, undone

You made crumble out of our future
and left it in the sun to dry into sad rubble
You made me watch while you stopped the clock
and left me to tell with wounds that never heal
You put distance between flesh and bones
and we'll never hear the voices we once loved

THEM, I always remember
You, I never forget

No, I won't allow you to be my weakest moment
My slain kin will be my strongest argument
I think it is time I let you go
Before I turn into something you know
I have carried you in my heart
long after my home lost my name
I have been faithfull to you
when your hand butchered my beliefs
That hand that carried the hatchet
has been directing my night terrors
The same hand that some called a puppet
But you and I know you own the errors

Umwana twareranywe (le petit sourire de mon voisin)

2011-04-08T02:15:00.000-07:00

Sur un bout de papier quadrillé
Tu esquisses ton premier poème
De ton petit coeur meurtri
Tu fermes tes yeux mouillés
Et tu t'endors en rêvant
De ton petit voisin
Que tu aimais tant

Tu écris de petits messages
Que tu déchires en mille morceaux
Et éparpilles sur les traces de vos pas
Chaque mot inspiré par vos rires
Chaque petite larme lui est dédiée,

Il ne peut plus les lire, il dort
Il a poussé des ailes
pendant ses heures d'agonie
Il a dit ton nom tout bas
En esperant que toi, tu serais epargnée
Bien gardée,
Loin de toi, lui s'est envolé

Sur ton écran brouillée
Après toutes ces années,
tu écris toujours
Tu as habillé ton chagrin
D'un manteau de survivant
Et tu racontes votre petite histoire.

Sur un bout de nuage bleu
Il t'observe
Il regarde le temps passer
Avec sa guitare et son petit sourire
Et tous les soirs, même très tard
Il lui arrive d'avoir envie de te dire:
Je pense à toi...

Tu dis des mots dans un miroir
Tu imagines de le revoir
Meme si tu sais tres bien
Qu'un jour une lame a mis fin
À la vie de ton petit voisin
Ton passé arraché de ton futur.

Dear God,

2011-04-05T16:54:00.001-07:00

Dear God,

It's April again! You know how it is.
It's the rainy season in more hearts than I can count.

This year, i was hoping for less downpour but it's in vain. I have abstained from my self-destructive April habits and it's still gonna be a wet month.

I prayed with a friend today, so I hope You heard what we said. I know You did, I just need comfirmation that You still believe in me as I believe in You Father, You know how I am.

I decided to write you a prayer based on a friend's inspiring series of letter to her mom who now lives with You. I find her incredibly brave. I know You agree with me.

In order to make this April an improvement on the past 16, i thought i should remember the dearly departed with a smile.

I wish to remember the fun, funny, hilarious even, time that we had instead of the last moments of their lives.

I wish to honor their memory by revisiting the happiest times of their time with us here on earth.

I wish to reminisce and laugh, to imagine what life would be in the sun.
Not to wish the past away but to imagine a different destiny, to ease the pain of never knowing, or knowing too well.

I wish to thank you for all those times, no matter how brief they were, they served the purpose of teaching us that indeed, earth is but a temporary abode.

So today, I remember with a smile. And I pray that You, Dear Father, lighten the hearts of those who cannot. That You pick their burdens up and remind them that You are always there. That You are the One who put them to it and will put them through it too.

I pray for the Nation of RWAnda on the great way of reconstruction and for RWAndans everywhere.

I pray for the nations that are at war right now, my RWAndan brothers and sisters will surely not mind if you sleep over in Ivory Coast, Libya, Afghanistan, Japan, Yemen, Somalia or Soudan this time. Because we KNOW we will be fine. Please watch over those who are not safe, those who are not at home, and those not safe at home right now.

Your trully, in the name of our Savior Jesus Christ,
Amen.

Fallen heroes

2011-01-04T04:52:00.000-08:00

Just because you're dead don't make you a hero.

But the hand you held

and the heart you mended,

the tears you dried

and the mouth you fed...

The child you carried

and the ones you cared for

They called you hero even back then

before your flamme faded.

To the people who passed on this past year,

You are dearly missed.

This CHRISTmas

2010-12-23T10:34:00.000-08:00

'Tis the season to be jolly!!

Jesus Christ's birthday is back. He is such a good friend that He wants us to give something to someone else for HIS birthday! That is my kind of guy.

I am sitting in my house, listening to the christmas concert on TV, to cheat the silence that reminds me that I may be in my house but I am not home.

I am wrapping up presents and wishing I was in a place where all most people have to offer is christmas PRESENCE.

I am fighting the urge to go buy cigarette pack and burn away all that longing to be in a warmer place. It is a close call, but the red wine is winning.

This is the season to be jolly. Or not. It is bittersweet. Always is. When you are far away from the people you call yours, you celebrate with one dry eye and one crying. You are glad to be alive but you wish you were somewhere else.

When you are at home you look around and realise there is at least one person who should have been here but isn't and it's not because of traffic jam. And that makes you cry as you smile the season through.

The children on Tv are singing "Santa I want a real Christmas, the kind you have when you are little" What does that mean for you? and how about your neighbour? The children sing that it is the kind that brings " longing and hope, and you could just die of curiosity"

What is a real christmas? For me, it is not under a tree, in a shiny package,or a singing card.

It is in the heart of your heart. That place where you keep your mum, your children and that first love that you KNOW you wont forget. THAT is where christmas is.

I am saying to you, my friend, open that secret door and let somebody with no mum, no children, or no love, feel part of the celebration.

Give a little, give a lot, give something! Make this christmas merry for someone else too!

Dare to take part in the great conspiracy of LOVE!

Noheli nziza mwese!Murakagira ibyo murya,ibyo mutanga n'ibyo muraza!

(Merry christmas everyone! May you have enough to eat, to give away and to keep for tomorrow)

May you never cease to see God's blessings in every day that you live.

And while you are at it, have a happy new year too!

TO ALL SAGITTARIANS (and anyone else who cares)

2010-12-21T11:30:00.000-08:00

I found this about sagittarians on the net and i was amazed...whether you believe in astrology or not, you gotta agree that some things mentioned here are waaay too close to the truth.

Ambition is inexhaustible, and they are not easily deterred when their goals are in sight.

Love traveling and exploration, the more so because minds are constantly open to new dimensions of thought

Ambitious and optimistic, and continue to be so even when their hopes are dashed.

Are honorable, honest, trustworthy, truthful, generous and sincere, with a passion for justice.

Are usually modest and are often religious, with a strong sense of morality, though they tend to overemphasize the ethical codes they follow and not religion/god itself

Have both profound and widely ranging minds, equipped with foresight and good judgement

Can be witty conversationalists

Love to initiate new projects (they make excellent researchers) and have an urge to understand conceptions that are new to them

Think rapidly, are intuitive and often original, but are better at adapting than inventing

Are magnanimous in forgiving offenses and are responsible when looking after the elderly in the family

Are natural teachers and philosophers with a talent for expounding the moral principles and laws which seem to explain the universe.

Have an interest in cars and aircraft – with emphasis on the sporting side racing, rallying etc.

Are reliable, seldom betraying any trust given to them.

More apt then the average to make an uncongenial alliance.

Are flirtatious, devoted and playful

Have a tendency to want to roam the world endlessly, to continuously question life’s path and explore every whim and curiosity

Being tied down is frightening, thus instinctively seek out partners who aware of the smaller picture, and someone who will want to keep moving around.

Idealize the notion of love and expect lovers to live up to high intellectual expectations

Are happiest with someone vibrant and youthful

Are an artistic and graceful lover

Mental stimulation is as exciting as the sexual kind; if the conversation is honest and open, things will continue to develop and grow

If the marriage is successful, they will be faithful spouses and indulgent parents

Are prone to flare up over trifles

Impatient

Can be exacting, domineering and inconsiderate

Restlessness, if excessive, can jeopardize more than their own stability

Need to feel free and are often faced with the choice of allowing their careers to take over their lives at the expense of the love of their spouse and family

Can be impulsively angry and know how to be outspoken and say what will hurt their adversaries the most.

By the way, the original sagi, the centaurs were the great scholars and intellectuals of Greek and Roman myth, but they could also be hotheaded and aggressive.

Also you should know that Sagittarians
Are most likely to hit it off with Aries, Leo
Get on well with Capricorn, Aquarius, Libra, Scorpio
It could go either way with: Taurus, Cancer, Sagittarius
Don't even bother with Pisces, Gemini, Virgo.

All I want for Xmas...

2010-11-29T10:20:00.000-08:00

This sunday children all over Sweden got the chance to meet with Santa Claus (a guy with white facial hair, wardrobe and weight issues, immortality and the power of ubiquity or omnipresence), and hand in their lists of things they want for Christmas. On my son's list was the following:
- A Pen
- A Robot
- Candy
I am a lucky mum with an easy-to-please son. Just realised i wasted a lot of money getting him stuff that he does not really want. If only I had known that a few months ago!!
A few months ago when Toy Story 3 at the cinema and he prayed, palms clasped together and eyes firmly shut: "Dear God, I really want Toy Story 1 and 2 for Christmas. Amen"
Then a few minutes later he stopped walking and added "...and Dear God, please send me the DVD because we don't have a VHS player anymore, mamma gave it away. AMEN!"
So I bought the Toy Story DVDs...when all he wanted was a pen! God was supposed to take care of the films, no?

Anyway, since we are making lists, here is mine. In alphabetical order. These are the things I sooo selfishly wish for this Christmas.

A degree in interior design
A Ferrari
An Aussie guy with the power to mentalize you
An Aussie guy with the power to wolverine you
Hugh Jackman
My son's long lost twin sister
Shares in Bralirwa
Shares in H&M

Simon Baker

The entire wardrobe of Cynthia Nixon in SATC2

Aaaaand ...World peace!

Have a merry one my people. And may the birth of our Saviour in a manger inspire you to be generous with those who have less than you. Obviously i still need some time. Somebody who's got it right is my girl Isabelle Kamariza. Google her!!

Smelling the rain...

2010-11-16T16:00:00.000-08:00

I finally finished reading Chimamanda's Purple Hibiscus. I have not been touched by a book in this way in a very long time. I like that she dares to write about Africans that are not intellectually challenged. Africans that are like the Africans I know.
Funny enough, it is her description of the weather that tugged at the strings of my heart. I miss the rain in Africa.

To fall asleep to the sound of a liquid lullaby
played on that typical metal roof,
and wake up to that earthy smell
of the morning-after-the-rain.
Coffee on your veranda in your bathrobe,
just taking in the absolute proof that God exists
and has impeccable artistic skills
The color of the horizon,
blushing at the first kiss of the morning sun
The earth,
velvet-smoothed by the night rain
The birds singing their wake up call
The flowers and trees rejuvenated and fragrant,
exploding with life and blinding hues
And that first scathing sip of pure arabica coffe,
freshly brewed and home ground.
A warm hug from the other side of your bed
A good morning text from the other side of your dreams.

Have a great day!!!

what's been up?

2010-11-16T15:35:00.001-08:00

Been gone a while. Let me finish school naamwe, then i'll be back to intellectually enrich your miserable lives...yeah. ok. Last station on my ego trip. Kindah.
My cat has strayed. All of a sudden it only comes to visit once in a while. To be expected of cats, really. Plus, it works out perfectly, i guess, since i am a dog to live with.
I received birhtday gifts in advance, for my son and i, from a lovely lady. She added a year to my age and wished my son a happy 6th birthday. He is 4. I have decided she is senile. She is 65.
I have realised in my village, i am the "immigrée de service". I am the specialist on Africa, which is apparently the "country"I am from. And by association, expert on any and everything not swedish.
Every year, new students taking a certain social studies course fight to interview me about my life in and out of Sweden. At this point i feel like a superstar (- scratch that: a rock star - allow me to bask in my own glory a bit. OK, now is the last station on above-mentioned ego trip, thank you for flying Ribara Uwariraye Air) This has lead me to realise a lot of things about myself. The truth is you do not really know how you feel about an issue, untill somebody asks you about it. Makes sense, no?
I had no idea, for example that I consider Swedish young girls "without enough ambition" and young men "spoilt to laziness". ...It just came out in such an interview today. Some kids asked me and i just blurted it out.
...so not swedish. No offense. I didn't know! Plus, i have to be specific: I do not have an extended knowledge of the habits of young Swedes, only the ones in this part of the country.
Meanwhile i found somebody who loves names just like i do. I recommend you read this if you want to find out more about African names and such.

Pocahontas vs Avatar

2010-08-29T14:36:00.000-07:00

Because i sad "Yes" one night

2010-08-16T12:53:00.000-07:00

The child care-parenting people say it is important to establish and maintain routines while raising your offsprings. They are not clear on exactly who/what it important to/for. This is why I thought I should speak on behalf of parents that got ambushed into "routines" that started as a cute little thing and later became a time-consuming, not-so-cute burden.

Because I said "Yes" one night, I now have to let my son go into his room by himslef, pretend to ignore him,and then come in and "discover" that he has covered himself except for his feet.
I then must proceed to exclaim loudly "But whose feet are these? Have I just randomly found feet lying about? For me to tickle and tease as i want? Oh Joy!!" And then on to valuable minutes of giggles, laughs and implorations of "mammaaa, stooooop! It's Antsa!! its meeee hahahaha" Every night.

Because I started it one evening, we have to play "tickle spiders" every night before he goes to sleep (that's right after the "lost&found feet" charade). This, however, I blame on an excellent uncle (and potentially awesome dad) Uncle Mikey Q, my dawg for life. He started it.

Because I said "Yes" one night, I now have to let him gurgle water before we stop brushing teeth, in true "Madagascar Alex" style. Don't ask.

Because I said "Yes" one evening, I now have to get into the bathroom after every bath and shower him with water while singing "it's raining,it's raining, it's raining on my baaaaaayyybeeee" (start soft and get louder after each "it's raining"...) Every frea*ing time.

Because I said "Yes" one night, I have to go in every night and turn over the Lion King tape to pla the same story over again, because "it's finished and am not asleep yet,mamma"

Because I said "Yes" once, I now have to let him help cook the "Uganda porridge" with me, no matter what, there is no excuse. He pulls a chair, takes the whip or wooden spoon, and feebly stirrs for a few minutes before saying that it takes waaay too long to cook, and jumping off the chair to go back to his business. (leaving me to straighten all the lumps in the cooking "Uji")

Because I said "Yes"one monday evening. I now have to surrender my computer and relinquish a precious hour of blogging/facebooking/googling and other twittering, just so he can play his silly games on http://www.bolibompa.se/. Duude! I didn't even know of computers when I was his age!

All this in the name of creating routines...Off course there can be worse. But so far, all these routines work for him and less fo me. He has tons of luaghs while I check the clock.

PS: Maybe I should have started by stating the obvious: Because I said "Yes" one night....I am now the mother of the funniest, most adorable, intelligent, trully amazing, wonderfull son!

sights and smells across the seas

2010-08-11T00:48:00.000-07:00

One evening my son and i were walking in the neighbourhood of Ntinda in Kampala, with a couple of friends.
We walked through a very busy market place, and it was the day after we had arrived, so my son hadn't had the chance to see such a big crowd (he had been too tired at the airport).
Suddenly he exclaimed: "Mamma, this is America!" My friends and I wondered what he meant, so he explained :" There is a lot of brown people like us!"

He had been watching the American elections on tv, and he was very happy that Obama was the president, because he is "brown like us" (Am I raising a prejudiced little man?). So everytime he saw a picture of Obama he would yell: Obamaaaa!! and tell anybody who cares to listen that Obama is the president, NOT McCain.

Fast forward a year later, back in northern Sweden. We are walking on a saturday evening and, in the neighbourhood, people are setting up their barbecues. A distinct smell of burning charcoal fills the air and I don't even notice it untill my son says "Mamma, this is like Africa" I wonder what he is talking about this time and he ,once again, goes on to explain: "It smells like Kampala when it starts to be dark outside !"

