The Boy From Po Toi

you are my muse

Global Sojourns Photography

Echoes of a ghost?  Of the future?  Of the past?

There is a feeling of perplexity.  I’m no longer standing in the conference room on the top floor of a skyscraper.  There are no floor-to-ceiling windows with Hong Kong harbor far below.  And my Armani suit?  Transformed into what appears to be rags.     

There is panic, but also familiarity.  I look down at my hands holding huge buckets of supplies, filled to the brim; shocked to learn I can hold so much.  My first instinct is to drop the buckets, must be too heavy but the weight is electric. My arms and shoulders are full of life.

I let out a lighthearted sigh. I’m not sure what I am doing but it feels right.

Beside me, the sea glimmers with life while the sun prepares for another colorful dive to end the day. I’d like nothing better than to sit peacefully and…

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Just hello

It has been raining well into two months now. Heavy rain really, and very cold, windy nights while i seem to recall a meteorological report predicting them to last into early may. There is a good side to all that water though as evinced by the abudant, cheap fresh produce. Fresh beens, french beans, aubergines and everything else not predictably for export. There will be a bountious harvest this season and a likely surge in the numbers of newborn human babies and  other species as well.

Kampala is lately crawling with visitors from everywhere. When i recognize Americans among our visitors, i often get an irresistible urge to holla out or run and catch up with them or if we are passing each other, to grab a shoulder and spin them around and then ask whether they are from the East Coast(Washington DC, Maryland anyone). I want to break out into an accent. I want so badly to ask about the new-look DC that was only beginning to be rebuilt shortly before i left in 2011.  About Mass Av, or North Capital, the Waterfront. What is the new and exciting trend in the district. How about Adams Morgan? Or Downtown Silver Springs. Please let on. There was so much free literature and a library i loved to visit and sit in, on Saturdays, when i could find time. Ohh….such a long time ago it was.

See, the world is a great place to be if you know how to find things. I haven’t seen my elder sister since mid-november 2012. It’s coming up to six years now. But she is well in the U.S as she should be, working and doing things that advance her cause. I miss her. There is a lot going on in many places. There is a sort of elegant waltz in the far east, another of the tiresome, endless round of diplomatic back-and-forths in the Arab world urging restraint on all sides and doing everything to end the wars out there. There is great deception taking place behind sturdy doors. Do you know a thing i dont? Would you pass me some gossip if you could?

i am spending a lot of time listening to the good ol’ music i once heard when i was younger and spent so many joules running somewhere to find things. I like being and feeling this way that i know am. It gives me a lot of freedom knowing the truth and being certain of some things. That’s power and being the man i am, i frequently exercise it gently, a little sweetly sometimes, and with kids especially, cautiously. i do not plan to hurt them or teach them anything wrong. The world is a hard place, built for guys who survive only through being able to outlive bad situations. I need to see an epic 2018 movie. Any suggeswtions for me?

Soliloquy in Thought No. 1

the writer is immortal,the writer is king

The Guise Side of the Story

A word of empassioned influence, the crowd in the palm of the hand, of the speaker and his confidence, a great more great with falling sand.

A lesson amongst the madness, the co tent vast and growing, of better lives and greater minds, a time of knowledge flowing.

A discussion with the people, the matter to be addressed, of changing what one knows, a life that has been blessed.

A challenge to authority, the power undermined, of information scrutinised, a difficult endeavour.

A mention in praise of effort, the journey nears an end, of undetermined learnings, a process ought to mend.

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what’s in a word?

Saying sorry to a person you feel you may have annoyed or actually intentionally annoyed frees you from carrying the burden of guilt around with you. It  clears the way for making up or “patching things up” as they say. Why would anyone think it is belittling to eat humble pie? It is, to say the least, rather quite  unconscionable  for a right-thinking person to hold the view that making an apology is reversing oneself in any way. You apologize because you have acknowledged wrong-doing. No one is going to reach out to strike you. It is a noble gesture and one which shows a sort of sophisticated morality. It is the gentle thing to do.

I am preparing my bits now. I will then keep reviewing my statement of apology. I need to use a sensitive approach as i go about it. Just saying sorry? Oh come off it! Genuinely and without a dab of pride signifying  some high-minded notion of intellectual supremacy. We get so caught up with the socially-observed “effects” of such gestures. When you genuinely apologize for a slight, slander, malicious utterances etc, you get it out of your conscience and breath easy afterwards. It should also remove feelings of rancor on the part of the aggrieved party and help you live long. We all deserve to be unconditionally happy(even us adults).

Are you with me?  Pick the correct time. If the fall-out was really bad, get some advice first, from a trusted confidant. Choose your words carefully. If you must, involve a third party. Should it happen that the other person refuses to take your apology, for lack of grace or such, you the apologist needs to take it in stride and back off gently with plans to try again later (perhaps at a better time). They’ll eventually give in if your  efforts are sincere enough and whether you are doing it for the sake of peace.

