The melody of sorrow upon pain.
Ranked 2ndwith the second youngest population in Africa, Uganda does not only visualize this as an opportunity of labour but also scrutinises it with the presence-of-market eyes.
Whether this is meant to be celebrated or rather mourned about, I rather not tell, being extremely passionate for the magnificence of my nation!
A young nation with a young population but a wide history! I just rejoice indeed for being a Ugandan. For being young with a big old past and small with an extremely wide history makes me feel that age doesn’t explain achievement, that beginning doesn’t explain origin, that what they know and write about us doesn’t actually define who we are, and neither does it elaborate where we come from.
Diversity plus culture plus origin, resulting into ideas plus thoughts plus innovations and abilities, that stream directly from the different wells of need, heading to the valleys of different solutions that are needed. This, like no other, has mothered many innovators in the land. Yes, it has mothered brilliant minds that are ambitious, boasting offbeat energy which erupts with each new day that comes, in attempts to escape the 7-lettered race indiscriminate:poverty. For everyday brings another born into the world, inherently increasing the number, the unemployed and thus the poor. This creates a daily enduring struggle with every breath holding on tenaciously as as to secure homage from the beast of poverty.
Oh, the riddle of a young population: more connected to the world than any generation before them, and rapidly increasing in bulge with no steady economy ready to respond! Mind you, this is sad, because most of them have been in school more than their parents ever were but are sadly more engulfed in more than enough precarious straits,thus being caught up in disparity and anxiety and getting fed up of whatever their elders have got to offer. Morality melts on fire in search for pleasure, as they continually attempt to prove and display the absolute sanity and understanding of their “dot-com” minds in their “dot-com” time. Thus, they design a goal. Circumstance sorrowfully fashions a fighting spirit in their hearts. Whatever they are, wherever they are from, whatever they uphold most, all their joints are tailored and tethered together to pamper their diminished hearts as a rewarding experience from the tiring pursuit of the Americandream. They travail through the world in search for wonderland, being impecunious and living in a community with a weakened social contract theory. They hustle day and night to no avail- the melody of sorrow upon pain.
To some of them it is so strange. They just hear about it:living a good life, sleeping in a good house and having a good job. They just can’t comprehend what provision means, what boarding an air plane to wherever and for whatever is like. To some of them indeed, the sweetness of a midnight sleep is something they have only heard of in tales! They are just used to wandering around the gelid streets at night and restrict themselves to riding the 1817 Baron Karl invention, being the only offer they can afford. Everyone knows them like that, street people, since living that way needs no rules!!