It did smell like Kampala in the evenings when everybody is starting up their "sigiris" (charcoal burning stove "thingies" that folk cook food on). And it made me so homesick !

It's funny how children's minds work. At they work at all is clearly a miracle. I am amazed daily by the things he remembers and how he remembers them.
He continued to yell out "Chogamuuu!" at the sight of a Ugandan flag, coat of arms, or generally anything with the picture of a crane in it, for a whole year after his first trip to Uganda. Fortunately he has gotten over that and he now just says "Uganda!" and looks very pleased with himself.

Cheating the dark

2010-08-03T12:57:00.000-07:00

When sleep is no longer an option
And light has left you
After darkness broke you
You turn and ask me to pray
I say you needn’t ask
Way ahead of you my friend
I can’t hold you any tighter
Your fever burns my loneliness
And you smile in your dreams
You say it’s been long
I say it’s about time.

Clichés

2010-07-29T16:23:00.000-07:00

He said what you used to say
But it sounded strange on his lips
He did what you did so well
And it was just awkward in his hands
He was so eager to gain
What you won so effortlessly
He tried
He failed
In all honesty
You lied
And succeeded
In being so deceitful
He was like summer rain
And you are winter cold
He never had a fighting chance
You had me at hello
And forgot to say good bye

Can't those daisies push themselves?

2010-07-29T13:48:00.000-07:00

This time last year was a time of family and friends reunion, a million reasons for celebration and just plain good old having fun. Life was happening!

This time last year Nathan was born and Stella (finally) become "min latin". Don't sweat the spelling, it means baby's mamma.
This time last year Nina was getting married and it was magnificent.
This time last year my boy and I were having coffee with Lydia and Sylvie and their boys. Mine was singing "Uri mwizaaaa" .

This time last year I was gulping down Michael's pork sticks at Kyadondo rugby club.
This time last year I was in Kampala and hoping i miss that plane back north ( I did, twice).

This year has generally been disappointing in reasons to celebrate.

People got sick. And did not get better. Their loved ones had to say good bye for good to them.

People were killed at the rugby club. And in other places. Around Kampala, and around the world.

Hopes were crushed, families split, hearts broken, bodies buried, things just did not go the way they should

This year, just like last year, Life happened. And still, we don't know the half.

Sex

2010-05-15T03:50:00.000-07:00

Yeah you heard me. Sex. It's the Swedish word for number 6. Hahaha joke's on you coz even if it was what you though it was, there is no way i am gonna talk about sex here. In public? H3ll no! I am a Catholic, we never do things like that. (Not the sex, of course we do,we just don't talk about it in public).

So I am not talking about sex, it was just to get you to read this, i haven't written anything in so long I had to come up with something that would make you stop and look. You are still reading so it looks like i wasn't completely wrong about you. Teeheeheehee...Besides, what do I know about sex?
Really what? I 'll tell you what: squat!! Of course since i have a child, you can assume that I, at least ONCE, have had....anyway, I can't even write it. By the way you know that by assuming you make an ass of YOu and me...but enough of the clichés!

I was thinking the other day, last night in fact, while i lay sleepless in my bed alone...ok wait, the important thing is that I was THINKING...not the other one.

OK, so i was in bed, at 4PM, having watched the series Girlfriends on Youtube for like 6 hours straight....and was wondering whether or not to sue the producers of the show and get mine.
Because you see,that Lynn character was sooo based on me. It's obvious. Every other comment she said I have said once before.
And until last night, i did not even know of the existence of a tv show called Girlfriends. I just stumbled upon it while googling "persia"...ironically that's the real name of the actress that plays Lynn: Persia White, and well, i have invested interests in Persia, since, as you of course know, i own a persian Cat and all....

Anywho, I came to thinking about this and that and suddenly wondered why we think it is OK to ask any person who is married and/or has a child when they are gonna have another/one, as if it was our business?
You see,as far as I know, a child is ALWAYS the result of some sexual activity, be it our own or somebody else's, but in any case, "baby" is the future tense of "knocking boots" (yeah, I still say that: knocking boots - if you're laughin that's coz you ain't getting any, lol). And asking someone when they are gonna makes us "aunties and uncles" no matter how cute we think it sounds, is still encroaching on their very private business, i.e their getting their groove on in the privacy of their bedroom (or living room,car's backseat,kitchen, bathroom...).

So why is it OK for people you DO NOT usually practice baby-making with to ask you when you are gonna get busy and be (re)productive? Really? What vested interests do we have in our friends' getting knocked up? Isn't this just a veiled and commonly accepted form of voyeurism that we condone and partake in as if it wasn't just that: putting our noses where it definitely shouldn't??
Am just saying!!

And while am at it, I hereby apologize to my girl Sylvie for having asked her that very annoying question (yes, it was Livie's fault, she asked first,but I take responsibility for my own) just on her birthday last week. It is none of my business when her baby Gan-sta is gonna be a big brother. I am sorry sister!!

CHECK THIS OUT AND VOTE!!!

2010-03-19T09:21:00.000-07:00

AMINA BUTOYI SHABANI

Amina is a girl that knows what she wants and makes you want it too!!

She is a fellow blogger and an inspiration to beauty-product junkies and newbies all over the world. Check her out at www.mwatum.com and be ready to be impressed.

Check out her entry vid into the bobbi Brown Pretty Powerfull contest and give her your support! Thank you

PS: Amina is originally from Burundi but has lived all over Africa and is now based in the US.

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T'wasn't me : the 2010 French remix

2010-02-27T12:25:00.000-08:00

France sponsored the biggest event that was ever held in Rwanda.

It was so big, many people in the world think it is still going on, when it only lasted...let's see...four years, and ended 16 years ago.

It was well planned, but poorly publicized. Actually it was held under wraps like all big dos should. Hush-hush. With tiny little Red-Blue-and-White labels hidden at the bottom.

This event was so big, that a million Human lives were sacrificed for it.

It was hugely funded, France, and her partners in crime, went all out, no holds barred. They sent experts, instruments, and the big guns - pardon the sad pun - showed up quite often in person to see how the preparations were going.

When the "show" was done the "artists" were briskly and discretely taken off stage and whisked away to secret locations to enjoy the fruit of their labour and watch the world act all stupefied at the fact that they could pull off such a stunt.

The ones who had to be sacrified are yet to be completely laid to rest as they were too numerous and quite scattered across borders.

And those who still mourn them are still wondering what the point of their martyrdom was, but that is beside the point of this post, which is: France, for once in History, is being HUMBLE!!!

They refuse to take credit! Who would have thought? Instead, they are making half-@$$ed claims to having only contributed by giving vague directions, and accidentaly stumbling on greatness without any ambition or intention of becoming legendary, No Sir!

The big guy from over there says, in fact, quite ambarrased by all the glory being showered on him, that Let us change the subject, look towards the future, let's see how co-operation between the two countries can bear fruits of a different nature.It was an error of judgement,he said. With tremendous results, yes, but unplanned for nonetheless.

WOW! Just imagine how much bigger it would have been if it had been deliberately planned.

Images from 7sur7.be, thebreman.org, and Reuters
You can also read http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/feb/25/sarkozy-rwanda-genocide-kagame

This tuesday's salad

2010-02-27T10:32:00.000-08:00

Almost forgot.

This tuesday's salad was uninspired. Possibly because the Cat, my son and I were all sick and had blocked noses, cough attacks, headaches and other nice thigns that come with a cold, in a place that has outlawed antibiotiks.

So this is what it contained:
Franfurter sausages, whole weat pasta,olives,sweet corn, and feta cheese. I meant to add peas but forgot. I did not taste it though, on account of me not eating red meat during lent and all.

The optional sauce? A little mayo, a little olive oil, half a lemon's juice, dried mint,salt and pepper.

About lent, and Salad tuesdays.

2010-02-16T12:04:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow we start the 40-day period the precedes EASTER, a.k.a our biggest reason to celebrate, the resurrection of our Lord JC. That period is called Lent. (And not rent - if your mother-tongue has no distinction between "R" and "L" you'll know why it is important to stress this, especially around eLection time)

Remember to give thanks to Jesus for doing what He did for us, because otherwise we would not be here. I am very grateful to my parents for having taught me about Him, and to my friends and fellow Christians for the fellowship.

About lent...It is a time of preparation for the Holy week. Some may fast, some may abstain from certain foods, some try to give more to the needy, the decision is quite personal depending on what you can and are willing to do.

I thought I should maybe stop eating meat for a while. It will be healthy and who knows I may go off meat for good!! I do like fish (recently found that out, did not know!), and my growing up in Rwanda makes me a beans lover too. I think I can do it...We shall see.

Meanwhile, Mr Cat and I have decided to make honest roommates of each other,whatever that means.

My love for a pasta salad and his love for tuna(he IS a cat after all) is what inspired this new trend: Salad tuesday.
We are gonna try and have a "somehow" healthy salad every tuesday.I'll let you know how that goes.

This is what was in this tuesday's salad: Pasta,yellow apple,tomato,tuna (from a can),feta cheese,and green olives. DELISH!!!

The sauce was made from the juice from one blood-orange,mustard, a little olive oil,salt,black pepper,sugar and dried herbs.

February 2010

2010-02-07T11:43:00.001-08:00

I watched the film Coco avant Chanel, and was reminded of something I said to someone recently " A girl changes her hairstyle when she is about to change her life".

Questions have been asked about my decision to shave my hair, and these are a few answers for you to chose from, if you care at all (which you really shouldn't but I shall indulge you, i am a mother after all, ain't I?)
- My son was afraid of the "tractor" running on his head, so I had to show him that it was harmless.
- I wanted to start growing it from zero, to have an even level.
- I was tired of the hair I had, and wanted something new.
- I wanted to cut it.
It's just hair, it grows back...get over it coz I am. What a frivolous subject.

Anywho, the first month of 2010 has been anything but frivolous, in fact if it is any indication of what the rest of the year is gonna be, I might as well call it quits.

My family, close and extended, has been dealt blows that I am afraid we shall not recover from.

Do you have someone you call a sister or a brother "from another mother"?
How close are you to their mother? Do you even know her? What is your relationship with her?

I am just wondering because I just lost the mother of my "sisters and brother" from another mother, and it feels just as real.
It feels like I lost my mother. I tell myself that maybe because we are all scattered around the world, she needed to be on higher ground to watch over all of us. It gives it barely any sense, but that's the best I got.
She still had years of life in her. A lot of unfished things to do, children to raise, grand-children to play with and be glad in. She raised 13 children and will not be there to see them become the people she hoped they could be. I guess I am mad. A little bit at her, but mostly at the irony of fate. She was a cancer survivor and succumbed to a stupid asthma attack. Totally senseless.

Another close family lost their father this week, a true patriarch, actually a historical figure, a national hero. I hhave so many fond memories of him, and his family all through my life, that I genuinly feel a personal loss. The good thing is that he just recently saw two of his sons get married, and I guess that could be seen as little consolation? I don't know, I just hope and pray that his family has the strength to go through this time and carry on his legacy.

For the past one month, my "baby" brother , a writer too, has been at the brink of no-Life. The doctors had a hard time defining exactly what was wrong, and so did not know how to treat him. Only prayers will do I gúess. He is after all God's own little creation, and He is watching over him. I need to believe that. To keep believing that and not loose the Faith for one second, because I know I will collapse.

Eating my words...and other lactose-free deserts.

2010-02-06T14:44:00.000-08:00

I recently had two different discussions, about two different posts on this here bloggthingie, with two different friends. (YEs, i do have TWO different friends).

The first one was about this : I am not a liker, am a lover.
Some peole say I love you but they mean something else: DO you love me? SAY you love me! WHY dont you love me?

It ends up being an enquiry, a threat or an accusation. Instead of an affirmation of what your brain cells are telling the rest of you: that this person is without a doubt worth risking your heart for, because if you don't then you will spend the rest of your life regretting it.

The second one and the inspiration of this post's title is about me and my non-belief in marriage.

When I told my friend how I feel, she said: "Girl, you believe in marriage, its the WEDDING that you don't care for..!" And it just went"PLIIIING" in my head...I was like maybe you're onto something! I do not have a problem with marriage. The IDEA of marriage, or maybe I do. I don't know.
I am sure I do not like weddings. I only go to the ones that involve people I love so much that I can't dare not celebrate their crazy endeavours, no matter how insane I think they are.

So to be clear, I think weddings are just an excuse to have a party. A bigger one, paid for by other people.And they are a pain in most people's behind.

Marriage on the other hand, is usually a means to an end, and that end is very different to different people, even within the couple that is making the vows. I just don't get why it has to be so public, when it is such an intimate issue. Really. WHY?

Conversations with my Cat.

2010-01-09T10:57:00.000-08:00

The Cat and I had a conversation the other day.

The Cat is my half-imaginary, half-pet, half-friend from Persia. Yes that is three halves. Coz he sure ain't no pussy-ass kitten, he is more like one of the big five with all the trimmings.

He says he admires dictators and Roman emperors; that some of his idols are Napoleon, Hitler and Cyrus The Great. And that he hates Obama. He calls him the lying bitch (sic). For the record, I disagree on both accounts.

Why on earth did they give a Nobel Prize to Obama, he asks. For the things he might accomplish in the future,I say. Are you serious? For the potential great leader they saw in him. Maybe it was a reward for being effortlessly übercool. I dont know, why are you asking me? I don't like him like that either!

Ok, so I have been known to be an Obama hater, mainly because of this . And maybe also because I wish I had a spouse with the same biceps as Michelle.

I thought that most people liked him for racist reasons. Which I still believe. My president is Black, Yey! Very relevant. Do you have any idea how many Black presidents there is in the world? Get over yourself. Go read a book. I bet you didn't even bother to vote!

Most of those who genuinely believed what was promised during the presidential campaign are either disappointed or probably gonna be.I am VERY satisfied with Obama. I liked him coz he looked hot. Yes, and I am still that shallow in 2010. And Barry is still a male fox. I muted my TV after his inaugural speech.

So I couldn't really defend Mr President when my imaginary Cat attacked him so viciously, all claws out and all. I kinda feared for my life too actually in that moment. My Cat resents that Obama is flirting with the Main Villain of Persia, turning a blind eye to his villain-ness. Sure, I sympathise, but I can't pretend to feel more, since I had no high expectations from him to begin with.

Mr Cat says the whole shebang was an act. He means the campaign. According to him, McCain never had a chance, he was just put there to make it all look real. He was a puppet, a clown and a loser before he even got in the game. HEEEEY...Don't shoot me, I'm quoting a Cat, for eff's sake!

But why does the Cat think the world of old Adolf, Monsieur Bonaparte, et al? Well because, and once again, I quote freely: They built empires; they were able to conquer the world, or part of it, with sheer evil mind, and they had to be either greatly intelligent or uniquely stupid (sic). As for Obama, he is nothing less than a demagogue. (By the way, Henry Louis Mencken says that that's "Someone who will preach doctrines he knows to be untrue to men he knows to be idiots.")

January 2010

2010-01-02T08:16:00.000-08:00

New year resolutions:

#1: Shave my head. (DONE!)

#2: Make no efforts to make new friends. Be a better friend to the ones I already have.

#3: Recycle. Buy ONLY second hand for a full year(except for food, beverages and underwear).

I am soon going to be the mum of a FOUR-year-old young man. Of course this sounds like a great thing but for those who have experience, it is mostly a nightmare.

All of a sudden that sweet little thing that follows you around starts saying things like: No! That's not gonna happen! I have no plan of doing that! I don't want to! as a response to any suggestion that he/she may eat, drink, switch the TV off, stop singing while eating, stop running around naked, put some clothes on, go to bed, finish their dinner, etc.

Seriously, where did the sweetness go? He still looks cute on pictures though...

In other news, my best friend got married and surprisingly everything went really well at the wedding.

