tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7228337743113166742024-03-14T01:31:35.655+03:00memoirs of a kangaroo in the sun.Laugh, love, live!Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.comBlogger125125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-58041525281844933342018-12-29T20:15:00.000+03:002019-01-02T13:01:54.815+03:00Farewell Blogger!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
On the 22nd of July, 2011, at 15:39 hours East African time, I published my very first article on Blogger. It was a two-paragraph article, barely 200 words, called <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?rinli=1&pli=1&blogID=722833774311316674#editor/target=post;postID=8007008531211886502;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=128;src=postname">"In a Nutshell"</a>. It talked about how there is no try, there is only do and do not. It was read by about 10 people. It was poorly phrased, with an exaggerated font and all over the place, BUT; it still captured me.<br />
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It's been about 8 years now, and I can assure you that the growth has been real. As a writer, I have expanded my horizons in ways I never ever thought I would. I have risen and fallen, given up and started over, inspired and motivated others and been inspired as well. I have discovered hidden islands in writing, secrets and truths that can only be found through experience. I have worked with amateurs and professionals. I have had writers block and sudden bursts of writing energy. Far from diminishing with time, my passion for writing has only deepened and become more fiery.<br />
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However, when you read "In a nutshell", my very first article, and also read my last article <a href="https://soulsistarz.blogspot.com/2018/09/being-cool-mum-seven-things-im-doing-to.html">"Being a cool mum: seven things I'm doing to prepare for cool motherhood",</a> you realize that it's still the same me in there. I'm still all about putting yourself out there, going after your dreams and being brave.<br />
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It is in that same spirit that I have started <a href="https://www.malkethabirthservices.com/">Malketha Birth Services</a>, a platform that will focus mainly on Maternal Mental Health, especially for women in rural areas in Uganda, and where I will be blogging from now on.<br />
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Blogger for me has been like my childhood home; the place where you are raised, and trained, and equipped for the day you have to move out to live in your own apartment. You may have another house you sleep in, but you know that it will always be home to you. It's been such a journey, and I know for a fact I will pass by often. Thank you Blogger, and thank you to all my friends that always took the time to read, share or comment. I'm positive that you have all contributed to this change. I hope that you will once again join me on the new journey at <a href="https://www.malkethabirthservices.com/" target="_blank">Malketha Birth Services</a>; and I also hope that you will never stop being optimistic brave dreamers.<br />
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xxx<br />
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Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-60419136855582524602018-09-10T10:47:00.000+03:002018-09-10T14:52:35.683+03:00Being a cool mum: Seven things I’m doing to prepare for ‘cool’ motherhood<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have GOT to be besties with my
children! I’m thinking the boys will be closer to their father but we’ll still
be close. My daughter(s) on the other hand, ‘tebampona!’ which simply means
that battle was lost before it was even started. </div>
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The truth is I don’t want to
be a cool mum just for the sake of it. I want my children to trust me, to trust
that I will always have their best interests at heart, and to value my opinion
from a young age. I won’t know everything, but experience will have taught me
enough to guide them through life as they grow into independent wholesome
adults. The world as it is right now scares me. The number of trends and
changing belief systems make me wonder what our children will have to face.
Every single thing that makes me who I am has been turned into another battle
ground for human rights. </div>
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The number of influences and pressures pushing and pulling
on each individual are enough to make you want to go into hiding. Just imagine
your daughter or son running to some other strange person with goodness knows
what values, for advice on all things concerning life. In order for them to
know they can always come to me, and for them to actually come to me, there
should be an already existing relationship filled with respect, trust and
admiration. They have to be ‘cool’ with
you.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, without getting too deep
into the day-after-day activism that is our world right now, here are seven
things I am working on that I believe will help me come off as believably cool
when my children reach that defining age. I know that it’s never the same in practice as it sounds in theory, but you never know.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">1. Making money</b> </div>
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Do I even need to explain this!? Apart from the fact
that having money means you are able to pay to do all these cool things with
your children, it also means you are the boss. Enough said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">2. Knowing cool music</b> </div>
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This is a bit hard given my spiritual values but
I’m sure there’s a way. You must know how to pull a few moves as well. <o:p></o:p><br />
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Imagine this being your two year old, and you don't even know what Versace on the floor is! Smh. </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">3. Learning how to 'be cool'</b></div>
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i.e. keep calm. If you’re an African, you
know that being a parent = unequaled ability to exaggerate and blow things out
of proportion. You need to stay cool. If you call for a clan meeting when your
daughter buys lipstick or blow a fuse when she doesn’t pick your calls, you’re
creating a gap. Show your emotions in moderation; don’t be stoic but don’t be
over the top either. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Learn to voice your
feelings. When your children make a mistake, do not dismiss it. They need to
know that there are consequences for every action. Do not capitalize on it either
or they will grow into adults afraid of trying because they are afraid of failing. They will start to hide things from you because your reactions always
hurt. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Example of ideal reaction to a bad situation: “I’m disappointed that
you would go beyond your agreed curfew and there is a price to pay for that. But
I’m glad you’re home safe.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">4. Practicing the art of giving space</b> </div>
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This is especially true for the teenage/ young
adult years. I will want to know how the day was, was school OK? Is someone
bullying you? Do you need some career guidance? Fashion advice? Are we doing OK
as parents? The list is endless. However, if I don’t give my children some
space, I will suffocate them. Not everything has to be addressed immediately.
Notice and respect the subtle cues when it’s not an ideal time. Allow them to
come to you once in a while. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">5. Being OK with showing weakness<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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The hardest thing for parents, or
even human beings, is to admit they have weaknesses, which is strange because
we all do. I will never pretend to be perfect. I won’t make it look like things came
easy to me because we’ve all had to go through some things to get where we
are. It’s OK to have a bad day. It’s OK to be passed over for promotions. Everything
that happens could be a lesson for your children and whether they show it or
not, they are watching. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">6. Making bomb connections </b></div>
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I don’t mean the CEO’s or Managers (which of
course you must have). I intend to have VIP access to all the happening events
for children, to know the new cool activities going on, the new hangout that
everyone at school is talking about…you get the gist. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">7. Keeping up with the lingo </b><br />
It won’t be easy but…I gots to have mad
street cred for sho, you dig?<o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4xkUOzsKca4tfRXyOO1-6500z28Sc_Z_FDTNfSulZnwK4zf_XW9dBoo1mzSkHCfMBZ5znq0ro59fyf2G8DHVSm0a1mABXc2FyxS-OBliDIgonss0xfykeFRhxOrsHoMK00_Gwg9YLjRM/s1600/images+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4xkUOzsKca4tfRXyOO1-6500z28Sc_Z_FDTNfSulZnwK4zf_XW9dBoo1mzSkHCfMBZ5znq0ro59fyf2G8DHVSm0a1mABXc2FyxS-OBliDIgonss0xfykeFRhxOrsHoMK00_Gwg9YLjRM/s1600/images+%25284%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
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Wish me luck!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-40001121142889159362018-09-03T12:05:00.000+03:002018-09-03T14:42:40.847+03:00The abuse culture in Ugandan employment<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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If you lived in a desert, a place
where finding a liter of water is the equivalent of finding a tonne of gold, you
would probably look at water differently from someone that lives by the lake.
Your tolerance for algae, pebbles or even mud in your water would be much
higher than the one who knows all they have to do is walk three meters to find
it. This is the same way the employment culture is in Uganda. I’m not talking
about the one percent whose parents own firms and businesses so they are guaranteed
employment no matter what. Neither am I talking about the other one percent who
through relatives in influential positions are able to jump to the front of any
application process. I’m also not referring to the law of the jungle where the
strong survive and the weak are destroyed. I’m talking about the remaining
majority, the ordinary Ugandan who, after struggling through an average of
sixteen years of school, an unpaid internship, one or two voluntary positions,
and most probably a few more months of sitting at home unemployed, has finally
landed an entry job in a small company somewhere. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSuhwDNHkLfRcr7mrHSBtHdM7Zg7Treh51_pp0G2eHEC5yPOPc0emqdc4R9dUpj4dIc-yyp34zRc05_VR76PfKrz5LI8yKOTubP9pDmNQRXnr1OY1G0eLWahUWdhRW9rr-mEuyoHhXSrk/s1600/images+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="179" data-original-width="282" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSuhwDNHkLfRcr7mrHSBtHdM7Zg7Treh51_pp0G2eHEC5yPOPc0emqdc4R9dUpj4dIc-yyp34zRc05_VR76PfKrz5LI8yKOTubP9pDmNQRXnr1OY1G0eLWahUWdhRW9rr-mEuyoHhXSrk/s400/images+%25284%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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You would like to think they have
made it. They have beaten the odds, and they have. However, the end of the
journey of the anxiety of applying for numerous jobs, is the beginning of
another journey of putting up with almost daily psychological, emotional and
sometimes physical or sexual abuse. Even though we have an Employment act, we
are still very far behind adequate representation of employees in Uganda. And
because jobs are like water in a desert, you put up with all the algae, mud and
pebbles generously poured into your water because not only will someone else
take the dirty water if you don’t, you also have no idea where the next cup of
water will come from if you let this one go. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So...</div>
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You put up with your boss’ wife
as she loudly threatens to fire you in front of all your colleagues because she
thinks you are trying to steal her husband. Somehow the fact that she is having
a bad morning should be explanation enough for you.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0V4XfxbBkROMDtTsSye2DZLoUmLYJ_F_r0gN1F5EZiGombnlx5Ju3Giev67tygXzKQ8dh83VmKrSd0aAboOXmQr7E1frG3dzHSyhNEVNxxESjkK6gFg_Y421SmKtF21N1dYvbk3MlvCY/s1600/images+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="182" data-original-width="277" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0V4XfxbBkROMDtTsSye2DZLoUmLYJ_F_r0gN1F5EZiGombnlx5Ju3Giev67tygXzKQ8dh83VmKrSd0aAboOXmQr7E1frG3dzHSyhNEVNxxESjkK6gFg_Y421SmKtF21N1dYvbk3MlvCY/s400/images+%25283%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a>You put up with salaries paid two
or more weeks late every month even though the directors have all taken
vacations with their wives and children to exotic destinations that month. Even
if you worked for that money, you should be grateful that you’re even paid at
all.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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You put up with a colleague
continually harassing you over a report you made that they want to copy, and
even though you’re not comfortable with him xeroxing the work you spent days
working on, you cannot say no because he is a brother to your C.E.O.<o:p></o:p></div>
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You put up with baby-sitting your
supervisor’s children because it’s a rite of passage for any one in your
position looking to climb the corporate ladder. Besides, that’s the only way
you get invited to the exclusive parties at their house. Every one that came
before you knows that!</div>
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You put up with having no health
insurance or mandatory retirement fund because at least you have a job, despite
the fact that half of the field assignments you are sent to involve you risking
your life each time because you are coming from Kampala to Entebbe using a
‘boda-boda”. <o:p></o:p></div>
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You put up with everyone turning
to look at you during Administration meetings because the chairperson would like
some tea and you are the only woman in the room. <o:p></o:p></div>
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You put up with watching all your
opportunities to attend workshops or trainings given to the junior associate
that plays golf with the boss. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But mostly, you put up with the
daily psychological harassment of being constantly reminded that your employers
are doing you a favor by having employed you and if you feel like you cannot
handle the “way things are”, you’re free to leave at any time. <o:p></o:p></div>
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You have no power. You have no
peace. You have no security. You have nothing to protect you or your rights as
an employee. You’re stressed out, anxious and over-worked. If you dare bring this up with others, you're told that you're a 'millennial' and this is nothing but entitlement; that your parents and ancestors were able to do more with less in worse conditions. So you sip on that
mud-colored, algae-ridden, pebble-filled water every day anyway until either
you’re lucky enough to find a better oasis or the water poisons you and kills
you. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Now I know that it’s more complex
than I make it sound, and there is a corporate network of strings that would
take eternity to untangle. I am aware that not all organisations are that way
(mine inclusive- currently super happy at work!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I didn’t always
work here. I’ve had my fair share of that abuse. I know a lot of people that
are dealing with issues like this and bigger every day at their places of work,
and there is literally NOTHING they can do about it. Just because it's the way it's been done for centuries, does not make it right. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I wish I had a number you can
call, or a Union to link these victims up with. I wish I could tell you that
you can easily sue and get compensated for all your trouble, but I would be lying. What I can tell
you is the culture of abuse by a majority of Ugandan employers is real and it’s
affecting many more lives than you can imagine. If you're in a position to do better as a colleague, employer, or business owner, now is the time to act. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-36452121952595559112018-08-27T11:19:00.000+03:002018-08-27T11:19:03.847+03:00I see you<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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"To be nobody but yourself in a
world that’s doing its best to make you somebody else, is to fight the hardest
battle you are ever going to fight. Never stop fighting."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p>E. E. Cummings</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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All the boys told her she was
beautiful. She believed it sometimes more than other times, but never to the
extent they claimed. If she was so beautiful, why was she always alone? Why
wasn’t she able to hold down a relationship for more than months? Why didn’t
she like what she saw in the mirror? It’s not like she was ugly, it’s just that
there had to be something she had less of than the other girls. Her nose could
use a little nipping here and there and it wouldn’t hurt if she dropped a few
pounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sean had left her for a girl
with longer hair and a dimpled smile in her light-skinned complexion. If she
was all that, why didn’t she feel that way? </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
There had to be something wrong
with her. The most rational thing she can do is take whatever is given to her;
she really wasn’t in a position to be picky. Maybe if she worked harder, she
could show them that she was worth it. If she gave more of herself, someone
might finally appreciate all that she was. Maybe if she smiled more and was
super nice all the time, they would stay. Next time she went shopping, she
would take Doris along. Doris always had guys around her. She didn’t
particularly like her sense of fashion and wasn’t comfortable with some of the
outfits she wore, but they seemed to be working. Forget all that talk of owning
who she was, she needed to be someone else.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It’s not that he didn’t know what
to do. It’s just that he wasn’t so sure about himself. Most decisions he had
made had ended up being the wrong ones, and he was tired of hearing what a
failure he was so maybe it’s better to take Mart’s advice. He wasn’t sure if he
trusted Mart or his intentions to be honest but at least he seems to have fewer
problems. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t really get it. The
few things that he did that people called “wrong” didn’t really hurt anyone. In
fact, if there was anyone hurt by what he did, it was him more than anyone
else. But still, no matter what he did, he couldn’t understand or stand the
hurt look in his mother’s eyes each time she looked at him. What was he doing
wrong? Why was he not like his sisters? He had been called irresponsible,
unreliable, flaky, unaccountable and a spendthrift so many times by so many
family members that I guess it had to be true. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Sometimes he just wanted some
time off from all the responsibility, from trying to maintain a perfect image.
