Sweet sound

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

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

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

DO UNTO OTHERS...

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

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

A few weeks after that episode, I got some good news and chose to celebrate it with a choice dinner at an exclusive place. Because it would be such short notice if I sent invites, I chose to surprise everyone that I asked along, by simply bundling them into my car and asking them to 'please make this easy and don't ask questions so we can all be there in a few minutes'. Kampala city compared to other capitals offers very little in terms of choice spots so the moment we hit one road with very little traffic and a number of empty flagpoles, it was pretty evident where we were headed. At the end of the dinner, everybody present said something small. All were pretty interesting but the one that I will always remember and even moved me to tears was... let's call him Jimmy. Jimmy first looked me in the eye and then quickly moved his gaze to the floor as he fidgeted with a glass in one hand and his keys in the other before he said... "I had never dreamed of ever being a guest in this place... I have passed by on several occasions and even tried to wish it out of my head as a landmark because I had determined it wouldn't be for my lifetime... and now here I am too, being attended to, every beckon and call... Now I am sure there is a God that loves me and hasn't forgotten I exist." Jimmy then went on to say to me, "Zack, this may be a simple celebration for you but for me, it's marked the beginning of a new hope for more in my life. I feel very humbled. Thank you." It wasn't a simple celebration for me because I am not usually as extravagant but it certainly marked a new resolve for Jimmy at that place -and who knows, maybe that was the core reason that God had me choose that place and ask Jimmy to join the party when I found him at his workstation -manning the gate. Once again, there was something echanting about that experience. "Whatever you do unto the least of my brothers, you do unto me".

It's only been four days now since my own feet were washed by someone. It is a humbling experience.

Do unto others, as you would to thyself.

Not here anymore

I had to get out of the pretty comfortable covers and walk across the room to switch the loud thing off. It would get louder the longer I held it off for that's how it worked. And already it was more than enough decibels loud to interrupt my sleep -usually I get up earlier but I had attended a late night dinner the previous night and so got back home quite late and it being a weekend the next day, I had thought that I would sleep a little longer through the morning- I got this piece of technology from one of the shops outside the Hyatt Regency Dubai famed for their fair prices. But even there, it had cost me an arm and a leg. I had given in to that because Esmail, the shopkeeper had promised that it would be 'an almost magical' device while he showed me its demonstration. Of course, as a salesman, that was his job. And when he added, "with this device sir, you have no worries beginning 10 years (sic)", he had succeeded with me. I bought the 'magical' PDA/phone and received a complimentary gift as well from Esmail's shop. I have had the same phone for almost three years now. Since then there's been one newer model in its bracket but I feel pretty comfortable with mine -it's all I could ever want in a gizmo (I think)! Once I took the liberty of synchronising my online birthday calendar with my phone. The result was brilliant. I surprised friends and kin alike with 'my good memory' of the most important days to them when I either called or texted just to say, 'happy birthday'!

Today was a little different. That 'loud thing' was actually my phone playing a birthday ringtune reminding me of another friend's birthday today. When I finally got my drowsy self across the room to where my phone was, it said, "...'s birthday today". And when I got the alarm off, it prompted me with, "what do you want to do: call/text/mms/email/send e-card". For a little while I seemed shocked that I was seeing that and in that moment, I re-lived the feeling of such emptiness that comes with losing a friend so dear. She would have been a year older today and perhaps I would have teased her again about how exactly a year ago she had run a personal ad on Facebook, and then in turn she would perhaps threaten to kick my insides out. And then we would all have a hearty laugh again. Not any more. That's the reality of the situation. They say 'time heals wounds', but perhaps they should also say, some wounds take a pretty long time to heal. It seems like only yesterday when we had that 'Facebook' joke and today, well... it's just so empty. As I stared down at that PDA this morning, my eyes becoming cloudy with fluid, all I could do was make with a long sigh and tap 'cancel' as I turned it over and placed it once again on my dressing cabinet -silent. Nitah wasn't here any more. There would be no call to make.

Rest in peace old friend. Happy Birthday.

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See related story: Fare thee well Anita Gatare.

Selfish Altruism

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

New beginnings

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

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

Ubuntu - I am because you (we) are.

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

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

Photo credit: BBC News / AFP

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

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

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

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

www.kenyanpundit.com

www.wendwa.yakuti.org

www.mentalacrobatics.com

www.geraldbaraza.blogspot.com

www.mzalendo.com

www.blog.thinkersroom.com

www.whiteafrican.com

www.jessemakai.com

www.kumekucha.blogspot.com

www.chrisblattman.blogspot.com

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


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

WHATEVER IT TAKES

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have a prosperous 2008 lads and lasses!

What goes around...

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

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

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

One and one makes a December bundle

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

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

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

Friend of Hope

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

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

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

Have a great World AIDS Day everyone!