Mine, of Nev.

I knew that he was dealing with things greater than he fathomed, so last year I purposed to lose the Internet and be more present in person. It was a super disturbing feeling that wouldn’t let me rest. Friendship must make count in more ways than one, no?
I remember going to visit him the next time with (of course) my 1000 troubles he was expecting to doctor through like always over the texts.

I sat on the chair by his bed from which he painfully sat up, and when he thought he’d sat comfortably enough to afford a smile, I thought… “who am I fooling? How dare I even start my ma things?”
I swerved him off my complaints. We talked about him.. His work. His next Ebifaananyi book review. About the kabaka run rant, and boy did he rant allover again! I listened like I had no extra chance tomorrow. I had none actually. It would be the occasional check ins.

Hours later, I was starting to want to leave, and another visitor was arriving. I thought that was relieving, as part of that conversation had no chance of ever being about me. I had my own dam ready to burst but I was never going to let that selfishness happen again. Not in that environment atleast…a place that clearly reminded you that Joel too had mountains.

I thanked him, again, for while we know him for the literary arts champion he was, I also know, MOSTLY, ABOVE EVERYTHING, that he unashamedly preached Salvation.
Losing one’s life to hide it in Christ. That losing one’s life would be their own gain.

I saw him in that brown box, the one he said they’d carry him in…or really the one we’ll all be eventually carried in. His face was frowned, and I thought, does his pain never end?! And then I reminded myself that it was his mortal clothing anyhow; he’d left it, and it didn’t matter anymore. He was now wearing an everlasting one. The one he couldn’t wait to wear in glory with our Lord!

He’s just been lowered to the ground. Now if I wasn’t Christian, now would be the time to know that Jesus, bestie he stood for so mightily. Because there’s people you’ve just got to see in the next life. People like Joel Benjamin Nevender.

But I am a Christian and friend he encouraged (like a million others) and had the privilege of knowing even just a bit. I will most definitely hang out with him in due time. In the meantime, I will rejoice now and my hope shall not run dry.

Thanks Nev.
1Col 3:3

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The Versatile Blogger Award…

I have a serious fear for hens

Thank you very much Erawko for the nomination, i am very much honoured! He’s an awesome writer, most probably famous already, but check him out if you don’t know him. As i hope not to break any rules, i should say i was secretly envying the nominees for this whole thing because there was finally something to write about. Not that i entirely had nothing to write about, i did. Tonnes. But because of what you will learn later on here…

And then meanwhile i start panicking. Yo, i am still as if new to this WordPress thing. I don’t know so much of how to use it and do all the fancy stuff people do on their blogs (read adding links. haha. But it took me a few minutes to figure that out, thankfully) . So once that was settled, a sighed a deep one and sipped some water. So here goes.. Eh, wait. The rules first..

The Rules

  1. Thank the person that nominated you and include a link to their blog.
  2. Nominate at least 15 bloggers of your choice.
  3. Link your nominees and let them know about their nomination.
  4. Share seven facts about yourself

Onto the 7 facts…

I could go all day without eating because i forgot to eat (who forgets to eat? I’d love to meet you so we can cry together). Someone joked about it and said i could go 24 hours without food and still do nothing about my stomach. But i mostly forget.

I love to think out loud. I could try my best to speak under my breath while walking on the street, but as soon as i am alone, i can have a serious conversation Myself_II. I prefer my critical thoughts loud and clear so i can have them engraved on the wall of space, then i can always tell Myself_II “i told you so”. Don’t worry, i am not kukus or anything. It’s all under control.

I can’t swim. It has a lot to do with the fact that i have no interest whatsoever in learning how. Maybe also because i can’t wear all my clothes to the pool or lake. Maybe also because i can’t picture myself in “bits” of clothing because I’ve got to swim.

I have a serious fear for hens. Their bodies. the softness is too much for me to handle…so same goes for animals. The hens, it’s not that bad anyway because they can try to fly around and walk past me however they like. But i CAN’T step foot in a poultry house full of the birds, and normally they can see that i am freaking out so they actually gang up on me and i have to run for my life.

I dance yo… HipHop. And soon enough, the Latin sensation will be oozing out of me. Bachata omnes!! Yuhuu!

I rarely write because i am still afraid of people. Guys… It’s not easy.

I am soft bodied and i look like a teenager. Being small, on top of that, doesn’t help things; so 1 in 50 people regard me at first sight, then i always have a field day with the continuing shock-filled faces after a few exchanges. High school kids have no fear hitting on me. Other times, conversations look like this;

Me: “eh, work today was as if how…”

“oh, you got a job in your vacation? Nice!”