Two of my "sisters" are gonna be first time mothers and I can't wait to play the annoying know-it-all, been-there-done-that, kind of aunty.

My other-me, my girl A. got a second miracle baby and I am gratefull for this blessing.

I almost lost one of my favorite cousins, when he had a really bad car accident and was in a coma for like a week, but he is all recovered now and all is well. Thank You God.

I just finished an overloaded semester of school, equivalent to a full year of auxilliary nurse education...Something I randomly started out of pure boredom...OK, so I still have a year to go but it is looking less random everyday!

I started what I suspect to be a lifetime project of a writting a novel. Don't ask me how that is going, It is just going - period.

I made friends with a 'cat' of the persian persuation and that's done me and my son a ton of goodness. This has inspired me, among other things, to find beauty in myself without feeling guilty of being conceited, and that is one of the reasons for resolution #1.

I have glimpsed softness in people I thought of as hard rocks, and witnessed toughness in the ones I always considered soft. Friendships have been tested, some respect has been lost, relationships re-evaluated.

I have been pushed to the limits of my christianity and my conscience tells me I did well. My mama would be proud! I am living proof that what doesn't kill you, does indeed make you grow. Grow, like the flower I turned into everytime that there has been attempts to rain on my parade.

I read this somewhere and realised how true it was:

"To laugh is to risk appearing like a fool.

To weep is to risk appearing weak.

To reach out is to risk exposing your true self.

To love is to risk being hurt."

As 2010 begins, I am looking more and more like a weak fool, fully exposed to the risk of being hurt. And I am not worried.

To YOU, my friends, I say : May the past year be the worst you'll ever know!

And remember: Just because it is raining in your yard,doesn't mean you should be throwing mud at other people's houses.

BE BLESSED

Can I...?

2009-12-09T09:16:00.000-08:00

I want to see the things you've seen
I want to read the books you've read
I want to meet your teacher
I want to hear the songs you love
And also savor the ones you sing

I want to have you under my skin
I want to walk the paths you've walked
I want to climb the hills you've climbed
And descend into your depths
The very ones that hold you down

I want your ghosts to meet my ghosts
I want to be the reason you are
I want to taste the tears you've cried
I want to break the bones you broke
And feel the pain you hold inside

I want your seed grown in my garden
I want my pattern etched in your skin
I want your warmth to chase my cold
I want the stories you haven't told
And I want my children to hear them too

I want the snow that wasn't walked on
I want the hope and promise in your eyes

I want to have you with closed eyes

And I want to have you your heart open
But I won't have you if I can't keep you

You say...

2009-12-08T08:42:00.000-08:00

You look at me funny
I say what?
You say you are enjoying my words.
My words, you say?
You say nothing can scare you
But my words could make you run
My words are fast and sharp
My words are old and grey
My words are dark and lonely
My words are hard and cold
My words are so scary they have stopped making sense
My words are running
Out of me
Out to you
But
My words can't reach you
My words can't touch you
My words are so scary you can't hear them
I hate my words.

I'd rather have your words
Your words are soft and cuddly
They even smell nice
Your words are sometimes blurry
You have to say them twice
Your words are like babies
They carry so much promise and hope
They take so long to come out
But
When they do
They are perfect
They are so beautiful
That I wish they were mine
I love your words

Yebabaweeee

2009-11-16T05:44:00.000-08:00

His first kinyarwanda word that wasn't prompted by cousins or aunts/uncles.

Yebabaweee!

My son and I watch TV together, and I am starting to realise it is not a good idea. Especially after Sylvie posted this.

So this time he sees a couple kissing on the screen and goes: Eh-bubba-way!

I am like: What? hahaha, what did you say?

And he answers that when you see people kissing you should say that. He did not care to explain why? Or who told him that, he had already moved on. On account of the attention span of a 3 year old not being that long, you know?

He once told me that it was "awesome" to have a girlfriend. And I asked if he had one. He said: Yes, You mamma! When I asked what one needs a girlfriend for, he said " For giving flowers and hugs"

Another time, another tv show. He turns to me and says: mamma, i love you.

Me: I love you too baby.

Antsa: Mamma, i think we should get maried!

Me: What, you and me?

Antsa: Yes! I can put on black clothes and bring you a flower, and then you will be very happy and we can kiss and get married.

Me: honey, it is not that simple. I cannot marry you.

Antsa: Why? Don't you love me?

Me: Yes I do. More than any other in the whole world. But you don't want to marry me? You will one day meet a girl that is your age and fall in love.

Antsa: Can I mamma? (he is asking for permission, am dying here!)

Me: Yes you may! I will always be your mamma. You shall kiss her instead.

Antsa: Then I shall tell God that I want to marry her, right?

Me: You got that right , baby...now go play in your room.

Yebabaweee indeed.

Are you where you want to be?

2009-11-15T15:00:00.000-08:00

To my teacher I answered that Yes, I am where I want to be, and yet NO, I am not quite there. See, I have an idea of what I would like to accomplish in the future and that is what I am working on right now. Logically, since I am still on my way to that future, I am therefore not there yet.

I recognize the dangers of having a precise idea of where one wants to go in life. You can fantasize about the ideal situation you want to end up in, but not get too attached to it, lest you loose your flexibility in the face of life's own little quirks.

What I mean is that the more precise your "dream" is, the sweeter the succes will feel. But on the flip side, the harsher the disappointment is gonna be if you fail. I often come off as a pessimist. But I see myself as a realistic dreamer. I know. A bit paradoxicall maybe?

I guess it is simply a defense mechanism: hope for the best but prepare for the worst anyway. This way, all you get is good surprises. I does not work everytime, it's not foolproof. "Hopefull pessimism" has gotten me where I am so far, so I will trust the teacher that is my personnal history.

I dream of an older, wiser me sitting in her office in an east African city, translating a prize-winning book, or movie, or any spoken word piece of art. The book or movie is ideally by African dreamers like herself and they are being translated into non-african languages so that the rest of the world can have a meaningful taste of our wisdom. I'm changing the world, on page at a time.

My office is, in the dream, a corner in my kitchen, or a side of my sofa in my living room. Papers,books,dictionaries and notes are strewn all over the place, and I strive in my organised chaos environment.

I have a busy and satisfying social life, I am actively involved in charity work, and I have a steady relationship with a gym. I have discovered that Yoga is not a hoax, became hooked on lotus positions and I am this close to becoming a meditation guru...AUMMM

I gotta admit I enjoy life. Right now. Imagine yourself dying of thirst and being presented by a cool, juicy slice of watermelon (in this scenario, you love watermelon, ok?). What do you do to that watermelon slice? That's what I do to life.

I am gratefull to be breathing. I have encountered death more than once and it only left it's prints on my skin. Underneath it, I am alive! I thank God everyday, that I have a reason for breathing. Many reasons actually. Greatest of them being my son.

In that dream I talked about he is doing well in high school. And of course he is an athletic, artistic, dashing young genius, with a complicated case of teenage rebellion to challenge his old mamma's brains. Yes, a lot of expectations I have for my little seed. My greatest hope for my son is that he continues to be healthy, and that life doesn't make him bitter.

Is that ALL gonna happen? Probably not. Or maybe not as ideally as I imagine it. It points me in the general direction of what I want to achieve, but it's like many exits off the freeway of life. Or a wide river that I do not mind being swayed by.

No I am not there yet. And yet,YES, I am right here where I want to be. Preparing, getting ready, to be AWESOME!!

PS: Do you listen to Savage garden? then you might love this Darren Hayes song with the same title as this post.

saturday night

2009-11-10T14:55:00.000-08:00

The question "Are you where you want to be right now?" was asked to me by my teacher recently and I was to give a short answer. As you may have noticed I am usually the broad context kind of person. Why use two words when you can use twenty?

So anyway I started wondering ...Am I where I want to be?
Geographically I would so love to be at the shores of any east african lake right now watching the sun go down. Preferably not alone. I would imagine a tall, dark and handsome human specimen of the male persuasion serenading me with a music instrument - a string one if i may - and an Usher Raymond kind of voice.

Instead I am in my room, in a tiny village in the north of Sweden, the sun did not go down today, it never went up: but darkness did come at around 3PM. I have a million school assignments to do but I am not doing them. I am listening to the original Usher

Tomorrow is Fathers' day in Sweden. My son is sleeping over at his friend's because
the said friend considers my son his brother, and cannot imagine wishing his dad a happy father's day tomorrow morning, without all his siblings there! I personnaly think that is cute, since my son has only me and all.

When he came back home i got to know that his friend told his mum "mamma, we've got to find Antsa a brown daddy"
And when his mum asked if Antsa couldn't get maybe a white daddy...Edvin said NO, we gotta get him a BROWN daddy. I thought that was cute.

Yohana

2009-11-04T13:12:00.000-08:00

I used to know you
My Johanna
You used to sing my name
And now you act like we never met
You call yourself a queen Johanna
But you act like a hopeless harlot

You look clean but you don't fool me
Your colors have faded Johanna
No amount of fresh paint can hide it
I see you Johanna
I can still see YOU
And I still know how you smell
And I can smell death all over you.
A bloody river runs through you

You are such a liar Johanna
Your new friends are white and shiny
their pockets are green and heavy
And your soul is still empty Johanna
You've got new clothes and things Jo
But that money don't feed your kids
Do you hear them crying Johanna?
Do you not know why they leave?

Lift your face all you want Johanna
Suck your guts in - Buy new teeth
Your eyes tell another story
Of inside decay and eternal worry
Of a bottomless whole that eats at you
You claim you are not tired Johanna
You want to stay up all night
And yet you never catch the evening news

Your boys chased me out of our home
And you stood there and watched me go
But still I came back to you Johanna
You have changed Johanna
I mourn you and I
I am a widower.
Your new husband has no wife Johanna
And your new children have no mother

Antsa'isms

2009-10-24T00:29:00.000-07:00

I tell him to take off his shoes and he says:

"Mamma they are not shoes, they are "voots" (he means boots). They are voots mamma, that's the mystery!!!"

Then I suggests he sits on the floor and use both hands. He sits. Takes the first one off easily, looks up at me and says "That was a good solution mamma, that was a really good solution!" ________________________________________________

I tell him to close his mouth when he chews food. But he fogets so I have to keep saying it over and over again. Dinner conversation goes like this:

- Antsa, do not chew with your mouth open!
= ...
- Antsa close your mouth!
= ...
- Antsa do not talk with food in your mouth!
= ...
- Antsa.....!
= Mamma! I am trying to eat here!
- Well, if you don't stop eating like a pig I will make you sit on the floor!
=...
= Mamma, do I live at Miria's house?

Miria is a little girl he met in Uganda. She is the neighbour's kid. He went to her house.They have pigs. He saw them and laughed for about a week. I don't know why but every time I say "pig" he can't keep a straight face. He thinks pigs are funny.

Dear Baz,

2009-10-23T13:36:00.000-07:00

It is pure love in agony

It is friends embracing after a long time.

It is the quenching of the nostalgic thirst

It is crying out "never leave me again".

It should be called "Well be back!" or "Nga you are lost?"

Oh, No...wait...

I think it's an orgie.

An African one.

Brothers and Sisters going at it with clothes half on to symbolise how clean we keep our dirt.

It is an ode to the secret obscenity that Africa is rapidly letting go of to embrace Western open promiscuity

It's a symphony of limbs. Long and longing.

It's about same sex carnal acquaintances.

It's about Rama's theory.

It's all and nothing.

I only regret one thing: the pale palette used.

It should have been more colorfull.

It should have been a rude, loud, hip hop non-nonsense track about how many bitches the nigga's got in his crib.

Instead the pastels make it sounds like céline dion's remix of a foxy brown featuring lill kim song.

THATS MY VERY SERIOUS OPINION.

While we were away...

2009-10-22T09:48:00.001-07:00

Let me say this before I tell you what am about to tell you. I have an absolute new crush, disturbingly reminiscent of my little brother Ben, but only physically. Here is my crush. Enjoy!! If you are in Ug, do some discreet P.I. for me to find out if he is single. Thank you in advance.

Talking about crushes, my son fell in love while we were in Uganda. I did not notice it untill the last day of our holiday but basically this is how it went.

Day 1: We arrive home to Glorious, sunny,dusty,smelly,noisy Kampala.

Day 2: Antsa comes running into the house from outside and tells me: mamma!! I found a baby!! It's mine! Do you know grandma had left it in the garden? I FOUND A BABY!!! now i have a baby just like you mamma.

Day 3: By evening I haven't seen Antsa all day and when he comes in, he is absolutely filthy. I am mad, there is water shortage but I can't help but Hi5 the little voice in my head that says "Now he looks like a real African boy!"

I am curious, I wonder who he has spent the day with. As far as I know, there are no other children here. He tells me he was with his baby Sara and his friend Lucky.Like any good mother, I should have been curious YESTERDAY, but I was too busy reading Sunday magazines that I have missed for the past two years.

I find out now that the househelp had a baby last year. So she now brings her one-year-old Sara to work, together with her nine-year-old niece Lucky to help babysitt while she, the housie, works.

Lucky and Sara spend the day playing in the garden, it was Sara that Antsa found and thought his grandma had thrown a baby out in the garden for him to "find".

Day 4 (evening) I suddenly hear Antsa Crying as if somebody just took his Flash McQueen car from him. Run outside to see: He just found out that Lucky and Sara have to go home, and they don't live here. Whyyyyyyyyyy??

Day 16 Antsa is not allowed to go play outside, because he just went through a little surgery, the kind that makes little boys wear skirts for a week,and cringe when they pee. I did not want to risk infections, there was no way I was gonna monitor him all day so I locked him in the room with his favorite DVDs.

He is so miserable, there is no consoling him. For three days he just cries about his baby and Lucky. We have to compromise. For a few hours a day they can play on the veranda, nowhere else, and no showing where the doctor "cut" the peepee either.

This works...for a while until they decide the veranda is not enough. We have fights, I explain why he can't go play in the dirt, and realise the doctor was right when he said 3 year olds do not understand why you have to "cut" them.

Day 20 He is all healed "down there" now. He wakes up and runs out still in pyjamas when he hears the gate open: Lucky is here, Lucky is here,mamma, Lucky has come!!!!

I catch him by the kitchen door, drag him back,dress him up,tell him to put his shoes on. All this cannot go fast enough. He talks to himself as he puts on his shoes: "Lucky ees gawing to law-ve me"

Sudden realisation 1: my son speaks much,much more English than I suspected. And he has an Acholi accent. Lovely!

Sudden realisation 2: he is getting his "fresh" on to impress Lucky. This smells like a puppy. In love. How cute!

The rest of the holidays: More and more signs and symptoms of the above menttioned cupid-effect. The boy won't do anything I say. He claims Lucky told him not to. He also threatens me "Lucky eez gawing to beet yew". I look outside and I see him trying to put his arms around Lucky. It's adorable. He is into older women. I wonder if he is considering marrying her, and asking her if she wouldn't mind adopting his "foundling" Sara.He is already helping her do her chores. What a perfect little gentleman!

Last day of the holidays: Antsa refuses to take a last picture with grandpa.He even cries about it. Instead, he orders me to take a picture of Lucky. And another one. And another one. He orders Lucky to smile. She don't be easy like that. He wants a souvenir. And I oblige. I be whipped like that.

Till death do us part?

2009-10-18T05:07:00.000-07:00

A while ago, I read an article by a Rwandan writer on Facebook about the adulterous tendencies that Rwandan young men have adopted. The writer called it the MBA (Married But Available) phenomenon. I am not sure how recent the trend is, it may be true that "they" are all a bunch of cheating dogs and have been from back in the days of Abami (Kings). I know that is not true, but then again in the Rwandan culture, hypocrisy IS seen as a virtue, so who knows?

I did not find the article surprising, in that I have,on occasion, seen this before but i did not know how bad it was until I spent 10 days in K-town and got a first hand experience of just how bad things are.

