Politically Correct

Am I politically correct?

It is a Tuesday, and I woke up with a hangover. Very unusual, that, but last night we went to Kabalagala. A suburb of Kampala that in truth does not sleep.

It is near the so called ‘Rich Man’s slum’, Muyenga. But, what makes the world go round in Kabalagala is the mix of the rich and the poor.

Kabalagala is the middle of one of the deepest, dankest of Kampala’s slums. And the rich take advantage of that. In Kabalagala, anything goes. Life is cheap, and, we the people on the fringes of society; we the people flourish.

We had heard of the bar for some time. But Monday evening is not a good day to party. Not at the beginning of the week. Not when most of the entertainment budget was interrupted by a weekend.

So, I went, I saw, and discovered. Came back drunk, happy drunk.

Am I politically correct?

Certainly not in Uganda. I am gay, something I shout about. Definitely not politically correct. I write about my gay lover, gay love. I am un-ashamedly activist in my writing. Promoting the gay agenda, or homosexual agenda, as I am accused of doing.

I write of things which are inconvenient. Slum life, and hovels, and…

Have been having a conversation with deT. She accused me of being a ‘misogynist’, with some very frank allusions to my African macho thinking.

Politically correct?

I write of some very inconvenient truths. Of myself. Of others. Use the blog to examine my thinking.

Yes, I may have an agenda. Is it defined? Or just the musings of a mind?

I like to poke fun in a round about way. What if I am not understood?

Yes, there is the risk of not being understood. The language, the cultures, the differences in opinion.

I should turn the title to this to ‘Musings’. Because I have no plan, except to labour your brain with unconventional thoughts, questions.

I cannot be politically correct. Not in Uganda. And not in any other part of the world. Personally, I think life is too harsh here for me to blind myself with ideals. And politically correct ideals are not comfortable truths.

So, why do I push my agenda?

Maybe it is because I am a human being. And questions are part of life.

Why shouldn’t I question the church when it stumbles? Or take on my culture? Is culture, my culture supposed to be holy? If church and mosque are not holy, what of culture? Why are there supposed to be truths which are unquestionable? And why should I believe them? Invisible chains on the freedom of my mind.

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Has that been dunk enough?

My mind is a morass. Sometimes when I glance into the depths, I feel like am drowning.

But at least I can look outside. I am in the house. Not at work.

The day is dull, overcast. But bright with light, and a palely blue sky. There is little wind. Maybe the rain season’s on the way. The rough bright edge of sunshine has been blunted. At least today.

My love went off to work.

And I am at home, trying to work off a hangover. There is a pile of work to do actually, but, well, this is my second post of the day. Lazy me.

I will go out and read a poem.

It should be ok. It is like a fix. Something calms my thoughts, reading a poem.

Be well, and have a happy day. I will go back to bed, expecting to be more fresh when I wake up!

GayUganda