Beautiful day outside.
Overcast, cool to cold, and still. Maybe no rain this afternoon, but it was there yesterday, and today maybe.
Went out last eve. My lover took me out. Dinner, then a bar and music. Was fun. Good music, good crowd. It is funny how many strangers can congregate and share in the bonhomie, and have fun. Music was a little different from what the others wanted, and I did notice that there were not many kuchus, as I had expected.
But, it was good. And of course, we left early. Before it had heated up. Kuchus are fashionable, always. They show up late.
Had a long conversation with a friend about the bill. He told me he no longer feels safe in the country.
I can understand the feeling. The indignity of a bill by our countrymates, which clearly, and very succintly, plans for prison or death for us, because of what we are. Some kuchus say we shouldnt mind. That it will be un-enforcable. And, of course we have always lived under almost similar, but less harsh conditions. And, we have survived.
Are we safe?
It would be 'ostritch head in the sand like' and ignorant bravado to say that we will be safe. That Bahati bill will declare open season on homosexuals. Anyone who is accused of being homosexual will be guilty until proved innocent.
I have been following the pastor wars. Yes, they are still ongoing. And, it is notable that the Ssempa's and co are still so convinced of the righteousness of their cause in chasing after homosexuals that they are continuing to pull their beloved church apart. I guess it strikes me that, if they are so willing to tear themselves apart to pursue a vendetta against Kayanja, having arraigned, judged and damned him guilty before even any due process, I get a little concerned at the venom of my accusers.
Eh, but those are the clouds of the day. They are there. But, doesnt stop the day from being beautiful!
Where I am is quiet. I see leaves and trees, and a dance in them with the air stirring. I dont see many people, which is fine with me at the moment. Kind of gets too crowded, in this Kampala of ours. Children are at school, and the screaming high voices of their happiness are just absent. Something that I note, because they are always so, er, present.
The burden of anonymity that I have to bear is that I cannot name the places, lest I betray myself. It is a bummer. Sometimes, this picture of Kampala, of the city should have the solid bone of place names and suburbs, so that it jumps out in the mind of a reader, knowing and remembering the particular hovel, or suburb. For example, talking of Kabalagala at midnight, an instant image of bright lights, garrish, people crowds and music blaring out of every roadside shop cum bar. That is what Kabalagala is.
Its near midday, means that I will have to start doing something else.
It is fun, fun the work that I do. I love it. Sometimes, when I am not gripping about it!!!!
Have a fun day, I plan on having one
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