I was not keeping score but this is what happened: On different occasions,I was approached by about six or seven different men, all more or less interested in knowing what it would take for them to be my "good friend" aka get into my pants. As flattering as it may have been, the sad truth is that of all those who hit on me, only ONE was single. On one occasion i asked my friend if his colleague who was keenly pursuing me was single and my friend took a swig of his petit mutzig and then replied: "If he takes off his ring, he is". Just like that!

To be honest he was really cute and I am only human so i got my girls out and we went to the next club. Just to be on the safe side. Except my "suitor" showed up there too.
I know I am not the only one that this has happened to, so I do not always jump and hug my friends and young cousins when they happily announce their upcoming Gusaba.

I admit i enjoy the party and the dressing up and all that. But I always get goosepimples in church and it is not because i am so overwhelmed with emotion. It is because I am spooked out of my bridesmaid gown ("gown":I hate that word almost as much as I hate the word "blouse"). Why am I frightened? Seriously, am I the only one who hears what they are saying? In front of God, Family, Friends, and random wedding crashers?

Let's see:

To have and to hold from this day forward: as if it wasn't the loving and holding that brought you horndogs here in the first place. Thank God for empire waist wedding dresses,lest we all see how the groom got an "advance" taste of the goodies.

...for better or for worse,rather better than worse, c'mon now be honest!

...for richer, for poorer, really? on taxi-moto or in prado? kafunda (e.g. tiny little semi-permanent mud-and-corrugated iron excuse for a house) or mansion? it really doesnt matter?

...in sickness and in health, wait until you get HIV, then you can swear.

...to love and to cherish: yeah, you/me and how many others? under which conditions?

...from this day forward: so it is all new now?

ANd, the clincher: ...until death do us part. WHOOOOOOT??? Until who does what now? Do you realise that this means one of you has to die before you can move on? Aren't you afraid the other one will be moving on...to 1930 (Kigali prison established in said year) facilities on account of having murdered their spouse?

Am I a pessimist? Nope! Am I just bitter? NO! DDo I think you are crazy to publicly say I do? I DO! Will I support you all the way in and, God forbid, out of it as long as you need me? YES I WILL!! Do I believe in love? Absolutely!

I do not believe in marriage. I do not believe in the necessity of papers and rings to strenghten a commitment between two people that love each other. I do not believe you have to mobilize your entire world just to announce that you are now going to be doing it. I think it is hypocritical. I do understand that just because I do not beleive in something does not not necessarily mean that it is false,unnecessary, or wrong.
I do understand the need of the majority of people to go through the whole shebang. I also do understand that 50% of them, if not more, part ways sooner or later without necessarily having to slay one another, although...

Unfortunately i have lately been noticing that young couples are getting married to satisfy parents,relatives, gossipy old aunts, and society at large by ruining themselves to keep up with the Jones. I bet the Jones don't give a rat's ass too.

I believe in commitment. But I am realistic in my belief. It should be something intimate and only between two people who look each other in the eyes and say: are you in for the long haul, coz I am, baby!
I believe any thing like that should require divine blessings. I would pray about it, ask a religious leader to bless us. Privately. Then go ahead and have a party to announce it to our friends if we wish to do so. And that would be it!

Mi vida according to Denzel Washington.

2009-10-18T05:05:00.000-07:00

Cry Freedom. The movie is on the telly tonight and I am shocked by how much it has changed. No there was no remake. Let me explain.

About ten years ago, this was the only movie that TéléRwanda seemed to have the right to air, and I must have seen it a hundred times. However, my 18-year-old mind did not fully register the political message it carries. No, sir! I could not get past the foxyness of Mr Washington then, it is the only thing I remembered from the movie. And his charachter's name, Bantu Steve Biko. And vaguely the apartheid issue in the background. But that's basically it. Yeah I know, SMH in shame right?

Now I am watching it with new eyes, it seems, and I am amazed by Denzel's skills...He is captivating in this movie, absolutely believable. The closest I have seen lately was DiCaprio in Blood Diamonds. YOu may notice I have a theme here, right? Well,all I am saying is that I have new respect for this movie.It is like seeing it for the first time. And if you happen to know where I can get it on DVD please let me know!

Here is some trivia for you: Denzel broke the pinky finger of his right hand during a childhood basketball accident and never had it set correctly, resulting in the finger healing in a crooked position.
The finger is still crooked to this day, bent at the bottom knuckle a full 45 degrees outward from his other fingers.
This fact was crucial to me a few years ago. I noticed the said crooked pinky (seems so emasculating to say "pinky" when refering to the god of man-ness here, but then again nothing can't touch him, right?) a few years ago while watching Antwone Fisher at the cinema.
My boyfriend at that time had the same crooked finger, a result of a long carrier in Rugby. My girl Stella and I used to argue about whose boyfriend was most like Denzel and that detail, that pinky, was the one that made mine win that silly game.

I may be arguably older now but I still think frivolous/superficial is the way to go. So this is no politically conscious post about where SA may be 15 years after, blah blah blah.Nor is it an analysis of how great an actor D.Washington is.
Instead, I thought I'd just redo this silly thing going around facebook :
My life according to -->
Pick your Artist? Den to the Zee-L

Are you a male or female? Devil In A Blue Dress

Describe yourself? Hurricane

How do you feel? Cry Freedom

Describe where you currently live? Mississipi Masala

If you could go anywhere, where would you go? Philadelphia

Your favorite form of transportation? Ricochet

Your best friend is? Antwone Fisher

What's the weather like? (T)raining Day

Favorite time of day? Déjà vu

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called? Much Ado About Nothing

What is life to you? Courage Under Fire

Your fear? Fallen

What is the best advice you have to give? Virtuosity

Thought for the Day? He got Game

How would you like to die? Out Of Time

My soul's current condition? Man On Fire

My motto: Remember The Titans

The poo post - a bit gross - aka TMI

2009-07-12T01:41:00.000-07:00

There was once a little girl who got tired of having to go potty every once in a while and asked her mum:
- Where does poo come from?
Her mum said: From the food you eat.
Little girl was grossed out: Ewww...gross. Aren't you tired of eating though? You wake up and EAT. You come back at lunch time, only to EAT some more. Then in the evening, the first thing you ask when you get here is if the FOOD is ready? I have had it with eating mama. I am not gonna eat no more! Then I won't have to poo, I will only drink milk from now on.

And that is how the four-year old soon got orange hair (and a nickname to describe it) and became stick thin,just so that she wouldn't have to you-know-what. Her mum had told the nanny: don't force her to eat, let her go hungry for a while,she is no dummy,sh won't letherself starve:soon she will ask for the food herself,you'll see, it won't last a day! However, that was underestimating the stubbornness of this little girl. She survived on milk ad cookies for a longtime!

To cut a long stoy short,the girl eventually grew up - no thanks to food - never really got over it, but did become a mother herself, and started writting this blogg...

Her own son is also a character when it comes to bathroom routines:just this morning he said he would't pee unless there was toilet paper, otherwise his "pee-pee would drop"

From personnal experience,I know that most three-year olds are fascinated by the stuff that comes out of their body orifices...

Mine runs out of the bathroom holding his nose and screaming "USCH, it stinks!!!", everytime he has poo'd. Sometimes he even cries saying that someone has made the bathroom smell bad and he doesn't want to go in there! But then he proceeds to tell me exactly what shape his poo is and insists that i shouldn't take his word for it, mamma, look it looks like a duck!!

My own mom used to say that age three is the "anal age". I soo see her point now. My son hangs out with another three-year old, a girl, and a four-year-old boy. They are all at that age: The girl finds it hilarious to blurt out "poo,pee,fart," many times when speaking on the phone with just about anyone. When the three meet, the compete in who can be loudest at screaming "bajskorv" (which is litterally: poo-sausage) and then they roll on the floor laughing...

This has made me decide that some words were "bathroom only" words for my son. So he is allowed to say poo, pee,buttocks,wee-wee, poo-sausage,etc when and ONLY when he is inside the bathroom. Enforcing this is another issue.
First, he runs into the bathroom once in a while and screams out all the bathroom words, then ROTFL, then comes out very satisfied with himself.
Secondly, he is too clever to be caught saying things like: poo...poo..Because he immediately defends himself saying: but mamma, i was saying pooh-bear, as in Winnie the Pooh...When I caught him saying "kiss" (swedish for pee - i know!!!-) he said he was just saying kisse, kissekatt (swedish for pussy-cat), LOL

Recently he has been laughing histerically everytime reference was made to "buttocks". And when nobody is saying it, he just stands behind me and laughs like a maniac, saying "mamma, I am laughing because you have buttocks"

What am I to do??

am just saying...

2009-07-05T15:25:00.000-07:00

It's summer time. That means,among other things, that i am watching MTV a lot,at least the few hours that they dedicate to the M in MTV i.e. MUSIC.

Anybody watching most american music videos will realise a few key things.

For example, in the US of A, it seems that girls like to do 2 things: swimming and sleeping,because they are always either wearing skimpy swim suits or flimsy little night dresses
At the same time,in the same place and for the same occasion, boys are always quite covered up, warmly so, like winter coats, boots, and furs and stuff. What's up with that?

I'm just saying...

C'est vrai quoi, les ricains semblent être super frileux. Leurs demoiselles, par contre, elles ne sont qu'une bande d'exhibitionistes ou alors le climat est sexiste aux States.

Note to self:

When I grow older
I will be colder
And on my shoulder
I'll hang a fur coat
Maybe from a goat
And own a boat
I won't say when
But I will undress men
And keep them as hens
In luxury pens

Yeah I am a K'naan fan too.

am just saying...

2009-06-24T01:28:00.000-07:00

Imagine if an African crew made a movie about a tragedy in the US of A and one of the characters was a little girl named "Vagina"?

How would the world react?

Well have you seen Hotel Rwanda?
Very relevant and all...but how little research did the writters do if they did not know better than to call a girl "Kuma" ???

Am just saying...

The rain...it is just water, isn't it?

2009-06-14T15:42:00.000-07:00

He comes rushing into the livingroom with a puzzled look on his face and asks me: Mamma, why is it raining on my window?

I have no answer to that, so I lift him up and walk with him to the balcony door, pull up the blinds and stare out at the rain for a moment.

After a while, he says: It is just water isn't it?

I say: Yes, rain is water falling from the sky.

He says: I know you should never taste it, right? It is only birds and bears that are allowed to taste the rain water?

His eyes and his voice indicate how much he wishes he was either a bird or a bear so that he could be allowed to taste that water...I guess it is his way of finding out about things: to know how they taste.

I say, just to make sure: Yes, It is only birds and bears that can taste it.

Then he remains silent for a while (never too long,lol) and then absent mindedly remarks: it looks like the sky is crying right?

I can't believe what i heard, so he turns to me and says: It looks like the SUN is crying, doesn't it?

Ndarira akaririmba ( He sings while I am crying...)

2009-06-01T04:46:00.000-07:00

I am sick. sick as a puppy! And it sucks. Of course it sucks, especially since i have a puppy of my own that is definitely NOT feeling this soundless, hopeless mamma thingie on the couch telling him (voicelessly) to make less noise.

My body goes through every change of season with a slow down, blocked nose,sore throat feverish kind of vibe that has me down with a malaria-like flu, and this happens four times a year! It sucks!

So as I lay sprawled al over the couch trying to figure out what is on tv, my son is dancing and singin in front of me, at the top of his voice: he thinks its funny that mamma can't shout louder than him this time, and he wants me to snap out of it. Quickly. However, even my 3-year-old soon realises I have to go through my week-long transition, welcoming the summer without a voice and sitting on a pile of paper towels. He realises mamma is badly off and I think he pities me a bit coz he walks to the organ and starts playing...of course a very random and very passionate tune, and i am about to get up and just unplugg it when i hear him singing:
"Mama is nice, mama is niiiiice...I love you mama, i am in love with you. Mama is nice mama is niiiiiiiiiiiiiice, i am in love with you mama, mama is in my heart...
and points to where he supposes his heart is (to his throat...)

So i stop and sit and listen to him sing me a song that he just came up with...He is looking at me to make sure I am listening and showing me his heart..or throat rather...

I know I said it sucks to be sick...but I can't describe the feeling of hearing my son come up with a song about how nice I am and how much he loves me..hahahahahah
I want to laugh,cry,hug him,and much more...If only i could get up!

Smile!

2009-05-21T22:35:00.000-07:00

You know all those walls i built?
Well they gone and grown taller
They got stronger and can resist
All your crap, so you can take it
and shove it where the sun don't shine
For all I care, and not a minute too soon
It's ok you don't even need to holler
Haha- As if you were gonna!
But if you do, I ain't at home
Coz that part is over and done

You got my heart all wrapped up nice
You tore it into pieces that you stepped on
As you walked on with an apologetic smile
Like you can't help it
You just irresistible like that?
Well smile at this:
Not one of these little pieces loves you
And now am done patching me up real good
I'ma do me like you never could
Then some more coz I really should

About all and nothing

2009-05-21T09:16:00.001-07:00

I woke up with palpitations in my heart today...I had a national math exam scheduled and hadn't even looked in my book since last semester..Yeah am a good student like that. So the first thing I did was to get online and I did this quizz...about eeh...the first letter of the person who loves me! hahahahah..I know, right? its a test i wasnt gonna fail so at least i maxed out on happy points before i met with those undiscribable things that were gonna be on my math paper. And I got the letter N.
It's funny, neither of my parents' names start with N, nor my brothers' or sisters'. Come to think of it none of my cousins has a name that starts with N either. So i guess it was just comfirmation of moi loving moi...right? Whatever!

Hey, about my name: There is a child at my son's daycare center who told his mother that i had a really cool name: NHL. Said in Swedish, theses letters sound like "En-Ho-El" , which is what the little boy understood my name to be.He is a great fan of hockey - like most swedes I know- and thought National Hockey League was the most awesome name a mom could ever have. By the way, my name isn't En-ho-El,it is Noëlle.

Daycare has been giving me laughs recently it's just a trip every morning! My son got interviewed for his yearly evaluation and I met with his teacher to discuss it all. One of the questons was: Who is your best friend? his answer did not surprise anyone because everyone and their second cousin knows Antsa(Zum's real name) and Edvin are bestest friends in the whole world.

Other questions(and Zum's answers) were:

What does it mean to have a friend: It means you are a big boy (whatever he meant, I have no clue)

What do you do when you disagree with your friend: YOu fight!
(the question was apparently aimed at finding out his "conflict resolution" tactics but it was asked in a way that could only be answered like he did...His teacher and I had a good laugh)

And my personal favorite:

What is the best thing about daycare? When mamma comes to pick me up!

My son has two friends at school that he plays with all the time. They are kids he has know all his life: Edvin and Elsa. Elsa was born on thursday and Zum on friday in the same week. Her mum and I met when we were expecting them. Edvin is about half a year older.They met when Zum was about 2 moths old. The two boys have been watching Kung-Fu Panda and decided to practice out on everything, including me...It has not been funny at all.

Here they are, being Kung-Fu Pandas...(I got Edvin's mum's permission to post these pictures)

And here they are just being cute...posing!

His first job!!

2009-04-22T14:58:00.000-07:00

You are now reading the rantings and rumblings of a proud mamma of a "working" three-year-old!!

You don't believe me? Ask the cashier at the local supermarket!!

Well, to make a short story long, my son usually asks to "pay" when we get to the cashier with the groceries. He does this everytime we go grocery shopping, so, once a week at least.

Last week I told him he needed money to pay and had to work for the money so he said he would "job" at the candy counter...I had to explain that eating candy wasn't likely to get him paid, quite the contrary in fact(Try explaining that to a boy who just learnt the word WHY). The cashier laughed and said he would hire him, if he wanted to do some cleaning,maybe. This resulted in a tearfull incident where the Zum explained that he was "too small, can't clean...too smaaaaaall"

Well, this week we went grocery shopping, and come the time to pay, as usual:

Antsa: Mamma, I want to paaaaay!

