The next chapter

The smell of burning posho should be included as symbol of some sort. A metaphor maybe. A reminder to most most of us fortunate humans of our past.
But if the smell of burning posho is an alarm for your present life then no-no, there is something wrong with your adult life.
All those ' kalabanda's, strict class teachers and boarding school 'gods' are frowning down on you. Change has to be done, just  like Jane Eyre ( i know some ugandans dodged reading this novel in the disguise of doing sciences... kale God is watching you...lol) you had your chance to suck up to school authorities.

Yes, you had the chance to be local, eat whatever was put before you ( a chunk of white solid mass to represent posho, swiming in brown watery liquid with some floating legumes to represent beans.)
This next chapter dubbed adulthood is your chance.

1. To look upon all those noisy children minding their own business outside your window as they play 'dulu' ; as if their presence were distracting you as you handle state matters...your building the nation can't they  see that.

2. To go months without a 'new outfit' so that you can pay your bills and make ends meet ( i wonder why our parents never warned us of this oncoming apocalypto)

3. To finally be dubbed a responsible human being because you had a 'church marriage' while you secretly consort here and there... giving a new term to the word 'sukali papa'.

4. To be the most authoritative boss or boss lady there was after Hitler, Napoleon, Mussolini, Idi Amin, Kabaka Mwanga and some other Korean dude down in history ... yap you'll never be number one. Terrorizing those 'little people' is such a thrill outside your house.

So i guess you now realise i was mocking you, especially if you fall within those above. The next chapter of adulthood should be simple and to point you to the right direction that shows you've left the stench of burning  posho behind.

You just have to be tired at the end of the day ... damn ha

                Pamela Ayaso