@shammywhitey This is sad.
And coincidentally, I wrote a book titled #Hanifa with an almost similar story.
I don't know how but I guess art is the mirror by which the society sees itself.
Hanifa Nakiryowa was an ambitious student at Uganda’s Makerere University when she met her economics lecturer, Dr. Faisal Buyinza. He used his academic power to pressure her into a marriage that quickly became a prison of severe domestic abuse.
Determined to break free, Hanifa bravely left him. In retaliation, she was lured to his home in 2011 and ambushed with industrial-grade acid. The catastrophic attack dissolved her nose, blinded her right eye, and left her permanently scarred.
Though her body was shattered, her resolve was not. She founded CERESAV to champion acid attack survivors, yet her own attacker walked free after the state dropped the case.
Hanifa’s story remains an urgent, unyielding cry for justice and accountability.
JUSTICE FOR HANIFA ⚖️⚖️
1. Never have I ever seen such an egocentric employee. Unachezea pesa ya kampuni na unasema tuulize Roni? Who the f is Roni and who made him the presidential accounting officer?
2. A state lounge is good, but we have more pressing issues like education, health, Nithi bridge etc.
Life will get better, Somehow
There’s a weird moment in adulthood when walking through life starts to feel like walking against the wind. And not just a breezy summer wind, I’m talking about the kind of wind that makes your body tilt slightly forward just to avoid getting blown off your feet.
You used to run. Remember that? You had plans. Energy. Confidence. Even if things were uncertain, you assumed they’d work out somehow. You didn’t know how the world worked, and that ignorance kept you moving.
But then something shifted. Now, just taking a single step feels like dragging a bag of bricks. You’re not lazy. You’re not weak. You’re just... tired. Existentially.
And maybe you don’t talk about it out loud, but deep down you’re starting to wonder, “Am I already past my peak?”, “Is this it?”, “Will I ever feel proud of myself again?”
You’re not dreaming about becoming a millionaire anymore. You just want to feel adequate. Useful. Like a man who’s still got something to offer.
And that’s when comparison sneaks in. Not with celebrities or billionaires, but with people closer to home. Your dad, for example.
How the hell did he pull it off?
He had no YouTube tutorials. No productivity apps. No online therapists. And yet he built a life, a job, a family, a routine, that looked solid. Respectable. You start wondering what kind of magical wisdom he had when he was your age.
But here’s the plot twist. He probably had no clue what he was doing either.
Maybe life wasn’t a result of some grand masterplan. Maybe it just... happened. He showed up, tried things, stumbled into the right opportunity, and then held on for dear life.
See, that’s the part we don’t talk about enough. Opportunity. Timing. Luck. God. Chaos. Whatever you want to call it.
Seneca had this line, “Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity.”
Most people love to quote the “preparation” part. It’s comforting. It makes us feel in control. But let’s not ignore the elephant in the room. Opportunity. It is not something we generate, it’s something we stumble into.
You can do everything right and still be stuck. You can work hard, plan well, and still watch things fall apart. And then, one day, something clicks. A person shows up. A door opens. A random “yes” leads to a completely different life.
It’s not fair. It’s not logical. But it’s real.
And that’s why you keep rolling the dice. Even when you’re tired. Even when it all feels pointless. Not because you’re guaranteed a win, but because the dice only move when you move.
Life isn’t a staircase. It’s a game of snakes and ladders. You can climb for years and fall in seconds. Or you can be stuck at the bottom, then randomly hit a ladder that shoots you up to a place you never imagined.
So no, you’re not broken. You’re just in the part of the game where it sucks to keep going.
But keep going anyway. Because one day, you’ll look back and realize. The thing that saved you wasn’t always your strength, it was your persistence. Your refusal to quit. Your decision to show up, even on days when you felt like a ghost of yourself.
And yeah, maybe you’ll thank God too, for the secret opportunities He left lying around. But more than that, you’ll thank yourself. For not checking out too early.