Me: But you need money to pay darling

(i make sure I use terms of endearment in an attempt to stop him from making a scene,thinking it will make him refrain...to no avail, it encourages him,actually)

Antsa(to the cashier): I want moneeeey

Me: you need a job to make money sweetheart

Antsa: Mamma, I want a joooob!

Cashier(to Antsa): Do you want a job then? Maybe you can move the red basket to the door and i will pay you.

Antsa: YEAH!!!!

Me(to the cashier): make him move two, he shouldn't think that making money is THAT easy.

You should have seen how hard he worked moving one basket, then the other, then insisting: "One more!!", till he finally moved all the baskets from the paying point to the door.
By this time there was quite a build up as people were being entertained by the little chocolate boy moving baskets,making noise,basically being a clown, albeit unknowingly. I was pretending to be chatting with the cashier and not to know that boy,which was not easy to do since I live in a tiny village,am the only dark skinned mum,and Antsa is so loud everybody knows him anyway.

Anywho, when he was done with the baskets he received TWO whole swedish crowns (about 20 euro cents). Well not quite, He actually got three coins; one crown and two 50 cents coins. He immediately gave me the ONe crown coin and kept the other two because they are "Mickey Mouse's ears".

Antsa: Look mamma, i got money!!!

Me:(trying to hide how proud i was) Now you can pay next time baby, let's go home now.

Now, the Swedes have a tradition: kids get to eat all the candy they want, only once a week: on saturday afternoon. Its saturday Candy or "Godis" as its called in Swedish. and kids all over the country know what day it isn't untill it finally is Saturday!

He starts asking on monday: Is it saturday today,mamma? An I say:No, it's monday

And he gets really cute: Is there monday "godis" then?

Of course not! He is lucky if I even remember to buy some on a saturday so there is a fat chance that he would get any on a monday. The sure thing though is that this saturday I am taking him, and mickey mouse's ears, to buy as much candy as he wishes. For once! He did earn it.

2009-04-07T00:29:00.000-07:00

Quinze saisons de pluies
et tout autant de sèches
Est-ce trop ou pas assez?
Mon oreiller en est devenu imperméable

Quinze milles,un million
d'âmes royales massacrées
Je n'ai rien à leur offrir
à part mes mots vides
et mes yeux un peu trop secs

J'aurais aimé tout savoir avant
Et pouvoir tout te dire
ou l'écrire dans ta main
Et un jour,te montrer mon enfant
On écoutait Mc Solaar ensemble
On rigolait jusqu'aux larmes dans ma cuisine
Quand il voulait braiser la chat de sa voisine

Je ne suis qu'une marchande de rêves
qui sent la faillite la guetter
Mon frère a un autre visage que le mien
mais son sang est autant de fer
Et ses prières sont aussi sincères

Même un coeur brisé peut rêver
Seul un coeur brisé sait aimer
Alors pourquoi meurent les corps brisés
pourquoi n'ont-ils pas survécu cette chutte libre
Moi, je ne sais plus que faire de ma vieille Bible

Mes souvenirs sont en chair
et non des dessins que tu vends aux enchères
Ne vois-tu pas qu'ils saignent encore?
Je te demande de respecter la mort de ceux
dont la Vie ne valait rien à tes yeux.

When you: Google+picture+Rwanda

2009-04-03T03:08:00.000-07:00

Satellite image , generated from raster graphics data supplied by The Map Library
Respectfully borrowed from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rwanda

Thanks www.allposters.com/

Thank you https://secure.sa.uconn.edu/

Thank you http://playthink.wordpress.com

Thank you http://www.utrikesperspektiv.se

Thank you www1.macys.com

Thank you www.globalgayz.com

It seems appropriate to include something about what is on all our minds in this month of april. I found this painting interesting...
Thank you juliuspaintings.co.uk/

Grand Cross of the Royal Order of the Intare (Lion)

The Order shown is in fact a design produced at Spink around 1995 for King Kigali who was in exile in Washington. It is believed that the Order has since been produced but not by Spink.
The Royal Order of the Intare was founded by His Majesty King Mutara III just prior to his assassination in 1958. The late king's brother and successor, His Majesty King Kigeli V continues to grant the order from time to time. The Order comes in 5 classes.
The Order is still given by the King, who lives in the USA. The Secretary General of the Royal Household lives in Mississippi - he has been active recently attempting to entice Catholics, of suitable position, to join. (ie Knights of Malta and Knights of the Holy Sepulchre). The King gave out a few at a recent event in Washington - it is understood that he gives the Brevet and it's up to the individual to obtain the insignia. He gave the grand cross to: H.I.H. Prince Regent Nguyen Phuc Buu Chanh of Vietnam, Duke of Kien Hoa, head of the Imperial Grand Council of the Imperial Nguyen Dynasty of Vietnam. A "passage fee" exists and there could be annual fees.

Merci www.jeanpaulleblanc.com/Rwanda.htm

Pieces of broken stone (unfinished letter to he who carried the hatchet)

2009-03-27T00:01:00.000-07:00

“One Art” By Elizabeth Bishop

2009-03-22T15:48:00.000-07:00

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

"Chill Waters" by Joan Hall Hovey

2009-03-22T15:46:00.000-07:00

A man of words and not of deeds
Is like a garden full of weeds,
And when the weeds begin to grow
It's like a garden full of snow,
And when the snow begins to fall
It's like a bird upon the wall,
And when the bird away does fly
It's like a shipwreck in the sky,
And when the sky begins to roar
It's like a lion at your door,
And when your door begins to crack
It's like a stick across your back,
And when your back begins to smart
It's like a penknife in your heart,
And when your heart begins to bleed
Your dead, and dead, and dead -- indeed.

If Dante were here today....

2009-02-17T07:08:00.000-08:00

My class was learning about Dante's hell's circles. Asked to come up with their own version of the circles, the students came up with some very interresting answers. Here I am assuming everyone knows what I am talking about or can google it real quick before reading on....please read on! I need your ideas too.

The homework was for them to imagine "a hell" with five circles and as Dante did, also decide the punishments in every circle.

You can maybe guess that the usual suspects(!) were featured: murderers, rapists, paedophiles, thieves, liars, adulterers,etc. In general, the kids - well, they are teens actually, 16 and 17-year-olds - had the same idea of what crimes deserve to be punished. What differed was the punishment they thought were appropriate, which crimes should be at the bottom of hell.
I,for one, had never thought that there was a worse crime than murder. Of my 10 students, only two thought murder was the worst. The rest put paedophilia or rape as the worst imaginable crime. Asked to motivate their choices, they made a lot of sense:

"When you kill someone, they stop suffering, it is THE END! But when a child gets sexually abused, they have to live with that for the rest of their lives"
As we all know this can be a long time.

"A murderer ends your misery, a rapist starts it!" Well put, I thought.

The two who put murder as the worst also had points:

"Life is the most valuable thing we have. When it is taken away, we have nothing left!" No kidding!

"Once you are dead, its the end of you. You can learn to get over the trauma of rape and have a good life, but a killer does not leave you that choice. You are dead." Period.

When it came to punishment, there were three tendencies in the class, nearly equally represented:

A few thought in the old testament way: "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth" Basically that once in hell, a murderer should be killed, resurrected and killed again, in eternity. A paedophile should go back to being a child and be abused over and over to feel what they have made their victims endure here on earth.

Others felt (random) acts of (extreme) torture should be inflicted on the criminals according to the level they are in. Like having to eternally bathe in boiling blood for murderers. Or thieves' arms should be cut off, made to grow again, then being cut off again,over and over...

The rest thought punishment should be measured not on the crime itself, but on the effect it had on the victim. That is to say, for example, that murderers should be left alone but one of their closest people should be killed so that they feel what it is to lose someone.

We had a lively discussion,and, to be honest, i felt I did a lot more learning than teaching! At the end I had a few questions for them to think about:

-Why did "their" hell look the way it did, and why did Dante's look the way it did?
-If rape is the worst crime possible, and murder the second worst, where do you place those who rape, then kill?
-Should punishment be carried out once here on earth maybe, or for eternity in hell?
-Should people punished even when they show and feel true remorse? Isn't their conscience punishing them enough?

If you have read through this post, I would like to say Thank you, and please do give me your ideas on this topic. Or just answer one/all of the questions, I need some external input for my next lesson.
THANK YOU!

Small town, BIG people.

2009-02-12T01:35:00.000-08:00

The best thing about living in a small town is that even when you don't know what you are doing, somebody elses knows and is willing to tell anybody who wants to know.

Actually thats not the best thing. It's the way people live so closely together that you feel like they are your family. I wouldn't dream of living in a big town, I usually get scared, confused,have a tendency to get lost, in big cities.

Recently got really sick and had to be hospitalised. This has never happened to me before, if you dont count the time i had the baby. Now, said baby - now three years old by the way - had to be taken care of and a retired couple of friends of mine took him in, fed him,took him to and from daycare,came over to check on me,and cleaned my house,did my laundry, picked me up from the hospital,and basically made sure everything was fine. This couple i only met 3 years ago, but they are like family. They are not Africans, but have lived a long time in Uganda and Tanzania.I count them at the top of my list of blessings. Had I lived in a bigger city, i might never have met them. In fact, I don't know how I would have managed this whole period if it wasn't for them.

After i got released from the hospital, everytime I went out I met at least two people who inquired about my health and thanked God that i was back on my feet. I am ashamed to admit I recognised only half. The other half i just smiled with ,accepted the blessings and said Thank you. Small town syndrome: everybody knows whats up before its down again.

When my son broke the tv (i am sooo holding a grudge against him!- what a petty mom),i told ONE friend about it. The next week somebody called me to sell me a tv, her husband delivered it and installed it, another neighbor offered to come pick up the old tv and take it to the recycle center, just like that!

Another thing of course is safety. You wouldn't believe the things we take for granted up here. If your baby is cranky, just bundle her up and wrapp her warm and tight, tuck her into her pram, and push her outside to sleep. YES outside! like on your driveway under the kitchen window. Babies up here seem to appreciate that and as you walk through the town you notice prams with babies sleeping in them, especially on sunny winter days. Nobody worries about child snatchers, they don't walk our streets. I have an american friend who told me parents in the states sometimes have leashes for their kids when they go to big shopping malls??? That's just sad.

I am glad that I live here. And even though i miss having neighbors that look like me, I enjoy having neighbors that actually LIKE me. Next week when I have to go to Stockholm, my son will be safe with his best friend's family and they are happy to have him. His friend spends week ends with us when his parents need some time and it's just like family.

a few random things about moi - not the obvious stuff...obviously!

2009-02-11T15:21:00.000-08:00

1. I believe in God

2. I think "Thou shall not harm a child"should be one of the commandments.

3. She had eight of us,then lost three, was blessed with so many more that she sometimes lost along the way too. She is THE single most wonderful woman on this earth to me: MA MAMAN.(plus she married the last decent man too...)

4.I have a son and he is absolutely the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me. Because, let's admit it, he DID happen to me.

5.As I grow older I notice there is more women in my life. Not necessarily less men, but MORE women. And I am blessed.

6.My sisters are like girlfriends and my true friends are like sisters.

7. There is a small number of people that i just have to talk to about EVERYTHING in my life or I will burst. One of them is my "garde-fou" he keeps me grounded and tells me the truths that I must hear. The others have shared so much of my life that it doesn't matter how far away we are from each other,or how long it's been since we last saw each other, we are TIGHT!! i love my peeps to tears.

8. My brothers are my heroes. Each one of them is special and gifted and if I had to,I would commit crime for them. YES i would!

9.Along the path of my life a few people have fallen - too many,too soon - laid to rest in the ground or their ashes blown to the four winds, people that left BIG footprints on my heart (not from walking all over it, but from being so close to me) that I still consider them to be present in my life. I carry you in my heart, Que la terre vous soit légère!

10.I think the most attractive thing about a man is what's in his brains. But he better have nice lips bring it to my attention with.

11. I cannot stand careless spelling. I feel sick to my stomach when I see grammar being abused. (That is why i NEVER read the english papers in Rwanda.) It's alright with text message language but there's gotta be a limit. I am a languages teacher after all.

12. I do not think there is anymore to say. I am not a very interesting person.
Maybe tomorrow i can come up with more.

13.Which brings me to my "negative qualities": I talk too much, I like to pretend I know EVERYTHING, I have no patience but most of all I am a procrastinator. Why do something today whe you can do it tomorrow? (I also believe Friday the 13th is a blessed day.)

14. After many many hours in front of the TV watching Dr Phill, Oprah,etc, I have been able to diagnose myself with Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder.

15.Well..actually I should admit to just having plain old Disorder, period. I believe in organized mess. don't mess with my mess. I know exactly where I randomly threw,dropped or precariously balanced the things around me. DO NOT TRY TO ORGANISE ME!

16. I learnt English in Kenya 15 years ago, taught by a teacher from France with a British accent.

17.I speak eight languages, (nine if you count Kirundi and Kinyarwanda as two languages) five of them ,fluently.

18.My son speaks three languages. He is three years old.

19. I like to tell people what to do but hate to be told what to do (Don't we all?)

20.I don't have ex-boyfriends. I have really good friends that I used to make out with,then stopped. And other people that I used to know, then stopped. I also don't believe in hamsters: they are glorified, overfed rats.

21.When things get serious with a member of the opposite sex, I like to meet their mother. Not necessarily to make sure they like me, but to see if I like THEM. If I like your mum, I can't really hate you.

22.I once prepared a surprise birthday party for one of the people in #7, along with one of the people in #9 but the birthday girl found out coz some guy went and thanked HER for inviting him to her SURPRISE party!!

23. I wrote this here so I didn't have to tag 25 of my friends and make them do this too.

24.I once participated in a "spiritism" séance.

25.I have been held at gun point, been in an accident where people lost their lives, saw a man hold a gun to my 5-year-old brother, and still lived to tell, because God had another plan for me.

26.My friend died in my arms when I was 12. It was shortly fter the accident mentioned in #25.

27. I once expressed surprise at the fact that all my friends seemed to have a baby or be pregnant around the same time as I did/was. Then I remembered how I went to school with hundreds of kids my own age, with their moms being friends with mine, having been classmates too...Aaaaah the circle of life!

28.I am a realistically pessimistic girl: I assume that shit will hit the fan, and it usually does, so i am always covered.

29.i need to make this an even 30, i do not like uneven numbers. Oh, I know: my parents HATE the television. We never had a tv in the house when I was growing up. We read a lot of books though. I still read a lot. Usually two or three books at once. I get obsessed with a writter (or two,or three) and read everything they ever wrotte. I read a book on a break. And then read a different one on a break form the first one. Then there is another one just to fall asleep to. Right now I am reading Everything Paulo Coelho has published, breaking it down with chapters of Harlan Coben, and falling asleep to the hilarious Marian Keyes. Marianeh Bakhtiaki is next.

30.The best for last:

She is short. She has big beautifull eyes,(huge boobs too,LOL) and curves to damn a saint. Her petite frame doesn't do justice to her giganormous heart! She is soon turning 30 and you would think her older because so much WISER. She is on my list of women i admire but i haven't told her yet.I have watched her through the years from near and and far,wouldnt begin to describe the things she has accomplished. Circumstances made her a head of a household at 16 and she has been an inspiration to me since. She is a queen,a fighter,a nurturer,all into one.She used to call me her Nonotte.This is just my tribute to you Fan-Fan. I love you so much.Its a shame i won't be there to celebrate you but you know I WILL be thinking of you, as always.

Xmas in my village...Xmas in my town

2008-12-25T13:21:00.001-08:00

I live down the (ice)street from the Clauses, so Santa, his wife, and one of the housegalos were chez moi, yesterday around noon, on the way to you guys in warmer places. They had stuff...but mostly for children, my son got soo many books...as if!

