Friday, March 8, 2019

A Walk Down The Memory Lane

Today, I was humbled and extremely honored to go back to the school that made me who I am, to give back the heart that nurtured me. As a proud woman standing with a significant other on such a day to celebrate the women, I was reminded of the road ahead.

I joined Kings College Budo in 2007 until 2012. It was a journey less treaded by people of my kind. I was a simple girl from a less privileged family, where most people I knew attended UPE schools down in Rukungiri district, Western Uganda.  I attended a developing school with a resemblance of a missionary organization at the time. I remember my father, a Kampala resident, visiting me one time at school and asking what my choice for high school would be.  All I had known were schools like Bweranyangi, Mary Hill, Immaculate Heart and a few more from my local area. However, he later suggested that I was a Budo-material because I had an excellent academic record up until my primary seven.  This was a pivotal moment for me, reshaping my notion of what was possible. Later as I filled in my choices, my headmaster asked why Budo, and all I could think of was why not. He said it’s a boys’ school, highly segregative in terms of tribe, class, gender, and the list went on. But I persisted terming that ambiguous.

My first year experience involved a lot of learning, unlearning and re-learning just about everything without forgetting where I had come from. It was at this time that I started to clearly understand what it meant for me to be WOMAN.  I realized the boys in my class had a certain shed of confidence you could not compare to. They courageously stood along stone walks and escorted us with hisses, disses, unsolicited comments, insults and other sorts of abusiveness whenever we by passed them making us shrink on several occasions. I could relate this primitive behavior to that of the stage boda boda men. A single girl dreaded these moments, especially if you thought you weren’t as pretty yet the habit had become normal. This  made the lioness in us hunger for more.

As time went on, I began to realize how privileged I was to be in a school like Budo where possibilities and potential were unlimited.  I dreamt of the world beyond, which later landed me in one of the best private schools in America, Brooks School, for an exchange program representing this  prestigious school. From this experience, I learnt how small the world was, with similar experiences and yet diverse. Girls in America were experiencing an almost equal amount of discrimination but with efforts to dismantle the norm. As these energies sparked within my soul, I immediately felt the need to do more. I remember coming back home with my mind all made up, unlike my face, to contest for head prefect but each time I confessed my desires, I was told that I was just a girl. Trolling through the girl population(1/3 ) which then resonated to potential, I coiled into the next place as deputy head prefect.

The trajectory of my life began then as a feminist; I began to realize that equal treatment should not be a privilege but a right. Girls/ women all over the world are facing some of these stereotypes as though being female comes with a cost attachment.
Today on international women’s day, I want to thank all those who went before us in ensuring that the world is a safer space for raising and educating a girl child. Let us honor them by shifting our language and consciousness away from gender and towards opportunity. Let’s honor our parents’ sacrifices by putting away barriers to education and affording us a place at the high table; a place where a young woman will unapologetically stand to express her opinions that shunning these shall be only on account of quality and not just because she is a girl; a place for learning, changing, making mistakes, laughing, deciding, questioning and also growing into whomever we want without fear of what the next person thinks.

I remember our home economic classes full of girls and just a handful of boys. Majority of the boys opted for subjects like electricity and electronics, additional math and the likes, subconsciously terming women chivalry. Persisting barriers to women’s full equality and empowerment redefine and stigmatize men’s role in the domestic perspective. To liberate women, we need to liberate men and for this I thank all the male feminists out there.

Overtime, we have become global citizens with the internet penetrating borders. If we live in a world where men occupy the majority of the positions of power, we need men to believe in the necessity of change. How will we be more tomorrow than we are today if women who are the majority in the world signifying their potential, are left behind in quality decision making, economic sectors, education systems, and political leadership. Beyond the differences of men and women, we need each other to grow our familes, communities, nations and to grow globally. There is cause for hope. Bringing up change cannot solely be the responsibility of those who need it most, we must have the support of those in the highest positions of power in order to achieve parity.

We all need to be loud speakers to the voices less heard, making dents, changing the paradigms and not afraid of being the first where necessary. Changing the trajectory of how girls see themselves in the world, beyond what our cultures have labelled us is now our mandate. I encourage us to live from our hearts and give from what you have been given.  The reward is in the lives we will be able to meet, touch, influence and impact.

Happy womens day,
Gakyali Mabaga

Tuesday, March 5, 2019

The heART piece

Two weeks ago, I walked into an art gallery in the company of a good friend only to be welcomed by so many shades of colour, shapes, patterns, ticklish scents, paints, brushes all over the floor etc. Asked what I thought about these peices, my mind was crowded. Looking at this artwork, the attraction projected, the energies radiated, the melodies of its curving, the sounds of its sight, it was unfathomable. I realised then that what I actually needed was a moment of silence to draw a deep breath, and align my thoughts.

Art is a mirror of our souls after all, that its perception, cognition and characteristics drew me in. The heart in the art piece.

Everyone definitely has a different interpretation of art with our hearts as the lenses. Sub-consciously or consciously, we read our opinions, beliefs, past and projections into these pieces and even stretch forth to fill in the blanks spaces. We attach different emotions to these and that informs us of how dear to hold them, which gives us a subjective aesthetic experience. I could relate this to our childhood experiences of "walinga". However, the maker has already sketched his own thoughts and heart out until it is wonderfully and beautifully made.

In this gallery, I stumbled across some painting before completion that was honestly quite a mess. I couldn't appreciate it as much as the painter talked and praised it probably because he had an actual master plan or imagination or vision for that matter, about which I was clueless. It was just a work in progress, subject to many alterations, additions and subtractions where the painter deemed it fit. But because I could see how magnificent his previous work was, I had no doubt it was going to be even greater. These painters have capacity to shape generations just by putting brushes to canvas, walls, streets, rocks, bodies etc to reflect many motivational, emotional and cognitive qualities. For instance, much of our African identity (culture) has been passed down to generations through art, dance and music. While words and stories may ghost around, they can be amended but images once put together may fade but they stick with us bearing our still souls.

Earlier in the day, I had a small chat with one of the best artists Uganda has been gifted with. The emotions in his expression about what he does and the source of his inspirations was just humbling. I acknowledged how much little or no importance we attach to the influence of art in our society. For most of us it's just about the beauty it brings to our spaces, we forget the stories it tells, the inspiration, the energy it transfers, and the minds it shapes; no wonder some places are adopting art as a therapy.

Spinning back to the painter, she/he has the master piece because they are the vision bearers. Jeremiah 29:11, one of my favourite verses of the Bible says that "I alone, knows the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you." Until our deaths, God is not yet done with us. I remind us to live in complete obedience with His plans for He has the bigger picture. And guess what! NO eye has seen, NO ear has heard nor a mind conceived what the Lord is yet to do in you.

So when I say you'll have me raw and unapologetic with all my stray paints and itchy edges, embodied in a beautiful mess, i am not just salvaging around but I know the maker of my being. I am a work in progress, trusting the process and owing no one a perfect me. We all have an image to portray and a story to tell. May it all be worthwhile hoping that one day, it will be an image embroidered in someone's survival guide as our legacy.