Kampala

I am embarrassed.

Woke up today, very early. Prepared, in part because my lover was also up, and had something to do in town. So, out of bed, to town, on a Saturday morning. Only to discover that I was not supposed to be at work.

Sent a message to my lover. (Didn’t want to talk to him. A sharp tongue sometimes!) And he rang back, and asked me how I had come to make such an embarrassing mistake. Not so subtle!

I decided to walk back home. Wanted to say in penance, but if it was penance, I loved it too much. Heavy overcast, sun just filtering a grey light through. Promising rain, but none as yet. Kampala is a burgeoning city. Yes, despite the too visible signs of squalid poverty, there is a pace to it that is ‘city like’. A poem, that I stopped on the roadside to pen.

Kampala-

burgeoning, building, busy city;

the feel of the inside of an anthill-

termite citadel indeed,

all inhabitants busy going- somewhere

too busy to take note

one tiny insignificant ant, me.

GayUganda