Dave The Writer

In 2013 Andy Murray won the Wimbledon singles title after a 77 year drought for his homeland. Many a time, he had come close and choked, falling to better opposition when it mattered-often in the semis and finals stage. You see, that's what sports is about: a winner and a loser with the latter honorably congratulating the former and leaving to hopefully win another day. What was interesting was how the press carried this story?..when he won, he was the British champion; when he lost, it was the defeated Scot. Murray is of Scottish birth but British by heritage. It was always amusing how with a simple interplay of words, one's nationality was thrown then claimed, conveniently.  After last night's Euros finals where England lost in the lottery that is a penalty shootout, some petty miscreants have chosen to debase themselves further by choosing to aim their disgruntlement at the three black lads that missed their penalties. They seem to opine that the color of their skin rath...

 ....Conversations on boda ride down Buziga Terrace .... Me: Chief, how much to Roofings? Him: 3000 Me: (feigning surprised face) -not 2k? Him: But you are a boss man..you see me here even the site engineer didn't come..I am trying to make some money to take home for my children (I can see he's dressed in an electrician's overall...he has his tools in a small bag strapped to the back of the passenger seat) Me: (As we ride)... Him: You stay in Kyanja? Me: No, on Jinja Rd.. Do you stay in Kyanja? Him: No I am just going up here Munyonyo Me: You see, you are the big man (teasing him) Him: (laughing and shaking his head) There are ghettos everywhere...even here- pointing back at Lubowa...There's what is called forcing life...u can tell someone you live in Munyonyo but let them come to your place... you're poor, he laughs then continues..you are not a car because you stay in a garage.' Me: Now you have become a poet? Him: No, no that's the truth. Every rich place...

Mama goat and her kids gathered…or were gathered for their daily graze. The lad who tended them always tied their ropes on a hinge in the rails that skirted the highway. The little kids always fidgeted in fright when a huge truck screamed past, retreating to their Mum till the sound reduced only to advance again to feed. They strained their necks to reach the greener, more succulent shoots just a little out of their reach but they could only manage a few unsatisfying bites. They cursed the lad that tied them out of reach as they chewed on what they could. Before they knew it, it was dawn and the lad was there to untie them, and lead them home. Another day awaited tomorrow. In the dead of the night while they were asleep miles away in their shed, one of those huge trucks that interrupted their feeding by day, came speeding by and failed to negotiate the turn. With tyres screeching, it rammed square into the rails where they were tethered every feeding morning. When the lad showed up th...

This is not another cushy cushy rags to riches story but one that speaks of one's determination to get to a place the heart was calling her to…a young girl's dream to reach for the stars, with God's cushion to land on if she missed.  Bella Twine was born to Mr and Mrs Charles Baguma as one of 12..yes-12 siblings. It was easy to get lost in the crowd considering she was the fifth in that line.  I believe, often ignored, the middle child often grows up punching above their weight, fighting to be seen and not just to be heard.  But this story is different.  Growing up as a little girl and throughout her school life, Bella was often cheered on by her mother who-as parents often do-saw her light shining in the media world. On one of her holiday visits to see her mother in Kyenjojo, they listened to a local breakfast show on Cruz FM where the presenter said they were looking for someone to fill in for the holiday. Her mother quickly made arrangements to see her transported...