“Vacation?”

“you’re… i thought you’re in your junior high vacation (F4)”

“huh?”

“uhmm… senior high vacation? (F6)”

at this point I’m staring blankly

“oh, university?”

“hehe, let us give up” (and i heartily laugh it off because laughing is good and it has kept me “young”)

There goes me in 7. But there’s definitely me in 1000!

All, if not most of the bloggers i follow and have never met (and they are not many), have been nominated and have even blogged already. Thanks for sharing. And i look forward to read what the rest have to say; therefore i will not manage the 15. So i will list here some of the bloggers i know personally (or not) because i am dead curious to know 7 facts about them.

Jessyka

Mychael you have a special gift and i want to know what you sound like when you’re not rhyming,

Benjaah

Vicky

Pollolegendary i dig your writing as well!

Fatha you are tonnes interesting and you should write more.

Same goes for Gerard ! Please write.

Gloria i just had to repeat your nomination (i already saw it somewhere)

Snipet because you are a somewhat new friend. Hihi.

…People, please… i await. Do not make me cry, because i will surely cry.

Anena’s miracle.

At school Anena is basically the misfit. She isn’t necessarily rejected, and there are other small people with a character close to hers but somehow she is a misfit. She can’t even hangout with the other ‘misfits’. It just doesn’t work.
With three other siblings, Anena attends a fancy school that she has no idea how her mother pays for. Well, she’s always known that her dad pitched in, but recently she got a strange feeling that he stopped and mum has not said a word about it. Anena’s father is enstranged. She is not sorry because she doesn’t know why she should be, but let’s hold that thought.

Her school is so fancy that “East or west, home is best,” would cease to have meaning. She’d choose school over home a million times if she had to. She carries a small metallic case to school filled with her clothes and other essentials, because that’s all she ever needs considering her situation; and she’s not complaining because over the years, eating breakfast never made sense anymore and the two other meals are way better than she could ask for in a typical Ugandan boarding school. Every meal time, she’s convinced even more that her children will attend the same school in the future, so help her God.

Her school mates though, bring along three times her belongings because well, fancy school, fancy kids. Maybe that is why it’s hard for her to have actual friends. It’s as if she carries a repelling lebel on her forehead…

Anena has no expectations from her mother except for the school fees. She is lucky to have grace periods, but then she can’t be sent home, because she would never know how to get there. It is a long three hour bus ride so the bursar is sympathetic enough.
It is strange when on the last visitation day, her mother, Ma Rose has come to visit. Instead of the routine bottle of soda and her special English pancakes they always shared as they sat in the dining hall, Ma Rose asks that they sit outside on the grass. No, there’s no mat, soda, or the special pancakes. It’s just a soft wind with a chill mild enough to pass for fresh air, Anena, her mother and a results slip between them. They’re discussing her results and that’s all they will do because Ma Rose says home is okay and she is off in 20 minutes. Only. She hasn’t even left the usual 10k for a soda.

The finals are almost due and the school is buzzing with bookworms, new bookworms and ongoing seminars. She is constantly on the roll call in the mornings to go and make calls at the phone booth to “remind your parents that you will not sit for your finals!” It’s disturbing. Especially when Ma says she is totally out of solutions for now. But an angel is watching from a distance. Mr.Ochola then walks over to the phone booth where Anena stands in near tears; he is her teacher, and the most humble person she’s known her entire life atleast so far…students take advantage of that because then they never have to finish their assignments on time. Or they’d ask him to do them all kinds of favours for “a home-sick spoilt rich kid.” He’s just too nice for his own good.

When Mr.Ochola gets to Anena, he asks what the problem could be; she starts to wonder why anyone, a teacher, would care at this time considering the situation. It’s the finals. It’s not like if she tells him her problems, he can make them go away…like he can convince the administration, with no particular reason, to let her do her exams. She’s the ordinary student. Not in the books for anything good, or even bad. Unless he were the principal’s relative.
She tells him everything anyway, but she’s basically broken, she can’t contain it. She had dealt with all four years with the cliff-edgy grace periods, but not this time. Atleast not for her finals. It is the last straw and maybe the teacher sees that. They then have a small conversation, and he asks her a few questions then that’s it.

All she knows the next day is that she’s cleared, all of it. And God knows it was a huge debt. For all she knows, her teacher must have emptied his bank account but he doesn’t want to hear it. Infact, he wanted to remain anonymous  if it were possible. But we know for sure that a miracle has happened, from the least possible options. That was God.

