5 reasons why I don’t like Teenagers- especially the girls

The other time Carhmi & I had an argument, one considered a rather very big one given the consideration that our only fights were always as petty as “you will do the dishes for a whole month if you don’t finish up your ugali young lady” (ugali is a kind of bread made from maize flour & is typical to all Africans) & she hates it with a passion, that she will rather starve even if for a week than eat it.

After the heated fight, I had told her that if she wasn’t happy with me as her mother, then she was free to go out there & find herself a better mother, to which for three days, I was given the “silent treatment” she locked herself up in her room crying her head dry saying that I did not love her.

  1. Big mouths: Adults don’t understand teenagers- That is always their opening or closing remark. First they say you don’t do a good job as their mother because you went hard on them over a party embargo or put down your foot over eating habits, then when you give them the options to trade you in for a better one, than they accuse you of not loving them enough.
  2. Wise-asses: They think they are the only ones with the brains & that adults don’t know anything of what the world is made of except just being parents. Any story they tell, they always have to tap you sympathetically on the arm or shoulder, look you in the eyes & say “ oh sorry, I forgot you are too old & don’t understand these things” God, I am only 30!
  3. Know-allers: So just because they follow Selena Gomez’s lifestyle fervently on the internet, from the colour of her toothbrush to how she dumped or was dumped by her boyfriend, they think then they are smart enough to raise a whole generation of humans.
  4. Google born -agains: Tell them that watching too much TV is bad for the brains or eyes & they will come up with a 20 page off-the –top-of the head argument on how Google says TV is very good for the boosting of memory & how you are too old to know these things anyway…Google this, Google that, makes you wonder if this Google is paying them salaries for the marketing.
  5. Cunning little thieves: (read, in a loving way) Anything good belongs with them- she will come to your room wearing such a killer smile & a puppy face, ransack your wardrobe & jewelers box, in the simple name of “I simply want to know if you are feeding me well & if I am almost your size mother” & she will glean your wardrobe clean of every good clothes, shoes & accessories. Normally after a month or so, when she is going to a party or dinner, I go like “hey sweetie, I know those shoes- don’t I?” & she is so fast to walk out of the house giving you that wicked smile of hers & telling you, she is only borrowing them for the occasion & trust me, you never see them shoes again & soon enough, they are forgotten anyway & she has won.

Painted Corpses – Rethinking Africa’s bad governance & Foreign Aids

As countries go, Uganda, with its 50 years of formal independence this year is but a little sprout. But there is a mega party worthy of a big forest on 9th October to toast to this achievement. On the radio, busy bodies, are talking up the significance of the big golden jubilee. They are asking everyone, men, women and children, religious leaders to join. It will be a multi-stakeholder party it is whispered as emails fly back and forth on the importance of being Ugandan, feeling Ugandan and celebrating this fact in style. Big themes are something that we “Africans” love so expect lots of drums, ostrich feathers, whistles and bells. There will also be a lot of meat.

And so it is that the long-suffering composer of the Ugandan national anthem passed on. Many raised their hands in protest at how he had been ignored by the government. Bury him a hero they demanded. “ Oh Uganda, the land of freedom” should not stop at the first stanza suggested others. Sing the entire three stanzas, to show your patriotism. During his funeral the President of Uganda was a chief mourner. In Africa, depending on the occasion, a funeral can be a celebration where drums are beaten and cows slaughtered. George Kakoma who composed the Uganda national anthem in what was the colonial version of “Tusker project fame”, a writing competition, was hailed as a hero of independence. One cannot take away from the man his achievements but their exaggerated meaning is not something to puzzle over.

African leaders many of who legitimately fought colonialism have kept all the White Man’s traditions and regalia. Despite all the rhetoric about freedom there was no new concept the colonial infrastructure of the state was retained wholesale. Perhaps it saved post-colonial leaders and those who aspire the freedom to think. It is this face of the state as a concept best appraised by the White Man’s standards that irk and bother African commentators whenever the continent is judged by the standards it willingly committed to. So at the death of Mr. Kakoma there was no critical appraisal of his three stanzas or what sort of state it praised. In a few days many Africans will rub their sweating palms together when the British Broadcasting service (BBC) conducts yet another debate here in Kampala about Africa’s “international image” and whether it is “justified” or “Prejudice-d”.

More wary ones are advised to stay away from such a debate, turn on a premiership football match and open a beer because it simply reinforces what it claims to interrogate. The debate has no weighing the subject as a question of fact. It will stagnate on the merry-go-round of perceptions about the continent. This by itself however is not new.