It’s not like he was neglecting a wife and children, it’s not like he staggered
into work drunk and it’s not like he was involved in any scandalous events. And
then there was Sheila, she claimed to love him exactly as he was and he
believed her. But she was such an amazing girl, why would she want to be with
someone as messed up as he was? Maybe she just hadn’t seen his true colors yet;
but what would happen when she did? What would happen when she got the chance to
interact with his family and they told her of all his shortcomings? She would
leave him for sure, and crush his heart once again like everyone before her.
Best to end that now before he got too attached, deal with the problem before
it arises. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLeFuw-SkwqnMvjL3IZVsxbgD7PRt72JBo_vj0fVFGQrjlcJRcyZcjoptOnE4UCuqzi3b144uzYfMoM0S8l2eNn7lIMc6LqxqWL1_HT5PundKUn644LicqmwUaVvp8AJlhyphenhyphenmHFTa0CTCA/s1600/77470-68167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="243" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLeFuw-SkwqnMvjL3IZVsxbgD7PRt72JBo_vj0fVFGQrjlcJRcyZcjoptOnE4UCuqzi3b144uzYfMoM0S8l2eNn7lIMc6LqxqWL1_HT5PundKUn644LicqmwUaVvp8AJlhyphenhyphenmHFTa0CTCA/s1600/77470-68167.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It’s been six days since she left
home. Her friend’s mum has not said anything but she could see the strange
looks she kept sending her way and the pursed lips each time she came back home
and found that she hadn’t left yet. Amanda has been so kind already, allowing
her to stay at their house for this week. She has made her breakfast, taken her
to meet her friends and basically kept her occupied. Why wasn’t her home like
this? Her friend’s families seemed to be happier than hers. They were richer,
had lovely homes but more than that, there was peace and love. No one fighting
or yelling or telling you what a mistake you were. It’s sad that she had no job
and no money. She would have a place of her own by now. And she wouldn’t have
to put up with any crap. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
No one understood what it was like to be her. No one
understood what she went through on a daily basis. Her friends accepted her,
but did they really understand? She had perfected the art of hiding her
problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Going back home was like
walking straight into a battle zone. It may not be physical, but there were
other wounds that hurt more and cut deeper than the ones we see with our eyes.
It was time to leave. She had already stayed longer than she usually did. Maybe
she would try Gabi’s home next. Her parents were really lovely and never home.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“The worst loneliness is to not
be comfortable with yourself.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
― Mark Twain<o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-35010289006512496922018-08-20T09:24:00.001+03:002018-08-20T09:24:14.975+03:00Philosophy, darkness and wine...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I’m a silhouette in the dark.
Holding a short stem glass of wine in my right hand, head still turned towards
the direction where the sun set hours ago. I wonder often about the smaller things in
life: the devil is in the details after all. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But mostly I wonder about the
bigger things. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The billions of galaxies. Wealth. True Love.
Destiny. Good and Evil. Justice. Karma. Creation. Purpose. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZtNVjfXYxWHtsttFzBlvtQVywTv5xoN60UF15-iPIIECKkg15nPv0juDknq9nhEJXJCKzIaeZLpB9Kt2MPeM1gBb75uCtAgigrk6oQ8t3-otLVGGq5HbUZTiYODwY03J_PtJ_BnzVDT4/s1600/071148045_prevstill.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZtNVjfXYxWHtsttFzBlvtQVywTv5xoN60UF15-iPIIECKkg15nPv0juDknq9nhEJXJCKzIaeZLpB9Kt2MPeM1gBb75uCtAgigrk6oQ8t3-otLVGGq5HbUZTiYODwY03J_PtJ_BnzVDT4/s400/071148045_prevstill.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Every twenty minutes or so, I
remember to take a small sip of the sweet red wine, shake my head maybe and
sigh a little. It’s all such a web. Many might call it philosophy. They wonder
where I get all these theories. I just want a formula. Something that will make
it all make sense. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I switch legs, move the right leg
that’s been crossed over the left and instead cross the left over the right.
The glass moves from the right hand to the left. Another quick and
inconspicuous shake of the head. Another quick sigh. In the quiet still of the
darkness, I can see inside my head almost as if it were a transparent glass
vase, a clear stream of water. I notice the clear lines that connect one event
to another, one person to another, one feeling to another. I notice the spaces
as well, gaps waiting to be filled with the thick wisdom of experience. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The wisest man that ever lived
says it is all meaningless. What does that mean for me? Can I just do what I
want whenever I want and not have to worry about the consequences? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
What’s that
saying, the one about the flap of the wings of a butterfly on one side of the world
causing a tsunami on the other? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I take another sip from the almost empty glass.
Will this movement of my hand cause an earthquake somewhere in Tokyo? Am I
alone in the world or are there others like me, with me? Do my actions matter?
Am I of significance in the grand scheme of things? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Someone turns the electric bulb
on. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The end<o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-73761950431379168932018-08-13T19:04:00.000+03:002018-08-13T19:20:18.344+03:00I made it<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">It's his graduation day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">You would not believe the odds
he has had to overcome to get here. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">All these people looking at him
and cheering on as he walks to the podium to receive his certificate only see
the new black robe with a Maroon sash. They only see his wide smile, fresh
haircut and designer shoes. He walks with his head slightly tilted to one side,
as if studying the situation. Although the smile barely shows any teeth, it
goes straight to his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">He made it. Atwooki has made it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">All the statistics said he
wouldn't make it. Everyone back home said he would never get far. Heck;
his own mother said he would never amount to anything. And after a while, he had
come to believe he never would. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">When the result slip for his Primary
Leaving Examinations showed he had barely passed, no one was surprised. He had hung
his head low and accepted the hoe that his mother had handed him. His school
days were over, she had said. There was no point in paying for his school
anymore with her already insufficient money if he couldn’t even get a first
grade. His father had been absent of course, having spent the night away from
home that day. His parents had had a bitter fight, words had been exchanged,
and he had been dealt a blow or two meant for his mother, just for being in the
room at that time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">For a year, he had tended his family
garden, oblivious of the sun, unmoved by the bruises and cuts. The only time it
hurt was when he saw Jibril and Sam walk by on their way to the Missionary
Secondary school. On days where it hurt more than usual, he kept to himself and
barely said a word. Most days, his mother did not notice whether he was present
or not. In the dim light of the kerosene lamp back in his bedroom, he would lay on the sisal mat, stare at the red iron sheets and contemplate the least painful way to end his
life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">All that changed when Mpuga had opened a
carpentry shop in the town three kilometers from his home. Mpuga was only six
years older but had been to the capital city and made so much money. If only he
would let him work for school tuition…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">That was over a decade ago. He here is now,
graduating with Honors as a mechanical engineer, a good job with a fat salary
already lined up. Nobody knew how he had done it. Nobody knew the full story,
not even Mpuga, bless him. Nobody knew how many times he had to meet Ms.