Person of mine – Day 6

Dear Person of mine,

I was staring at you the other day. Your eyes shone like they were bedazzled with tiny little diamonds. They were lovingly bright, and yet strong and firm; I felt safer than Obama. And then you smiled. Your teeth were so perfect, I don’t think I want to smile ever again because I wouldn’t make any sense. But in that moment, you looked extraordinary.

I was transfixed. I could have stayed there, in that seat all my life but then we’d starve. So then we took a walk to find some good food, and you took my hand in yours; I thought the world should end already. What more did I want? Or rather need? No…I sure need a few more things, but I got all I wanted. And all i wanted was right there taking a firm grip of my little hand. You didn’t let my hand go when we had to walk either side of a huge manhole because I had absent mindedly decided to go the other side. I thought that was really sweet.

We found some good food, and even you, felt that those chairs were uncomfortably far from each other. The table was large. So you moved yours close to mine. Close enough for us to touch shoulders each time we laughed as we shared a pizza. I caught you staring a few times, with a little smirk on your lips and I didn’t want to ask what you were thinking because it was your moment, in your mind, and I wanted it kept there for you.

We got up and left to God knows where (at that time) because we just wanted to keep walking. You could not say that goodbyes and see you laters were not your best parts of our days, but I could see it. So I let you keep taking me to God knows where. And when one rugged man tried to grab my arm, you dangerously glared at him so hard it made me smile. When usually that situation would get me raging mad. You wanted to take the long way to my taxis because it just wasn’t the time to part yet. But part we did, and I sat next to the window and watched you wait for the taxi to set off. It finally did, and you kept looking, as we sped into the distance.

I love that you are who you are. I love that you are a person of mine.
Till I see you.

Yours to keep,
Person of yours.

Diamondintherough.

See my life. – Day 5

These last two days – inclusive today- have been crazy busy for me, swamped up in workshops and not being able to tell the difference between the tea break and lunch break. I always mistook one for the other. I haven’t had a lot of time to myself; Yesterday though, I was this close to not writing day 4’s post in time, it got in a few minutes to midnight. By around this same time. Meaning, today is worse, because I am not even half way into my blog post and it will be midnight and day 6 in no time; I am therefore typing like a maniac and hoping to make it on time.
I don’t even know where to start from and I will not edit this post, so I will just get on to telling you some stuff about myself you garra know. Not that you have to, but well…what shall I write now??

So the best thing that happened to me the other day is not chocolate, sadly, but It’s that while I fumbled with all the paperwork in my desk, I had the C.S. Lewis song off Brooke Fraser’s 2007 Albertine album swim through my ear phones and straight to my heart. Hehe. Somewhere up there I sounded like a music freak, but waah. Don’t be decieved. The truth is i listen to alot of music, both common and random but mostly because I like the Lyrics. For me, the best part of listening to a song is when you can sing along.

I love music. But i have no favorites. I generally have no favorites. Not with music, food, books, sports, hang out activities, nothing. See my life, right?
Oh but colour! I have a favorite colour, but that is not yours to know, because I can’t have people look up my birthday and then come bearing gifts of the same color. (Haha i wish!) Everything i own looks almost the same already.

Geez, i keep swerving. I was telling you about my music. I don’t keep memory of it either. Not even most of the song titles. I will do my best to remember the singer, but not the title. Never.
Same goes for the books i read. I am basically a reader, but not the typical one…(you will find out why) lock me up in a prison with good books and I will beg for a life sentence. BUT, like the music, i never remember the titles of the books i read. Not even the authors. If i am lucky enough to remember, it is one or the other; never both. And I am glad to share two of my very classic authors that i can recall; Louisa May Alcott and Jack London. I feel so proud of myself at the moment, that i could manage just two.

Now you get it. I am not a major-anything freak. I like to try different things and adventure (like everybody calls it) apart from new foods. It is very good, nice and comfortable knowing my stomach will be just fine, so I get conservative on that front. I’d rather starve than have creams, purple leaves, and other colored substances for lunch. I hear they are healthy, but across seas, they are all GMOs. The chicken too. So is that still healthy? I am not educated on that part.

PS. It’s 10minutes to midnight. Onto Previewing and publishing! Phew!

Diamondintherough.

In the moment. – Day 2

Time check 23:06 hrs (the time of writing – or should i call it drafting – the blog post). It is because i usually write down in my notebook before i type it out. I just don’t know how to let go of my book. I thought i was alone until another blogger tweeted about the old school style; i forgot his handle, i wish i could mention. But i digress…

I feel nice. Nice for example sitting at the kitchen bar all by myself at 11 pm with just two dim lights making it cozy enough for mind travelling; and also the feeling of having of having the entire living room behind me all to myself. It feels nice. it feels free, it feels awesome and almost refreshingly better than a warm bath on a cold day because my days (and home) involve 5 other people who either get me too excited for myself, or too angry to live. So you understand now when i say i feel so good i could sing so loud, but then i might wake the party.