But on what basis does one base a good reputation? There is no such thing really as a bad image that can’t be repaired. After we get over “Africa is not one country” but often thought of as one, we will soon forget the Rwanda’s, Botswana’s and South Africa’s of this former colonial playground. What is really problematic about African countries pretending to be states and African statesmen and strongmen posturing to African unity is how much they are cheered on and why.

To answer the BBC, it is possible that what conspires to explain Africa’s condition is the hyperbole that this conversation is. If I may, Africa as a country, that popular version, is explained by the coupling of foreign aid and bad governments, a marriage of convenience, of partners that need each other but publicly quarrel about their union. Foreign aid (as opposed to investment which is now becoming vogue) has been the advertising agent of the popular version of Africa. Its giant billboards dominate magazines, newspapers and conferences with hunger, death and civil wars. At home political fat cats have lapped at its milky gravy trail.

All they are required to do is pretend to do reform, fail at it, and then hold a conference about what the real problem is. This conspiracy of bad government, bad governance, the aid industry and western foreign policy that rests on the post-colonial mindset that abuses of the past must be met with reluctant charity today explains Africa’s bad image. Not surprisingly most scholarship on Africa’s development is about aid programs, their success or failure. Even the slogan of “aid not trade” is about charity. Once in a while the shows like CNN’s Heroes will pick some fresh positive storylines from this situation but it is supported by the contrast they draw and also informs that contrast. African countries like painted corpses are praised on the one hand while the stench fills the air. Recently advocates of African renaissance have looked to growing cities, markets and China. So Africa’s minerals and markets will shape its future perception.  Yet again a conspiracy of bad government, bad governance and foreign investment will determine how badly the painted corpse smells. Foreign investment that targets only natural resources is not different from foreign aid. Its language of change will be hailed by the same actors but am afraid the real path for change of rethinking Africa remains ahead.

What expectations are you putting on your loved ones today?

Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.”

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. Proverbs 31:28-30.

In the early 1900s, Charles Cooley developed a theory about how we develop self-esteem.

His theory, in a nutshell, was that people begin to see themselves the way other significant people in their lives see them. Their perception of themselves then affects the way they act. Through self-fulfilling prophecies, people reflect the expectations of those closest to them.

The Proverbs 31 woman is often held up as an example for women to model.

Yet, with all the diverse talents of the Proverbs 31 woman, women seeking to follow her example can easily be overwhelmed.

Proverbs 31 says that the noble woman’s husband praised her. He took notice of her good deeds and built her up.

Her children went out of their way to thank her and bless her for all that she had done.

Could it be that their affirmations energized her to do those good deeds in the first place?

What expectations are you putting on your loved ones today?

Have you called your mother or your father, your husband or your wife, your children “blessed” lately?

Have you acknowledged the good things they have done? Or has it been too easy to dwell on the negative?

The African Heritage vs. Modernity

Going back to my roots, born in Africa.

Ladies & Gentlemen, let’s take a look at Me, if I had remained typical African, in my African home, in my Africa heritage. By now I would be having seven children, & looking like a 45yrs old woman even though I am only 30. I would be rising up early at wee hours of the morning & walking 10kms to the shamba (farm), digging in the scorching tropical heat till 4pm & on my way back home collect firewood for the evening meal. I would arrive home just when the chicken are going to roost, drop my hoe under the grass thatched hut out from the dew & rain- incase, head straight for the make shift kitchen shade still with my bundle of firewood on my head, lay them in the corner of the kitchen & start the fire at the three firestone (stove).

Back in the main house which serves as living room, dinning room, bedroom, chicken pen & store, I scoop up drinking water from the water clay pot with a gourd & take a long gulp- Jee I am thirsty. Then I head to the backyard vegetable garden to gather some vegetables for the evening meal. In the kitchen, I quickly rinse the soot black saucepan from age, which leaks ceaselessly like a woman suffering from fistula & put water on the fire for ugali ( semi solid porridge made from maize flour, main dish for Africans). Cutting the vegetables, if I care I rinse them & throw them into the clay pot, add some salt, dried fish & tomatoes- (onions are for the rich). By now the water has boiled, with smoke engulfing me & tears streaming down my face, I mingle the ugali & put the pot for boiling.

My husband, the father of my five children staggers home reeking of booze & women, singing to the tune of the village funeral song. I quickly rush to prepare him a bath. After he has washed off the smell of another woman, I humbly serve him on my knees the best chunks of the fish which I bought from the market on my way back home from the shamba & ask him how his day went. The kids are out bathing- after he has finished eating; I take his left over & add it on to the remaining dish. My husband, the father of my five children, at this time starts to snore away in the corner of the house that serves as our bedroom. Finally I & the kids sit down to eat from my old rusty metallic tray that was handed down to me by my hating mother in law. The chicken on the one corner of the house are restlessly pecking at each other.

