In Life, Is Everything Meaningless?

On the 21st day of April, 2025 (exactly a month ago), the world was suddenly hit by the sad news of the death of Pope Francis at the age of 88 years, who was head of the Catholic Church. A week later, on 3rd May, Rajiv Ruparelia, son to the richest man in Uganda also died in a car crash at 35years. Then a week later, on 10th May, my beloved grandfather, Mzei Justus Kashisha passed away at 100 years of age. And a week later on 17th May, my friend's 9 months old baby girl passed away. (I have only picked these four because they are the ones I knew of).

This has drowned me into quiet moments of depression barely able to express exactly what I am feeling. For all I know, death is the only assured occurrence "in this life" but we are never prepared to face it. I am certain that every one of us has lost someone in their lives either close or distant and each one of us will die some day. The magnitude of how deep someone's death hits may depend on so many reasons than I may actually comprehend. In fact, some people think dying at a younger age should be more devastating but how young is young enough for a loss of a loved to hit hard? 

The persons mentioned above were in totally different age brackets and classes but death doesn't know nor respect any of that. On the eve of the year, I made a commitment to stay indoors for prayer and worship and top of the list was healing for my grandfather and my friend's baby girl who was only 4 months then. They had both been very ill and I didn't know how better to help than to pray for them. Even when they are both no more, I am grateful to God for the life He has given them and the lives they have been able to touch while here with us. 

Where I'd feel like maybe I didn't pray enough, the Pope would have said otherwise and where I'd feel like maybe if I had more money to attain better health care, the richest man around would say otherwise. This reminds me of the words of King Solomon in Ecclesiastes especially Chapter 12. This whole book teaches us that everything is meaningless, the pleasures, wisdom, folly, toil, oppression, friendliness, advancement, riches because no one will survive death. And as he concludes, he says that to fear God and keep his commandments is the duty of all mankind. 

The Story of Mzei Kashisha. My grandfather who recently departed at a remarkable age of 100 has left me disconsolate. I lost my favorite human and this void no one may ever fill but am okay with that. From the time he was about 95 years, it became clear to me that he wasn't here for much longer and so I often recorded our physical and phone conversations and checked on him as often as I possibly could hoping this would prepare me to detach but noooo, this only made my heart grow fonder of him. I am writing here in memory of his story, resilience and enduring love as he witnessed the sweeping changes in this country, to register a tapestry of experiences.

Despite his long life, (long compared to most) he has also left with some unmet ambitions and desires for himself and the offspring's (including carrying my children, his great grandchildren). I am however very grateful for the life God graciously granted him. He lived a very modest but somewhat fulfilled life. It baffles me to know that his mother breathed her last immediately after he took his first breath but see what the Lord has done for him to live over 36525 days. 

Lessons from my grandfather; I may not say it all but a few of what I have learned from this incredible man include hard work. This man has been grazing and milking his cows up until his death bed so much that on several occasions, he'd take "sick leave" to go check on the status of his cows. He has been a very smart and clean man often acknowledged in society as the smartest old man. He kept his hat on, cherished his white shirts which he always ironed in advance and lined up in his room for the whole week. In fact, he trusted a few family members to wash his clothes because of how clean he desired them to be. (I may have picked OCD from him). 

Walking alongside him as a child, whether we were going to one of his favorite bars or merely moving around the farm, he picked every polythene and plastics he came across (because he feared his cows may be harmed by it). He loved and hated loudly, speak of living authentically. Often times I cringed at the sight of someone I knew he didn't like because he never missed an opportunity to let them know how he felt. There was never a day I saw this man pretend through good and bad times. This made him fierce and uncompromising towards any sense of injustice. For a man who never stepped in a classroom, he made such a great human rights activist. 

Sometimes I look back and feel strains of his desires all cluttered along my career(s). As a lawyer, he often called me to follow up cases which he had filed in different courts concerning random people whose rights he thought were not being respected such a woman in my village whose family chased out of her husband's estate upon his death leaving her and the children nothing. Mzei Kashisha walked miles and miles from Rukungiri to Mbarara to pursue this case with the Uganda Human Rights Commission and eventually, the woman and  her children were given what they rightfully deserved. 