Roseanne behind the canteen, cater to her needs just so she would let him sit
for the End of year exams. Nobody knew the number of beatings he had endured
back home, acting as a human shield for his mother, when she had grown too weak
to fight his father. Nobody knew the number of times he had worked straight
through the night only to head to lectures at 8:00 in the morning, not even
Mpuga knew about those tales. Nobody knew how many times he thought of just giving up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCkn6y7sSR-BkyVW42Z8Z1BwbWddsE6mMtVZTaW5gTTT65yYp2hVeHhIR5hSxahyphenhyphenOdxXNy_ORbHSFx9FhvZ2BWEuK2GsfQi4i-ddrfGxdeoo_Vpn5b7avUCbeBM7nsxCO6442FakiAjTg/s1600/VAC+INFOGRAPHS1080+x+10803.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCkn6y7sSR-BkyVW42Z8Z1BwbWddsE6mMtVZTaW5gTTT65yYp2hVeHhIR5hSxahyphenhyphenOdxXNy_ORbHSFx9FhvZ2BWEuK2GsfQi4i-ddrfGxdeoo_Vpn5b7avUCbeBM7nsxCO6442FakiAjTg/s400/VAC+INFOGRAPHS1080+x+10803.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">As he reaches the podium, the fullness of this moment overwhelms him, and he lets the tears fall. The crowd is now cheering even
louder. Old ladies he doesn’t know get up from their seats and continue to
clap. Two of his female friends pull handkerchiefs from their gowns and
wipe a few tears of their own. Mpuga stands on the second row from the front,
between his sister and Professor Ndabindi. He is not clapping or cheering, just
standing still. He keeps the smile plastered to his face; everyone will think
they are tears of joy. Their eyes meet. ‘You can breathe now, Atwooki,’ Mpuga’s
eyes seem to say, ‘you made it’. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>"Violence means any form of physical, emotional or mental injury or abuse, neglect, maltreatment</i><br />
<i>and exploitation, including sexual abuse, intentional use of physical force or power, threatened</i><br />
<i>or actual, against an individual which may result in or has a high likelihood of resulting in injury,</i><br />
<i>death, psychological harm, mal-development or deprivation."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<b>#EndViolenceAgainstChildren #InvestInUgandaChildren</b><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Photo Credit: UNICEF Uganda</i></div>
Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-19518161175925483742018-08-06T12:13:00.000+03:002018-08-06T12:37:25.654+03:00High School memoirs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
This is a true story.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I remember the day she walked
into my life. It was a quiet sunny day in school, and I was skipping class. New
students were still reporting so the dormitories were left open all day. It was
my first time in a new school and already the monotony of every day routine
promised a dull gray three months ahead. Being the first few days, most of us
were still feeling out the place, seeing who was who, and weighing our social
options. Mine didn’t look promising. I had already resigned myself to counting
down the days until I was back home. Just as I started to head back to class,
she walked into the dormitory. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-H1QySWlgMj35D0ax8eNo2FrxaSKM7G1fu7wPqXr5OVQmr50DFjC-lhYhPQpfatEbVYR21e0m0vHlGblhcdFtE7NJVM3-PdCTU87-YfAEdm8ml7hZTlirWMy-Ic-POcUsYzrxm6gd1MQ/s1600/PIC2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="774" data-original-width="1188" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-H1QySWlgMj35D0ax8eNo2FrxaSKM7G1fu7wPqXr5OVQmr50DFjC-lhYhPQpfatEbVYR21e0m0vHlGblhcdFtE7NJVM3-PdCTU87-YfAEdm8ml7hZTlirWMy-Ic-POcUsYzrxm6gd1MQ/s400/PIC2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"If I were to write down all the schemes we pulled off over the years, I’m pretty sure people would look for me with machetes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She was late, fashionably late as
I would come to learn, but she walked in like she already knew exactly what to do. As
fate would have it, we were in the same class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have tried to define that look on her face when I first saw her for
years, but the word has eluded me. Until now. Mischief. That’s the look she had
in her eyes. There was excitement and trouble and freedom and happiness and
strategy all mingled up in that one look. And I loved it. The moment her mother
drove off, she turned to me with a smile on her face, and asked for directions
to our class. Little did I know that my life had just changed forever. We
walked from the stone walk, through the lower pitch and up to the canteen "boy's end" for approximately ten minutes, but by the time we
stopped at the canteen to buy us some cold sodas, (it being a hot day and all),
I knew all the important things I needed to know about Alice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She knew everyone and everything.
She talked non-stop about past escapades as well as future escapades. She asked
if so and so was in this school too. She was making plans for us for tomorrow
as well as six months later. She talked about boys, and girls. She talked
about clothes and shoes. She knew all the famous actors and models. She smiled
back when a boy smiled. She was sure. As someone that was way out of my depth
already, sure was the one thing I was looking for. There, right there on that huge
log, right in front of the canteen, in the first week of high school, a Fanta in
my hand and a Coca-Cola in hers, I knew. This was fate. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
We were inseparable; there was
even a nickname to that effect. If I were to write down all the schemes we
pulled off over the years, I’m pretty sure people would look for me with
machetes. I would need a whole book for just one half of it. Most of it started
out as innocent fun, but many of us got hurt along the way. Some of it I cannot
remember but I’m almost certain some of it was illegal. What amused me the most
were the rumors that came with all that; some were simply outrageous. But who
cared; I was having the time of my life! I remember times when I would count down the days until I would be returning to school. I
had never felt so free in my life. I absorbed the side of me that Alice brought
out the same way a sponge sucks up water. I thrived in my new skin. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMSHoHcQtNmziTBck22wZkSZZXXEmhFHjwxIdmVMq5BCgilqda5Hg7lB0YAo0Ss1jc0UeIawJTtgoLs4P1U0NkSB3QKzeMkhbzmc_NqbA0IZZ7DbLniArnTL_kYeLG7yotPFj74b07_g/s1600/images+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="196" data-original-width="225" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMSHoHcQtNmziTBck22wZkSZZXXEmhFHjwxIdmVMq5BCgilqda5Hg7lB0YAo0Ss1jc0UeIawJTtgoLs4P1U0NkSB3QKzeMkhbzmc_NqbA0IZZ7DbLniArnTL_kYeLG7yotPFj74b07_g/s320/images+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">“Moonless nights haunt me. They evoke remembrances of a carefree life when I dreamed without doubt to what my future could be. I yearn for a time when my mother’s tree swayed beneath the dusk like an amber sea, but the past is locked without a key. Never to return—only flee” </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><a class="authorOrTitle" href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16591522.H_S_Crow" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Lato, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;">H.S. Crow</a></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
As with most stories, the good
times didn’t last forever. I can’t even talk about how things went wrong just
yet, where it all became toxic. If it were her, she would probably blurt it out and then ask “too soon?”
as an afterthought, sheepish grin on her face. I look back on that time now and
ask myself, if I knew what I know now, would I change anything? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
That’s a thought-train for
another day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-21633946954992819082018-08-03T20:55:00.001+03:002018-08-03T20:55:52.598+03:00The kind of girl you like<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV8mpdohagIVf8ZLOEP2lWvdnO2JG8t1LO5UheQQS9qg9yzYWM6i0yBejW744Ahyphenhyphen8iDRyTLqmVEeeGiaK5eUfOhCMJWXjig6-dZef_3w8tBodY42o18okbE1LQ2tZMqm2u7HFXmUQ7QGM/s1600/ee260f0312902aa024beb8e349b9ea3f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="428" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV8mpdohagIVf8ZLOEP2lWvdnO2JG8t1LO5UheQQS9qg9yzYWM6i0yBejW744Ahyphenhyphen8iDRyTLqmVEeeGiaK5eUfOhCMJWXjig6-dZef_3w8tBodY42o18okbE1LQ2tZMqm2u7HFXmUQ7QGM/s320/ee260f0312902aa024beb8e349b9ea3f.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
I
see it in the way your eyes avoid mine: your pursed lips and poorly-concealed
emotion,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
All
the questions that go unanswered, the judgment in each pause,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
The
unspoken expectations and passive aggressiveness<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
You
would never say it to my face but I can smell it on you like garlic on breath.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
You
wish I was softer around the edges<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
You
prefer if I didn’t speak so loud<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
If
only I walked slightly behind you and not next to<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
You
wish I wasn’t so ambitious because women should know their place<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
My
clothes should be more flowery and slightly longer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
I
shouldn’t look you directly in the eye or question what you say so often<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
If
only I kept my opinions to myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
You
wish I didn’t have so many friends and didn’t get invited to so many parties<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
You
prefer I wasn’t so confident; no woman should be so whole,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
We
all need a certain level of brokenness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
It
keeps us humble, shows us our position in the grand scheme of things<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
I
see it in your posture; the way you seat facing away from me<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
I
can read you like a book even if you would never admit it<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
You
wish I wasn’t so beautiful, didn’t get as much attention as I do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
Because
admitting that is the kind of girl you like would be admitting<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
That
there’s a dark chauvinist narcissist part of you and surely that can’t be true.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
So
you wait quietly as I change my order three times in a restaurant,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
Barely
hiding the twitch of your lips<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
You
smile as I receive my awards, clapping the hardest and smiling the widest, with
eyes cold as ice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
You
look at me, in that moment hating me for the very same reason you love me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
Hating
yourself as well for feeling the way that you do<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
Confused
because sometimes you like it and other times you don’t<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
But
we are laughing now, enjoying a private joke over a delicious meal<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
You
hold my hand and look lovingly into my eyes; you’ll deal with changing me
tomorrow.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-42511452501054993592018-07-30T10:51:00.000+03:002018-07-31T10:38:49.594+03:00Oh be careful little eyes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="text-align: justify;">I try to steer clear of writing
about trending topics.</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify;">Actually not try
to, I usually run as far away as I can from any current debates. This is
because I’m never on one side long before I learn something new and then switch
to the other side. Also because there will always be a smart ass (or two) that
has done much more research than you have and is not shy about dragging your
meager facts in the dust. Then there’s always the activist demanding to know
why you are hiding behind the computer instead of going out into the streets to
do something about it.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
However…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
A recent trending topic has
caught my attention.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
#MenAreTrash<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Probably not in the way you’re
thinking. Apparently, this is a movement that started in South Africa to raise
awareness about the violence (physical, emotional, psychological etc) suffered
by women at the hands of men. Over the past week in Twitterville Uganda, we
have seen this hash-tag generate a good amount of support and an opposing side
rise up to defend these men, under various hash-tags but basically stating that
not all men are trash. Mothers defending sons, wives defending husbands and
even men defending themselves. I took a few minutes to read through some of the
tweets that have been posted and a strange thing started to happen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Although I started out with a
pretty much neutral mindset, the more I read angry tweet after angry tweet, the
more I begun to feel a certain rage rising up in me. Mind you, this is not the
kind of rage that manifests in clenched fists or faster breathing. Neither is
it the kind of anger that makes you snap at the person next to you or throw
glasses at a wall. This kind of rage is sneaky. It’s a seed that’s planted ever
so silently and softly that if you are not keen, you would never know it was
there. It’s the kind that takes it’s time to slowly suck nutrients from all the
other parts of the body until it is nourished enough to germinate and take
root. With every passing day, it grows stronger, and bolder and bigger until
one day it demands to take control. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIPO09xPttUwu0SwWIXG1CPc0QPoKdr-H-Xry6HfnQdh0oXHXBPT4gXRRQmAT0sSVStYOjk_qC3rx5ucL6CpcIFBZo33Ryoer-8K7E2zSBOHoFOj2CN4licoUItx-aXw2o7vcHmpy09y8/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIPO09xPttUwu0SwWIXG1CPc0QPoKdr-H-Xry6HfnQdh0oXHXBPT4gXRRQmAT0sSVStYOjk_qC3rx5ucL6CpcIFBZo33Ryoer-8K7E2zSBOHoFOj2CN4licoUItx-aXw2o7vcHmpy09y8/s320/download.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The human brain works in mysterious ways.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Suddenly, I was outlining every
single mistake every man has ever made in life. As if we women are perfect.
