Bottled letters to an ex yonder

                                                                                                    An Ex Dude

                                                                                                  A Kampala suburb

A Hot Babe

On the shores of an exotic Island

Dear dude from the past,

I hope you fare well. Don’t get me wrong but I was and will be glad if she breaks your heart. I mean who are you to dodge karma? This thing catches up with the best of us, so don’t expect to dish out crap and get a whiff of cupcakes and brownies… No my used to be hun  you eventually get a platter of shit in your face.

But that was not the point of this letter. I only wished to let you know am still terribly gorgeous and classy. I no longer stalk you either … Amazing! However, will you please try to lay off the local girls, your spoiling my reputation dude? And will you keep up the standards too. I swear I will deny you as my ex if you do not step up your game.

Appearances do get you to places most of the time, so keep up. Why the hell are you going down the drain? %^&*@\... Keep up

Xxx

A not so amused Hot ex

Angeline M

memoirs of my childhood; my wee watches

I do try to keep time but i have never been one of those watch collectors although for some reason my mother loved getting me watches.. not that i was complaining.

Anyhow, of all the wee watches she bought me, three of them are embedded in my memory.  The first being a little pink mickey mouse watch. And the reason ...the reason ... i have no idea why. I guess i just loved it.

Now the second watch was a big, fat, black and grey sports watch that i wore everywhere especially to my games. I thought it was cool and some of the boys thought that too, seeing as they would stop me to have a look at the watch.
So i used to wear it for cricket practice, netball ...athletes....n on. Hmm netball ( i used to be that local) .
Anyway, so am playing netball and this temp of a coach; some dude who used to sag his pants and bounce  ( looking back i think he was like a senior four vacist) now why he was coaching us netball i don't know!

Anyhow, so he shouts, " you dark skinny girl in purple with a big watch... catch the ball and stop showing off your watch." WHAT!
All the other girls giggled, i mean it was so funny seeing as they all thought him cool. Me not at all...
I never have a thing for teachers they are so..... teachers. So here i am minding the game and he keeps yelling at me, i mean all the yells would end up at my watch for some reason.

End of story i decided practice could do with a break from this skinny, dark girl. No biggy ... until i had glad tidings around the dorm. Our netball coach was back.

So my third watch was a really tiny black and gold watch i loved ( pretty little thing).  Now, i was seated in a taxi two days ago and this woman in front of me had it on, a similar watch i guess. Am not to vain to think my mum and i had the only two in the world.
I could not help but keep smiling because of the memories.

Don't you just love mothers? Anyhow the thing with this watch is that it taught me what loyalty means. This ka school prefect had light fingers, the babe fleeced my watch.
It mysteriously disappeared and for some reason i thought i had misplaced it. However, after V.D and at assembly i see this school prefect wearing a similar one.

so i approach her and tell her i liked her watch since i used to have a similar one ... it is sooo pretty.
Chic flips- goes all kuku on me , defending herself and raising her voice. Mistake number one!
I shouted "thief"
Hehe when your among peers your motivation is super high especially when they knew your watch, have evidence and have your back nothing beats that.

So when i looked at the watch the woman was wearing in the taxi i couldn't help smiling like a fool the whole time.
oh yah, i got my watch back but my mother wasn't happy about it... She kept asking me why i couldn't just let it be when i saw it . All i had to do was ask her for a new one.

But not me, i would do it all over again.
What's mine is mine especially if i love it and if it  has great significance to me.

XOXO
Orogot Pamela

Memoirs of my childhood; Bad things Happen

Some say that what the eyes can’t see, the heart won’t grieve over. But surely the heart see’s as much as the eyes to grieve.

Back when I was young enough to think defilement only happened to people I didn’t know I was faced with the fact ( I was that vain ). I did not see this act done but surely my heart did grieve over it.

One of these two girls who were defiled was my classmate. She sat two desks behind me. We never talked much for we were both quiet girls with nothing in common apart from the fact that we were not loud.

This girl whose name I will never forget although she joined my school that year and left before the end of the year was defiled by our baker. He used to call himself ‘ Muntu Nsolo’ ( a befitting name if you ask me). A nickname he told us whenever we asked for his name. Hilarious we thought back then, if only we were wiser.

The bakery had just been built at the girl’s end. The buns were for breakfast but like someone who had nothing to loose he very generously slipped us those buns when we stopped by in the evenings as we played.

