I fell off the deep end and it's as if I have never learnt to swim! I have heard that you never forget this sort of thing so I don't know for the life of me why I can't seem to stay afloat. I am sending out a prayer for help ...
Help me Lord
There's a constriction in my chest
However much I try to relax it
It just becomes tighter and tighter
There is a pit in my tummy
However much I try to fill it
It just grows deeper and deeper
There is a hole in my heart
However much I try to mend it
It just gets bigger and bigger
There is a cloud over my mind
However much I try to clear it
It just becomes thicker and thicker
There is a tear on my soul
However much I try to repair it
It just spreads out more and more
Dear Lord, I pray
Please help me!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
An expression ...
Most of the time I write for children, but this below is an attempt at writing something deep, emotional and from the heart. My usual genre was hard to by pass so along the way there are new words and words that don't make sense at face value. I encourage you to look below the surface and see if this says anything at all to you.
Aboard the Banenbrown
My life was calm and organized
With a firm solid simple routine
Then out of the blue it bamugalised
Crept over me, a smothering smoky screen
My heart completely turned upside down
Righting occasionally then plummeting again
My emotions threatened me to drown
The pain, the pleasure, should I complain?
All it took was a word
A sentence, a phrase, quite absurd
Rational thinking became pretty blurred
Hidden feelings surfaced, up all stirred
A promise, a touch, a look
And a tingling will gradually spread
Like a river or soft flowing brook
Taking all coherence, asparagus thread
I’m sinking, what shall I do?
Crazy passions weigh me down
Seek pleasure, pursue cordon bleu?
Or lucidly dismount the banenbrown?
My cloudy head can’t think
My heart is in control
My blood’s turned purplish pink
My sanity? marsupial mole
©2009 Christina Sempebwa
Aboard the Banenbrown
My life was calm and organized
With a firm solid simple routine
Then out of the blue it bamugalised
Crept over me, a smothering smoky screen
My heart completely turned upside down
Righting occasionally then plummeting again
My emotions threatened me to drown
The pain, the pleasure, should I complain?
All it took was a word
A sentence, a phrase, quite absurd
Rational thinking became pretty blurred
Hidden feelings surfaced, up all stirred
A promise, a touch, a look
And a tingling will gradually spread
Like a river or soft flowing brook
Taking all coherence, asparagus thread
I’m sinking, what shall I do?
Crazy passions weigh me down
Seek pleasure, pursue cordon bleu?
Or lucidly dismount the banenbrown?
My cloudy head can’t think
My heart is in control
My blood’s turned purplish pink
My sanity? marsupial mole
©2009 Christina Sempebwa
Friday, May 15, 2009
Don't settle for just anything
Someone sent me and a number of others around the city, these photos and the captions with an encouraging message to all women not to settle for just anything, but to know that God has the best for you if you will only be patient.
A man named David Upchurch is now telling media sources about his stint as First Lady Michelle Obama’s first boyfriend. The then 18-year-old Mrs. O was escorted by him to her Whitney Young High School prom in Chicago (above pic). They grew up together, were neighbors in the Chi, and David now lives in Colorado Springs , CO .
He says the reason they broke up is because he didn’t have his life together and he was “a screw up”. He says: “I always knew Michelle was special and would make a difference in the world.” I guess the First Lady wasn’t taking any ish even back then. Seven years later she met a law student named Barack Obama. And the rest is history. Love it.
I was very impressed with how things had gone so well for Michelle. She certainly made the right choices. I was however very amused by a comment from one of the people on the circulation list. I'm sure she won't mind me sharing it here.
"Kati ex ali mukusitula buveera."
What an under statement!
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
The Doctor's waiting room
I was sitting in the doctor’s waiting room with my ten year old daughter. She was restless, feverish and worried about getting a 'prick'. To distract her from her illness and the doctor, we made up this sort of meaningless but fun poem. By the time we were writing the third verse, she had settled down, was contributing enthusiastically and genuinely enjoying herself. The thing is that you can go on and on and on. Luckily for us we were called in to the doctor’s room and had to stop. I hope it will brighten your day. Don't look for any meaning from it, just enjoy the rhyming nonsense.
