TWO SHALL BE ONE
I’m not really fond of arithmetic
But one thing I know is true
That math’s is always, well systematic
Except when God takes you through
Lend me your ears and I’ll explain
It’s really quite simple to me
Two plus two equals four, that’s plain
But not so with God, you see
Settle down in your seats, we may be a while
I’ll expound on this ‘adding’ thing
The words of my Lord, well they make me smile
They make me just want to sing
There’s ‘three in one’, that’s the Trinity
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit
And ‘the two shall be one’, that’s Divinity
Clare and Victor a unit
The truth is I’d like you all to know
That divine summations rock!
The two are joined, become one as they go
Not separate, oh no, a block
“And two shall be one,” the Bible says
It’s really a spiritual thing
Their lives will blend in God’s divine ways
Their vows are sealed with a ring
The mercy of God, amazing!
His grace sufficient for all
His love beyond our understanding!
He picks up all who fall
For Clare and Victor and all us here
To witness this special day
The Lord comes first, last, before ‘ere’
That’s the holy way
To God be Glory and Majesty
Now and forever more
To Him be praise and honour
For all eternity!
© 2008 Christina Sempebwa
Friday, November 21, 2008
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Bananas
I know you love bananas
I can’t imagine why
Those yellow ridge bandanas
Rubber rough pancake pie
Their sweet in hot savannas
Melt into African rye
I know you love bananas
And that’s precisely why
I’ve bought some Tropicana’s
Of the fleshy sticky buy
And a tang of treacle cabanas
To evoke a delirious high
© 2008 Christina Sempebwa
I can’t imagine why
Those yellow ridge bandanas
Rubber rough pancake pie
Their sweet in hot savannas
Melt into African rye
I know you love bananas
And that’s precisely why
I’ve bought some Tropicana’s
Of the fleshy sticky buy
And a tang of treacle cabanas
To evoke a delirious high
© 2008 Christina Sempebwa
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Initiation
By Eky Ntulo
The rock felt hard, cold and rough as Nzuu sat there quietly trying to steady his nerves. He remembered his grandmother’s caution not to rush, but to be careful, patient, wait for the right calls, and listen for the ancestor’s guidance. He thought about her now. Her wise old face had been warm, but expressionless as she gave him her blessing and prayed for the ancestor’s favour over him during the initiation. That was why he was here. To take the test that will turn him into a man. How he wished that he were still a young boy, playing with his friends as they looked after the cows. All they had to worry about then were hungry lions, leopards and other wild animals that might threaten the herd! This was the big day that all boys eagerly looked forward to, yet equally anxiously dreaded. Nzuu must prove to the clan that he was now a man!
It was early evening the sun would soon be setting over the hills. Nzuu had often sat on this rock with his friends and watched the sunset. Somehow everything looked different today, almost as if the world knew about his initiation. Everybody in his village knew that today was his day. He had been preparing for it since the last moon. Two of his best friends had already faced their test and had passed. They were now men and had stopped hanging around with the “boys”. They seem different somehow when he talked with them. He couldn’t say exactly what had changed in them. They wouldn’t tell him anything about their tests and they were supposed to be his friends! Did he really want to be like them? Did he even have a choice in this matter?
Nzuu’s heart missed a beat as he heard the first call. He stood up quickly forgetting his grandmother’s advice. He was about to face his first challenge! Should he turn back, he wondered as his heart began to pound. He could always take the test next year or some other time. His grandmother would understand as she always did. He turned round and realized that it was too late. The challenge was right before him. He had only one option, to move forward and face it. He seemed to be aware of every part of his body as he began to climb the steep rock in front of him. An old man sat on the ledge holding a beautifully carved walking stick. He too was from the Gyeera Clan. Nzuu could tell from the markings carved into his walking stick and the similar markings on his face. Stumbling, Nzuu made it to the ledge where the old man was sitting. The old man got up as Nzuu approached him. Their eyes met and locked. Nzuu could not tear his eyes away from the old man. He was afraid of what the old man was about to do. The best thing was to keep his eyes on him. He seemed familiar to Nzuu, though he could not remember where he had seen him before.
“I am Lunga,” the old man said. “I am your first challenge.”