Clearly the children are not satisfied, but there is no more food left in the pot, so I rudely send them off to sleep to the other corner of the house. Remember I have Seven children? Well, the other two are not my husband’s, but are offspring of the village drummer who lives next door to us…… Sssshs! Don’t tell this to my husband, when he is drunk, he thinks the two looks more like him than the five.

Folks, & this is how my African life would be like had I not seen the light of modernity.

A Blood- bought Right!

Romans 8:31 – What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?

Are you faced with challenges in your life right now? Are you having marital problems & financial woes? Maybe your child is going astray or an old illness has returned to haunt you. What then will you say to all these things?

Do you know what God wants you to say? He wants you to say “if God is for me, who can be against me?”

If you knew that the President or Prime Minister was on your side, you might believe that everything will be okay. But you have an even better backing! The Bible tells us that God, the Almighty, the creator of the heavens & the earth, is for you! What problem can fasten its grip on you when the Almighty Good is for you? Can the devil come succesfully against you with God on your side? NO!

If God is for you today, if God is for you right now, you don’t have to moan, “if only I had this ….if only I didn’t say that…” & you don’t have to worry about the future either:  “what if this happens or that does not happen? … what if we don’t have enough..” my friend, regretting the past & worrying about the future won’t change anything. Instead, look to your heavenly father, because He is for you at this very present moment, you can be confident that He will help you & provide for you.

God sent His son to die for you. & Jesus gave you a blood-bought right to an abundant life full of meaning & purpose! He gave you a blood-bought right to walk in divine health all the days of your life! He gave you a blood-bought right to prosperity even when the economy goes down!

You have all these things not because you deserve them, but because Jesus shed His blood & gave you the right to have them. All these blessings are yours today because God is for you! & if God is for you, who can be against you?!

Stay blessed.

East Africa, the perfect potrait of the Animal Kingdom.

East Africa is a Game park & I wonder why the World Wildlife Authorities haven’t yet declared it a Wildlife Reserved.

It is a place where you are sure to find all sorts of animals mistakenly put into human bodies by a god who must be having a very funny sense of humor. The human-like animlas range of Girrafes, Wild Pigs, Elephants, Baboons, Hyenas, Cheaters, Zebras, Dogs, Goats & a few Game Rangers who happen to be the real human beings.

A place where people will not wait atleast until its mid day before they start to display their idiocity publicly all over the place.

It’s a  place where everything illegal is legal & the word Responsibility is spelt backward.

It is a place where anyone who has a uniform, a gun & some official title like security guard is king of the territory.

Most probably the only place where beers are served for breakfast along with the cereals & more beers as water during lunch breaks on work days.

A place where a customer who happens to be in a hurry has to sit at the manager’s desk politely & listens to him or her gossip away on the phone  for 10mns with her mate about the guy or soccer from last night & how it all ended before he or she lazily turns to attend to the customer without an apology.

Okay, I could go on & on with the list, but why not (you the reader) just book your ticket to East Africa National Park & find out for yourselves? They are pretty cheap in money but very expensive on the health because you are guranteed at the end of the tour to have ulcers, severe migrane, emotional traumas & in extreme cases heart attacks. Not reccomended for people with anger issues or impatient spirits.

As for me, I took some vaccination against all the above plus any other,  but it seems to be ineffective when dealing with some specific types animals.

A little bit of each…..but not all at once

“Old men are like pregnant women; you always have to pussyfoot around their emotions not sure which wire you will be stepping on – the green wire, red wire or the earthing?”

and

“Old women are like toddlers; you just don’t know when to expecet the next outburst or tantrum- sometimes it comes so sudden it just blows you off”

No offense meant to anyone in any of these classes.

From the book “The sayings of Love Potya”

 

Kriya Yoga Meditation- The ultimate technique to wellbeing

“As we have a physical science to create external wellbeing, there is a whole inner dimension of science to create inner wellbeing” -Sadhguru

You know the mass misconception people have about me “that I am never serious” in life? Well, I wonder how much confirmed there thinking would have been today if they had only been in the yoga meditation session with me.

The first time I heard about yoga I must have been about that month when babies start feeling the urge to play football in the stomach (kicking)-solo. I am not always easily sheeped around, but today the Yoga Master made a fine believer out of me. Suffering from lack of better things to occupy myself with during this vacation, I convinced my arse to try out something I always on ordinary times would never dream of….. & came today- my legs were a good pair of sticks (I mean hot sexy sticks) which never wasted time like normally in debates as to how much they will get paid should they oblige to take me to a place, blah blah blah…

You know the saying “when one is idle, they become disorderly?” You want Disorderly? Keep me very idle for less than 10mns; & this meditation thing was just the kind of gateway into it- 45mns. Running a mental scan from finding faults with, to criticizing the Guru, I took to my surrounding, curtains & the mats didn’t survive either until the Guru made an appearance & started guiding us through into meditation.