We all err, believe that. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes because we are, er…only human. Guilt is a burden. Believe that also.

stay blessed

A converging of paths

Happy new year and good riddance 2017. You were bad, monotonous and so drawn out and extended it is hard to fathom how you packed in all you did. i am the kind who likes order. I do not like upheaval. I prefer not to be upstaged when i am running my show. When i look back at my accomplishments of 2017, when i start to feel a soaring pride in them, i want to let out an extended, made-for-the-natives loud scream of self-congratulation.  But equally, during the review of a year bygone, when i come across a pattern that might prove an instance of discontinuity, i get annoyed and cannot help feeling betrayed by someone or something, seen or unseen, a conspiracy of forces that caused the crease in a year  or  it seems everything conspired in 2017 to rob me of so much……joy, ambition,   and more than i cannot list here that i had tenaciously held onto. The love of human beings is very fickle to say the least, or, “as inconsistent as the moon”

The year in review took a meandering route, took too long to end and  left me  the sharp memory of a  bristly experience i  had on my blog here . . nothing life-changing only that it left me  feeling technically limited.   i felt inadequate and dangling on a string (reminds me of an adorable picture of a kitten dangling by a string with the caption below, “faith isn’t faith until it’s the last thing you are holding onto”.) very unnerving but…”tough times don’t last.”. I managed to fix it yesterday.

 

Today i have a spot of good news for you. i found my old friends again. We had been out of touch for a while, quite long to be truthful. I suppose none of us was purposely trying to keep away from the others it’s just we were, quite separately too engrossed in our own lives. We grew up. We went away from home. We came back. We met new people in the process. We developed and worked new connections. The thread of friendship we had meticulously weaved was left to run while “life went on”. Time waits for nothing.

You see, we were last together, as friends in 2000 when the world was still young and in the days i talk of, quite also apparently relatively carefree and “thriving” so to speak. Fast-forward to the present, we have grown into fully-packaged, separately-bottled, distinguished adults complete with our personal foibles. Sometimes when some of us meet, there are the little awkward adjustments we make and on the part of some, at unguarded moments during conversation, accusations resembling those similar to charges of infidelity may escape one’s conscience. One might call that a Freudian slip. Of people making themselves  incommunicado and not “keeping the faith”. Of growing apart. It is a problem of perception or how one sees the world. It may be about a friend who may have forgotten to keep a promise here, or elsewhere, or plain not kept in touch. Failure in certain critical steps. I am awake now.  Thank god i have learnt to let go and to forgive myself the past. Before i leave,

“….to our dearly departed comrade and singularly creative spirit, dizz, a stellar representative of the African Legends crew, the void you left will forever remain empty but you live on in our hearts and memories. Thank you for sharing your life with us as an individual and visual expressionist, we shall miss you dearly….”

Rest In Peace Dennis Oscar Ggaliwango Mubuke”

2017 is gone, bye bye, i have learned to accept some losses as inevitable consequences of this thing called life. I am beginning to rediscover the simple pleasures. like being who you truly want to be by being around people who matter to you. Mostly. see you,

Gotta go

The Largest Private Home in America

Visible History Photoblog

Our next stop on the trip – Biltmore Estate – the largest private home in America.

Unlike the other members of the Vanderbilt family who built summer homes in the Northeast, George Vanderbuilt chose Asheville in western North Carolina in the Blue Ridge mountains. Built between 1889-1895, it is a 250 room French Renaissance chateau.

Biltmore-1

Biltmore-2 The original model for the estate

Biltmore-3 The rooftop view

Biltmore2-2 The front entrance showcasing the elaborate spiral staircase

Biltmore2-4 The interior view of the spiral staircase, with the chandelier that runs the height of the stairs

Biltmore2-1 Edith Vanderbilt

Edith Vanderbilt
Although the home looks like it is stone, it is a limestone facade built over a structure made of brick and steel I-beams. This, along with brick fire doors, made the building very fire proof. This construction was one of the reasons it was used to store pictures from the National Gallery during World War II. This…

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Flower of Life, Mexico City

thank you for writing with such exquisite detail. i had a delicious experience reading your post. keep it up.

Bespoke Traveler

Spirits of ancestral Mesoamerica hover beyond my periphery. Wandering through the Anthropology Museum in Mexico City, I can hear their prayers aspirating among the sacred icons. This is no customary aspic collection of austere antiquity. The exhibits pulse with seismic energy. Xochipilli, patron of art and love in all its sensual facets — his head tilted up, his seated body alert — summons the ghosts of dreamers. An Olmec head, with a frown and piercing gaze, conjures the anima of its slumbering despot. Chacmool, reclining in submission, proffers himself as portal between me and valorous eagle warriors. Even the floor-to-ceiling windows, the marble parquets, the geometric latticework evoke pre-hispanic allusions. Nothing is basic within this complex. Statues, amulets, materials, balusters, and the patio are symbols of a timeless philosophy. 

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