Suddenly everything that went wrong with the world was linked to a man in one
way or the other. The more examples I read of how terrible men are, the more
examples I found. And then it hit me; what you feed grows. In that moment, a
nursery rhyme came to mind. We used to sing it in Sunday school but it never
made sense then. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Oh be careful little eyes what you see,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh be careful little eyes what you see <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">For the father up above is looking down in
love<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So be careful little eyes what you see.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh be careful little ears what you hear<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh be careful little ears what you hear<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">For the father up above is looking down in
love<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So be careful little ears what you hear.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh be careful little tongue what you say<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh be careful little tongue what you say<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">For the father up above is looking down in
love<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh be careful little tongue what you say.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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I used to think this rhyme was
telling us to be careful because God is watching so any mistake you made would not
only be recorded but avenged too. Now I realize what it actually meant was be
careful what you allow in, through what you see, hear or what is said. It may
look harmless at first, but there’s always something that’s planted that will
grow for sure. It now made sense why we are always encouraged to focus on the
positive. The human brain works in mysterious ways. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not saying there aren’t abusive men in the
world, and I’m not by any means justifying abuse of any kind. I'm also not saying we should stay quiet about abuse specifically suffered by women but I can say for
a fact that in just those few minutes, these tweets had planted a seed of
negativity and the more I read, the faster it grew. It wasn’t the constructive
type of growth. It wasn’t the kind that made me want to go out and impact
positive change. It was the kind that made me want to glare at any man that
passed by. I knew I had to deal with it swiftly and decisively.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We live in a fallen world where
no one is perfect. If there’s something you can bet on, it’s that someone will
hurt you in one way or the other and this means that it’s easy to become bitter
with or without negative messages plastered in front of you. While it may be
hard to control what others, do, say or think, we at least still have the power
to filter what we allow in.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-43382892189793531902018-07-20T11:03:00.000+03:002018-07-20T13:53:54.939+03:00A re-post: Five pieces of advice I’m happy I didn’t take<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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"Everything in moderation, including moderation." Oscar Wilde</div>
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All my life I’ve been surrounded with people trying to give me their two cents. Most of them had good intentions but some of them didn’t. Some was solicited advice and some not. As a young girl, you generally tend to listen to those that seem older, wiser and like they’ve been there. It took a whole lot of years and growth to realize that not all advice is to be taken at face value. It took lots and lots of mistakes to know that it won’t always turn out for you like it did for the one advising you, and it took a whole lot of confidence to know that all advice is to be put into consideration but not all of it is to be acted upon. I have found that for me and the specific set up that is my life, most of the advice given works better with a slight twist.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If I had to group all the advice I’ve been given over the years that I’m happy I didn’t take into five categories, it’d fall under the following;<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>1)<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></b><b>Better the devil you know than the angel you don’t know<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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This goes hand in hand with other common sayings like “An old broom know all the corners”, and thinking inside the box. I can’t even begin to tell you how many people even to this day still dish out this advice and I get it; it’s safe, you know exactly what you’re getting into and you can control it from start to finish. This advice was given to me in reference to friends, romantic relationships, business opportunities, travel, beauty products, name it! But guess what, the devil you now know was once an angel you didn’t know. Here’s another fact for you; you can’t control everything in life no matter how hard you try. Here’s another even truer fact; nothing great was ever achieved in a comfort zone. You have to take some risks. I’m not saying throw caution to the wind, but allow yourself to step out of your box of comfort and try something new. It can be a calculated risk (there’s professionals now that can do that for you). Life in itself is a risk because you could die at any minute. I’m glad I didn’t take this advice so literally because some of these “angels I didn’t know” turned out to be some of the best decisions I ever made!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>Twist: Give the angel you don’t know at least one chance and then make an informed non-biased and open-minded decision.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b>2)<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></b><b>When in Rome, do as the Romans do<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Spoiler alert; sometimes even the “Romans” are looking for fresh ideas! They are looking for someone with a fresh perspective to shake things up a little bit. I must warn you that this has a lot to do with timing. My friends and colleagues have told me repeatedly to try to blend in. Keep your head down and do what others do but I can assure you that I’ve seen this piece of advice disproved over and over especially in the work setting. Don’t get me wrong, it’s always a good idea to first find out how the “Romans” have been doing it and why they’ve been doing it that way, but after you have this information, don’t be afraid to respectfully speak out about the ideas brewing in your mind that could improve efficiency where needed. I remember this one high school I went to where girls were allowed to wear their hair long but only if it was in its natural state. This was a time before we had easy access to all the amazing Natural hair products on the market today. Because of the natural texture of African hair, water is like the worst enemy for most hair-do’s. By the time I joined this school, shampoo was persona-non-grata on the Beginning of term shopping list. Washing your hair while at school was A CRIME. When I inquired as to why no one ever dared to have shampoo, it was because no one needed it since no one was going to risk washing their hair in school. Everyone believed that if you did, your hair would shrink beyond redemption. So when I began to carry shampoo with me to school, the other girls watched from a safe distance as I embarked on washing my hair at least once a week. Yes, the hair did shrink but it would be back to its normal state within a day. It wasn’t long before shampoo was appearing on the shopping lists of more girls in that school. I’m not saying your new-age ideas will always be accepted with open arms but the worst that could happen is your idea being rejected. On the flip side of that coin, the potential benefits are limitless.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>Twist: When in Rome, find out why the Romans do what they do, then “pimp that joint up!!”<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b>3)<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></b><b>Don’t wear your heart on your sleeve<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I have to admit that this advice was accurate more times than I preferred. For a long while it felt like every time I didn’t listen to this advice, I got burned. For me, it translated into “don’t trust people” and “never give your all because you will be disappointed”, and let’s face it, in this world, there’s enough disappointment to serve seven billion people. One thing kept me coming back though: PASSION. I couldn’t bring myself to do things just for the sake of it. Passion was literally what drove me, it was my fuel. Without it, I was like a car with no engine and that would have been of no use to myself or those around me. It took me a while but eventually I developed a healthy balance that allows me to be passionate in whatever I do while being careful. I learnt about forgiving those that misused my trust. I learned that you can still love people from a distance. I learned that trust is earned not just given. I learned that wearing your heart on your sleeve does not necessarily mean being as sweet as a Georgia peach 24/7. I learned what to say and what to keep to myself and how to differentiate the two. I also learned that there will be times when actions will speak louder than words and other times when words will be of greater impact. I learned that not everybody wished you well so sometimes you have to tread carefully. I learned that even after learning all these things, you will still get disappointed every now and then and that’s OK. But I learned all these with heart. And passion. This is the one piece of advice that I’m ever so glad I didn’t take because it has helped me GROW into the person I am. It has made me strong and brave and “full of life”.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>Twist: Don’t wear your heart on your sleeve, but wear it somewhere anyway.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b>4)<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></b><b>Money changes people<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Wow. This is for me, by far the most complex of all pieces of advice I've been given. Even to this day, it feels like I’m still discovering the entirety of what it means. It could mean that when someone starts to make a lot of money, then they start to act like they are better than everyone else. It could also mean that when someone starts to make a lot of money, they expect to be treated better than everyone else. It could also mean that when someone starts to make a lot of money, you need to treat them better than anyone else. Now I am a firm believer in the Bible and it says (to paraphrase) not to treat someone better because they are rich or worse because they are poor but we all know that’s not the reality we are living in. I will say this however, from my observation, even before this rich individual changes, the people around him/her start to change. Once you start to become more successful, people change the way they talk to you, the way they treat you and even the way they talk about you. For me, it looks like money doesn’t really change you the person as much as it changes those around you. And this refers to making money as equally as it does to losing money. Usually, the person in question will change in reaction to the change in the people around him/her. So maybe before you start judging a person for their good (or bad) fortune and how it has changed them, first be sure that it hasn’t changed you more.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>Twist: money changes people, but not before it changes those around them.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b>5)<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></b><b>A leopard never changes its spots<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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The final piece of advice I’m glad I didn’t take is this one. For me, it talks about not only giving second chances but also the gift of acceptance. Now as a person that has received more second chances in this life time than I deserve, I admit I may be a little biased. But which one of us has never messed up so bad that you would do just about anything for a chance to turn back time and do it all different, for a chance to make amends? Which one of us can say they are the exact same person they were five, ten years ago, nothing at all has changed in their character? Why is it that we are so lenient with ourselves and not the same with others? Why is it that we believe we have changed for the better but the evil person you knew ten years ago is always going to be that way? I am not ashamed to say that I am a leopard whose spots changed and continue to change for the better! This goes back to advice #1 above. I mean I’m not going to trust you with my bank account details if the last time we met you conned me and cleaned it out, and I definitely won’t write a recommendation for you for your job as a cashier, but that doesn’t mean I won’t give you a place to crash for a few days when you’re in a tight spot, or attend your child’s christening. I will give you the benefit of a doubt and allow you to prove yourself. These chances have a limit in number of course (I’m not Jesus. Although I’m working towards that. Can I get an Amen?!), but you can be sure it will be more than one. Because from one leopard to another, spots can change. Sometimes all the leopard needs is someone willing to see that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>Twist: Some leopards never change their spots, some just need you to look closer.</i></b></div>
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I’m grateful to have people in my life that take time to drop some wisdom on me, but for the five pieces above, I’m even more grateful that I never listened.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-75514434459609693882018-05-28T11:10:00.000+03:002018-05-28T11:19:43.617+03:00#Forevermood<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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"When all the chips are down, I will always be around...Just to be right there where you are my love".</div>
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Something about this video; that brief instrumental at the intro of the song as Whitney smiles takes me back to a time when I was maybe ten or eleven. You have to be an old soul to appreciate it.</div>
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Picture yourself in those woods, let's say they are woods surrounding a little cottage and you're out for a stroll. It's winter but you're really warm (thanks in part to the warm feeling in your chest but also to the fabulous coat you have on). There's Christmas lights running up and down the trees. There's Violin and Piano music playing in the background. You're away from all the hustle and bustle of the city. You believe in miracles and dreams coming true. You're in love and for that brief moment, everything is as it should be.</div>
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Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-86388289850623172152018-04-29T20:51:00.000+03:002018-04-30T08:34:37.415+03:00How Kullein got her groove back; starting over for the 99th time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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‘Does it really count as starting
over if you’re doing it for the nth time?’<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Isn’t that more of a
re-arrangement than an overhaul?’ <o:p></o:p></div>
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‘Does it have to be an overhaul to count as a start-over?’<o:p></o:p></div>
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All these questions run through
my mind as I look through red-rimmed eyelids at the grey wooden toilet door. I’ve
been seated in this stall for about almost an hour hoping that I will finally
compose myself long enough to walk back to my desk and act like nothing is
happening. It’s a narrow stall; I can’t even spread my hands out fully in opposite
directions, but somehow I like that. Every fifteen minutes or so, I get up,
flush the toilet (to make it look like it was nothing but an exceptionally long
call) and then reach for the door. The tears then make a re-appearance and I
sit back down. It’s not smelly thank God, and the white wall tiles are surprisingly
well kept. A one Gerald stuck a note on the inside of the toilet door basically
threatening us into remembering bathroom etiquette; “If you sprinkle as you
tinkle, please be neat and wipe the seat”. Does Gerald know that this means
people are thinking of him almost every time they answer nature’s call?</div>
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I don’t want to go back to face
the world. I’m so tired of “adulting”. Should I just feign sickness and head home
early? I’m so angry, and sad, and full of regret and self-pity, a cocktail of
emotions I haven’t had to sip on in so long that even though I know it’s not
really the first time, the intensity feels strange. It’s like that cousin you
were best friends with when you were ten but when you meet up fifteen years
later as adults, you have nothing to say to each other. Familiar, but strange. <o:p></o:p><br />
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KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. ‘Is someone in
there?’ I must have got lost in thought for a few minutes because I hear a group
of girls mumbling outside, something about the stall having been locked for the
longest time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘GO AWAY’!!!! is what I’m
thinking, but I’ve been raised well enough to get up from the covered toilet
seat slightly to reach the stall door and knock in reply to let them know there
IS someone in here. I sit back down, roll off some more tissue and wipe the
snot running freely out my nose. Phew, this has been an intense weeping for
sure. I don’t even need to look in a mirror to know my eyes are extremely
swollen. I’m relying on the fact that most people at work are so uncomfortable
around misery that they would rather act like they don’t see your puffy eyes
than have to ask what happened. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s been a tough week
emotionally. Today is the fifth day in a row that I’ve received bad news; no
scratch that, more like catastrophic news. It feels like life has been given
the exclusive mandate to keep delivering blow after blow until I finally give
in and stay down. My hopes and dreams are driving off smiling into the sunset in
a Mercedes convertible with a license plate that has a hand with the middle
finger up, leaving me standing by myself, staring in the parking lot. Disappointment
always cuts deep, no matter how many times you’ve been there and it’s in this
brightly-lit cold toilet stall that I must mourn, get myself together and start
over all at the same time.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRz-HwR6xo1RYVsUsLvEca_GnMNDu3uNmSCbxP1kjvISZ6eNFJNlhwTVKPGy8PMEcWuAmGSDoifIVyKd4YFK8uLgYWM6ssqQ5uErXGz4KYxBBTc9u3U86sJU7sqOCf2h7tA0MQdxSGs1Y/s1600/download+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="167" data-original-width="301" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRz-HwR6xo1RYVsUsLvEca_GnMNDu3uNmSCbxP1kjvISZ6eNFJNlhwTVKPGy8PMEcWuAmGSDoifIVyKd4YFK8uLgYWM6ssqQ5uErXGz4KYxBBTc9u3U86sJU7sqOCf2h7tA0MQdxSGs1Y/s400/download+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My hopes and dreams...driving off!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Luckily, I’m quite methodical. If
I think back far enough, I should be able to remember a chapter from this old book.