Blames: I was too restless during & through out the mediation my mind became disorderly & kept wandering from between just two things when we were asked to close our eyes; “damn! The droning voice of the Guru is so sexy I could listen to it each & every morning & before I go to bed if only this be a path to attaining divinity” it was so sweet a lullaby that by the time, my neighbor jabbed at my side, I had already been snoring & having paradisiacal dreams through the meditation. I will spare me the shame & you the quilt of judging me with the second thing. Blame it on the yoga master for making music to my heart.

Positive trait: As disordely as it got me, I came out revived- I felt I had been given new wings with which to fly & a new spirirt with which to soar. I highly recommend meditative yoga to anyone who wishes to attain a higher degree of tranquility anytime. & the best news is, you can meditate anywhere anytime.

Why I hate being African

In Africa every story is a Looong Story; No one – & I mean No One, not even the Leaders ever gets to “the point” immediately. Makes you wonder whether they are just completely ignorant of “the point” or just lazy to reach to it faster. This makes me so sick that now I am filing a Law Suit against God & dragging Him to Court for deliberately making me an African in Africa where every story begins with “you see”, “you know”, “but”, “somehow”

Of all the five Continents & the a hundred & something Countries of the world, was Africa really the only option with available posting? That too East Africa? Where most of the “garbage humans” were dumped?  – By the way, what name is given to a waste human? I know a waste trash is known as garbage.

I am so angry you should see my face; it’s glowing dark blue (well, since a black person can’t turn red) from rage at this blatant nature of racism by the creator & I am so hating being an African.

A typical African story:

The Point:  He needs to borrow $10 from you

& this is the sample Story:

“You see” my grandfather was the village chief, he had 17 children from one woman & “you know” my cousin died last week, my mother is in the hospital, & my wife gave birth yesterday. So this morning I went to see the other Mechanic who owes me money since last year “but” “somehow” he was not there. Man, can you lend me $10 so I can travel to the village to see my mother?…………..See why I get upset? How hard could it be to just say “Hey man, can I borrow $10 from you? I am in a fix”

A whole new world – Back to reality

This imaginative story was written by a 14yr old girl

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

A whole new world

Alone on the street, everything seems so strange. Bianca makes her way through the city hoping that she would find someone she knows or at least something familiar.

She reaches the bus stop and finds  a strange looking creature, it had legs like that of a goat, a tail, and the rest of his body was like that of a human being. The creature held an umbrella in one hand and a bag in the other. He wore a black vest and a white shirt. He was a faun.

Bianca walked up to the creature “hello sir” she said. The strange creature turned “hello little one’’ he replied “excuse me _ I don’t want to be inquisitive _but should I be right in thinking that you are human?”

“My name is Bianca” she said, a little puzzled.

“A pleasure” he went on “allow me to introduce myself. My name is Arcta”

“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Arcta” said Bianca. “May I ask where I am?”

“You are in Avantia” replied Mr. Arcta. “Would you like a cup of tea and cake?”

“Yes please.” she said.

They enjoyed talking as they waited for the bus. It was becoming dark and cold but the bus had not yet arrived. A cold shiver ran down Bianca’s spine.

The whole place became so quiet that all you could here was the wind whisper across the street and trees swaying. Then suddenly they heard a scream from across the street. Mr. Arcta told Bianca to stay put while he went to check what was happening.

He saw the queen’s army marching towards them and immediately told Bianca “we have to get out of here!”

She couldn’t understand what was going on but she figured that they were in danger. They entered a small cave to catch their breath. “What is going on?” she finally asked “who were those people? And what did they want?”

“There is little time to explain but the short version is that the queen doesn’t want foreigners to visit Avantia and she must have heard of your arrival.”

“Why doesn’t she want foreigners visiting?”Bianca asked.

“Well my dear, she believes that outsiders will steal our diamonds.”Mr. Arcta replied in a sad tone “they are very special and rare”

“She never……..”  The soldiers entered the cave, just before he could finish his statement. “Tie them up!”The chief commander ordered. Bianca’s heart rate increased each time the soldiers moved closer.

One of the soldiers was about to tie her up when she suddenly woke up. Bianca gave a huge sigh of relief for she was glad that it was just a dream.

By: Carhmi Shammadah. 

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