The point is my dream came true. Not about being a loner, but about being able to be alone whenever the heck i want. For someone like me it is not easy getting here, no, not at all. I thank Jesus everyday. So i’m at the kitchen bar, propped up on this high seat or stool, simanyi. On my right is an empty glass of water (do you see that madness? Empty glass of water??) It is a glass that i just used to drink water, and it is now empty (i am sure there’s a shorter version on how to say all that). And further next to the wall is a solar/electric lamp that i have not dared to use because i just haven’t. On the other side is an empty plate of food <– I did it again. It is the plate i just used for supper and it is wiped clean; i never finish a plate of food, let alone leave no crumbs but because after my experience across seas, i learned that you only take what you will finish and better still, you take less than you need so you are sure of finishing your food and then you are able to figure out if you can take another helping. However, back here, if not at home, it is really embarrassing to take a second helping; you will either appear like you just fell from Mars, or you will be the talk of your circles for the better part of the next few months be it jokingly or worse. You just never know when and how the teasing starts.

Every two or so minutes when i take a break to think of the next better line i can add to this post, i rest my chin in my palm and my elbow supports the weight as i crane my neck towards the dim light from the bulb just above my head. It’s as though the thoughts are travelling through the light and i can read them. But also because, like the previous post, this one, and the next ones to come this week, i have no idea what to write about. I just felt good, that’s all. I am also just a bit proud of myself for getting back to what i had left for cobwebs and possibly death. And i hope i can have actual inspiration on stories to write about to keep this place breathing and dusted; most bloggers and or writers do (have inspiration), not like the lot of me who just write fwaa.

This moment though… This moment is mine.

NEW(S) – Day 1

blog pic

If there’s anything happening, all I can think of is my new surroundings, job and state of mind. It’s not a frenzy, but I think the real word just finally showed itself. I am not scared or unprepared; I am rather curious and just a little excited (yes, I love my job but I can’t be too excited because then my new found physical and mental freedom will sink in and I will be impulsive with my decisions…but yet I want to stay sane).

I had no idea how short the days would become for a typical 8-5 individual. Okay, I did. I’ve tried this before. I just don’t know why everything feels real(er) now. Onto the short days, they’re very short. Then this starts to make me think about the women in or out there, and or the mothers. How they even start to carry themselves off their chairs, slip on their high heels, tuck back their pumps (read flat shoes), to head back to another whole job that could either be relaxing on one very rare day or murderous on one very common day. Not that I have a family to go back to, I am just assuming; because I have a group of people I go back to every evening (or is it “go back with”) too, and my days are yet to make comfortable meaning. The transition is still fresher than ever. As for personal space, that’s a story for another day.

There’s one lady I don’t get though; The kitchen lady at work. I am almost as afraid of her as I am with hens. I said good morning in the kindest and sweetest way to the kitchen lady this morning. She didn’t respond. I asked to borrow a knife that I’ve seen a couple of times before, and she shook her head. I wasn’t offended. I was scared.

I never know when she is happy or when she is angry. Sometimes I will ask questions and she is silent; then in 2 seconds I figure out that it was one of those questions with obvious answers and then I’ll just go ahead with whatever I was thinking. On other days she will smile when I say good morning, and then I will feel like i just won a 100 metres race with Usain Bolt in it. I don’t get her. As you make your cup of coffee, she will watch you take half boiled water from the boiler and into your sugar and coffee and tell you afterwards before you stir that you have just used un-boiled water. You did not see her take out and replace the boiling water, and she did not tell you. And you did what you did because you heard her mention to another that they could use water from the boiler. I noticed also that she doesn’t have an actual laugh when she says some jokes and it is only the longer-serving employees here that can figure that out. Me I just be thinking I’m in trouble.

There’re people with interesting names too, like names of former US presidents and also people that bend the rules from 1-10. I envy those ones because they look like they get away with it. But it’s a cool place, neighboring huge malls (read a huge mall), great radio stations, nice looking fuel stations with fancy restaurants. Not that I can even go to those places. No dear. I walk further down to mama-someone’s place. So maybe sometime when I want to do one of those self-celebratory things, I should love myself a bit more and make an order on Hello Food; one time won’t kill, will it? One time won’t make me broke as a mouse…or will it?