Changing Kibuule’s, et al rape perceptions starts with you

Laughers, laughers, laughers every where. It is insane.

Changing Kibuule’s, et al rape perceptions starts with you.

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Beyond Victim Blaming

Kampire says all there is to say.
Watching NTV news was very hard for me. The comments were disgusting, triggering, distrubing, heartbreaking.
One father said that his daughter’s dressing is so disgusing, it deserves rape. I felt like rolling on the ground and weeping forever.
Fuck a society where a father can say such a thing.
Fuck misogyny.
Fuck having Kibuule as youth minister.

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Women, please, get stronger. #Rippedgoddesses

Clearly, our leaders do not have our best interest at heart. It is a shame that Ronald Kibuule is still in office, as YOUTH! and CHILDREN minister. What the baffling fuck.

Women, please, get stronger. #Rippedgoddesses.

Book list for black girls: promoting self-love and empowering young black women

Read and share this and then read it again.

Media Diversified

by Christina Fonthes [twitter-follow screen_name=’CongoMuse’]

It is 2014; Nicola Adams is the first (black, lesbian) woman to win an Olympic boxing Gold medal. Michelle Obama is the first black woman to occupy the White House. Ellen Johnson Sirleaf and Joyce Banda are Africa’s first women Presidents. Malorie Blackman is Britain’s first black, Children’s Laureate. Hope Powell is the first ever black person to manage an England side. Yet, despite these feats by black women, my eleven-year-old sister still thinks that her skin is too dark and that her hair isn’t “nice” enough.

yolo_logoMy sister is a typical inner city kid; she can send a BBM faster than any audio typist, her Facebook and Instagram are constantly being updated with ‘high-angleselfies’  and she knows ALL of Beyoncé’s dance routines. As a child of the digital age, she is constantly exposed to the YOLO culture. For those who aren’t…

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7 Foods You Eat That Are Actually Poison

Haha I loved this. And I’m hungry now.

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Republic of One

The ink on this page of my diary is runny. I must have left it near an open window one time to many.

The entry I’m about to lift is dated 25-03-11. The girl who wrote this must have been going through one hell of a heartbreak because the words are so raw, so reflective of what I am feeling now. When I read her words, I was like, how embarrassing that I was wiser at 20 than I am right now. I was more open to feeling my feelings.


Confusion, regret. Been there, done that, will not waste my youth on such.

Scrape them all together, M. raid their nooks, bombard their crannies

Sweep them up into one tall pile, pointing to heaven

and then bring out the lighter fluid.

How is it that my mind has moved on but it has only occurred to my heart to start bleeding now?

Bruised and seeping but determined.

One second at a time.

Grief is not shameful. Shame is.

Grief is not shameful. Shame is.

Grief is not shameful. Shame is.


Journalling is good because later in life, you are able to help yourself through some difficult situations. It is just as wise as saving money.

Takeifa: Rocking Dakar

Badass song, badass band.

Africa is a Country (Old Site)

Some music videos take you by surprise. One such video is the brand new offering by the Senegalese band Takeifa, called “Supporter”. Takeifa is band of siblings from the Keita family headed by brother Jac. According to soundcloud fable, Jac Keita experienced his musical calling at the tender age of 11, begging his father for an old guitar. Finally acquiring a guitar without strings, he cleverly fashioned makeshift strings from bicycle break cables. Before long Jac was recognized for his prodigious talent and recruited three of his brothers and one sister to join him in making music. The Keitas moved to Dakar in 2006 and established themselves as reliably strong performers in Dakar’s music scene.

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We’re not in P.3 any more. We have (some) dime.

It was P.3, right? When we were taught about the “tourism sites” of Uganda. Teachers drummed them into our soft brains for exams and then we promptly forgot them to make space for P.4 work. That sucks.

When somebody posts about their plans of holidaying in Seychelles or Mombasa or Zanzibar, your first feeling is eh maamaa.  A big fat mango of Nugu. But when they post about going to Jinja or Mbale or Kabale, you’re like, whatever that one is traveling for work.

bunyonyi beauty

Nti work

Forget the notion that tourists are white men and women in short shorts, with fat cameras dangling from their necks. A tourist is anybody with enough  interest and good sense to explore their surroundings!

Like this goofy madam

Like this goofy madam

Take some of your salary out of the bar/ boutique and be that person with me. Spend a little on exploring the awesome rock that you live on.

Nze as Apenyo, I’ve made a conscious decision to learn more about Uganda and to travel as much as my 9-5 job will let me.

Come along? On the 8th of March, Sabili Tours is taking three busloads of people to Jinja for a day of sailing the Nile, bungee jumping, white water rafting and big, big fun. 185,000 is not much when you consider that you will be driven to and from Jinja, given  a scrumptious meal and free water the whole day.

You can even bring your babies who will get a meal, boat ride, refreshments and will swim all day (under the supervision of several adults). Their package is 75 bob.

We goooo we go!

we go


Unrelated: Go and be friends with Apenyo oso you.


My soles are worn out from dancing

I could listen to Lingala and Soukus all day, every day. I could walk tirelessly for miles, all fatigue obscured by my deep enjoyment.

When a track is particularly nice, I start to dance in my head. Sometimes this dancing enters my walk, so I can be striding purposefully to office when my leg  kicks out abruptly. Sometimes, my bums perform lifts and wobbles of their own volition! I almost never know which part of my body is going to decide to bring the party out of my head.

Today morning, I remembered the way Binyavanga described how he learnt to dance Lingala and nearly died laughing. He said, and I hope I remember right, that he was able to get the hang of it by telling himself to move like he had a terrible itch in his ass that could only be scratched by him revolving his pelvis in the manic way that Lingala requires, while keeping his upper body as stiff and nonchalant as possible.

Lucky for me, my body didn’t decide to start practicing on the street.


I love dancing and I love addmaya for that promo that got me my Beats by dre headphones. Life is good.

Unrelated but totally important, March 8th is a very special date. Sabili Tours is launching the first phase of its campaign: Around Uganda in 7 trips. One of my biggest dreams is to be a full time travel writer, but you know how dreams work. You start small small.

I am Sabili’s resident writer, which means I get to go on all their trips in exchange for kalango and words. Not bad, eh?

Come and we go? More details HERE

And now, a picture of meeee dancing!

Lets dance

They called me a cow.

I was weaving through Kamwokya’s mid-morning traffic today, trying to get from one side of the road to the other before the cars started moving in a never ending stream when a boda guy almost knocked me down. Instead of going on his way, grateful that he hadn’t had an accident, he turned his head and yelled, “You stupid woman! Crossing the road as if you are a cow!” and other things that I didn’t hear.

I was angry and embarrassed and I mumbled an expletive at his back, frustrated that he’d go about his life not knowing what I’d thought about him in that moment.

This experience reminded me of a link that I found on Ukamaka Olisakwe’s wall about three people’s experiences in Nigerian traffic. It’s really cool. Read that post here.

I’d really love to do a Ugandan version.

If you’re interested in helping me turn this into a reality, please leave a comment or send this writer chick a message with the most dramatic/ dumbfounding/crazy/annoying/funny experience you’ve while using public transport in Uganda.

If they are many, I’ll turn everything into a Stiletto point. How do you see?

Also, mwanablaadi, all of the fun is over at Apenyo’s place. Go and follow her also.


Peace yo.


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