Fun with Colours
My favourite colour is blue
How I feel when I have the flu
Head light as a fly
Temperature high
What’s going on? I don’t have a clue
Red can be an angry colour
On the walls of Aunt Bee’s parlour
The room is so hot
From her potion pot
It’s nothing like a fancy gala
Purple is the colour of calm
Like the wind blowing on my palm
Whispers of peace
Chocolate puzzle piece
Sunsets on a vegetable farm
When I think of the colour yellow
I don’t imagine anything mellow
But something bright
And filled with light
An award winning practical fellow
I really like the colour pink
Nothing to do with the kitchen sink
Soft party frills
Oganza spills
And a fashionably fresh fruit drink
Green stands for natural and earthy
The trees, grass and things murky
Not enviousness
Or sly jealousness
But all things fun, free and quirky
Black draws the darkest of all
Bold and bland as a brick wall
Stands proud and clear
Both front and rear
Like the face of our own city hall
©2009 Christina Sempebwa
Fun with Colours
My favourite colour is blue
How I feel when I have the flu
Head light as a fly
Temperature high
What’s going on? I don’t have a clue
Red can be an angry colour
On the walls of Aunt Bee’s parlour
The room is so hot
From her potion pot
It’s nothing like a fancy gala
Purple is the colour of calm
Like the wind blowing on my palm
Whispers of peace
Chocolate puzzle piece
Sunsets on a vegetable farm
When I think of the colour yellow
I don’t imagine anything mellow
But something bright
And filled with light
An award winning practical fellow
I really like the colour pink
Nothing to do with the kitchen sink
Soft party frills
Oganza spills
And a fashionably fresh fruit drink
Green stands for natural and earthy
The trees, grass and things murky
Not enviousness
Or sly jealousness
But all things fun, free and quirky
Black draws the darkest of all
Bold and bland as a brick wall
Stands proud and clear
Both front and rear
Like the face of our own city hall
©2009 Christina Sempebwa
Thursday, March 12, 2009
A Butterfly & A Child
A butterfly transforms
Like the life of a child
It blossoms into beauty
Like an adolescent will do
A butterfly is fragile
Like the life of a child
It’s delicate, soft, but firm
Like a teenager will be
A butterfly will fly away
Free to see the world
Like a child will explore
Eventually, cautious and wise?
©2009 Christina Sempebwa
Friday, March 06, 2009
Playing in the Rain
When I look back to my childhood, there are many things I remember that were fun. High on my list was being out in the rain and playing. Not in a storm mind you, but I it was so much fun playing in a drizzle that went on and on. Of course there were always consequenses afterwards. I watched my children playing in the rain one day and it brought back such memories.
Playing in the Rain
Playing in the rain is fun,
Especially when it drizzles.
At times we even see the sun,
We hope we won’t get sniffles!
On special days the sun shines high,
It’s called a monkey’s wedding.
A rainbow streaks across the sky,
Fabulous colours displaying!
We splash around in muddy pools,
Our rubbers spread the puddles.
With shampoo mud and other tools,
We make such dirty bundles!
What fun we have out in the rain!
The raindrops splash our faces
We try to catch them again and again
They’re everywhere in all the places!
What a treat! How exciting to play in the rain,
Especially in a drizzle,
All too soon it begins to wane,
What a sight we are! What a frizzle!
© 2004 Christina Sempebwa
Playing in the Rain
Playing in the rain is fun,
Especially when it drizzles.
At times we even see the sun,
We hope we won’t get sniffles!
On special days the sun shines high,
It’s called a monkey’s wedding.
A rainbow streaks across the sky,
Fabulous colours displaying!
We splash around in muddy pools,
Our rubbers spread the puddles.
With shampoo mud and other tools,
We make such dirty bundles!
What fun we have out in the rain!
The raindrops splash our faces
We try to catch them again and again
They’re everywhere in all the places!
What a treat! How exciting to play in the rain,
Especially in a drizzle,
All too soon it begins to wane,
What a sight we are! What a frizzle!
© 2004 Christina Sempebwa
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
More on Kiteng's Adventures
You know how nerve wrecking it is going though an interview process. All that preparation, making sure you are wearing the right clothes, researching the organization before hand, wiping sweaty hands and going to the toilet a hundred times before the actual interview… I know that for some people it’s just another ‘thing’ to do today and no big deal, but for most people it is an ordeal that they consider of great importance. Kiteng shares an interview experience at her new school.
