My feelings after watching the fights in Parliament.


Imagine having a lover who beats you like a ngalabi ( long Drum).. day in and day out he beats you.. And he won't stop.. He seems to be perfecting the sound of the Drum..

Louder and louder you wail asking for mercy yes.. this militant lover beats you on...on till you are beaten to a vegetable pulp.. You used to be beautiful.. You had an effectuous laugh.. Now your laughter resonates of a pain stubborn as a dry cough... You can hardly see tomorrow because your eyes are swollen slits masking the blood shot eyes that speak of decades of dehumanisattion.. Talk about being haunted by the apartheid ghosts in amplified HD...

Ummmh, my lover how can I love you when my senses are numbed.. I can hardly feel the sun shine caressing my scar tatoed body..every inch of my skin is dressed with a scar a testimony to your gruesome love.

Love - a word that speaks of a distant past when our naive heads dreamt of a happily ever after where a book that constituted Sacred-Like Decalogues would cement harmony... Hand in hand we would walk.. Uganda and I..... This love is now rubbished in the dust... An addition to the statistics of failed man's projects...

Ummhh, caught in a love hate tangle whose crescendo will yield too loosers.

So I cry.. Oh Uganda.. May God Uphold you....


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