I’m sure there’s a formula buried somewhere in the dog-eared pages of the well-kept
leather-bound book called Experience. There it is. “Getting your groove back; How
to start over for the 99<sup>th</sup> time”. I start flipping and try to memorize
each word. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> -</span></span></span>Don’t do it alone- That should be easy. I have
amazing friends and a great family. I prefer to be alone for now but I’ll remember
this in a day or two.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> -</span></span></span>Do it anyway- This will come in handy when my
feelings and my responsibilities are at opposite poles. I’ll remember this
because at the end of the day, a girl’s gotta eat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> -</span></span></span>Do it continually- Basically go through the
motions. Fake it till you make it. Got it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> -</span></span></span>Do what you do best- That I can do as well. Put
aside what I’m failing at for now and focus on perfecting what I’m doing well. This
is so productive!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The tears have stopped and the
bathroom is clear of humans. ‘If I don’t move now, I might not leave today. Don’t
think, just do.’ I get up as fast as I can and yank the stall door open. Bye-bye
Gerald. I didn’t tinkle so we are ok. I throw a quick look at the mirror
outside the stall and confirm my swollen eye suspicions. Keeping my eyes fixed
on the ground, I walk out of the bathroom and towards my desk, No one stops me,
no one notices me. It’s only once I’m seated at my desk typing away that I
notice a colleague staring at me. She quickly looks away when our eyes meet. That’s
what I thought. I resume my typing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Before I know it, it’s time to
head home. I made it. I made it through today. Tomorrow is another day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-83715537357400878212018-03-31T18:34:00.000+03:002018-03-31T18:34:01.928+03:00Coming Full Circle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It’s been an action-packed few
weeks, and by action packed, I don’t mean the physical action. I mean so much
happening all at once. Some things were good, some not so good and naturally
with that came a roller-coaster of emotions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>However, one emotion now overrides all the others I’ve been dealing with;
Thankfulness. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I could write a hundred books on
all that I’ve learnt in just the past month. I could tell you how I’m learning
about what’s most important in life. I could tell you about all the people that
will disappoint you no matter how close they are to you. I could tell you
everything that has gone left instead of going right. But I’ll also tell you
that for each thing that went left, five others have gone right. For every
person that disappointed, three others have stepped up to the plate. For every
gap that was left, it was filled to overflow, and for the places where the coin
showed tails, it was completely flipped to show heads. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I’ve never claimed to be a saint,
(#girlwithapast, #girlwithafuture), but the few things and people I’ve loved, I’ve
done to the best of my ability. On the top of that list, is my love for God,
and somewhere in the first half is my passion for writing. These two things
have held a place in my heart for as long as I can remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Recognition was never my goal, and I didn’t expect
a prize for what I did in regard to those two areas. It was like something you
know for a fact in your heart and somehow, that’s enough for you. What I wanted
to do was get better at loving God and continue to write whenever I could. That’s
why I joined Bible Study Fellowship (B.S.F) over six years ago. And that’s why I
started by writing for the school magazine back in high school. So for me it
was not a coincidence that among all the other things that have happened lately,
the same week I was approached to become a leader at B.S.F is the same week I was
asked to write an article for my former high school’s magazine. For me, it was
like coming full circle. In the words of certain Kung-Fu masters, “the student
becomes the master”! These aren’t earth-shattering and they wouldn’t make prime
time News but to me, they were like a wink from God, as if to say nothing goes
unnoticed by Him. As if to say “I see your heart, and I got you”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And so now, I can also tell you
how I’m learning that instead of being filled with worry, my heart should
overflow with gratitude. And hope. And a renewed zeal to just go out there and
keep doing some good. It doesn’t matter how small and insignificant you think
it was, and it doesn’t matter if no one was there to see you do it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Be deliberate about what you put
out into the universe; because if you’re patient enough and never stop
believing, what you put out will always come back to you.</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-7775816526587870752018-02-22T19:03:00.000+03:002018-02-22T19:03:08.620+03:00Soundtracks to the movie about my life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The people who get to make a
movie on my life will be lucky bastards, if I do say so myself. It will
definitely be a full color picture in HD that will break box office records and
win some Oscars! It will give such an adrenaline rush and have people gripping
the edges of their seats and re-thinking the way they are living; ‘filimu
yamasasi’ basically! But the best part of that movie will be the soundtracks!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Knowing
you Jesus - Graham Kendrick<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
I have been back
and front, had some experiences that I thought were life changing. I have met
some pretty incredible people and ticked impressive boxes on my ‘To-do list’,
but nothing, and I mean NOTHING could ever compare to knowing Jesus the way
that I have gotten to and continue to do. Everything that I am, every good
thing that you think you may see in me, everything that I will ever be, will be
because of God in my life. If this soundtrack is left out of the movie of my
life, then it’s a lie. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I lived
- One republic<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
Everything I’ve
done, I’ve done with all I got. This means that the highs felt like flying in a
clear blue sky, and that the lows were felt with equal intensity. I’ve felt
happiness, and excitement and pleasure, and fear and anger and pain. I’ve known
true love and heartbreak. I’ve felt my heart explode with elation and seen my
eyes red and puffy from tears. I’ve danced in the rain and camped in forests. I’ve
eaten salads and sung in the church choir. I’ve had a movie marathon at the
cinema and eaten breakfast on the floor. I’ve been above the clouds and in the
water. I’ve owned every single second of my life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Photograph
– Nickelback<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
Because each
moment was so well lived, I find myself looking back often with fondness. I
wonder how my old friends are doing, and where life has taken them. I remember
how big everything seemed then and see how small it is now. I wonder if I’d
change anything If I was ever given the chance to go back. I wonder if people remember
me the way that I remember them. I wonder how differently things could have
turned out if I’d made different choices. I wonder how different things will be
five, ten years from now. Sometimes I miss those days, but most times, I’m
excited about what’s to come.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Like
I’m gonna lose you - Meghan Trainor and John Legend<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
Relationships
are such a big part of my life, especially romantic ones. Believe it or not,
romantics still exist. We still believe in the old-fashioned till-forever kind
of love. We still believe in true love. We believe in soul-mates and meant-to-be.
If we’ve loved you, then you can be sure we went all in. Tomorrow is not
promised, and you never know what could happen to those in your life right now.
So I believe in loving like today is your last day, and I believe this will be
reflected in my life movie.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Do or die - Thirty seconds to Mars</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;">
This soundtrack
will refer to all the millions of times I’ve had to and will have to start
over. It will show that I did not taking anything for granted, but also I was
never be afraid to begin again. It will talk about how I lived with no regrets.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="text-align: justify;">
Someone once said
that the biggest mistake we can make is thinking we have time. I could not
agree more. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-35460713856964142232017-12-06T19:16:00.000+03:002017-12-06T19:16:10.509+03:00The successes we can't see<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
How do you know when you’ve made it? When can you
confidently call yourself a success? According to current societal trends,
there’s about five distinct ways to find out. If you’re swimming in a ton of
cash. It doesn’t even have to be cold hard paper, but if you’re making money by
the millions, you’re considered successful. If you have a great job that allows
you to pay your bills, you’re successful. If you excel academically and have
exceptional academic accolades, you will be considered successful. As you grow up and reach a certain age,
having a family would put you in the successful category. From beauty, to fame,
to exposure and number of friends, the categorization of success differs
wherever you go. However, one sure way to know that you’ve succeeded in some
way is if people are coming to you for guidance. They’ll want tips on how to
get where you are, and to know how you approached a specific situation. They’ll
want to dress like you dress and talk like you talk. They’ll come to you for
advice and hang on to every single word you say because in that particular way,
you represent success. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Which is why I was perplexed for the longest time about the
lady next door. I could see no way in which she was successful. Tall, dark-skinned
and over-weight, she wasn’t employed and had not been since she had her second
child. She often dressed in ragged old clothes and walked around the neighborhood
with unkempt hair and muddy shoes. Her phone conversations could be heard all
the way from the main road. Her children were more often than not loitering
around the neighborhood naked, muddy and usually with snot running down their
nostrils. A quick look at her front yard might have you confusing it with a
dumping site; the overgrown grass failed to cover up used diapers, black
polythene bags with week-old water stagnated in them and fresh fruit peels
littering the compound. Her husband, also unemployed, could be found at any
given time on any given day of the week, sitting outside a bar or next to one
of the local kitchens ordering for the famous “rolex”. It probably was his
coping mechanism to get away from his ever-crying children and several utility
company field officials that often came by to hand him a disconnection notice
due to failure or extended delay in paying the bills. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What left me perplexed in particular about Ms. Lady next
door was that people came to her for advice! It wasn’t uncommon to find one of
those very large fancy cars parked right outside her gate, the owner an equally
posh and refined lady or couple. Probably due to a semblance of shame, she
would seat her visitors on plastic white chairs out in her front yard in the
grass-less patch that was once a gully for water but had been enlarged by
children playing in it. (I once went over to congratulate her upon the birth of
her second child; the inside of the house was not only smaller, but also worse
than the outside of the house.) These guests often purchased some of the
‘organic” home-made juice she sold and carried it home along with the advice
she dished out. It was also not uncommon, during one of her broadcasted phone
calls, to hear her give advice to a breast-feeding mother on how to properly
breastfeed, pregnant ladies on how to handle the transition from delivery,
mothers who were having problems with getting their infant children to eat
healthy as well as wives with marital issues. Each of these conversations was
always punctuated with several loud and high pitched laughs, various
exclamations of surprise or shock, and sounds of chewing on something. I wondered how, after seeing the mess that was
her life, any one could take advice from her! Wasn’t the reason people got
advice from someone who had it all together because they had it all together,
or at least appeared to? Weren’t you supposed to be successful?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For months, I wondered silently and curiously. Did these
people not see what I saw? Did they just not care? Were such conditions a
normal occurrence in their lives and so not a shock? Or did they not even notice?