Her defilement was discovered some days after the incident and our senior lady called for a meeting. The boys were never to find out she said. The bakery was closed and no one was to go near it. ‘ Muntu Nsolo’ was on the run.

Our classmate never told about the ‘act’. She was too ashamed but her sudden limp and increased isolation drew our dormitory captain to question her. Thank God she was older than us.

They took our classmate to the hospital for tests. The results we were never told and the teachers in class acted cautious around her (the buggers). I used to watch her and wonder how she coped. Apparently he stuffed buns in her mouth to prevent her from screaming. Gets you thinking anything is a weapon!

I grieve for her childhood robbed away, tainted with evil so dark. For I watched her through the corner of my eyes till the day she went for one of those ‘tests’ and never came back to school.

Whether they caught ‘Muntu Nsolo’ I will never know. What become of her, I know not. But I assure you, my eyes may not have seen this tragedy ( thank God )  but my heart froze when the senior lady told us what happened.

Someone I knew was defiled and my heart still misses a bit when I think about it. I could have been five buns away from defilement. It happens to people we know worse still by people we know.

                  always

Orogot Pamela

Chronicles of an Ex party girl

I used to be the girl who loved a good time; free booze, cute boys, nice clothes, hot shoes and the best music.

To be a party girl, you have to hang around the ‘correct crowd’, fabulously hot and well socially connected girls. They had to have a sense of style, the correct look and socially acceptable (connections to the right party people).

It didn’t matter who threw the party as long as someone in the ‘crowd’ knew the name of the party person or a person who knew the person who threw the party…or not.

My party life started when I joined university. The bazaar’s don’t count, they were not my kind of thing. They felt like those frat boys get together’s that they showed in those dingy college movies. (Many high school looking boys, eating smoked sausages, drinking lots of brown bottled beer that was on promotion).

So not cool…                                                                                                              

But my initiation was at the end of the week that is Thursday, the day when all partying begins for the average campus babe. So my girls and I hit the clubs n all; jeans and pumps we ambushed steak out.

The crowd was overwhelming… rock night! From the entrance to the bar involved elbow pushing and squeezing between sweaty bodies. We just had to relocate next door- cheese bar. Our dignity went … I don’t know where.

The music mama mia, the boys oh yah… the booze who knows where it came from

Next thing I knew, all the girls and I were entering this Noah and heading to Ange noir or was it silk club, I never knew the difference then. The transport, entrance fee and drinks were being paid for by this besotted man.                                                                                                        Besotted over whom? I didn’t give a damn as long as at the end of the night we were back at our hall of residence safely.

The thing I loved most about being a party girl was the dressing up, the dancing and the next day’s teasing amongst each other. The thrill you got from partying was almost compensation for the hangovers but not quite.

Anyhow this party girl life style had unspoken codes; you had to have the one who never got high to make sure no one is taken advantage of. There had to be the talker; who knew which besotted man had transportation to take us back to our Hall.

There was the ‘IT’ girl; who got the drinks for all of us. There had to be the dancer; the one who kept all the besotted men amused. There was the Tough one; when things were heading south she stepped in.

These were codes de facto not de jure. The partying life was fun and fabulous but it had was a buddy system in which no buddy had to be far from the other for it work.

                                    Wink

                            An ex party gal

 

A Whiner's Think Tank

The sun does not get the point; dude the equinox is past someone should write it a letter...yeeish! Anyhow am wondering about this and that and over there. And there being no place that memory will not follow, all those mental slides are but a thousand page album.

So as i sit down to brood over my breathlessness, not to forget the sharp jab of  a stitch in my sides  i thought to myself, " is this how Jesus felt on that cross or is this what oncoming death feels like?"

Needless to say, as i pondered  my failing lungs i mentally ticked off  all those numerous nights out  my buddies and i downed those smirnoffs , spirits and concoctions and whatever free liquor came our away.

The scary bit being that if you ask me now who threw those house parties not even the first letter of their names would I guess, but party, that i did and boy did I enjoy myself.

So this failing chest of mine can spare me the drama, for when it comes to drama I am the drama queen here. And the sun, well it can use the milky way as a noose to hung on some star that’s a misfit.

Ps: The wishing stars do not qualify as such

 

      J. Ikonye