GEORGEViLLE

Folks who have lived more than us and have thus experienced more of life have more fun escapades to narrate than many the smart phone trolling lads of our generation.They also have much advice and life lessons to spruce our usually shallow knowledge on survival and existence in this universe known to always be brewing treachery. We get to tap their wisdom from what they've lived through and passed on to us.One of the earliest proverbs I learnt as a child (for my grandfather liked to say it every now and then) was the Luganda "Enyanja etta agyimanyidde " which, translated loosely to mean "The lake kills he that is accustomed to it" that is, it's fishermen who drown most...an ironic scenario by all means or at least am certain irony is what the person who coined it intended to achieve. The elders have persistently told of people who have met their ends (usually brutal gruesome ends) at the hands of things they were accustomed to and individuals that have seeme

The night when the world's largest democracy cast their vote to choose the next leader of the free world did not find me anxious as well in contrast to many people around me.At home,the excitement tempted me to ask what the next president of the US had to do with Uganda except the usual foreign policy that never does much change for me as an individual. Even more bewilderment hit me when I saw what's app groups named Team Trump and Team Hillary and saw die hard Ugandans changing their social media profile photos and groups of Boda Boda cyclists engaged in deep discussion about the possible outcome of this historical election. Historical because if Mrs Hillary Clinton had won,despite her heavy experience as senator, former Secretary of State, First Lady and more, she would have been the first woman to take on this mantle.It would be an ever greater victory for her mates the Democrats who would not only be celebrating an extension of their control of government but also another

One of the teachers I will probably never forget all throughout my school life was an extremely tough Itetsot lady who was transfered to my Primary 4 class to teach my then favourite subject;English Language. With the risk of coming off as a lazy lad,the major reason for my preference of this unit over the other elements of my cane thirsty teacher driven traumatic education journey was not only the little effort which it demanded of me but also the wonderful adventures in the stories that took my young innocent and curious mind to different worlds in between the old pages of those books that carried the rich stench of age.Tough Itestot lady teacher's first topic was polite language and for some reason(perhaps because she personified and was the perfect embodiment of a new fresh inconceivable breed of terror at the time,it stuck.Like the good pupil I was,I have strived to the best of my ability to emulate these ideals ,living my life punctuating most of my day to day speech with dic

Coy me now baby, be cagey not lady, lie with me slyboots! befuddle me not anymore Irrefutable it is,that you charmingly seise me, gnaw at my heart, exorticate this cold furry and shroud me in anxious grief My candid plea,my bawdy one Forment not chaotic trouble,breed spontaneity take all my souls but Kill not my poor sentient self By George W Kiwanuka

Decades ago, in the jungles not irreconcilably far from here We, downtrodden fauna of the woods, gathered Wrapped in a patriotic spirit we identified a leader, youthful intelligent dog he would stand on and out as a revolutionary... the messiah to bark on,scaring away the hyenas they that had lost their way, plunging us into disease and ignorance-immense lack and doom The dog's role was to bark and scare away the hyenas then lead us to light, prepare the jungle for a new hope-filled world to clean the stump throne on the clearing the throne that alien lumberjacks had earlier created Aliens we had expelled and banished We danced away in jubilation when the revolutionary canines struck and sent the hyenas packing-'warming' the hunt for a while They scorned and scoffed at us-the hyenas and warned us of the addictive contagious plague of its indiscriminate manner of devour politricks Alas, for years as we absent-mindedly danced off to the sunset our dog n

The dailies beared it actually-screamed it with scorching eagerness the murdered professor's horrid torrid tale silently slain by callous cut-throats slaughtered returming from Sly Pleasures Lodge Eulogies told of the perfection he desired in his essays-one of a kind The kind that even he could not quite explain Save in the comfort of his hotel room or the back seat of his Volks that blood stained leather held many secrets His vigil was a masquerade Flanked by a harrased army of female student 'weepers' Momentarily pausing to take selfies The overt absence of grief became the subject of anonymous rumours Gatecrashers stayed present...to bear witness and mould a folktale to tell tommorrow's youth A firm, generous and affectionate teacher colourful grades were scripted on routine passionate nights between his coarcively warmed sheets A stern judge, he weighed the futures of many youth expunging the clueless he deeemed unworthy with late night exam

Tease me now about my fleas Mock me now about my still stale stock Stress to gloat over my strain and misfortune Laugh to my face about this phase being a permanent place I hope your self assurance is rooted in some insurance of sorts I leave it to karma to teach you trauma to chain your mockery and vain flattery or nurse your stained ego Fate will unmask you, for that face you wear will tear for its plainted in very faint shades.... George W Kiwanuka

I stared into the cold chapel across the casket Caught glimpse of my expressionless lifeless body lying still in that huge varnished wooden prison seemingly floating in a sea of hypocritical flowers and wreathes all my power and millions irrelevant From a distance, bewilderment served me  blows at the few people who sincerely mourned me I saw the futile efforts to feign grief They tried to lie, in vain, but their grins gave them away Deception presided as folks concocted good inexistent memories of me I saw them all scheming for the vast property and legacy I had left I scoffed at this, for the cut throat politics I had taught them would be their death I saw my family infiltrated, contaminated by greed My wives, raised to be sisters, plotting each other’s demise My sons laying it bare in air tight bloody war, their sisters picking sides A preference to spill their own blood to divide the dirty wad of cash I had left like spoils and booty from a conquest war At the

Don’t look at my face I abhor being in this place dread that it’s not a mere phase Jailed in this maze I cry for freedom…escape Hesitating though  at the thought of the cost Lust and tempting kisses chain me here so wrong yet so addictive  Doom impends over my head claws of death reaching out to clasp me Marked by my own…like Iscariot’s kiss of death Quivering and quickening at every sound and bark I lament of my ghosts and demons They that day after day cast nets To tear and drown me The skulls in my closet anchor me down  like a weight tied to a drowning man’s limbs My feet are slow, knees and limbs numb My lungs ache, defeat is calling Demise’s dark veil flying towards a doomed me Pity and despise from all the sadist witnesses I give in to futility and accept reality The Inevitable  End      George W Kiwanuka      @Georgewkiwanuka

I braved the grave scorching sun squeezing through the cocktails of folks and lads my mission was simple and pure To violently plead for an explanation From the loud demagogue at the podium demanding why five years down the road He’s returned to bask in the same unfilled promises as last Silently praying for answers My thirst to mete judgement was unquenchable-insatiable Looking at his lifeless eyes I planned to question about the wax that had successfully sealed his ears from  hearing the dying hungry’s cries during his tenure I failed to decipher his eyes from his heart and mind Immune to our wails yesterday, today he sang promises of self sacrifice He was the promised son he said…the long awaited Messiah Better schools, medication in hospitals, better pay even flawless 'kolansi' roads As I hungered for signs of shame from him, his obvious oblivious ՙabsence՚ hit me his body was there, but ՙhe՚ was in another realm-a glorious paradise A realm whose reali