Because he never got an opportunity to go to school as a child, he harassed every parent whose child he found loitering around the village during school days and I believe many conformed while others despised him for it. As an individual he has been sooo close to my heart not just because he was my grandfather but because of the values he lived by, always thinking of the next venture to earn him a living and always thinking of the next person to lend a hand. I have seen him fight battles and while he won  some, others he lost but one thing he never did was to look away where he believed he could do something. I will miss my old man with a hat in so many ways and for soo many reasons but most of all I will miss his random calls from his farm just to remind me of how much he loved me, his very warm tight hugs often lifting me off the ground, and the twinkle in his eyes even in his very last days. 

For anyone mourning a loved one, whose body (dust)  has returned to the ground it came from and the spirit to the God who gave it, may this God comfort you, your family and friends. I also pray that this article reminds us to be grateful for each day, make the most of it and find peace in the fact that we are all just passersby. To be born may be chance but to die is certain; may God bless and guide us as we navigate and find meaning in the life in-between.

where your mind is, the body will go.

We all know running for its immense health benefits but what most of us lack is the discipline that is required to grow the habit of running and all other exercises. Like vitamins, these physical exercises require that you are consistent with them. We can't store their benefits in this our fading elastic body and expect to use them at a much later stage. 

A couple of months back I got serious with the whole body fitness thing. My mind had never been this ready for anything and my heart so anxious. The routine wasn't the problem, but the daily adjustments were. I would be very anxious to see the growth from one day to another. The growth was slow and gradual, so much so that sometimes I lost the patience. I wanted to feel the improvements and increase in my pace that eventually I started to feel lighter, faster and I began to enjoy the pain or rather the pain was no more.

For me it was always the purpose that surpassed every pain I was up against and that was all the emotional muscle that I needed to build. The physical can be deceitful, but the mind must be up for a challenge. 

Often times, I reached where my body thought its limits were, but constantly I asked myself, what is the worst case scenario if I pushed beyond where my body wanted to resign. Well, I did, over and over again until my limitations were my stepping stones. 

I learnt that on the other side of your limits, is another floor for you to step on. Go beyond those ceilings. 

Calm in the middle of a storm

Just had one of those long calls that last until the cows come home. This, my friend, whom I called hoping I could offer her some encouraging words in this mind-numbing season, turned the tables to give me a peace of her mind. Yeah, you read that right.... a peace of her beautiful mind.

One thing stayed on mine and that was rest. To rest in the storm, in the uncertainty. And to let go when nothing around you seems to make sense because you know the author of your story and the finisher of your faith.

We have all gained different experiences from this lockdown whose finish line is so blurry that some of us are taking it out on the referees, faulting them for constantly shifting the goalposts. And we are all right. All our feelings are valid, the frustrations, fear, pressure to perform, while time is simply seated still watching our lives waste away at the tick of the clock. 

I'll remind you of these young men who got on a boat  with a very trusted person in whose presence they probably didn't expect any harm, hurt or helplessness to happen. But right in the middle of the waters, a waging storm came right after them attempting to engulf the entire boat. Afraid and startled, they cried out to him to save them. Not because he was the boat's captain  but because they knew him to be all powerful. Awaking him from sleep, he asked them why they had little faith. Well, he went ahead and calmed the storm.

Eventially, all storms settle. Sail on.

I have been pondering on the possibility for anyone to actually sleep in the middle of a storm. What kind of faith does one need to sail through? The ability to have body stability when everything around you is swaying you left, right and centre;

It all depends on the real captain of your boat, the one whom you'll choose to look upto when the ground threatens to swallow you because fear is not of God. Seek him! For whatever storm you may encounter in this life, he says, "Peace, be still." 

Jump into that boat, regardless of the storms ahead, rest in his goodness. He is in control. He has always been and forever will. 

what if?