An Interview
Ddamba had persuaded me to join the Drama club at school and now here I was sitting in the drama room waiting for Mr. Mvulandimbula to discuss my membership. I fidgeted on the chair looking at the clock on the wall. It was only ten past three and the bus didn’t come until four, I thought. Maybe I should go to the library and do my homework. I don’t have to join the drama club today. I could always come back tomorrow or next week or even next term.
“Kiteng, thank you for keeping time,” Mr Mvulandimbula’s soft baritone interrupted my thoughts. “I do apologise for being late myself.”
“I haven’t waited long sir.”
“Very good, so where did you say you come from, Kiteng?”
“Mene, in Lokomotit District sir,” I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat, hoping that it would be over soon.
“You are very far away from home Kiteng, how long have you lived in the city?”
“It will be exactly one month tomorrow sir,” my heart fell and I stared at my shoes. Well there go my chances of joining the drama club, I thought. Who would want a village bum in the club? I knew I shouldn’t try to join any club so soon on joining the school. It was all Ddamba’s fault.
“I spent a week with a family at Sokotit Trading Centre a long time ago,” Mr Mvulandimbula said. “It is a very remote, but beautiful place. Is Mene near Sokotit?”
“Oh yes sir!” I said looking up at Mr Mvulandimbula. I would never have thought that a teacher at this school would know anything about my home let alone been so close to it. “We get the bus to the city from Sokotit, sir.”
“Why did your family move to the city, Kiteng? People from your home area tend to be very conservative and do not normally travel away.”
“Mother and I moved here because of her work, sir. She works for International Organisation that helps people, sir.”
“What about your father, brothers and sisters, did they remain in Mene?”
“My father died when I was a baby, sir,” I returned my gaze to the floor in front of me. I have never been comfortable talking about family especially to a stranger like Mr Mvulandimbula. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”
“I’m sorry to hear that Kiteng, but don’t you have any other relatives?”
“My grandma lives near our house in Mene and Uncle Tilakit, Mama’s brother lives with her, sir,” I said quietly, intently studying the pattern of the wooden tiles on the floor. I had not noticed how systematic they were, I thought. Someone had taken a lot of time laying them out.
“Kiteng, my dear, you don’t have to say ‘sir’ every time you answer a question, alright?”
“Yes sir, I mean yes.”
“Have you made any friends since you joined the school?”
“Yes sir, I mean yes,” I was glad that Mr Mvulandimbula had changed the subject. Now perhaps we can talk about joining the Drama Club. “There is Ddamba from my class. He says that I will be able to make more friends in the Drama Club.”
“Is that why you want to join the club, to make friends?”
“Yes sir,” I looked away from the floor tiles and back at Mr Mvulandimbula. “Ddamba is also a member of the club.”
“Have you ever acted in a play before, Kiteng?”
“Yes sir, I was an angel in a Christmas play at my Missionary School in Mene.”
“That is very good, Kiteng! Did you enjoy acting in the Christmas play?”
“Oh yes, sir. I wore a long white dress, white stockings and large white cardboard wings.”
“Do you still have the costume?”
“No sir, the Nuns keep all the costumes.”
“Are you Catholic, Kiteng?” Mr Mvulandimbula sat up straight and his eyes lit up. “I’m Catholic too. We have a very active youth club at the cathedral. I’m sure I could help you join them. You would be able to make a lot of friends there. Although some of them may not be from this school. Uhm, what were we talking about?”
“Sir, I am not Catholic,” I said quickly hoping that this would not dash my hopes of joining the drama club. “I just went to a Missionary School in Mene.”
“Oh I see,” Mr Mvulandimbula sat back nodding his head as if he had suddenly understood something. “Well that’s alright. Do you like your new school?”
“It’s very big, sir and there are so many children here.”
“Have you tried to talk to the other children, make friends?” Mr Mvulandimbula pushed back his chair and crossed his legs.
“No sir, I am quite happy to have Ddamba as a friend.”
“Uhm, did you have only one friend in your Missionary School in Mene?”