Up here christmas is celebrated on the eve of our christmas. So Santa comes on the 24th, while for those who believe in him, he comes to Kampala/Kigali on the 25th.

Why all this talk about Santa? because he is real,I met HER. Actually HE is an old lady in my village, so is his wife, and the housie, she is my girl Andréa...as seen on the picture below!!!!!

Dont say these arent real....My son would be very,very,very disapointed, plus he would have ABSOLUTELY no more reason to be nice.

It's cold up here, as you can imagine. The view from my bedroom window you can see up there on the blogg title.How ever, my blues are all red,green,and white now! Thanks you for the concern. I couldn't resist the hopefulness of Xmas, as expected,and i didnt want to anyway.I am looking forward to next year.
Its been a very weird Xmas: i was on duty all thru'.Worked on Xmas eve,on Xmas day, and i am working tomorrow too. Yes, making some ka-ching so I can come home in July.

I have missed Kampala so much,like the way Christmas is in the streets...? Its just priceless.
I have missed the Christ the King Choir singing Adeste Fideles.
i have missed the midnight mass at the church in Kamwokya, when its the Charismatic group leading...beats any club,any day!
I have missed my Magic family and Magic grandPa's birthday.
I have missed Magic grandMa's cooking, and all my Magic brothers and sisters.
I have missed the smell of muchomo everywhere you go,the scared look in every live chicken goat,you name it! Not to mention the delicious look on the marinating, non-live ones ...hahahah.
I have missed Viper Room...have to admit it.
I have missed the warmth, what am I saying, the HEAT of Kampala in december that sent me to the hospital last year...
I have missed that guy on Luwum Street who sells little girls dresses...This guy's marketing strategy is to don one of the dresses himself, so you can see - approximately - how its gonna look on your baby gal.Plus he decorates himself with a couple of shiny garlands to remind you of the Christmas-ness of it all.
Priceless i tell yah!

Love vs the Sun

2008-12-22T10:47:00.001-08:00

The many splendors of love have nothing on the sun.

Yes, you have to be alive to experience either, and the former usually brings illusions of the latter even under the darkest sky, but you know what? I'll take the sun, any day!(excuse the pun)

The sun is less selfish,more tolerant. There no uncertainty: it IS always shining somehwere- Where is the love?

Granted, they are both big lights. And big lights have a tendency to cast big ol' shadows.But the sun's shadow people actually seek.
Self-tanning isn't as frowned upon as self-loving.

Where i have been ...or nicotine withdrawal

2008-12-22T10:02:00.000-08:00

Well, I usually say i am too fly to be depressed. But even Her Flyness, aka,ME, does let herself get blues-y just once in a while, coz, well...otherwise it just wouldn't be fair to the world around me.

So I allow myself to feel,be,and act depressed ONCE a year. I usually chose mid december, because:

1: Its my birthday (16th). No better time to bitch about life,question life-changing decisions,and generally be droopy, than the day you officially get a year older.

2.Its the end of the year: I can look back on the past 12 months and realize how they just went by too fast and i am still were i was last december. Also, I can humor myself into making "new year's resolutions" who am I kidding?

3.ITs just before Xmas, so i got just about 10 days to feel down, and then have my spirits lifted by the hopefulness of J.C's birthday.

And how do i do this, you ask: i stay up late listening to sad music that reminds me of a younger me.I don't drink alcohol, have stopped smoking, and am too broke to call home.

Late night melomania gets me aching for a smoke. I listen to Joshua Kadison and nostalgia takes me back to cold,cold,blue mornings in a studio by myself. Say, was Radio a hobby, or was it the mistake of a lifetime,walking out on it like that? I sometimes do miss my darker days, setting dry things on fire, my bridges in flammes before I was safely on the other side.

I feel like i have been to the bottom of way too many milk cartons. My phone is off,nobody is calling anyway, and the only sound to interfere with non-stop Daughtry is these foreign words that seem to be smiling at me.

Grand ideas spring from a once ambitious but now dried-up well of good intentions. I seem to have misplaced my ticket out of Disturbia and now all I can do is pray my way out of here.

The decision to kick the habit and have mercy on my breathers has me feeling like a small box inside a big box: fitting but lacking. Is internal ecology all that it is cracked up to be? I am gagging. I hate eternally being the before picture.

vinden är min vän

2008-12-22T07:06:00.000-08:00

Det är mörkt ute. Jag är på väg hem från jobbet, och det blåser. Framför mig går en ung kvinna med en lille pojke i barnvagn. Barnet pratar med sin mamma och berättar historier från dagis. Jag går sakta för att det är halkigt. Så jag hör vad dom pratar om.

Pojken säger att det var någon som kastar sten åt honom. Mamman förklarar att det var bara vinden som blåste snö åt dem.

– Vinden är dum, mamma! säger lille pojken
– Nej, gubben, vinden är faktiskt snäll, han vill bara leka med dig
– Jag är rädd mamma...
– Blir inte det. Vinden är en kompis, han gör mig glad!
– Blir du glad mamma?
– Ja, det blir jag. Ja minns hur de var när jag var en liten flicka.

Och då minns jag också, hur jag brukade klättra up på min farmors tak och vänta på att min mamma skulle komma hem från jobbet. Min farmor bodde med oss på gården. Pappa hade byggt ut garaget till en liten lägenhet med badrum och kök. Garaget hade inte haft någon tegelpanna tak som resten av huset, utan en platt betong som man kunde stå på.

På kvällarna kom mamma hem från jobbet vid femtiden och jag kunde se henne från farmors tak. Jag gjorde det här bara på lovet för annars brukade vi komma hem tillsammans, hon hämtade oss från skolan. På sommarlovet, blev det ganska blåsigt på kvällarna. Jag brukade stå med armarna utsträckta och snurra runt i vinden. Det var spännande och lite läskigt att snurra så med stängda ögon på ett tak, men det var precis därför jag tyckte om det.

Jag var säkert att vinden var ett meddelande från min mamma att hon var på väg hem och då kunde ingenting dåligt hända.

Det var som om vinden var en del av mig och en del av min mamma och den fördes oss tillsammans innan vi kunde vara tillsammans på riktigt.

Nu är min mamma långt bort, men varje gång det blåser så plösligt då tänker jag att mamma kommer hem snart, och jag blir glad, precis som mamman på gatan, framför mig.

Nu säger mamman att vinden vill bara leka. Och då blir lille pojken glad, och han säger:
– Kom nu vinden, du får leka. Du får leka med mig.
– Han leker med träden också, ser du? säger mamman och pekar på träden som vinden rör.
– Träden ar min vän, mamma, säger han
– Ser du hur de dansar med vinden?
Då stannar hon och ser på en liten gran med julljus på. Vinden gör att den ”dansar” och granen ser nästan glad ut också.

Jag går förbi dem, och fortsätter på min väg med en ny glädje i hjärtat. Min mamma ska aldrig komma hem nu, men det blåser, och jag vet. Jag vet att hon ser på mig och att ingenting dåligt kommer att hända. Jag blir riktigt glad, och jag glömmer hur halkigt det var. Då halkar jag och faller på den kalla hårda marken. Typisk mamma! Du ska alltid påminna mig att vara försiktigt.

Det gör ont, men jag skrattar nästan hysteriskt. Ingenting kan ta min glädje nu!

Naughty,naughty rain

2008-11-05T10:12:00.001-08:00

The winter is here.

It snowed last week and my son and his friend made a snowman. I provided the nose in form of a carrot.It rained that same night and the snowman melted, which resulted in my son asking me why the rain was so naughty? Spoiling the snowman like that when they had worked sooo hard.

It hasn't snowed again since but its pretty cold and the roads are icy.

Now,in fair weather, my prefered means of transportation is a bicycle.It would be fair to assume that i have not walked anywhere since April. My good old bike has taken me to school,work,the supermarket,church,my friend's place,the daycare.I know the bicycle paths by heart and i can ride around the village blindfolded.I have become very dependent on my two wheels so much that i now find it hard to have to walk everywhere, especially in this cold weather.

You see, it is quite dodgy with two wheels on ice.I am no kamikaze,I figure skidding on my shoes is way safer than falling flat from the saddle.With a two-year-old on the back. So I have retired the trusted bike. The funny thing is that my mind has not registered that I am back on my feet(!). I find myself walking on the bike paths all the way when there is authorized shortcuts that are much faster.I am still following the same old roads. I have forgotten the shortcuts and backways that should get me where i am going much faster.

There is this hill that I usually wouldn't dare pedal up. But now it would be childplay to my legs and feet, plus it would make my journey shorter by at least five minutes...but today i walked the long way roung as if i was still on the bicycle. Missed the beggining of Ugly Betty because of that. Bummer!

A small town i call home

2008-11-05T09:55:00.000-08:00

The best thing about living in a small town is that even when you don't know what you are doing, somebody elses knows and is willing to tell anybody who wants to know.

Actually thats not the best thing. It's the way people live so closely together that you feel like they are your family. I wouldn't dream of living in a big town, I usually get scared, confused,have a tendency to get lost, in big cities.

Recently got really sick and had to be hospitalised. This has never happened to me before, if you dont count the time i had the baby. Now, said baby - now three years old by the way - had to be taken care of and a retired couple of friends of mine took him in, fed him,took him to and from daycare,came over to check on me,and cleaned my house,did my laundry, picked me up from the hospital,and basically made sure everything was fine. This couple i only met 3 years ago, but they are like family. They are not Africans, but have lived a long time in Uganda and Tanzania.I count them at the top of my list of blessings. Had I lived in a bigger city, i might never have met them. In fact, I don't know how I would have managed this whole period if it wasn't for them.

After i got released from the hospital, everytime I went out I met at least two people who inquired about my health and thanked God that i was back on my feet. I am ashamed to admit I recognised only half. The other half i just smiled with ,accepted the blessings and said Thank you. Small town syndrome: everybody knows whats up before its down again.

When my son broke the tv (i am sooo holding a grudge against him!- what a petty mom),i told ONE friend about it. The next week somebody called me to sell me a tv, her husband delivered it and installed it, another neighbor offered to come pick up the old tv and take it to the recycle center, just like that!

Another thing of course is safety. You wouldn't believe the things we take for granted up here. If your baby is cranky, just bundle her up and wrapp her warm and tight, tuck her into her pram, and push her outside to sleep. YES outside! like on your driveway under the kitchen window. Babies up here seem to appreciate that and as you walk through the town you notice prams with babies sleeping in them, especially on sunny winter days. Nobody worries about child snatchers, they don't walk our streets. I have an american friend who told me parents in the states sometimes have leashes for their kids when they go to big shopping malls??? That's just sad.

I am glad that I live here. And even though i miss having neighbors that look like me, I enjoy having neighbors that actually LIKE me. Next week when I go to Stockholm, my son will be safe with his best friend's family and they are happy to have him. His friend spends week ends with us when his parents need some time and it's just like family.

My shallow view on the election

2008-11-04T06:51:00.000-08:00

It seems like the whole world and their mother is taking a stand on the US elections.
Bloggers have at least one post with Obama in the subject, people have donated their facebook status to remind others to go vote,others are getting very personnal and pledging their time,money, and emotions to one candidate or the other.

A few statements that caught my eye:

"(...)Though I am thinking, if Obama were white, he would be gay. And if McCain was black, he would be wiser." -Nevender on UG Insomniac

"Reminds me of a line from a great poet: “They called Bill Clinton a whoremonger, voted him out and replaced him with a warmonger.” Baz on Ug Insomniac

Chantal Uwizera's status on Fcbk
" can't believe that some people are so insensitive to think that Obama's campaign staged his grandma's death to get sympathy vote!!!! wow check Fox news blog"

If you put a gun to my head and forced me to take a stand, this is what i would say:

If i was an american voter i wouldnt even care what they are saying, i would just vote for the hunk, then relocate to watch him on my muted TV from a distance,as he goes on to dissapoint the ones who voted for him for his political agenda.At least i know his good looks wont disappoint me...well I hope not!

so Good luck to the tall,dark,handsome "jang'o"...its gonna be fascinanting to have a child of EAC in the white house.

what a day....

2008-10-27T10:05:00.000-07:00

Woke up round 9.
Woke the offspring up and gave him hot cocoa at his request "i don't want to eat mama i just want nesquick milk"
Washed my hair, put some Hair Mayo on,chilled in front of the TV with offspring.
Tried to give offspring lunch but found out he had fallen asleep.
Checked the time.My watch said 12:30.
Jumped in the shower...should have done that while washing hair,but noooo
Rinsed hair,dried it.
Remembered I had an appointment at OB/GYN at 13:40.
Woke offspring up, rushed him to Daycare on back of bicy´cle, rode fast to the Health Center.
Got there just as watch was showing 13:40.
Health Center clock showed 12:40. WTF?????????
Rang the bell. Interrupted nurses' lunch break. Asked nurse what time it REALLY was. Was told that as of sunday night we are on winter time.
Now have a full hour to kill. Went grocery shopping.
Came back and sat in the Ob/Gyn office, taking time to tell her I find what she is about to do to me quite intrusive,bordering on sexual molestation.
Ob/gyn not impressed: "didnt you have a child 2 and a half years ago? how did you handle that?"
Me: "you gonna inject me with an epidural before you look into my vajayjay?"
Her: "Very funny" lie down,spread them,OUCH! you are done,results in 3 to 4 weeks,thank you Ma'am.
That was it.
Damn that hurt! Price to pay for for chance to check if I got any cancer,or something down there.(Free until I am 28)
Couldnt dare to get back on the bike after that.
Walked all the way back home with Offsring's hand in one hand and bicycle in the other.
Today was "Teddy Bear DAY"at the daycare, so offspring had his, called "Älskling". That means Darling(!)
On the way home,offspring looks up at me and says "Mamma, you are my best friend"
YES! it wasn't a horrible day after all.
Except that it got dark at 16:00h.

Little BIG things that make my heart smile

2008-10-22T08:45:00.000-07:00

Reading.

Writing.

When Oli says I bring him luck.

The way my son savours new words.

My red old fashioned home telephone "le téléphone rouge" LOL

Music.Rythms,melodies,lyrics,beats,voices,harmonies...MUSIC that inspires.

.

Good food,especially African or Asian food. Cooking it for people you love,watching them eat,eating with them, knowing that the Lord provides

Babies.Their smiles, laughs,little hands and feet and dimples all over their bodies. The way they smell. The angelic look they get when they sleep.
The way they feel...The tugging in your heart that says this is a promise,and the answer to a prayer.

Il était une fois...

2008-10-19T01:43:00.000-07:00

Je n'irais plu à la mer
Mais elle sera toujours là, amère
À m'aimer, moi, son fils infidèle
Et le soir elle viendra mouiller mes ailes
Oui,il pleuvra longtemps dans son coeur
Ses rêves salés deviendront les seuls visiteurs
Ma peau oubliera ses carresses,sa douceur
Mes yeux feront semblant de ne pas voir sa peur
Mes pas ne me meneront plus à sa demeure
Et sous un manteau de faux rire,
Je cacherais mes froides larmes
Non, je n'irais plus à la mer
J'ai scié mes propres jambes avec du fer
A celle qui m'a enfanté j'ai rendu mes espoirs
Je l'ai vu se retirer et dans son dernier regard
J'ai vu tout ce que j'aurais aimé ne jamais savoir

février05

kids....

2008-10-17T16:18:00.001-07:00

Stella's nephew G.,from kindergarten, was explaining that you can't use a pensil eraser (he calls it a rubber,lol) to erase something that was written with a ball point pen.Here is how: "Pen dey don't laballing "

2001, second week of september. Ben was on holiday waiting to start secondary school.The tv and the radio is all about the horrible events in the States.
Ben: How many people died today?
Mum: They are saying about 5000.
Ben: And in the Rwandan genocide?
Mum: About 1 million.
Ben: Don't Americans know how to die in silence?
Mum: !!??

