Praise

Accountant in the making🙏🏻

[Josiah @josiahjdp]

When I was twelve, I caught my mom kissing her boss in the parking lot. I ran straight home and told my dad.

The following morning, she packed a suitcase, glared at me like I was the one who had committed the betrayal, and told me: “This is your fault.” She didn’t hug me....

[David Bujjadda 🏆 @davidbujjadda]

March 2021.

I had borrowed a laptop just to design this logo.
Posted it on Twitter feeling like I'd just cooked world class graphics.
Then the replies started coming in...

One would change my career forever.
1/7 🧵👇

[Praise @ayebare_1]

@melvinnasasira @GiftGrace01 Happy birthday Melvin

[Praise @ayebare_1]

@davisnganzi Flavia

[Ms. Ahumuza ✨ @PeshAhumuza]

I don’t know where women are getting this idea that paying your bills is masculine. Stop rebranding problematic gender roles. You are not masculine. You’re simply an adult. Financial dependence is one way to economic, emotional, physical and sexual abuse!

[Anthea Grace @anthea_grace]

Some of my favourite designs from my recent collection for little girlies 🥹💖

[King Melvin @melvinnasasira]

Mothers and their sons, what a concept, man!

Then there was Mukyaala Allen, who decided to leave like she was just stepping out to buy salt and would be back before sunset. Yet she never came back.

For years between eight and seventeen, I blamed her and her husband for leaving so early. I was angry at her especially. I mean, how could she? She was my hero. She was my safe place. That woman was my everything. I never left her side. I went everywhere with her. To the kitchen, to the garden, to the women meetings she always went to.

I crossed the flooded waters of River Rwizi on her shoulders on trips to her birth place in Karagwe, Itojo, because I was not to be left behind. I was hers and she was mine. She was my whole universe. She is the person that made the world make sense.

At eight, you know nothing about life except what it is like with your mother. You cannot even imagine her being gone for three days, let alone forever.

Growing up without her felt like being thrown into a storm without a coat. I had no business taking care of myself at eight. None. And yet there I was, doing it anyway because life did not pause for me to catch my breath.

As you grow older, you tell yourself you have to be strong. You convince yourself that life is ahead and that you must keep moving, even if it means pretending nothing ever happened. So, you bury it. You bury everything. The memory of her. Her face. Her voice. You bury them so deep in your mind that it almost feels like she was just a story you once heard from someone else. She ceases feeling like someone you knew; someone who carried you on her back.

For many years, my brain did its magic and protected me from the memories. Sometimes I would be talking to someone about their mother and suddenly realize I had not thought about mine for months, maybe even years.

I do not think children ever grieve properly. We do not have the language or maturity for grief, only the raw emotion. All I felt back then was anger and hunger. For me, grieving meant pushing everything that concerned her and her husband to the back of my mind and locking it up. I told myself I would never look there again.

Years later after so many events in between—must have been in my senior six vacation—I went back to Buhanama. That visit broke something open in me. I sat there, on the red earth of that place, and cried like my eight-year-old self had been waiting for that exact day to finally let it all out. I talked to the air, to the soil, to the wind. I confessed my anger, my pain, my sense of betrayal. And that night, something happened. She came back to me.

She came back in my dreams, looking as beautiful and alive as I remembered her, like no time had passed. She tapped my shoulder from a seat behind mine in a taxi. We talked. We had the kind of conversation that changes you forever, the kind you wake up from feeling like the air around you is new. For the first time in years, I felt a little peace in my chest, like she had reached across from wherever she is to remind me that she had not truly left.

I am keeping the details of that conversation for another day. But I will tell you this: I woke up that morning feeling like she had put my heart back together and whispered, “You can live now.” And so, I started to.

[Praise @ayebare_1]

@noeleensaid How do I get this book delivered in Uganda

[Praise @ayebare_1]

@melvinnasasira I recently met someone called tournament

[Dr Moeketsi @AusBassie]

Word of the day:

There’s so much peace that comes with trusting God. The minute you find yourself having sleepless nights, over something beyond your control… just know that it’s your sign to get closer to God. Submit to God and prosperity will come to you.

[Praise @ayebare_1]

@melvinnasasira Hey Mr long man

[Libriscent @libriscent]

The worst kind of heartbreak is knowing the relationship was so fixable… but the other person just didn’t care enough to try, it makes me so angry.

[Words @wordsporn]

Lael

[BIG FISH @adekunleGOLD]

Another address, same love.

[Dr Moeketsi @AusBassie]

Day 203

[Libriscent @libriscent]

Narcissists target empathic people because they realize empathic people aren't capable of doing malicious things. So when they treat them horribly, they know to some degree they will get away with it because they can manipulate nearly every situation to their advantage

[Wavah🍫 @vwavah1]

We are open and ready to serve you🤗

Regardless of which function it is, we gat you!🤩
You can dm @wavahpastries or call or watsapp us on 0709861181/0765324964 to order🤗

[Dr Moeketsi @AusBassie]

You need to stop trying to get everything under control. Some things are beyond your capacity. Just let go and let God.

[Nyina’barungi 👑 @RonahAsiimwe1]

Repost incase you refused to follow @booth_rolex . The goal is to get you to come and support