His voice was deep and loud in the quiet evening. It echoed in the mountain air making Nzuu jump. For some absurd reason, he had not expected the old man to speak. Nzuu remained quiet. For the life of him, he could not imagine what sort of challenge the old man could present. He began to calm down as he realised how easy it would be to win a race or fight against the old man. His calm was short lived as Lunga lifted his stick motioning for Nzuu to sit on another ledge that protruded out of the rock over the cliff. It did not look safe at all. Could Nzuu trust this old man? Was he really part of his initiation ritual or was he just some mad man playing out a fantasy? Nzuu hesitated as the doubts flooded his mind. The fear and anxiety returned. Who was this old man? Who was Lunga?
The answer seemed to place itself in Nzuu’s head. Lunga was the first elder of the Gyeera Clan. He was supposed to be dead! The words shouted themselves in Nzuu’s mind. His head began to pound and he wiped his sweating hands down his side. He was in the presence of an ancestor! As these thoughts raced through his head, he realized that Lunga could hear them too. Nzuu struggled to get himself together. Was he dead too? What is happening here? No one had said anything to him about dead people! Well ancestors had been mentioned all the time, but it had not occurred to him that they would actually show up as part of his initiation!
Nzuu reached out unconsciously to touch Lunga but quickly withdrew his hand as he felt burning like fire on his fingers. Lunga motioned again to the ledge. As Nzuu moved nervously towards the ledge, he remembered his grandmother’s caution. There was no way out of this; he had to face the challenge. Apprehension and fear made him tense. He was sweating in the cool evening mountain breeze. Would he make it through the test? Would ever become a man?
The rock felt hard, cold and rough as Nzuu sat there quietly trying to steady his nerves. He remembered his grandmother’s caution not to rush, but to be careful, patient, wait for the right calls, and listen for the ancestor’s guidance. He thought about her now. Her wise old face had been warm, but expressionless as she gave him her blessing and prayed for the ancestor’s favour over him during the initiation. That was why he was here. To take the test that will turn him into a man. How he wished that he were still a young boy, playing with his friends as they looked after the cows. All they had to worry about then were hungry lions, leopards and other wild animals that might threaten the herd! This was the big day that all boys eagerly looked forward to, yet equally anxiously dreaded. Nzuu must prove to the clan that he was now a man!
It was early evening the sun would soon be setting over the hills. Nzuu had often sat on this rock with his friends and watched the sunset. Somehow everything looked different today, almost as if the world knew about his initiation. Everybody in his village knew that today was his day. He had been preparing for it since the last moon. Two of his best friends had already faced their test and had passed. They were now men and had stopped hanging around with the “boys”. They seem different somehow when he talked with them. He couldn’t say exactly what had changed in them. They wouldn’t tell him anything about their tests and they were supposed to be his friends! Did he really want to be like them? Did he even have a choice in this matter?
Nzuu’s heart missed a beat as he heard the first call. He stood up quickly forgetting his grandmother’s advice. He was about to face his first challenge! Should he turn back, he wondered as his heart began to pound. He could always take the test next year or some other time. His grandmother would understand as she always did. He turned round and realized that it was too late. The challenge was right before him. He had only one option, to move forward and face it. He seemed to be aware of every part of his body as he began to climb the steep rock in front of him. An old man sat on the ledge holding a beautifully carved walking stick. He too was from the Gyeera Clan. Nzuu could tell from the markings carved into his walking stick and the similar markings on his face. Stumbling, Nzuu made it to the ledge where the old man was sitting. The old man got up as Nzuu approached him. Their eyes met and locked. Nzuu could not tear his eyes away from the old man. He was afraid of what the old man was about to do. The best thing was to keep his eyes on him. He seemed familiar to Nzuu, though he could not remember where he had seen him before.
“I am Lunga,” the old man said. “I am your first challenge.”
