My paternal grandfathers, an illustration

In the last almost 20 years (since 2000), I have taken as a pet project, while in secondary school, and while at university, and now, the discovery of my entire extended family members, to an extensive degree.

This meant that I have to make an attempt to dig up all the known history of ours. To begin with I wanted to get the the top-down picture, and create a structure of all know grandfathers and their wives. Here I found that there were the official married wife, or wives at home, and the unofficial women they never married, but had children with. Some children came home some didn't.

I proceeded from my father, who were his parents, and grand parents. I could only establish grand fathers up-to five generations back, that is five of my paternal grand fathers.

Here below is summary

My known grandfathers

Facts and Fictions

I had to fully examine and navigate the rumors, the facts and the fictions about true fathered children, and children said to be by outsider, but nonetheless family relatives, or growing up in a family and adopting it fully, while in fact the father was different. It was tricky, I had to listen to many different people, family, and outside to establish the structure.

In love with my father, Samwiri Mugyenyi

Me and my father, in the absence of anyone else, could be at home, when others are out, or out in the farm doing one or two things for cows, we always have these too direct and and too frank talks. He tells me the stuff that I do or believe, that bother him, and I tell him the stuff that he does or decides, that bother me. He once accused me of  "not loving cows". This is a very heavy accusation if you are a Munyankore-Muhima. Its like telling a Christian that "you don't love Jesus".

We call it "Okukunda Ente" - to love cows, and it is a high virtue among us, the Bahima. So my father accused me in my face of not loving cows! He based this on seeing over time, that I did not know all their names (we've always had between 700 and 1000 cows at any one given time, living in three of four herds in the farm). I admit, I do not match him in his love for cows, seeing that he managed to raise those numbers for the family, making our family the envy of other families in terms of cattle. I admit as well, that I deliberately did not make it my priority to store 1000 names of cows in my head. To make matters worse, I started boarding school in P7 all through to University. So I'd be away to school for most months in the year - during that time cows would reproduce, and the young ones would grow, in my absence. My father expected me to be straight in each herd and learn each one that produced, the colour of its young one, which cows got moved to which herd, and learn all that in the few weeks of my school holiday, so that we talk about it when we're together. I didn't, and so I let him down on that. But he loved my academic credential, I never disappointed on those results. For starters I spoke excellent English at home, and with my young siblings we would start speaking English at home, he'd walk in on us to find English sessions in progress, headed by me. Although he is not the smiling type, he'd later give credit to that.

Not that English speaking was important, but generally school had changed my priorities from cows. I knew we loved cows for generations, and still have special cows from six generations ago, passed on from father to son, but school had introduced new information that was totally foreign to me, and which I thought was important. So I effectively changed my priorities. There was science, there was history, although I turned the glory of stories in history class, towards the study my own tribe, cultural and family, for example this blog, but I admit I missed something on the cows. It is on this change of view that I also accused him of not being modern, and doing things of modern people. Although in that very accusation I also fail to qualify it fully because my father is by all measures a modern farmers. Just because he doesn't farm the way we see it in the movies. Its the movies that introduce wrong realities that we base on.

Anyway, we talk straight - me and my father and get it out of our system. I could never tell my father anything other than exactly what was on my mind. We have had that sort of relationship for the three decades that I'm now old. I did not value this before, I thought we were always quarreling. In my twenties it got hardest, as I went both away physically - to secondary school and later university, and mentally, as I deliberately sought to establish my own thoughts, independent of him. It was important for me to experience the world, outside of his strict guidelines. So for about 10 years, from around 2005 to 2015, I was on a solo path, we were not talking much. During that time I joined and finished university, and also did something things in the world, such as starting a successful I.T firm Nextel Systems Ltd, in whose offices I'm now writing these recollections, and recently an agricultural company Tarra Corporation. Both of these ventures have both surprised him and amazed him. He recently said "people do not like the things they do".

And yet I believe we share a deeply secret, love relationship. For example if we're talking with any of my siblings, about him or our family in general progress, mostly relating to how rich or not rich you have become as an individual, and they seem to think its his fault or problem that some things, I find myself defending his positions, or explaining them, dissuading them from a mindset of blaming someone else. I do believe that whatever we've been given, we need to make it work, in order to have fair judgement of people.

