Post Chogm Kampala

I’m back.

Seems like I have been away. Missing my cyber buddies, all. No, I had not travelled, but was caught up with work details. You know, end of year. That means reports to write, plans to make, and all the other miscellaneous things. I was caught up in that. Lost some weekends’ rest to them, and missed going out. Decided to update with poems.

Interesting. Writing, I like. But it is easier to write a poem. Momentary inspiration. Just stop what you are doing, and pen it down. Spontaneous, yes. Flash of the moment kind of thing. Prose, one sits, and plans, and writes. Even when it is something as easy as what has been happening to me.

Beat a deadline this morning. Afterwards, I, we celebrated. I decided to hit town. Just to go without the cloud of deadlines to beat and look at the city. Post Chogm Kampala.

During Chogm I was occupied with my worries. After Chogm, I found that I had to beat the deadline, and that consumed me. Seems as if I have been walking around eyes open only to my problems.

The city. Kampala.

She has been cleaned, very prettily. And, surprise, surprise, it has lasted to a week post Chogm. The grass is green, the streets downtown are clean, and the workers still come, and the bright yellow City Council dustbins chained to the light posts are still there. Chained.

There are some things which are the same. Traffic. Atrocious, as ever. Correction, as it has been for this year. The weather.

Beautiful Kampala weather. In the morning the sun was out without a wisp of cloud in the blue sky. By noon it was baking hot. The sun high, blistering, grilling. Pulling every drop of sweat from my body. I have taken to walking around with a bottle of water. Like a tourist!!! Apparently some thinks it is cool. Others frown at my breaking the custom not to walk while eating or drinking. But it is very comfortable, being able to take a swig when necessary. Water is lukewarm, but freshening. And I wont mind the odd looks.

By the afternoon, I was tired. To the New Taxi park. As chaotic as ever. Maybe more. Seems it is a no go area around noon. Too many of the mini buses trying to get in, and out of the enclosure. It is worse later in the evening. Commuting is becoming a real pain. Maybe I will take up footing. A lot healthier, doctors say.

By the time I got home, the weather has changed. Wind, from the lake, it has brought up the clouds. There is a threat, a scent, and taste of rain on the wind. In the stirring of the leaves.

I am no longer sure of the seasons, seems it is always beautiful. But these days, we have been receiving more than the usual sun. Less rain. The watercourses have dried up. No more flooding, and, the rivers are lower. Maybe we are in the dry season.

But it still smells like rain is on the way, despite the hot sun that was in the morning.

Beautiful Kampala. As ever. Its weather is the irritating, beautiful mix of the very predictable, and unpredictable. And it is home.

GayUganda