Of dream crushers, what if, has done the most. Self doubt is not alien to most of us. Often times a moment of chance presents itself and some silent voice pops up to crush the moment. 

What if I fail? 

What if am not the one?

What if I don't hit my target? 

What if this was never meant to be? 

What if they say....?

Ohh, sometimes they'll actually say.

In fact;

They'll say that you are not good enough.

They'll say that there isn't enough time for that.

They'll say that you are not popular enough.

They'll say that you are not young/old enough.

They'll say that you are not wise/ knowledgeable enough.

They'll say that you are not strong enough. (I'll skip David's story for another day)

The disturbing truth is that part of what they'll say maybe true. But who will you choose to listen to? What do you believe in? Where do you put your trust? In chariots? In your abilities? In your networks /net worth? The other truth is that no amount of 'enough' will ever be enough. What matters is what God thinks just as enough.

Some opt to play it safe while for some, safety is a luxury. The latter may perceive failure differently as the inability to dare. The inability to feel neither victory nor defeat. Give chance its unfretting chance. Don't let your fear for defeat deafen you from the echoes of victory. 

A dear friend of mine, Kwikwi, just shared with me the words of the wise man, Solomon, in Ecclesiastes 11 " if you wait until the winds and the weather are just right, you'll never sow anything and never harvest anything"  She also reminded me of the famous Madam C.J. Walker who through valleys went beyond all shadows of doubt to dare to dream because she believed this was her calling.

What is your calling? While at it, work on your belief system. You can borrow a leaf from Donald Trump if you may.

WHAT MAKES YOU AFRICAN?

In the year 2011, I went to an American Private School in Massachusetts for an exchange program. Well, this was the first time I was owning a passport, later on, experiencing anything beyond the formal demarcations of Uganda. That is not to say that I knew Uganda beyond the central and western regions. 

I remember being welcomed alongside a couple of colleagues from Uganda, Kenya and Botswana as the exchange students from Africa. These, my fellow Africans, were very cheerful and delighted just like I was to be considered one as though we shared a nationality or even a clan, something I initially thought was all to my identity. They immediately became brothers and sisters with whom I was so fortunate to explore what the American dream was.

Of the five females from the African Continent, I was the only one who wore my hair naturally and by that I mean short, spiky  with almost an inch of length. Thanks to my very conservative father, I could not braid my hair before I embarked on the trip like the other girls did. Quite often I got the unexpected looks which I naively interpreted as being attractive in a beautiful kind of way. Later on, I learnt that my hair was quite the attraction.

As the ground leveled and hearts opened towards each other, a couple of my new acquaintances had this to ask; "Is Africa a country?", "why is your hair standing?",  while another asked, "how come you guys(Africans) speak such good English, flaunt such good fashion if you actually stay in trees?" It took me ages to actually disentangle these short and precise question  for my own understanding. This was not because I was slow but because I was shocked at how someone with so much information at their fingertips could be so ignorant about Africa. At the heart of this ignorance was a constant generalisation and innocence to a certain extent that made me nostalgic. I have since invited of couple of them to come to my home (Africa) and experience the African dream.

These questions did not sit well with my soul, so much that up to this day I am baffled by the African identity. Is it the color of my skin, the variety of our foods or the land that has nurtured us? Is it my hair, my body type or the gorgeous fabric we call African that clothes us? Is it my multifaceted ability to do almost anything as a woman (African woman)? Is it the languages we speak, the sound of our music, the dynamic and magnificent folk dances or perhaps this thing we know as culture? Is it the breathtaking terrain whose beauty I have taken for granted all these years? 

What is it that makes me African? It's unfortunate or fortunate that I had to first step out of my boundaries to feel exactly what was within them. Indeed, the grass always looks greener on the other side. For whatever makes you feel African, I beseech you to embrace it.

