SNAKE IN A POT

As we exchanged texts today, I felt like you were at that point which is akin to my last 5 km of 42km marathon run.   As you already know, I am an intrepid runner and have done all kinds of distances.   The 42km run is the ultimate challenge to me.   Many times, I want to give up around the 37 th kilometer. I start asking myself why I have to go through this distressing exercise all in the name of completing a race.   At that point in a race I am in a bend, I lack the capacity to look behind with clarity of mind and most importantly with tired legs, a heavy chest and breathless heart-pounding, I doubt if I can get over what's about to come.   Yet, before me is a short run that seems longer than what I have already covered. I am so miserable at that stage because I can’t see how I will do it.   I am about to give up but I comfort myself in knowing that people (especially those older than me) survive it every day. It's a rare defining moment of the race...

Whoever knows me well is conversant with the fact that I very rarely take commuter taxis in Kampala (better known as matatus elsewhere in East Africa).    Reasons for not regularly taking taxis are many and varied but occasionally I do take a matatu when I am not in a hurry or when the principles of economics dictate that it is the only sensible thing to do.  Over the years, I have been intrigued by what goes on in taxis.   For some reason things seem to be done loudly in Kampala taxis.   From eating, speaking on phones to private conversations between people, the occupants in that moving box seem to be loud.    It is therefore not unusual that you will ‘forcefully listen’ into conversations that you aren’t even remotely interested in. On this lazy Sunday afternoon, there are about five of us in the matatu and the driver is not in a hurry to drive off.   We have stopped at one of the regular stops along the route and the engine is i...

For those of you who don’t know much about me, I was born in Kireka, grew up mainly in Kireka but also spent a considerable amount of time while growing up at my grandmothers’ place in Kiwanga.   I had a fabulous education at a really good school, Kamuli Primary School about 2km from where I lived.   I had an amazing role model in a mother who overcame massive difficulties and worked incredibly hard for us.    She worked two shifts; from 8am to 5 pm at African Ceramics and then 7pm to 10pm in a nearby bar. Even then we were as broke as dirt, but I know that she did everything and anything to make sure that I was well fed, dressed and went to a decent school.   I worked from the age of 12 rising through different jobs. Very early on I was vending water in 20-litre containers around our neighbourhood in Kireka.   At the age of 14, I worked as a matatu conductor and by 17 I had started my own business of showing video movies around the villages of Kisoga, Nko...