“No sir, I had very many friends, but we had all grown up together.”
“Kiteng, are you afraid that you are different from the other children?” Mr Mvulandimbula uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.
I let my eyes drop back to the floor and shifted uncomfortably on my seat. Mr Mvulandimbula was getting too close to the truth and I really didn’t want to talk about it.
“Yes sir, I am different,” I said quietly not looking up.
“Are you different from Ddamba?” Mr Mvulandimbula insisted.
“Yes Sir, but Ddamba accepts me as I am.”
“Do you think that Ddamba is different from the other children?”
“No sir, he is like the others, but he treats me like his friend,” I looked up at Mr Mvulandimbula, wondering were he was going with this.
“Have you given the other children a chance to treat you like a friend?”
I was silent wondering what to say. The truth was that I hadn’t made any effort to be friendly or find out anything about the children in my class.
“Not really, sir.”
“Why is that, Kiteng?”
“Sir, I was afraid that they would laugh at me because I come from a small village and my English is not perfect like theirs.”
There I had said it. I am just a village girl and I certainly do not fit in this city school.
“Kiteng, have any of the children been teasing you?” Mr Mvulandimbula leaned forward again and looked me straight in the eyes.
“No sir,” I looked away. I most certainly did not want to be a snitch as well as everything else.
Mr Mvulandimbula looked at me quietly for a moment before he continued.
“Would you like to get to know the other children in your class, Kiteng?”
“Yes sir.”
“The opening activity for the Drama Club is an exercise in which we interact with each other with the aim of breaking the barriers among the group and getting to know each other better. Will you be able to participate in such an activity?”
“Yes sir, I will try.”
Maybe it was good idea to join the Drama Club after all. I thought.
“Welcome to the Drama Club, Kiteng,” Mr Mvulandimbula stood up. “I shall see you next week and don’t worry about making friends, it will all work out eventually. Just keep an open mind and give the other children a chance.”
“Thank you, sir,” I stood up as well.
Mr Mvulandimbula left after handing me a pamphlet about the club. I walked out of the room relieved, excited and a little bit apprehensive about being in this club. At least I had a week before the first meeting. Hopefully I would be more settled in the school by then.
An Interview
Ddamba had persuaded me to join the Drama club at school and now here I was sitting in the drama room waiting for Mr. Mvulandimbula to discuss my membership. I fidgeted on the chair looking at the clock on the wall. It was only ten past three and the bus didn’t come until four, I thought. Maybe I should go to the library and do my homework. I don’t have to join the drama club today. I could always come back tomorrow or next week or even next term.
“Kiteng, thank you for keeping time,” Mr Mvulandimbula’s soft baritone interrupted my thoughts. “I do apologise for being late myself.”
“I haven’t waited long sir.”
“Very good, so where did you say you come from, Kiteng?”
“Mene, in Lokomotit District sir,” I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat, hoping that it would be over soon.
“You are very far away from home Kiteng, how long have you lived in the city?”
“It will be exactly one month tomorrow sir,” my heart fell and I stared at my shoes. Well there go my chances of joining the drama club, I thought. Who would want a village bum in the club? I knew I shouldn’t try to join any club so soon on joining the school. It was all Ddamba’s fault.
“I spent a week with a family at Sokotit Trading Centre a long time ago,” Mr Mvulandimbula said. “It is a very remote, but beautiful place. Is Mene near Sokotit?”
“Oh yes sir!” I said looking up at Mr Mvulandimbula. I would never have thought that a teacher at this school would know anything about my home let alone been so close to it. “We get the bus to the city from Sokotit, sir.”
“Why did your family move to the city, Kiteng? People from your home area tend to be very conservative and do not normally travel away.”
“Mother and I moved here because of her work, sir. She works for International Organisation that helps people, sir.”
“What about your father, brothers and sisters, did they remain in Mene?”
“My father died when I was a baby, sir,” I returned my gaze to the floor in front of me. I have never been comfortable talking about family especially to a stranger like Mr Mvulandimbula. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”
“I’m sorry to hear that Kiteng, but don’t you have any other relatives?”
