A patch of blue my sky

City of smoke and grind

Poor little girl

She dreams to sail a splendid boat

An orphaned nation

Unsound minds and broken bodies

A history of mysteries

Blanket comfort

A nation in labour

Let’s talk about what will happen

Watching Our Country turn to dust

The Sun will set after studying political borders

Too many faces, too many hands

Not afraid to stare into the face of oppression

The Sun bleached walls of home will be no more

Asking for just one more day

The ashes of our country shall smoke on the horizons


I want to love you 

I want to love my country but I hate many of its rulers

They pretend to speak for the poor and act for tycoons

The Selfish corrupted in Unity

I want to love my country but the souls free on lovely earth 

Strain to survive

A norminal word equanimity

Gashes in landslide infirmity

Service became self service

In black ink sleeps corruption, nepotism and capitalism.

I want to love my country but in the labour room, groans for freedom.


The future that followed

Things started changing

In 2001, On his death bed he lay

Hope and trust is what he had

The home that used to be a boarding school of sorts changed with time,

All people that needed to come to the city started their first step from the place we called home

Little did I know one day they would be gone

A week later they were gone

What used to be extended became a Nuclear of sorts

Just me,mom and my then little brother

Things changed 

All promises that were made to him on his death bed nothing ever surfaced.




Dad, I need you

So much to be held

So much to hide

Walls of steel

My fears, my pleads

I wish you were here to set me free

To help learn about Relationships

A thoughtless mind

Hurts of the past held inside

Your  Last words led my struggle to Graduation day

Playing all hours with or without the sun

There will be no one to walk me down the aisle

Dad, You should have been here

A lot would be different today

Time will the scars.



The alarm goes

Ring!!! Ring!!!

Snoozing it can’t do any better now

It sinks in that the Deadline is here

Birthed by the intensifying pressure

An Urgent hoarse voice slowly drowns in

Intensifying my heart beat

I am fine

Yet Death is eating me up slowly

Day by day a piece of me is gone

And the pain it creates is unbearable

Crushing what used to be

That can’t speak for itself anymore




Fame is one hell of a thing

Fame gets to your head

We all handle it differently

Overwhelmed with pride

Feeling savagely happy and on top of the world

Huge Billboards hold my face

If ever folded I will be forgotten

Fame is a stage that will all must go through

When you walk down the street

You feel it differently with Fans pointing at you

In the Clubs, Girls are all over you in the name of selfies

As life goes on

You take a shift

But where is the exit

Nobody is ever ready for Fame



A day in the Life of a Traffic Officer


Photo Credit; Ugo-Uganda

You’ve seen them all over  clad in white along the roads that head in and out of the capital city or at the major junctions around Kampala. All dressed in white, one would think they receive sparkling white uniforms every day of the week. Members of the public have mixed feelings about these officers popularly nick named as “Obusajja bwa traffic” Well the general feeling is that they are uneducated or have failed at other careers and they decide to join the forces. However I have had to interact with some and the story is a different one. The scorching sun, a throat that is ever demanding to be quenched, putting up with unruly boda boda riders, and illiterate, semi-illiterate, literate and arrogant drivers is what composes the work of a traffic officer. Working as a traffic officer brings on a range of emotions, it can leave you satisfied, rewarded, sad, disgruntled, lonely and fulfilled, all in the same shift. If you ever wondered how it feels like to work as a traffic officer, take a look at a day in the life of a traffic officer.