His voice was deep and loud in the quiet evening. It echoed in the mountain air making Nzuu jump. For some absurd reason, he had not expected the old man to speak. Nzuu remained quiet. For the life of him, he could not imagine what sort of challenge the old man could present. He began to calm down as he realised how easy it would be to win a race or fight against the old man. His calm was short lived as Lunga lifted his stick motioning for Nzuu to sit on another ledge that protruded out of the rock over the cliff. It did not look safe at all. Could Nzuu trust this old man? Was he really part of his initiation ritual or was he just some mad man playing out a fantasy? Nzuu hesitated as the doubts flooded his mind. The fear and anxiety returned. Who was this old man? Who was Lunga?
The answer seemed to place itself in Nzuu’s head. Lunga was the first elder of the Gyeera Clan. He was supposed to be dead! The words shouted themselves in Nzuu’s mind. His head began to pound and he wiped his sweating hands down his side. He was in the presence of an ancestor! As these thoughts raced through his head, he realized that Lunga could hear them too. Nzuu struggled to get himself together. Was he dead too? What is happening here? No one had said anything to him about dead people! Well ancestors had been mentioned all the time, but it had not occurred to him that they would actually show up as part of his initiation!
Nzuu reached out unconsciously to touch Lunga but quickly withdrew his hand as he felt burning like fire on his fingers. Lunga motioned again to the ledge. As Nzuu moved nervously towards the ledge, he remembered his grandmother’s caution. There was no way out of this; he had to face the challenge. Apprehension and fear made him tense. He was sweating in the cool evening mountain breeze. Would he make it through the test? Would ever become a man?
Monday, October 27, 2008
Some things that really, really ...
Some things that I really, really bother me:
1. People smoking in public especially at a restaurant even if it is outdoor.
2. People shouting at, abusing, and / or physically punishing a child. (all I see is an adult vetting their personal frustrations on an innocent, maybe naughty, child)
3. People shouting at me or speaking in a disrespectful, patronizing manner to me or anyone else. (Surely this is a sign of low self esteem on the part of the person shouting)
4. Men who pee by the road side or anywhere in the open. (I loved the way the Kenyan Police would handle this with a simple ‘maliza twende’)
5. People who write ‘Am’ instead of ‘I am’. (What is happening to the English language? Perhaps this is Ugandan English, like the ‘salon – salooni’ thing, and I should accept it?)
6. Having dinner late and going to bed on a full stomach.
7. Sugar in my tea or coffee. (yuk!)
8. Seeing my name written with a double ‘S’
9. People who think they have a right to ‘eat’ (read: commit fraud) where they work and they do it in the name of the ‘boss’ who knows nothing about it. (sente zo’mukulu!)10. The skin of tomatoes curled up and floating in my soup, sauce or on my ‘katogo’
11. Violence of any kind!
Some things that I really, really love
1. Listening to children reciting poetry
2. The sound of children singing, especially praises to God
3. Watching science fiction movies that do not contain violence
4. Singing in a choir
5. Reading novels (science fiction, African folk lore, African history, romance, mystery and adventure)
6. The sound of babies gurgling away in their own special language
7. Playing computer games especially word and puzzle games
8. Watching international cricket on my own (so nobody is offended when I shout SHOT, HOWZAT, or stand up for a century)
9. Worshiping and praising God Almighty
10. The peace that comes when you hand over a difficult situation to the Lord and really let go. You know without a doubt that He is in control
11. The joy that comes with beating a deadline
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Traditions, Culture, Rites and Rituals
By Eky Ntulo 
“Ntasi, wake up,” Zuba shook her younger sister’s shoulder. “We must leave now if we are to make it to Lubigi before sunrise.”
Ntasi jumped up from the mat where the five girls had been sleeping and looked around the unfamiliar room. Zuba was waking the other girls. They had spent the night in the ‘Tanzi’, the betrothal hut. Realisation flooded her mind and bubble rumbled in her tummy as her excitement grew, mixed with fear. It was her passage to marriage ceremony. She must complete the traditional ‘Mpatanzi’ rituals that prepare her for marriage. Looking around she saw that everyone was awake. Zuba handed her a beautiful pale periwinkle coloured robe. A shiver run down Ntasi’s spine as the soft bluish purplish fabric covered her. The traditional colour of purity, she thought in awe. Only a bride wears this colour and only at her ‘mpatanzi’. She carefully placed a single ‘Vinca’ flower in her hair and breathed in deeply letting her breath out slowly in an effort to calm racing heart. She looked quickly at the vase of ‘vinca’ flowers that her mother would find in the morning. It signified that the rituals had begun.