“My grandma lives near our house in Mene and Uncle Tilakit, Mama’s brother lives with her, sir,” I said quietly, intently studying the pattern of the wooden tiles on the floor. I had not noticed how systematic they were, I thought. Someone had taken a lot of time laying them out.
“Kiteng, my dear, you don’t have to say ‘sir’ every time you answer a question, alright?”
“Yes sir, I mean yes.”
“Have you made any friends since you joined the school?”
“Yes sir, I mean yes,” I was glad that Mr Mvulandimbula had changed the subject. Now perhaps we can talk about joining the Drama Club. “There is Ddamba from my class. He says that I will be able to make more friends in the Drama Club.”
“Is that why you want to join the club, to make friends?”
“Yes sir,” I looked away from the floor tiles and back at Mr Mvulandimbula. “Ddamba is also a member of the club.”
“Have you ever acted in a play before, Kiteng?”
“Yes sir, I was an angel in a Christmas play at my Missionary School in Mene.”
“That is very good, Kiteng! Did you enjoy acting in the Christmas play?”
“Oh yes, sir. I wore a long white dress, white stockings and large white cardboard wings.”
“Do you still have the costume?”
“No sir, the Nuns keep all the costumes.”
“Are you Catholic, Kiteng?” Mr Mvulandimbula sat up straight and his eyes lit up. “I’m Catholic too. We have a very active youth club at the cathedral. I’m sure I could help you join them. You would be able to make a lot of friends there. Although some of them may not be from this school. Uhm, what were we talking about?”
“Sir, I am not Catholic,” I said quickly hoping that this would not dash my hopes of joining the drama club. “I just went to a Missionary School in Mene.”
“Oh I see,” Mr Mvulandimbula sat back nodding his head as if he had suddenly understood something. “Well that’s alright. Do you like your new school?”
“It’s very big, sir and there are so many children here.”
“Have you tried to talk to the other children, make friends?” Mr Mvulandimbula pushed back his chair and crossed his legs.
“No sir, I am quite happy to have Ddamba as a friend.”
“Uhm, did you have only one friend in your Missionary School in Mene?”
“No sir, I had very many friends, but we had all grown up together.”
“Kiteng, are you afraid that you are different from the other children?” Mr Mvulandimbula uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.
I let my eyes drop back to the floor and shifted uncomfortably on my seat. Mr Mvulandimbula was getting too close to the truth and I really didn’t want to talk about it.
“Yes sir, I am different,” I said quietly not looking up.
“Are you different from Ddamba?” Mr Mvulandimbula insisted.
“Yes Sir, but Ddamba accepts me as I am.”
“Do you think that Ddamba is different from the other children?”
“No sir, he is like the others, but he treats me like his friend,” I looked up at Mr Mvulandimbula, wondering were he was going with this.
“Have you given the other children a chance to treat you like a friend?”
I was silent wondering what to say. The truth was that I hadn’t made any effort to be friendly or find out anything about the children in my class.
“Not really, sir.”
“Why is that, Kiteng?”
“Sir, I was afraid that they would laugh at me because I come from a small village and my English is not perfect like theirs.”
There I had said it. I am just a village girl and I certainly do not fit in this city school.
“Kiteng, have any of the children been teasing you?” Mr Mvulandimbula leaned forward again and looked me straight in the eyes.
“No sir,” I looked away. I most certainly did not want to be a snitch as well as everything else.
Mr Mvulandimbula looked at me quietly for a moment before he continued.
“Would you like to get to know the other children in your class, Kiteng?”
“Yes sir.”
“The opening activity for the Drama Club is an exercise in which we interact with each other with the aim of breaking the barriers among the group and getting to know each other better. Will you be able to participate in such an activity?”
“Yes sir, I will try.”
Maybe it was good idea to join the Drama Club after all. I thought.
“Welcome to the Drama Club, Kiteng,” Mr Mvulandimbula stood up. “I shall see you next week and don’t worry about making friends, it will all work out eventually. Just keep an open mind and give the other children a chance.”
“Thank you, sir,” I stood up as well.
Mr Mvulandimbula left after handing me a pamphlet about the club. I walked out of the room relieved, excited and a little bit apprehensive about being in this club. At least I had a week before the first meeting. Hopefully I would be more settled in the school by then.
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