MamaToto: What are you writting?
Toto: A letter.
MamaToto: To whom?
Toto: I will know when i finish writting it.

Big sister: Are you gonna writte a letter to Aunty?
LillBrother: yes
Big Sister: What are you gonna say?
Lill Brother:I don't know, I am writting in French.

MamaZumzum finds him in the kitchen, not wearing his shirt and asks:
Why did you take off your shirt?
Zum: Because the lady take off.

MamaZumzum looks at the kitchen table and there is a mailorder catalogue open to a page where a model is showing lingerie,with her robe off one shoulder...

But he has Paul's head...?

2008-10-14T08:49:00.000-07:00

Children do say the darnedest things. I used to underestimate the intelligence and sense of observation of little ones untill I met mine. By the time they can say a few words they have already seen so much and retained it all,it's a wonder they ever shut up at all. Then again I must remember not to take my son's case as the general situation.

Teachers and other mums often remark on my son's social skills,gift of garb(!),and overall "sharpness". Yes, I am a very proud mamma.
The truth is that he is just the offspring of a (professional)chatterbox - yours trully - and really never had a chance. The fact that he has to speak two languages doesn't help either. But, seriously, he can't shut up? The boy talks non-stop. He comments on what he sees on the streets,at school and on TV,he says hello to everyone and everything: hey,tractor! hey,doggie! Plus he has now decided to ask the name of everyone in the village. We meet total strangers, he smiles a big one and says: Hey! and then turns to me and says : WHo is that? Since i don't know,I tell him to ask them,and he sure does.He asks everyone, and i mean EVERYONE we meet what their name is.

It's maddening but it served one crucial purpose: I now understand why my own mother had the disgusted look on her face everytime she said "stop talking" to me. It must have been a nightmare.I have only had my son for 2 and a half years but it is already getting unbearable. I am really sorry mamma!

However,the situation is not without it's funny moments.Like when he tries to speak English. All the american TV shows are also very popular here and the Swedes don't dubb: it's all in the original english version. So he sometimes says he wants to watch "Dass-weess-Doss-wanths". It took me a month to understand he meant "Desperate housewives". "Beggiewon" is Tom Bergeron of Americas Funniest Home Videos,that, at least I got quickly.

This past summer my son and I went to visit my cousin Francine in the Netherlands. She has four kids, grown up ones. The evening we got there, Antsa met René,Paul, and Sandrine. The next morning Daniel came to say hello too, and Antsa thought it was Paul, the boys do look very much alike.
While we were insisting that it was Daniel, my two-year-old son remarked: "mais...il a la tête de Paul!" meaning: "But he's got Paul's head!"

I am a lover...not a liker

2008-10-01T02:26:00.000-07:00

Mata used to say she hates when people call her "pretty". She'd rather be called beautiful.She said "pretty" was somehow wishy-washy(my own words, really),half-hearted,dishonest even!
The truth is Mata is very pretty, but she is also a very,very beautiful person. If you see her you will think...pretty. If you get to know her,you will know: BEAUTIFUL.

What is my definition of beautiful? Well lets just say, Beauty is way too big to fit in the eye of one beholder! I dont think you can just see beauty. I think you must feel it.
So today I am pondering the power of words...not necessarily their real meaning.Like the words love and like.

I may like a song, a shirt,a tv show,or my pumas, but when it comes to people, the word "like" somehow makes me feel the way Mata fells about the word "pretty".

I do not like people.
I love people.

My family,my friends,Chriss Daughtry,Ernest Bazanye.
No, I do not want to have sex with any of them. I LOVE them.Just(as we say in K'la).
The above list of people I love is not exhaustive,by the way. I feel that something needs to be said about the two people I mentioned by name. I love humour,a good laugh,and rock music.I need a daily dose of both,or i die.Thats how passionate I am.

Chriss Daughtry,was on American Idol some years back. He didnt win,but to tell you the truth I dont remember who won,coz from the day Chriss auditioned, he was my idol.He is hot! but thats not why I love him. Ok, Thats not the only reason. He has an amazing voice,and his song "Home" just makes me miss the sights,sounds,and smells (yes...)of Kampala. Why? How can you ask why?

Ernest Bazanye. I have never met this guy. I hope he is Hot...In my dreams he is,forget the obscure little mug shot above his by line on Bad Idea.I have read stuff he writes for many,many,many years. Before Baz(thats how i fondly call him...LOL),I had doubts about the Ugandan sense of humour.Actually I had no doubts, I just did not think there was such a thing. And then There was BAz. He opened the doors of my mind to thousands of other countrymen and women who are effortlessly hilarious, and I thank him for that. Baz, darling, will you marry me?

Don't say you like me,and expect me to be happy about it. I am lover, not a liker. I am passionate about those (people and things) that I love. So I expect nothing less in return.Realize that the "I" that admits to loving chocolate is not the same "I" in "I love you".

I love rugby,and poetry,and children,and rugby players,and poets,YES.
I love my son.
See what I mean?

Love is when you think of that person and tears come to your eyes, for no reason at all.It's when you are not afraid or ashamed to say: I love you. It's when the beauty of that person makes you want to be a first rate version of you,in order to be the best friend,cousin,daughter/son,sister,brother,mom,dad,teammate,(listener,reader,)that you can be. Love is inspiration.Someone who shows you that life can go on.

Love is a big thing.A big light that casts big,big,shadows.However,this new development will be discussed in a later post. I am hungry...gotta go warm that 1 week old tabouleh up!(yes,Nina I eat it warm only)

Be Loved!

In other news: is shock a feeling or a reaction? Does one get shocked - reaction- or feel shocked? I say shock is a feeling caused by acute surprise.Surprise can be a reaction to the unexpected.heheheh

Chicken Little ,Supermama and God

2008-09-28T11:05:00.000-07:00

About motherhood....

First and foremost, this is a topic I never thought i'd write about,from personnal experience. I am very happy to be able to do that though.

When I became a mother, strange things happened. Paradoxical things. Not only to my physical being but also, and mostly, to my mind.I will overlook the part where a whole and complete human being comes out of your belly,when you feel pain in parts of your body whose existence that you weren't even aware of. (No, really, if you've ever given birth,can you say exactly where that sharp pain hit you...coz right after the birth,the pain and the body part just disappears)

The first moment I saw my son, I thought -and said- damn, my baby is ugly! But that was the epidural talking. I fell in love at first sight.Since then, i have become the bravest person,and the at the same time,the chickenest ever (ignore the invented word and focus on the concept here).

I have developped phobias that just do not make any sense. I am afraid of heights,the dark and I am almost incapable of turning my head back to look behind me (but thats really because i haven't done any body work out since high school).

When I say these fears make no sense,you gotta understand where I am coming from.
To the ex-tomboy that I am,height for example was just a challenge and a new reason to torture other kids that weren't as brave, or rather daredevil, as I was.
So for me to be so afraid of heights that I cannot climb on a chair to change a lightbulb (!) is just plain nonsense. Believe me,in my younger days, I climbed tall trees, houses, pick up trucks, etc that would make the average crazy kid reconsider.
Now i get dizzy just looking up anything tall,even before I'm required to go up whatever it is. Which I never do by the way. Climb up stuff,that is.

While i have grown frail chicken bones, I have also discovered that I would brave just anything,if it was my son's life on the line. I am serious. Anything. Including going up on a ladder (shudder).
Maternal instinct's a funny thing. Its that loud voice in your head that says:"jump into the water!" to save your drowning kid and omits to remind you of the fact that you never learned how to swim!

It is when you decide to buy him/her the really really expensive but very warm boots that he/she will outgrow in 6 months and you end up spending the cold winter in your trusted old sneakers.

It is when you take enormous risks to make sure that that little being that you brought onto earth by shear pushing power,is alive and well.

Being a mum has brought out deep dark fears out of me but has also made me feel like as long as there is someone entirely depending on me,nothing can put me down! It is a powerfull feeling. It is an essential stone on my foundation of Faith. Looking at my son,i see yet another proof that God is real and beautiful.
I remember praying for a child that looks just like Tess (my brother's first born daughter,my inspiration,my God daughter). And I was serious. And specific. Because that is the kind of relationship I have with my Maker.Well,what do you know? My son looks just like his cousin. In fact you can't tell who is who their baby pictures.

Taking care of him by myself in a foreign land would have been impossible if it wasn't for Him who put my son into my hands. He believed in me even when i didn't believe in Him.

I feel blessed to have been part of creation, and to have such an amazing boy. Of course every mother will tell you that their babyboy is the only one. Well,personally,that is why my son is My song of Praise.

Be blessed!

Nouvelle Star

2008-09-27T15:07:00.000-07:00

Mbarusha(ubusitari) Jean Mungaliste (cg Evariste ku bataramumenya) ararangisha agapantalo ke kaburiye muri uyu mugi wa Kigali.
Ako gapantalo kari keza kandi kagezweho.Kari kamukwiriye kandi kanamubereye. Kari karamuhenze kandi kakiri gashya.Uwakagwaho yakwirinda kukigera,yo kagira Cengsi! agahita y'ihutira kukamugezaho bidatinze,kuri aderessi twibagiwe kuvuga hejuru.

Nouveau Riche

2008-09-27T14:44:00.000-07:00

Uwahoze yitwa Nossenti Kamaramasenge akaba asigaye yitwa Boss cyangwa Patro aramenyesha inchuti n'abavandimwe be ba kera ko kuva aho ubuchuruzi bwe bwungukiye asigaye yarungutse izindi nchuti n'abandi bavandimwe bashya.

Akaba ari nayo mhamvu asaba abo ba kera kwirinda kuzagera iwe mu nzu nshyashya iri i Kibagabaga kuri iki cyumweru taliki ... z'ukwa ...mu masaa cyenda ubwo azaba yabatirishije wa mwana we muto yahise yita Habanabakize George Dubya Bush.

Mamabébé

2008-09-27T14:34:00.000-07:00

Mubyeyi Mamababy ararangisha umwana we Rubyogo wari waramunaniye none akaba yaranamutorotse.
Uwo mwana ntiyumva,ntanabona.Nyina ntazi se,yemwe, nawe ubwe ntiyizeye ko ari we nyina. Uwamubona yareba hirya akamwirengagiza, agakora ikimenyetso cy'umusaraba,yarangiza agakizwa n'amaguru.

Nalongo

2008-09-27T14:22:00.000-07:00

Nalongo Nyinawamahasa ararangisha babana be babili b'imhanga Gapesu na Gafungo babuze ejo batorongeyeeeeee.
Abo bana barasa, nk'intobo. Ni abahungu ariko basa nk'abakobwa, ni barebare ariko ntiwabimenya, barabyibushye ariko basa n'abishwe n'inzara,uwababona yabageza aho ashaka ubundi akikomereza.

Nyiramboga

2008-09-27T14:10:00.000-07:00

Nyiramboga Marie Salade ararangisha agatete k'utuboga kaburiye ejo ku isoko rya hano haraguru.
Kagiye kajyanye n'umugabo wamusigiye inoti ya 500Frw iriho ikirangantego cya kera. Uwabona izo mboga, zaba zikiri mbisi cyangwa se zitetse,yazigeza mu gikoni cyangwa se isahani bimwegereye akaz'ihereza.
Bon Vitamine!!!!

Nature morte

2008-09-23T15:18:00.000-07:00

Je suis une plume
Echapée de l'aile d'un oiseau suicidé
Je suis une étoile
Eteinte et brûlante comme la fièvre meurtrière
Je suis une paille
Sèche et craquante
Cruelle et seule comme une image sans couleurs
Je suis du bois
Je suis du feu
Je n'ai pas de flamme
Mais j'illumine mon sort et je l'éclaircit
Je suis une feuille morte
La pluie, magique
Mouille mes sourcils et noie mes soucis
Me redonne la vie.

feb-eleven-02

c'est bientot!

2008-09-23T14:50:00.000-07:00

Le vent fera craquer les branches
La brume viendra dans sa robe blanche
Y aura des feuilles partout
Couchées sur les cailloux
Octobre tiendra sa revanche
Le soleil sortira à peine
Nos corps se cacheront sous des bouts de laine

Perdue dans tes foulards
Tu croiseras le soir
Octobre endormi aux fontaines
Il y aura certainement,
Sur les tables en fer blanc
Quelques vases vides et qui traînent
Et des nuages pris aux antennes

Je t'offrirai des fleurs
Et des nappes en couleurs
Pour ne pas qu'Octobre nous prenne
On ira tout en haut des collines
Regarder tout ce qu'Octobre illumine
Mes mains sur tes cheveux
Des écharpes pour deux

Devant le monde qui s'incline
Certainement appuyés sur des bancs
Il y aura quelques hommes qui se souviennent
Et des nuages pris aux antennes
Je t'offrirai des fleurs
Et des nappes en couleurs
Pour ne pas qu'Octobre nous prenne

Et sans doute on verra apparaître
Quelques dessins sur la buée des fenêtres
Vous, vous jouerez dehors
Comme les enfants du nord
Octobre restera peut-être.
Vous, vous jouerez dehors
Comme les enfants du nord
Octobre restera peut-être.

Francis Cabrel - Octobre

grand mère...que la terre lui soit legère

2008-09-23T12:38:00.000-07:00

Perce les nuages
D'ici jusqu'au large
Ô grand soleil
Tu m'émerveilles
Depuis l'horizon
Porte tes rayons
Réchauffe-moi
J'en ai besoin

Toi le vent de la mer
Va dire à ma mère
Combien je l'aime
Et comme elle est belle
Va vers l'horizon
Porte ma chanson
Chante-la lui
À son oreille

Elle se repose aujourd'hui
Où elle vécut avec lui
La plus grande partie de sa vie
Mais seule elle est retournée
Au village où je suis né
Là où mon père est enterré

Étoile de la nuit
Dis-lui bien ceci
Qu'on est toujours
Auprès de lui
Qu'il est dans nos coeurs
Comme une lueur
Qui brillera
Toute la vie

Elle se repose aujourd'hui
Où elle vécut avec lui
La plus grande partie de sa vie
Mais seule elle est retournée
Au village où je suis né
Là où mon père est enterré
Là où mon père est enterré
Là où mon père est enterré

Paul Daraiche - Perce Les Nuages

Thoughts that make my brain smile

2008-09-23T07:25:00.000-07:00

Comfort, warmth, not heat

Music, a slow rythm, a soft beat

Hugs, handshakes, blue shoes

Rugs, ribbons, subtle clues

Rain drops, sunshine, picture frames

Babies, chuckles, M'n'Ms

Doorsteps, sweaters, hanging jackets

Footsteps, keyboards, air brackets

Pen and paper, yin and yang

Toys and crayons, pang,pang,pang!

My song of praise,my Karl Antsa

Min lilleman som älskar att dansa

(my little man who loves to dance)

A bloggaholic

2008-09-22T10:13:00.000-07:00

I am, officially,addicted to the blogg world.

I am sitting hours on end in front of my newly acquired computer and i am serching for bloggs, hopping from one to another,going back and forth,and I can't seem to get enough of it.
SOmebody help!!!

Actually I am not that desperate for help, unless it is pointing me to the next blogg that I have not discovered yet.

My target is East African bloggers,for the sake of proximity. I know...I live nowhere near EA right now but home is where the heart is,ok?

So I am very glad to announce that my closest friends are NOT the ONLY intellectuals in our neighbourhood. Actually there is an intellectual world out there waiting for you and me to discover.
The bloggsphere,i have noticed, is like a buffet table for me. I have my favorites, and I have allergies and minor intolerances.

Below is a list of my latest delicious discoveries, and I encourage you to visit them, and also to let me know if there is a few other hundreds I have missed. I wont add any description, its up to you to go find out, hopefully you agree with me that it is ggod stuff.
See also my list of Buddy bloggs..