Was this lady conducting some sort of con-artist business in broad day light?
Was there something she was putting in that “organic” juice?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It wasn’t until I had an unexpected run-in with the children
that it all made sense. Ms. Lady next door might not be Beyoncé or Indra Nooyi
but she was successful in her own right. Her children, once cleaned up, were
really polite and friendly. She was pursuing her P.H.D. Her husband was a good
father, always playing with the children whenever he was home. And they were
happy! Not one night would go by without hearing laughter come out of their
home. She had some little sure victories tucked into her belt; you just had to
look a little closer to see. Those who did saw it, and kept coming back. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s so easy to dismiss someone because they are not shiny
on the surface. It’s so easy to over-look someone because they don’t tick any
of the “successful” boxes. But if you took the time to dig just a little
deeper, you just may be surprised. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-77149572512811921702017-08-01T18:31:00.000+03:002017-08-01T18:31:22.757+03:00Dear God...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Dear God, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
This is a thank you note.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Allow me to elaborate. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
My grand aunt (if that’s even an
English word) was a single mother of five. Her husband, after over a decade of
marriage, woke up one day and decided his five children did not mean that much
to him anymore; he got himself a new wife, and went ahead to have four more
children with his new wife. At the time this happened, her eldest child (my aunt)
was about eleven years old.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
This tale is vivid in my mind
because I looked up to my grand aunt in all matters spiritual. You could cut
her up, limb by limb and she would still not give up her faith in Jesus. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I was an eager and curios child of maybe
fifteen, a very impressionable age if you ask me. A group of about five of us
were seated in a living room of her village home in Western Uganda,
listening intently to grand aunt tell
this tale. The look in her eyes was one that said ‘I don’t expect you to believe
me but this actually happened”. It was a cold night so we were all covered up
in different kinds of warmers, all eyes on her, no one daring to breathe too
loud lest we miss even a word. As she spoke, eyes darting from one person to
other, she leaned forward into all of us, one thin hand holding her evening cup
of tea, the other gesturing for effect. Every two minutes or so, she stopped to
seep from the severely diluted cup of milk tea (she liked it that way- diabetes
and all that), a smile playing on her lips. The story was narrated in our local
language; I suspect it was to make sure we pay attention and to add dramatic
effect.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Back in her time, the road network in villages was not as extensive or
developed as it is now. She was a Primary School teacher and her second born
son was just about to sit for his Primary Leaving examinations. By this time,
her estranged husband was about to have his third child with his new bride. Her
candidate son had not paid school fees. It was a Sunday and she was embarking
on a journey from the town where she taught in one district to the boarding
school her son studied in another district, hoping to beg for mercy so they
could let her child sit the exams and allow her to pay the school fees later. The
Primary Leaving Examinations were to begin early the next morning and if she didn’t
arrive today, it would be too late. So after her classes that day, she got into
one of those small taxis that ferry people from one district to another
upcountry. The taxi only went as far as the district town Centre. From there
she would have to walk a journey of about ten kilometers on a dirt road through
a swamp to reach her son’s school. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>With all its various stops for passengers, the taxi arrived in the
district past seven pm. She was determined still, and after waiting about thirty
minutes at the stage, hoping to hitch a ride with a passenger vehicle that may
be headed the same way, she decided to take her chances and walk before it got
too late. About 4km and an hour later, her hope was starting to fade. It was
terribly cold, mist all around because of the swamp and only the sound of a
thousand crickets for company on that dark road. She was cold, tired, hungry,
and scared. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
At this point, she stopped to
take a sip from her cooling cup of tea. I
used the opportunity to change posture as my leg had started to feel pins and
needles. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>It’s past nine pm now and she is only about half way the journey. At this
point, all hope is gone and she breaks down and starts to cry and pray to God.
She won’t make it to the school alive, and even if some strange men don’t rob
or kill her in this swamp, they will never let her into the school at that
time. Even if they let her in, her son’s teachers would be asleep already and
where would she spend the night? Her son would have to go through the class again
and she would have to pay fees for an extra year with money she didn’t even
have. “Why was she going through this”, she asked God. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>At just that moment, she spots a church about half a kilometer away. It’s
the only place with electricity she has seen so far so she decides this is
where she will spend the night and deal with tomorrow’s troubles tomorrow. At
this point, she can barely drag herself up the church steps, and is even more
exhausted from all the bitter crying she has done. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
She sits up during the narration,
switches her cup of tea to the other hand, adjusts the shoal covering her legs,
widens her eyes, and with all certainty, without blinking, says, “That’s when I
saw the angel”. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>It was a man, very tall and big with large wings and with so much light
coming from him that he lit up the whole church compound, all the way down to
the road. At first she wasn’t sure what was happening and when she did realize
what was happening, she was too dumbfounded to respond. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The details from this point are
not clear but the angel informed her that not only would she make it to the
school but her son would excel in the exams he was sitting for the next day. He
doesn’t remember how she did it but with renewed vigor, she walked the
remaining kilometers to the school and found a teacher that let her spend the
night and went on to assist her sort out the P.L.E issues the next day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
My Uncle sat for his Primary
Leaving Examinations the next day and went on to become the best in the country
that year. He is currently a surgeon in the United States. My Grand aunt
eventually became the headmistress of that school but has since retired with
various businesses. All five children are actually doing exceptionally well. Even
now, you won’t go to her house and leave without hearing about Jesus. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I remember how for the longest
time I prayed and prayed to God that I too would see an angel but the prayers
became less and less until they were no more. For a long while, I thought that maybe
You didn’t answer that prayer because I would eventually see angels when I get
to heaven and it was all a lesson in patience but it hit me recently that I’ve
been so wrong all this time. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
You did send me angels, not one
but many. They may not be ten feet tall or shine like the sun. They may not
have big wings or leave me dumbfounded. However they do help me up when I fall,
and give me strength to go on when I am sure I can’t. They support me and make
things possible. They encourage me and accept me. They renew my vigor to walk
this journey. They show me that my grand aunt’s tale is true. They show me that
you not only heard my prayers but you answer them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
So God, this is a thank you note.
For all the angels you’ve surrounded me with, and for the others that I will
see when I get to heaven. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-56211353679354227722017-06-30T16:36:00.003+03:002018-10-23T18:30:23.817+03:00Enervated<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Wolf and lamb in the same skin<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">My protector and
my murderer are one and the same<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Love and anger wrestle in the same dark small cubicle<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Pain; the
feeling of having your skin peeled off as you watch<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Of someone taking
your four fingers, pulling each two apart in opposite directions until the skin rips<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Until there's
blood everywhere and the smell of putrid raw flesh fills the room<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">My healing lies
within my suffering<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">You should have
known. You should have intuition about these things; how couldn't you tell?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">If we are joined
at the hip, aren't we joined at heart as well?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Isn't my sin your
sin? Don't you hear the words in these tears falling down my eyes?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I need for you to
fix it, to nudge me forward and take me back to the beginning<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Where it all
started, and where it ended<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">To stay by my side
and leave me alone<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Reverse time; make
it so none of it ever happened, so we still have that picture perfect I saw the
first time I looked in your eyes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Take me back to
innocence, where I could look the world dead in the eyes, a stare-down where
only I could have won<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">My savior and
condemner wear a shared face<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">If you weren't
here, would I have felt all this pleasure? Would I have felt all this pain?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">My fate is sealed;
I must carry the heavy shadows on my bent back down this dark narrow winding
path<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I must wade
through the muddy knee-high waters underneath the bridge I once rode on, the
stone bridge I paved </span><span style="font-size: 18px;">myself</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> with bruised hands to keep me from drowning<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">My darkness is my
light.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Will you relieve
me, my captor and my hero?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
</div>
Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-58221575180295471092017-04-26T17:48:00.001+03:002017-04-27T12:55:07.116+03:00Journal from the past; You're okay!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Nothing in life is a coincidence. I believe that everything happens at a particular time for a reason; you just have to be sensitive enough not to miss the purpose and whatever life is trying to impact on you.<br />
<br />
Just this week, my sister decided to do some re-organisation of the bookshelf at home. The most interesting article she found(at least to me) was this journal I kept from 2012.It's deep blue in color with each page divided to cover three-four days. It's branded because it's one of those company diaries. You can tell from the worn edges that it was well used. Most of the pages are pretty full; I clearly had a lot to say. Most probably, I just had a lot of time on my hands.<br />
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After my sister handed me the diary, it lay on my bedside table for a few days. Just yesterday, while I was lounging around, I saw it and thought, "Why not?" So I opened the first page and begun to read. Most of it was pretty dramatic, I was a dreamer and I saw the world in HD/full color. I was young, without experience and with such an appetite for life. I was hungry to do, do, do!! I had such high expectations from myself, my loved ones and life. I had seen nothing!!! On one of the first pages one of my statements caught my eye....<br />
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<br />
"I wish I could fast forward to five years from now and see what happens then. Or just to skip this part anyway. Living one day at a time sucks".<br />
<br />
Guess what, It's almost exactly five years from the day I wrote that. And I want to reach out to me five years ago and just give her a long, tight and warm hug. If I could talk to the Kullein of 2012 (insert some time-travel stunt from any movie), here's what I'd say...<br />
<br />
Enjoy that phase<br />
It probably feels like it's dragging but you'll miss it, at least parts of it. You will one day look back fondly at that time and laugh at how simple it all was...<br />
<br />
Slow down<br />
Pace yourself. Don't be skipping any parts and trying to look for shortcuts. I know you're trying to get to a place people took 2 years to get to in 2 months. It's not a bad thing. Just try be present; fully feel and enjoy where you are NOW.<br />
<br />
You're on schedule<br />
You're doing better than you or anyone else ever thought you would be doing at this point. You've gone over and beyond and will bag some remarkable achievements. You have a great support system; you're in love with an angel, your friends are loyal and your family has never been closer.<br />
<br />
Don't stop dreaming<br />
Never lose your hunger and appetite for life. Don't ever feel like it's a disadvantage because it's not something everyone has. It might get you into sticky situations some times, but you will live a full life.The future is so much better than you can see right now.<br />
<br />
Ease up on yourself<br />
Give yourself a break. Give your loved ones a break. It's not as serious as you think it is, and yes, you will recover from the mistakes. You will learn so much that you'll even shock yourself. If you could see yourself five years from now, you'd be so proud of you. You're on the right track,<br />
<br />
You're not fat!!!<br />
I probably can't convince you about this no matter what I say but just for the record, it's true.<br />
<br />
Last but not least, don't quit on the journals<br />
Look at how handy this one came in. I know at some point in the future you will give it all a break, but do resume when you can.<br />
<br />
<br />
There's no such thing as coincidence. This diary re-appearing in my life at this exact time is no coincidence. It's God's way of saying, 'Hey, you're okay'. He is saying 'I still got you'.</div>
Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-22319137206931499002017-02-17T17:01:00.000+03:002017-02-17T17:01:07.782+03:00Majority knows best!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
Slow down child<div>
You skip and you slip </div>
<div>
without a care in the world</div>
<div>
You swish and you sway</div>
<div>
and say all your thoughts out loud</div>
<div>
You shouldn't be so happy</div>
<div>
You should carry some worry</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Slow down child</div>
<div>
lest you meet your fall </div>
<div>
We were once young like you, you know</div>
<div>
we thought we knew it all</div>
<div>
But life will shake you up good, it will</div>
<div>
show you who's who in the larger scale of things</div>
<div>
You shouldn't be so full of hope</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Slow down child </div>
<div>
you will get your heart broken</div>
<div>
It may seem like it's for forever right now </div>
<div>
but we can tell you it won't last</div>
<div>
Haven't you heard it said,</div>
<div>
"All good things come to an end"?</div>
<div>
Don't you dare trust fully</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Slow down child</div>
<div>
follow the pre-defined steps</div>
<div>
There's a reason why these things are in place;</div>
<div>
Majority knows best</div>
<div>
There's no need to fix what isn't broken</div>
<div>
or make better what's working fine</div>
<div>
Try to not be so adventurous</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Slow down child</div>
<div>
You risk and you believe</div>
<div>
trying to shape your own way</div>
<div>
You question and you doubt</div>
<div>
and want to try everything out</div>
<div>
keep your head down and try to fit in</div>
<div>
Don't try to stand out, it will only do you in</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Slow down child.</div>
<div>
We know what's best for you</div>
<div>
Slow down child.</div>
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Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-77406288895275499962017-02-13T15:06:00.000+03:002017-02-13T15:06:53.381+03:00Courage in the time of fear<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Respect yourself enough to walk
away from anything that no longer serves you, grows you, or makes you happy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Some messages never grow old.