“Come on,” Zuba took Ntasi’s hand and they joined the others already outside. “We must hurry.”
Even in the dark of the night, Ntasi could see the lovely colourful robes that her friends were wearing. Everything was happening so fast and she felt as if it was happening to someone else, like she was dreaming it all.
It was a steep, rough climb to the Lubigi Falls especially as the girls tried hard not to spoil their delicate robes or scratch themselves. The bride and her companions must be found without blemish. Ntasi had climbed to the Lubigi many times before but never in the dark. She led the way now and was surprised at how easily her bare feet found the familiar path. They made it in no time at all and the girls quickly disrobed and raced each other into the pool by the falls. They had to be in the water before sunrise. Screams and shouts filled the quiet mountain air as one by one the girls jumped into the icy cold water. Ntasi’s tension began to ease as her body adjusted to the water and the girls began to play.
A rainbow appeared over the falls as the sun rose and the cloudy spray of water around the falls took on a bluish purplish hue. The girls fell silent and watched the exquisite display in awe. Ntasi felt her stomach muscles tighten and a flutter began inside. The ancient spirit of purity had arrived and mpatanzi rituals could now truly begin.
What was going to happen next? Ntasi wondered. None of them had ever participated in mpatanzi before. No one knew what happened at daybreak.
“Listen to me everyone,” Zuba’s voice was sharp as it cut into the silence. “The waterfall rite must begin now. Mother told me what to do.”
Ntasi stared at her sister, hearing her words, but powerless to respond. Her heart thumped in her chest and her hands shook. There was no turning back now, she thought, a shiver running down her spine. The strong handsome face of Ndita, flashed before her and an icy calm took over her body. She was ready, she could do this, she told herself, clearing her mind to hear what Zuba was saying.
Ntasi jumped up from the mat where the five girls had been sleeping and looked around the unfamiliar room. Zuba was waking the other girls. They had spent the night in the ‘Tanzi’, the betrothal hut. Realisation flooded her mind and bubble rumbled in her tummy as her excitement grew, mixed with fear. It was her passage to marriage ceremony. She must complete the traditional ‘Mpatanzi’ rituals that prepare her for marriage. Looking around she saw that everyone was awake. Zuba handed her a beautiful pale periwinkle coloured robe. A shiver run down Ntasi’s spine as the soft bluish purplish fabric covered her. The traditional colour of purity, she thought in awe. Only a bride wears this colour and only at her ‘mpatanzi’. She carefully placed a single ‘Vinca’ flower in her hair and breathed in deeply letting her breath out slowly in an effort to calm racing heart. She looked quickly at the vase of ‘vinca’ flowers that her mother would find in the morning. It signified that the rituals had begun.
“Come on,” Zuba took Ntasi’s hand and they joined the others already outside. “We must hurry.”
Even in the dark of the night, Ntasi could see the lovely colourful robes that her friends were wearing. Everything was happening so fast and she felt as if it was happening to someone else, like she was dreaming it all.
It was a steep, rough climb to the Lubigi Falls especially as the girls tried hard not to spoil their delicate robes or scratch themselves. The bride and her companions must be found without blemish. Ntasi had climbed to the Lubigi many times before but never in the dark. She led the way now and was surprised at how easily her bare feet found the familiar path. They made it in no time at all and the girls quickly disrobed and raced each other into the pool by the falls. They had to be in the water before sunrise. Screams and shouts filled the quiet mountain air as one by one the girls jumped into the icy cold water. Ntasi’s tension began to ease as her body adjusted to the water and the girls began to play.
A rainbow appeared over the falls as the sun rose and the cloudy spray of water around the falls took on a bluish purplish hue. The girls fell silent and watched the exquisite display in awe. Ntasi felt her stomach muscles tighten and a flutter began inside. The ancient spirit of purity had arrived and mpatanzi rituals could now truly begin.
What was going to happen next? Ntasi wondered. None of them had ever participated in mpatanzi before. No one knew what happened at daybreak.
“Listen to me everyone,” Zuba’s voice was sharp as it cut into the silence. “The waterfall rite must begin now. Mother told me what to do.”