Please do not desert mine after finding out how much more interesting these are....please?

http://bazanye.wordpress.com/

http://ugandaninsomniac.wordpress.com/

http://thekampalan.blogspot.com/

Have you caught the bug yet?
If so, leave me a line and i would love to read what you love to writte.

Blogg happy!

a list of words that i have googled.

2008-09-21T13:02:00.000-07:00

My name
Your name
My dad's name
Your dad's name
My brother's name
Your brother's name
Your sister's name
Waragi
Yebabawe
Ikabutura
Cassoulet
Tabbouleh
Cassonade
Exotic names
cheap plane tickets
blog rwanda
ibaze
Your boyfriends name
oya sha
architecture
african woman magazine
ernest bazanye
contre succes
ego mana
kanyombya
mbega mbega
sara groves
scars
urabeshya
vodka colllins

Lusyakamwanyaaanika!

2008-09-19T10:03:00.001-07:00

This is the story that i promised you earlier....

One sunny saturday afternoon, in the early 90's, my little brother and I were waiting for my dad to pick us up from school. We were the last kids left there,or so I thought, untill I noticed another little girl sitting by the stairs all alone so I went and sat with her.

We chatted for a minute and then I asked her name. She said "Lusyakamwanyaaanika!" Of course I was like Whuuuuut? Or at least I could have if I had spoken any English then.

Anywho,my interviewing skills are inborn so I finally managed to drag it out of her. It turns out her name was: Lucia Kamwinka Nyirahanika. Perfectly reasonable names. She just happened to say them really fast.

Although,now that I think about it,there is at least two things wrong with this name:

-Lucia? that sounded like an old lady's name even then...

-Kamwinka? This name makes no sense to me in my very broad knowledge of Kinyarwanda. It sounds like it makes sense but the more I say it to myself Kamwinka....Kamwinka...the less sense it makes to me. Kamwa....Inka...????

-Nyirahanika? This name takes the ticket because it combines the out-of-timeness of the first one and the complete absurdity of the second one. Seriously, Nyirahanika? It sounds like an insult. Or something you call somebody who is rude and loud...which incidentally is the same as an insult.

The real funny part though was when i went home that evening, we sat and listened to the children's show on the national radio, Ikiganiro Cy'Abana,as it was called then, hosted by one Cecile Nakure.
She introduced herself and welcomed us all to yet another edition of our kiganiro and we were all happy and excited. And then she said,

"Children,before we start our show, I would like to introduce you to someone here. It is a young girl that someone deposited here at the radio station after finding her on the stairs at Ecole Primaire De Rugunga. Child, what is your name?"

...

"My name is Lusyakamwanyaaanika"

!!!!

Hi, my name is...

2008-09-19T10:03:00.000-07:00

Hi my name is...

How many times do you hear that phrase and expect the next word to be Peter, Paul, Anne or Christine? Perfectly "normal " names that thousands of other people have. And then there comes a days when you meet Adrorata Patrovich Plus Alice Tumukunde Biguma Agnes.
Yes, it is a real name of a real person that I have met. I later learnt that she was the daughter of one Agnes and and one Biguma, so she had added mum and dad's names in the mix but she introduced herself to me without any self-consciousness. She must have been six years old and i was twice that, so it was a long time ago. Nevertheles i have not forgotten her, neither have I forgotten the time i met Miss Lusyakamwanyaaanika. But that's a story I will tell you later.Today I am ranting about actual names that pearents give their offsprings.

I believe that names should mean something. They are,after all, labels that we will carry throughout our entire life and i'd rather have a light airy label than drag around some unpronouncable or ambiguous name. nor would I want to have Jack The Ripper's or Or worse yet, a name that means nothing! Can you imagine? It is like your parents are saying, "well, sorry son, but we your face really ain't that inspiring, so we will just call you...Kgusfjk." Okay, so I made that up. I just closed my eyes and typed. But you get my point, right?

Maybe it is because all my siblings have names that mean something. There is the Olive tree, the lion-like one, one is all about desired maxims and the last one is, well ,the benjamin.Of course. Not forgetting myself, born on a sunday around christmas, my first and middle name say exactly that. (I'll leave you to guess what our names are,heheheheh)

Pop culture celebrities give the strangest names, and we have all heard about the Willis kids,but have you heard of:
Frank Zappa's son Dweezil, or Nicolas Cage's son Kal-El...Somebody is a superman faaaan!
Did you know that Beastie boys' Adam Yauch had a son with Dechen Wangdu ? They called him Lolel. Granted, the parents didnt have it easy either but man, give a kid a chance!

One of my mother's dearest friends once told me that she loved the name Teta, as a young girl. When she got married her first thought was, I am gonna name my daughter Teta. However, since her husband was European, she thought of how little Teta was going to be teased in school and called Tetanos by other kids, she gave up her dream and called her Umuhoza. Erika, now you know why your kinyarwanda name is Umuhoza!

Do you know what your name means? and I do not mean just etymologically, I mean, why did your parents call you whatever they called you? Have you ever asked yourself or them? Do you even care? I have a little bit of a names-mania. I like to find out all there is to find out about names. and I would never give my child a name just because it sounds good, sexy,exotic,etc.
By the way, my son's name is Karl Antsa. Karl is a royal name here in Sweden but it is also, and most significantly to me, the swedish word for "man". Antsa means " a song of praise" in madagascarian.

Another thing that I wouldn't do is call my kid after somebody famous.Especially dead famous people.Like Marilyn Monroe. Or Marie Thérèse de l'Enfant Jesus. I know a little girl called that. All that. Nothing against Saint Thérèse but, you gotta cut a girl some slack ok? no matter how cute or religious you want to make it, it's just not fair.

I met a kid called Bill Clinton in Rwanda. Seriously? Bill or William would have been okay but the guy's whole name? Why? Why? The poor boy was even complaining about how other kids tease him at school. I would guess he was born to one USA-loving couple at the time when President Clinton visited Rwanda. Now that Paris Hilton was threatening to come too, I was worried about the little girls that were about to be born.

I am okay with creativity,and all but I think it is only fair to consider the harsh reality of life when naming your child : they are gonna get beat up in school for having a strange name!

Be blessed!

A million souls

2008-09-18T07:57:00.000-07:00

Tread Carefully

You are on holy ground

A million souls walk on this red soil,

you know?

They do not haunt us

They never learned how to.

They just wander around

Silently

Believe me,they would like nothing better

Than to leave these thousand hills

And try eternal peace

But they are here to stay

Born

Bred

Bled

This earth has born their mothers' bodies and burdens

And feasted on their blood while the skies went dark

They are not going anywhere!

So walk carefully, silently

Keep your footsteps light

You do not want to wake the dead

Keep your voice down

Do not bother the unborn

Keep your prayers low

Our God hears even when we do no speak

Respect this place

If you may, cover your face

Bow your head but carry on

They won't come back

Because they never left

Me and mine have them in our skin

The dust on our feet is alive with ruined beauty

Wash it off carefully

The water in our rivers

Has born more children

Than both your mother and mine

Do not disrespect our waters

Be gentle with this land

What it has seen is quite profound

Think of an aging mother

Who has buried those she fed from her breast

Think of a body stripped

Of all it's flesh

Think of a hill once green

Once fertile but now exposed

To the harsh,oblivious sun

Think of a million souls

Lost in the place they once called home

Think!

I cry...so what?

2008-09-17T12:19:00.000-07:00

I have a cofession to make: I am a tv cry baby...

Most evenings I sit in front of my tv clutching my cleenex for dear life but I rarely even use them, i just sob and sniffle all through my favorite tv shows. (tru to my desperate house...person image)

Some of them have become unbearable. Others I am glad are not running anymore. Like the local show about adopted people going back to their country of origin to trace their biologicall families. That had me depressed for the most of the 45 minutes it lasted, and that was happy tears because all of them got a happy ending.

I have stopped watching Extreme makeover The Home Edition because it made me into a tree...the weeping willow.

I am all tears watching Ellen,Montel,even Rachel Ray...and it has nothing to do with her being an onion-maniac. Even DrPhill gets me snivelling once in a while.

When they show us American Idols finalists' first trip back home, I find myself bawling out along like they are close family members!

Do not even get me started on Oprah...Oh,men,most episodes of her show have me attending a sobbing party of one.

ribara uwariraye...or to send or not to send your kids away from you.

2008-09-17T02:10:00.000-07:00

Mama Aline is hell-bent on sending Aline, her teenaged daughter, to live abroad or "hanze" as it is in Kinyarwanda.
She calls me, her trusted girlfriend "uba hanze" or who lives outside (!) and asks how it is and what to do, and where to go,etc. As if I was an expert in immigration.
I know what I have expertise in: living far away from your parents at a young age. Yes, been there, done that!

So here i embark on a crusade: to stop MamaAline from making a mistake that she and her daughter might pay dearly for.

Life in a developped country,a better education, broadened horizons, security-maybe-,but definitely a greater chance to make it professionaly in a world that is competitive and college degree-hungry. Ok, so far, all the above sounds like good stuff to aspire to, I couldn't have it but i will be damned if my children don't get a better chance.

However, allow me to rain on your hopefull parade just for a minute.Take off the colored glasses, switch off the TV, and lets look at things realistically.

If you send your young child away to start a new life away from you, it is inevitable that you will grow apart. You may be sending her away to greener pastures but these won't hold her when she cries, they won't reassure her when she falters. they won't be mercifull when she falls, they won't even stop to help her up.

The tall tales she might have to tell,to get the necessary papers,might come back to haunt you when she becomes a young adult who thinks the truth is elastic.
The times she has to emotionally battle alone might result in her being indrawn, or simply not the kind of person who asks for help even when she is at the bottom of the pit.
When she is hungry in a foreign place she might think back on how it was back home and have a feeling of rejection: why did they send me here to suffer when I could have had it made back home?

The fact is, you'd rather face the hunger, or any other lacking, together. Your child will learn from you how to face adversity and grow stronger and wiser.
The kind of closeness one gets from crying together, laughing together, on a daily basis, is priceless and you shouldn't rob yourself and your children of it, unless you absolutely have no other choice.

You might argue that boarding schools are the same. I agree to an extent. However, in boarding school, the distance and therefore the degree of separation, is reduced, and the child is not in a completely foreign environment.

You might say children have to grow up anyway and learn to be independent....but does it have to be so brutal?
It all depends on the individual maturity of the child anyway,and as a parent you may think you know your child best, I hope for your sake that you do. Especially when you are taking life-altering decision on their behalf.

My advise to MamaAline is, hold on a litle longer to your little girl. She will eventually leave,it is true but try to make the best of what you have together now, while it lasts. When she finally flies off on her own ,be sure her wings are strong enough but also that she knows that you are standing by with extra wind if she needs it.

Right now, Aline has it good. She goes to a decent private school,is well fed and clothed, has her mum to come home to. She is discovering the world slowly,while having the time to figure out wht is wrong and what is right. Mamma is always at hand if she has questions that she needs answering. She is also firm with reprimanding unacceptable behaviour.In their small household, decesions are made together,and responsibilities clearly defined. In my opinion, it is still too early for Aline to be sent off and live on her own, in a foreign land moreover. In a few years she will finish high school. Then we can talk about where to send her. If we can afford it.

An orange in an orchard?

2008-09-17T01:54:00.000-07:00

Pick me up

Question my being

Brush the dust off of me

Cup your hands around me

And blow

Soft, warm,on my bumpy skin

Breathe in my fragrance

Feel my texture

Taste my flesh

Expect hidden pleasures

SURPRISE!

I'll swim in cold strange waters anytime
rather than sink in warm stagnant ponds of home.

On my mind.

2008-09-17T01:51:00.000-07:00

Les cicatrices de ton corps

Témoignent de ce que ton coeur a vécu et survécu

Les cicatrices de ton coeur

Racontent ce que ton âme a vu et vaincu.

Desperate house....person.

2008-09-17T01:23:00.000-07:00

Was watching Scrubs last night and I noticed, once again that the guy who sings "i can't do this all on my own...no i know...i'm not superman" just happens to sound exactly like JD.

Maybe my ears are hallucinating or maybe its just a coincidence but it is not the first time that the theme song of a TV show sounds, to me, like it was sung by one of the main characters.

I mean don't you agree that the Rembrants sound like the whole cast of Friends when they are promising to "be there for youuuuuuuuuuu" ?

When i was nursing my son, there was this hopeless show called Desire...i mean the title alone promises Barbra Cartland-like drama and it's really not something i normally watch. However, this was a period when i had a lot, and i mean a lot of time on my hands.

The show is true to the telenovella genre, and it is actually based on a colombian television program Mesa Para Tres (Table for Three).
Anywho, the theme song of Desire was a lovely song, that has become one of my favorites. When i first heard it however, i could have sworn it was sung by the heroine of the TV show, Andrea Zavatti.
Forget Desire, but do give a listen to the song, it is Always On My Side" off the album Wildflower by Sheryl Crow. There is a version she sings with Sting, it is delightfull.

A man by any other name...

2008-09-16T11:47:00.000-07:00

I hear the trend for middle-aged men in my hometown is now to "sexify" their dinosaur-era names to sound like they were 2 years old when they graduated out of CERAI*. This, i am told, is done in order to facilitate the pursuit of happYness, or at least of young impressionable women.

Thus, the businessman-formerly-know as Jean Nepomuscene becomes Thierry as he tries to get some with the Sandras and other Solanges of this town. Chrysostome may rebaptise himself Kriss, Frodouard could become Alain or Serge.

However, like Shakespeare assures me names dont change a thing about the smell. A rose still smells like poo-ooh-ooh,even if you call it, or her something endearing like...Well, you get the point!

Anyhow, newly reinvented Serge,Thierry or Kriss looses the (what he thinks is) loser name,has a new newly acquired flashy vehicle ,and is cruising about town when he spots a horde of Sandras and Tetas on the way from school.

Here is how I imagine the conversation may go.

Serge/Thierry/Kriss: Harro Garozz!

The Sandras: Excuse me?

Serge/Thierry/Kriss:I said hi! you are going very far?

The Sandras: Why do you want to know?

Serge/Thierry/Kriss: Because me i can give you lift. My name is Serge/Thierry/Kriss by the way...
(except here the newly re-invented Serge/Thierry/Kriss cant even pronounce his own alleged name so it sound somehow like Sadg, Tially,Kuliss and so the Sandras scatter away in giggles...)
End of scene.

OR?

What if it was a french-speaking newly re-invented Serge/Thierry/Kriss?

Serge/Thierry/Kriss: Sali Sali! (meaning Salut Salut!)

Les Sandras: Salut!

Serge/Thierry/Kriss: Où est les autres?

Les Sandras: Quels autres?

Serge/Thierry/Kriss: Ta petite soeur! Tu es Sandra,non? La soeur de Teta?. Moi c'est Serge, tu me souviens? Je suis allé chez toi avec ton cousin Paul il y a très longueur. Je te donne lift?

Unfortunately at that same moment Sandra's phone rings and she picks it up: Allô. Benji?

Serge/Thierry/Kriss takes note and we meet him next time as he introduces himself:

Harro, my name is Banji. By the way.

CERAI*:Centre d'enseignement rural et artisanal intégré। or Center for integrated rural arts and crafts(???) education.
Used to be an option for those who for a reson or another couldnt go to a mainstream secondary school. I hear they have been abolished thought.

WHY? Pourkoi? KUKI?

2008-09-16T11:33:00.000-07:00

I was chatting with a girlfriend and she suggested i start posting articles...and as usual, i didnt think about it untill it was done, done and done.

To be honest i had been "carressing" the idea for a long time now and i guess its now ripe and ready...or whatever.
Anyway, the problem with writing is you gotta have something to write about.

Here is my attempt to be interesting...I don't want to hear wht you think unless you think its brilliant, otherwise you can keep your opinions to yourself, thank you very much. After all everybody agrees they (opinions) are like certain orifices at the bottom of ...