There are some topics that after I’ve read two or three posts about them, I’m
done. Being bold is not one of those topics.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Naturally as human beings, we are
comforted by routine. The safety net it brings allows you to feel like you’re
in control of your life and what tomorrow will bring. It becomes your identity,
how you describe yourself and how others define you. It becomes your main frame
of reference when making decisions. It allows you to fit into a certain social
category; heck, it even gives you new friends. When that safety net is suddenly
ripped away, you’re left exposed. You’re suddenly vulnerable and lost, like a
chick that was separated from mother hen and siblings when crossing the road.
You start to look left and right, looking for anything that looks familiar or
accepting. The doubt then starts to set in; were you even ever what you thought
you were? Are you sure you weren’t a phony the whole time, an act that got so
good at the scene that it looked real? Are you anything without that safety
net? What about your friends; will they really still be your friends even after
you’re no longer under the same net? Was it the right decision?<o:p></o:p></div>
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The truth of the matter is
Fortune favors the bold. No one ever got anywhere without taking the risk, and
trust me it doesn’t matter who you are, risks scare everyone. Nobody said you
wouldn’t be afraid. The trick is to do it even when you are afraid. Choose to
focus on the little courage you have and drown out all the fear/doubts. I’m not
talking about that action that you know will hurt everyone around you and put
you in trouble. I’m also not talking about those whims that come as a result of
watching too much soapy television. No. I’m talking about that itch that keeps
you awake at night. That thing you can’t wait to get up and do in the morning.
That thing that brings you so much fulfillment because you know that you know
that you know that this is what you’re supposed to be doing! You’re probably
reading this and thinking, “Nah, this ain’t for me. I’m way too unimportant. I
have too much to lose. I couldn’t possibly be able to pull it off.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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I wish I could tell you that it
will all most definitely work out but I can’t. It will probably be hard and you
will most probably go through some days where you wonder if you did the right
thing. But if you don’t, you will spend each and every day of your existence half
alive. You will grow resentful and angry and lose all sort of motivation. You will
simply drift from one day into another and ask questions like, “What day is it?”
and it won’t be because of a crazy night out the night before. One day 20 years
down the road, you will wake up and wonder where your life went. All the things
you were afraid would happen if you did still happened when you didn’t. You
will carry around the pain of a loss so great that it will show in your empty sad
eyes and your stooped walk. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Do it. Take the plunge. Today is
only the beginning of the rest of your life.</div>
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Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-75012270884044420022017-02-02T12:36:00.000+03:002017-02-22T21:06:50.895+03:00The 103rd Psalm of King David<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , serif;">1. Praise the Lord, my soul; </span></i><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">all my inmost being, praise his holy name.<br />
</span></i><b><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">2 </span></i></b><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Praise the Lord, my
soul,<br />
</span></i><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></i><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">and forget
not all his benefits—<br />
</span></i><b><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">3 </span></i></b><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">who forgives all your sins<br />
</span></i><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></i><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">and
heals all your diseases,<br />
</span></i><b><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">4 </span></i></b><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">who redeems your life from
the pit<br />
</span></i><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></i><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">and crowns you
with love and compassion,<br />
</span></i><b><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">5 </span></i></b><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">who satisfies your desires
with good things<br />
</span></i><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></i><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">so that your
youth is renewed like the eagle’s.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin: 15pt 0in 7.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="font-size: small;">It’s not even about saying it with your
mouth as it is about being so grateful in your heart; your insides should be
dancing with praise. You know how you feel when your loved one does something
so sweet and you just feel all warm and delicious inside; that’s what King
David meant when he said ‘…all my inmost being, praise his holy name’. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="font-size: small;">You have so many blessings (benefits) some
of which you don’t even notice; life, health, family, friends, career, peace
etc. Even the hair and stilettos I have are from God! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: small;">6 The Lord works righteousness<br />
and justice for all the oppressed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: small;">7 He made known his ways to Moses,<br />
his deeds to the people of Israel:<br />
8 The Lord is compassionate and gracious,<br />
slow to anger, abounding in love.<br />
9 He will not always accuse,<br />
nor will he harbor his anger forever;<br />
10 he does not treat us as our sins deserve<br />
or repay us according to our iniquities.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="font-size: small;">He does not treat us as our sins
deserve, or repay us according to our iniquities. His mercies are new every morning. Picture
yourself as a criminal. Each morning you’re in the same court room for a
different case(s) and each time, after hearing the charges against you, the
same judge says ‘Forgiven. She/he is free to go.’ *Insert sound of gavel* <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="font-size: small;">No bribe, no trial, no defense, no
nothing. Every day, every week, year after year... <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #4bacc6; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: accent5;"><br />
</span><i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">11 For as high as the heavens are above the earth,<br />
so great is his love for those who fear him;<br />
12 as far as the east is from the west,<br />
so far has he removed our transgressions from us.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: small;">13 As a father has compassion on his children,<br />
so the Lord has compassion on those who fear
him;<br />
14 for he knows how we are formed,<br />
he remembers that we are dust.<br />
15 The life of mortals is like grass,<br />
they flourish like a flower of the field;<br />
16 the wind blows over it and it is gone,<br />
and its place remembers it no more.<br />
17 But from everlasting to everlasting<br />
the Lord’s love is with those who fear him,<br />
and his righteousness with their children’s children—<br />
18 with those who keep his covenant<br />
and remember to obey his precepts.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="font-size: small;">From everlasting to everlasting; As far
as the East is from the West and the heavens are above the earth. Before you
were born, from the year 1BC to the year 200,000 or eternity, that’s how long
he has loved you. It doesn’t matter if you live to be 85 or 130, twenty
lifetimes would still not exhaust his love for you. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="font-size: small;">And it’s not love in portions; He is
not measuring 20litres of love (if love was a liquid) per week so that it’s
equally spread out and he has enough to last him the whole period of time.
Think buckets and floods of love, the kind that almost drowns you and washes
everything else away. That’s what we are dealing with here. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: small;">19 The Lord has established his throne in
heaven,<br />
and his kingdom rules over all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: small;">20 Praise the Lord, you his angels,<br />
you mighty ones who do his bidding,<br />
who obey his word.<br />
21 Praise the Lord, all his heavenly hosts,<br />
you his servants who do his will.<br />
22 Praise the Lord, all his works<br />
everywhere in his dominion.</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "bodoni mt" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: small;">Praise the Lord, my soul.</span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="font-size: small;">Let’s just put this Psalm into
perspective. Replace “Lord” or “He” with
Sarah or Timothy or Mum; if you had someone who did even a quarter of this for
you, constantly, consistently and unconditionally, you would be singing their
praise on every possible platform possible. You’d be posting pictures on Instagram
and videos of all their deeds on Snapchat with hashtags like #Bestfriendever,
#Mybooisbetterthanyours #Feelingloved etc. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What’s stopping you from doing the same
for God?</span><span style="font-size: 1.55em;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-6870673864722150532016-11-23T16:49:00.002+03:002016-11-23T16:49:40.087+03:00Less change, more growth.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We’ve all heard the saying that change is the only constant
and if you don’t change, then change will change you. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I have been a conformer to this mantra for a really long
time until it hit me; this does not apply to our characters. It may apply to
techniques, strategies, technologies and so on but not to our characters. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The Bible says God is the same, yesterday, today and
forever. As Christians, what you want to do is be transformed to become more
and more like Jesus daily. <o:p></o:p></div>
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What you want to do instead is GROW. Call it change that is
positive and personal.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There must be some things
that you wish were different about you. If you are absolutely content with the
way you are now, know also that no one is perfect and if you ask God to, He
will show you which parts of you can be improved [and how], not because there
is something wrong with you but because it is His will that we move from glory
to glory, that we graduate from milk to food.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I recently said that prayer. I didn’t particularly say ‘God
make me see all my weaknesses’, mind you. I was mostly focusing on asking Him
to make me and my situation/circumstances even better, you know, the usual safe and
general prayers... But being God, He instead showed me something in me, a certain habit that
needed to change. I didn’t bother to fight it or defend myself because I know better than to fight God. To be honest,I hadn't even realized that I'd been doing it and I wasn't even aware how wrong it was before then.</div>
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Instead, I’m working on
it with prayer and the strength that God gives me. I can actually tell you that I will
probably never be comfortable again with that habit. I will continue
to work on curbing it till the day I die. Funny thing is, my circumstances have become better through doing this.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So the next time you feel the itch to make a change, maybe simply
because you feel you have been doing the same thing for too long, consider
growing instead.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-84524088250667288692016-11-14T17:35:00.000+03:002016-11-14T17:35:49.115+03:00What's on replay already on my playlist<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8iw2JgQia1X1fzeAfeqYAycmn37uEcHd-RZKLe5pJuKz62SPOW_gXz06X-CacKEDhOKZkUnszrQ4LVB_JRZedf_omw4KSx8TTYlmlZHmlPh1e2IvZYuha-mlQtboGCWvrnVlaLYVdnbo/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8iw2JgQia1X1fzeAfeqYAycmn37uEcHd-RZKLe5pJuKz62SPOW_gXz06X-CacKEDhOKZkUnszrQ4LVB_JRZedf_omw4KSx8TTYlmlZHmlPh1e2IvZYuha-mlQtboGCWvrnVlaLYVdnbo/s1600/download.jpg" /></a></div>
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No, its not too early to be feeling the christmas spirit. To be honest, I've been counting down since say...May. I know you would like to think that being excited about the season is for children and that the older you grow, the more like-any-other-day it becomes. For me, it's the opposite. You know how they say there is a little child inside of every one of us, my little inner child comes out during Christmas; and she is a happy, giddy, dance-all-over-the-place kind of girl.<br />
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<br /></div>
<div>
If you asked me about what it is exactly that makes me excited, i'll give you four good reasons why;</div>
<div>
1. Jesus died for us (Surely I don't have to explain this but if you need some more info on this, I'm willing to take you through it)</div>
<div>
2. There's just something warm and fun and pure about christmas.(Think hugs, pies, hot chocolatey drinks, warm clothes, presents, smiles etc)</div>
<div>
3. We get to stay home (If you work, then I don't have to say anything else)</div>
<div>
4. Hope; If you lost everything else but kept your hope, there's no stopping you. Christmas is all about hope, about reconciliation and starting over, about believing for better things. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So here's what's already on replay on my video playlist; my five favorite christmas songs this year.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>1. One more sleep -Leona Lewis</b><br />
I got hooked on this song while I was in a long distance relationship and it's stuck with me ever since. I particularly love everything about the video.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwiRvNbIjqjQAhVHBsAKHT6uAuEQyCkIHzAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dj-_1-uJ6Ml4&usg=AFQjCNGq_nNdpcWJts1B3bvqS1Eoj2FWIw&sig2=UNKCi5Da5IlOqnLD3lggtw">One more sleep</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<b>2. So this is Christmas- Celine Dion</b><br />