Ntasi stared at her sister, hearing her words, but powerless to respond. Her heart thumped in her chest and her hands shook. There was no turning back now, she thought, a shiver running down her spine. The strong handsome face of Ndita, flashed before her and an icy calm took over her body. She was ready, she could do this, she told herself, clearing her mind to hear what Zuba was saying.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
International Conference - Canada
I have been dreading leaving my children for two whole weeks to attend this International Conference organised by my employers. I had even thought that perhaps I could find a way of getting out of it. Well, I left the darling girls, crying buckets I must say, on Monday morning (May 26) and boarded my BA flight to London where I expected to connect to Toronto. It was traumatic parting for me as well because I normally don't leave the girls behind on my field trips, but this couldn't be helped.
I chose to fly BA because I believe the British are very organised and time concious and their flight times presented the shortest flying time and the most convenient for me. Imagine my dismay when we were delayed for 3 hours on the tarmac in Entebbe after boarding the plane on time, I might add.
First it was an extra bag.
"The computer in Johannesburg has indicated that the plane has an extra unidentified bag on board which must be located and taken off the plane," the Captain informed us politely. "This will only take 10 minutes and we shall be on our way."
We waited for about 20 minutes and then spoke to us again.
"We have not yet located the bag, but please bare with us, we may be another 10 minutes. We are very sorry about this delay."
He was very good at keeping us informed about what was going on. After waiting for another 20 minutes, the intercom came on again and we all shuffled hopefully in our seats.
"I'm afraid we have not yet found the extra bag. There is a plane behind us that is ready to leave, so we are going to move aside so that it can take off. Kindly remain in your seats with your seat belt firmly fastened."
After another 20 or so minutes.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we shall have to return to the terminal and remove all the bags inorder to locate the extra bag," the Captain said in his calm 'I'm totally in control' voice. "This will take about 30 minutes."
So we taxied back to the terminal and waited. There were lots of murmurs around and everyone waited expectantly.
It must have been at least an hour later.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the Captain announced. "The extra bag has been located and we are now ready for take off."
The
I chose to fly BA because I believe the British are very organised and time concious and their flight times presented the shortest flying time and the most convenient for me. Imagine my dismay when we were delayed for 3 hours on the tarmac in Entebbe after boarding the plane on time, I might add.
First it was an extra bag.
"The computer in Johannesburg has indicated that the plane has an extra unidentified bag on board which must be located and taken off the plane," the Captain informed us politely. "This will only take 10 minutes and we shall be on our way."
We waited for about 20 minutes and then spoke to us again.
"We have not yet located the bag, but please bare with us, we may be another 10 minutes. We are very sorry about this delay."
He was very good at keeping us informed about what was going on. After waiting for another 20 minutes, the intercom came on again and we all shuffled hopefully in our seats.
"I'm afraid we have not yet found the extra bag. There is a plane behind us that is ready to leave, so we are going to move aside so that it can take off. Kindly remain in your seats with your seat belt firmly fastened."
After another 20 or so minutes.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we shall have to return to the terminal and remove all the bags inorder to locate the extra bag," the Captain said in his calm 'I'm totally in control' voice. "This will take about 30 minutes."
So we taxied back to the terminal and waited. There were lots of murmurs around and everyone waited expectantly.
It must have been at least an hour later.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the Captain announced. "The extra bag has been located and we are now ready for take off."
The
Friday, May 16, 2008
My Mother
I wrote this poem for my mother on mother's day. She turned 85 this month and we are so blessed to have her.
My Mother
My mother is
and has always been
a tower of strength for me
My mother is
and has always been
a fountain of love for me
My mother is
and has always been
a treasure of wisdom for me
My mother is
and has always been
a cushion of comfort for me
My mother is
and will always be
a very special person to me
My mother!
©2008 Christina Sempebwa
My Mother
My mother is
and has always been
a tower of strength for me
My mother is
and has always been
a fountain of love for me
My mother is
and has always been
a treasure of wisdom for me
My mother is
and has always been
a cushion of comfort for me
My mother is
and will always be
a very special person to me
My mother!
©2008 Christina Sempebwa
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