From my Geography and Social Studies, I knew I was Ugandan before I was African. But today, I know that I have always been African. The landmarks that made some of us Kenyan, Rwandan, Tanzanian, Ethiopian, Moroccan, Sudanese, Nigerian or even South African, are just that, marks. Today I know that before I was female,  before I was a Muhinda, a Muhororo, before I was Ugandan, before I was East African, I was African. Africa has seized to look like a geographical feature but as an experience, a feeling, a being, a living and a belonging and for all that I will ever be or desire to be, Africa will always be the pivot to all my existence. 

For this and more I can strongly say that I am proud to be African. An African that is fused with the spirits of her ancestors, their struggles, their victories and histories.

HAPPY AFRICA DAY

CHEERS TO NEW BEGINNINGS

It may sound cliché that someone out there truly wishes you a happy new year but this one is right from the bottom of my heart to yours and I hope it makes a difference in how this year, day by day, gets to unfold. Remember that day, as the fireworks transcended into the skies unfolding into a beautiful explosion of a loud sonic boom featuring light and a colorful ensemble, engulfed in a darkness so thick; while leaving behind a bloom of excitement and a joy I have never found the right words to express in the hearts of an audience so optimistic. 

Fortunately or unfortunately, like a flash of lightning, this doesn't last for so long. What lasts longer in the new chapter of life it ushers everyone into. The rivers of life dictate that water flows consistently, failure of which it becomes stagnant and then it accumulates all the undesirables and eventually stinks. There is no growth wherever we settle and conform to the old.

There is something beautiful about new beginnings. Something that cannot be touched, but can be experienced and felt in the deepest of our hearts. Life is full of new beginnings most of which we have no idea how the ending will look like. 

For most of us, they come looking like a bouquet of hope, the kind that will make us forget all the pains of the past. However, the end of an old chapter may have a huge influence on either our optimism or pessimism towards new beginnings. As we renew our days and dreams, we cannot always wait for the grand moments to celebrate new beginnings, they are all around us and that is a good reminder on some of those days that may not be looking so good.

Every other day, something anew blossoms; a fresh start of the day, a journey, a conversation, a friendship and so forth but usually we don't welcome such like we may a career, a new born baby or her first toddling moments. Periodically, we move into different phases of life with different expectations and these may determine our experiences. Our history may project us into the future but I hope that in all our endeavors we remember to celebrate these moments (baby steps), maybe that is what life is all about; to live in the moment and to experience life while at it.

Let the warmth of the fireworks at the beginning of the year illuminate your soul through every passing day. But in all you might and strength, if this fails you, in which case it will, remember these words;

ISAIAH 43:18-19

Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wastelands. 

2 CORINTHIANS 4:16-17

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.

God continually makes us new. Every moment of every day brings a fresh beginning.

In my grannies' granary

One fascinating thing I ever saw at my grandparents' was a granary; a storehouse for threshed grain. 

In a small village of "Karo'karungi", every end of year or beginning of year was time to harvest grain mainly millet and this was often done once a year. Almost all the chunks of land would have been sowed with millet, a bit of maize, sorghum and beans. As everyone gathered around for Christmas celebrations, this was also part of the plan. The sowing was simple but the harvest extremely tiresome. It was done with short blunt knives smelted specifically for this. After the bountiful harvest, it was sun-dried and later kept in the granary. When the time to consume it was right, it would be drawn from the granary and milled with grinding stones into fine flour. 

The granary is made in such a way that it protects all the content in it from moisture, pests or any other destructive measures. Food kept here was meant to last the family an entire year until the next harvest and it did. The millet was mainly used for millet bread and porridge but along the year, a few other crops would be planted and harvested as supplementary foods. In these homes food was thus always in abundance. In this granary, however small it looked from the outside, was plenty of food collections and in most cases, it would only be tapped into when there were visitors at home.

However today, hindsight is 20/20. If one day we woke up and got to find out that all the food selling points are out of service for just a week, it would be a crisis. Then I wonder, what happened to the granary attitude, have we become too blessed that we take the things around us for granted. But also I have been wondering if banks are the new granaries, and if so, I guess each home should have control of their granaries that is not under the supervision and control of another system, because whoever controls it, then controls you.