This one is more of a reflective song for me. It makes me want to sit back [ preferably with a cup of something in my hand :-)] and look back at the year that just passed and all the great memories made. Making it through another year is not something you should take lightly<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjj9LiojqjQAhXpKMAKHStLBOkQyCkIHTAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dxf8db3Vz95I&usg=AFQjCNGdExQS5WzEmAobIYNd6UJ3XC1anw&sig2=1SATs78yPvg53K6YAU9xaA">So this is Christmas</a><br />
<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>3. All I want for christmas - Mariah Carey</b><br />
This is a christmas love song. It's bubbly and playful and fun and happy; the way I figure love should be. It's a bit old and I'm sure there are newer versions but I'm an old soul...<br />
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<a href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwid7tjSjajQAhUnBMAKHTjzAnAQyCkIHzAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DyXQViqx6GMY&usg=AFQjCNH-i3eVVjN5TvRkUbuZyyhoMPpIaA&sig2=2sj9TUN0Inesj0JqHE_cJA">All I want for Christmas</a><br />
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<b>4. Have yourself a merry little christmas- Michael Buble</b><br />
This may not be my most favorite version but after number 3, you may want something slow and smooth to calm you down.<br />
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<a href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=2&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwiIr6HQkKjQAhUoD8AKHevgCGEQtwIIIjAB&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D-m--gZZ-Tdo&usg=AFQjCNGMODW7SeY3DrpWirJjqDhMYn5o-A&sig2=ww2KoyYrV7UvVnwXEhSWDA">Have yourself a merry little christams</a><br />
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<b>5. White Christmas</b><br />
This one is for hoping. We have all seen those movies from countries with snow, with gigantic christmas trees decorated extravagantly. The people wear cute winter green and red clothes and start a nice fire. Yes, I'm a dreamer and probably a romantic too this time of the year but a girl can wish, right? When I finally get to have a white christmas, then I'll take this off my list.<br />
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<a href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=10&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjZieKWkajQAhVaF8AKHbpnAxsQtwIIWzAJ&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DU3YltnBjqZU&usg=AFQjCNFxkMklJMhOjQ6Vm3LDzZZuuIl-Rw&sig2=sWlA1Ki0T9vgaBu3XjdxRw&bvm=bv.138493631,d.ZGg">White Christmas</a><br />
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Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-44662096580887993372016-10-31T17:56:00.000+03:002016-11-18T13:16:19.385+03:00Tumz, My Forever Love!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Let me tell you the story of my first major crush. I was in
Primary Seven and two years away from being a teenager. We will call him 'Tumz'
for lack of a less revealing name. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Tumz was my end-all and be-all. He was the boy I was going to love FOREVER! Everything I did
and in all the decisions my little mind made, I had to consider him. If he was
attending Saturday classes, then I too was attending Saturday classes. If he
had his socks pulled all the way up all day, then that's what we were all
doing. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">There was a day we
were to be allocated seats according to the first letter of your Last name.
Since Tumz was a T, and I was an A-something, I obviously had to add a letter
to my name that would bring me closer to T. Naturally. So I became Na-something
instead. It didn't get me a seat right on his desk but it brought me close
enough. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">It got to a point
where I carried a boy's bag. It was a brand whose name I cannot remember but
the design was more of male than female; pshhh, as if that would stop me! When
the beginning of the term came and we were doing shopping for school materials,
I did everything I could, and I mean everything, until my mum had to get me
that bag. Poor lady, if it was these days, she probably would have questioned
my sexuality. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Getting the same
bag did not go unnoticed. My girlfriends questioned me shamelessly and
endlessly as to why I chose that particular bag. Some went as far as to ask if
it was because of Tumz, but I denied it with everything in me. I went on to add
that I couldn’t possibly be interested in Tumz as we were even cousins!(Thank
God our parents had once had a brief conversation one day as we went home so no
one could be sure we weren’t cousins after all).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I did everything
to make Tumz notice me but the nicer I was, the more cruel he became. My turning point was one day when a popular dance group called
"Obsessions" came to perform. In those days, they went around schools
performing at a tiny fee (The group has since re-branded, split-up, re-united
and split up again). Being who I am, I was not about to be the only one that
missed out. They came in the afternoon right after lunch and since we had a
free period, it was the perfect arrangement. Plus of course the fact that Tumz
was going to be there too; I pictured us dancing together to a slow song the
Obsessions would be miming, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes and promising
to be together till death. So after about an hour of being squeezed to near-suffocation
in that over-crowded main hall packed to capacity with sweaty children pushing
back and forth, an hour where I was not able to even see Tumz, I decided I had
had enough. I went back to class, disappointed, exhausted and filthy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">For some reason,
the teacher that had given us the free period decided to pass by just as I sat
at my desk. On noticing the almost empty class, he asked where everyone was.
The nine or ten of us that were in class answered that everyone was in the main
hall watching the Obsessions. Off went the teacher, fuming from both ears,
mumbling something about how we were candidates who had no time for such play and
should have known better. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">To cut the long
story short, all P7 pupils were called out of the main hall and each one told
to line up outside their class and be ready to receive their due punishment.
Guess who was at the front of the line -Tumz. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I had always liked
the location of my seat in class because I could see outside directly. It
always helped if you could see the teacher coming from a distance. That day
however made me regret the name change that put me in that seat. As Tumz stood
at the front of the line awaiting his strokes of the cane, staring directly at
me, I looked on with a poker face as he made a gesture to let me know that he
was going to tell (the gesture involved touching your middle finger to
your thumb and moving your hand up and down as you made scary facial
expressions at the person you meant to tell on). Surely Tumz was not going to
tell that I had been part of the show-watchers. It wasn't my fault I somehow
luckily managed to get back to class in the nick of time. After all the love I
had shown him, he wouldn’t!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Tumz did tell on
me and I did get a whooping along with the rest of the 'party-animals' and that
my friends, was the day I experienced my first heart-break. As I quietly rubbed
my butt and cried with my head on my elbow facing
down on the desk, I cried not only because of the pain of my poor behind on
fire, but also because of the pain of cold betrayal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I did not stop
liking Tumz that day, but all the gestures stopped. I suffered silently with my
feelings and focused on just making it out of Primary School. Tumz
held a special place in my heart till the last day of class and in my heart, I <i>SWORE </i>I would love him forever no matter
what…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I forgot all about him in less than three
months when I joined secondary school and found bigger fish to fry...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I have since been
down that heart-break road more times than I would have preferred, but I can assure you
that I now laugh at those days. Laugh Out Loud actually. And yes, there's a moral
to this story; at the time that something painful happens, it feels like the
world is going to end. I know as you grow older, your problems become more serious than a primary school crush and it feels like you will never recover and nothing will
ever be the same again. Nothing will ever be the same, that's true; it will be
better! It will be so much better that like me, you will be telling that super
painful experience as a joke. You will wonder why you were so worked up about
it and you will just shrug and move on.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">THE END.</span></div>
</div>
Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-722833774311316674.post-22626779702429474242016-10-17T14:53:00.000+03:002016-10-17T14:53:14.375+03:00The introvert this side of eternity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
If you’ve watched the new Disney Pixar movie “Inside Out”
you might understand a little how people turn out to be the way they are. We
all have voices in our heads trying to point us in a particular direction. It’s
not always as straightforward as the angel on your right shoulder and the imp
on the left. Sometimes you’re a boiling pot of different flavours, each trying
to make their scent known.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
In the movie, you have different voices – Joy, Anger,
Sadness, Disgust, and Fear. Joy attempts to be the leader of the voices, always
trying to let you focus on the “yellow-er” side of things. All memories should
be yellow, sunlight. Anger is the non-thinker, provocation gets immediate reaction.
Sadness is how you’d picture an introvert; quiet, low, thinking about why
things are how they are. Disgust reacts when she doesn’t like something, fear
is always apprehensive.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s not easy being an introvert. It feels like Sadness is
the one in the driving seat and your memories are blue. You think about
everything. Your most important question in life is not what, where, when, who
or how, it’s why. When you consider the other questions, eventually you also
get into the whys.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Life seems easier for the extrovert. The extrovert draws and
demands from without, yet the introvert draws and demands from within. There
must be meaning to things.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Living on the side of eternity that I am – this issue would
seem to have been solved. However, it’s not as easy as that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Crossing into eternity means entering a door. It means using
a narrow path of which it was said</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This new way of life is so narrow that we cannot take
ourselves into it, we have to leave ourselves behind” – T. Austin Sparks</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It requires a certain amount of coming to an end of
yourself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but
whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.” Matthew 16:25<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cue Michael Jackson’s “Man in the mirror”. So many times, we
think it’s a matter of learning people skills, becoming cocky and funny,
enduring a little discomfort so you can become better. We think it’s changing
our tone and things like that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s a scene in Inside Out, where Riley is going through
a lot and is on the brink of “losing it” when her mom comes to talk to her and
thanks her for being patient. Her mood changes immediately.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The impact of love on everyone is so grand. And love is not work. <br />
<br />
Gal 5:22 But the fruit of the Spirit is:
love, joy, peace, long-suffering, kindness, goodness, faith, meekness,
self-control; against such things there is no law.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In a way I feel like that scripture has the colon in the
wrong place, but that’s me – love is like a container of every bit of the life
eternal – when you think of it, and compare that scripture with 1 Cor 13 you
might agree</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 Cor 13 4-7 Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous
or boastful; 5 it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way;
it is not irritable or resentful; 6 it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices
in the right. 7 Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things,
endures all things.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love is the man that must live, I am the man that must die.
I, the 100 percent introvert who sees things as blue. It’s a crucifixion that
happened that I must reckon lest I live Inside Out as if it were a true
reflection of this life eternal.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Gal 2:20 I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no
longer I that live, but Christ living in me: and that life which I now live in
the flesh I live in faith, the faith which is in the Son of God, who loved me,
and gave himself up for me.<br />
<br />
<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidmwRMx1lExnaC5nMi3QSiuqClE_zFhb9MLC2QhNKs5ni91rrOaocDE9nzgO9_xeLK8dAeK2tcHq6oPbu9BoZYOFvYeNg0vZAemCNuhB7dWdx5A4k4rf5o6nDYH_zMnT6u93k3b8RXBzI/s200/1.JPG" /><i style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #20124d; font-family: Arvo; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">The writer of this article, Joel Benjamin Ntwatwa is a blogger. He loves literature, African literature, and is reading more of it lately even participating in the Africa Reading Challenge. He has experience in Social Media, Content Management, and graphics ….He writes about his experience with see(k)ing God, creative fictional prose and poetry, and on numerous topical issues at nevender.com</span></i></div>
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Kulleinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12992286898471396790noreply@blogger.com0