Have the un-seasonal rains
a break taken at last?
The air’s pure, clear, clean;
the sky’s seen, a crystal blue
a few clouds scattered palely over it,
white fleece, to the east bathed in a brilliant glint
as the sun storms into the firmament;
yet there’s that in the air,
a feel of the rain afar off-
not threatening, promising;
maybe in the noon, or the afternoon,
that rain will, may come.
the hills and vales heavily green shrouded,
the rivers bulging in their courses,
the soil taken a wash, but quick drying,
the lake a swollen tummy,
not satiated, as yet, though pretty near to-
like to a child locked in a sweet store,
or an adult never nay saying
as the rain god mercilessly pelts
and lakes the countryside invade.
as alive today as ever will be-
bustling people pouring onto dusty streets,
the never sleeping giant from a doze shaken,
I love you, sweet home.
© GayUganda 19 Sept 07
Beautiful Kampala, Beautiful Uganda! Indeed! This post reminds me of one of your earlier posts where you asked your readers the meaning of ‘Nsaba-Buturo’. He who came ‘begging- for- refuge’ wants us banished from our beloved country. Talk of the Kiganda proverbial squatter that turned into the landowner. The Baganda have this saying Sserwajja okwoota, nelufuuka nnyinimu. Now, I would use a crash course in Luganda-English translation to faithfully translate that! But here is my best try. Literary, “The homeless that you once saved from the cold and let sit at your fireplace later elevating themselves to landlord status and kicking you out of your beautiful home”. This is what is happening here if the connotations in his name are anything we can harp on. Of course he can argue that 95% of the other house occupants are solidly behind him kicking us out.
Very true indeed. In this case, I affirm that he neither has my permission, nor my silent acquiescence. And as for the other 95%, I am claiming my right as a child of the soil, and a human being. Can he trump that?
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