I was home in Kitegwa at my dad's farm for 2016 Christmas holiday week (20 - 30th), and I plan to do the same this Christmas. Long holidays are now my only available time for us to talk. A but there is no single day that I do not amuse myself, in private, of how I have turned out like my father. An ironclad will to do and to make things. What I love about my father the most is consistency. How he was in 1984 when I was born, is still how he is in 2017 when I'm 33 years old. We've grown from a few cows which he inherited from his father and grand father, few owing to the many children (about 20) who shared the family property on the passing of their father, to now a ranch in Kyankwazi, because of nothing but this consistency. We have not even changed our diet since the 1980's. Its an incredible thing to experience such steadfastness. I consider myself lucky to be borne by him.

Above is picture of local; village church, Kitegwa Church

A bit of background
We did not move much, our family moved in early 1990 or so, from our ancestral lands in Bwera, to Kyankwanzi. When we first moved here, our first place of settlement was a village called Kalukwajju, within Wattuba sub-county. Here we stayed for a few years, with our cows from Bwera, a grass and mud house and a kraal next to it - that was our homestead, in the new land.

My father never went out of his way to find fame or with people or riches from trade. He concentrated on two things - raising cows and the family. For the good part of our childhood, that was all we knew. I knew my father and cows - that was all that mattered. Have all the cows got home in the evening from long distance grazing, are they milked, how about the calves in their kraal (Ekihongore)? That was our life from the age of 1 in Bwera to around age 8 in the new land. It is these cows that did everything. From livelihood - food, drink, clothing, education.

People came to him, even from those days, in a new land. After some time, he build a town home for us, in Kiboga town. Kiboga was the big district town. When we moved to this home town, we moved our cows a new land that was near the town, the land called Kakinga. While in Kalukwajju the nearest school was in about 20 KM, Kalukwajju Primary School. I went there for a while.

Works on the farm

On Thursday October 4, 2012, I traveled to my village to have a meeting with a couple of locals whom we share borders on the land where our farm is. It was called in the previous week after I had done correspondences with my dad and a district surveyor to start preparations for partitioning the land (Approx 2 miles) into its shareholders.

We met at around 4 pm, sat on locally made chairs (called foomu) under a mango tree at the local town called Mutuba in Kyenkwanzi district. The Meeting was attended by of 6 people, out of the 14 shareholders. The rest were represented by the present family members or would be informed of the outcome.

It went well. I expected to get a full list of all the rightful shareholders and their acreage, I got the list. They expected to get an update on the progress I had done with the surveyor and how much each one will contribute. I briefed them about the surveyor who will be coming to them soon, having met him earlier in the week. 

Whats happened on this land is that new shareholders have emerged, after some of the old shareholders sold to them and others passed on their shares to their children in  family.

So there is need to update the land registry records to this effect, for the new owners to properly process their titles. 

There is a number of requirements touching both local and national government departments to successful partition, and this is the process I'm coordinating. I'm one of the new shareholders. 

We'll hold another meeting in about 2 weeks, but before that I have to sit down with the district surveyor who understands district land board processes and obtain clear formal document in order to formally request for district letter to allow the surveyor conduct the partition survey.

So that's what I have been upto lately, and this one of my background-running projects.

Now back to  research for my Post Graduate BA course, I have to prepare a presentation for tomorrow.

I heard the Angels Sing to Kaaka’s coming

Kaaka (RIP)

I heard the angels sing that night, when you passed on. They had not received one so faithful. Your passing caused joy in the heavens, as your birth did in our lives. Your life was our family fairy tale; I cannot mention all, but these are some of the things that you did! You taught us to be proud and unbending in honest failure, but humble and gentle in success; you taught us not to substitute words for action; not to seek the path of comfort, but to face the stress and spur of difficulty and challenge; to learn to stand up in the storm, but to have compassion on those who fall; to master ourselves before we seek to master others; to have a heart that is clean and a goal that is high; to learn to laugh, yet never forget how to weep; to reach into the future, yet never neglect the past; to be serious, yet never take ourselves too seriously; to be modest, so that we  remember the simplicity of true greatness; the open mind of true wisdom, the meekness of true strength. You taught us, with your life, how to be men, and how to be gentlemen.

My Homeland >Bwera bwa muntu

I cannot brush off as irrelevant, nor accurately measure the impact the concept of cultural geography, the place one holds a long history and a deep cultural association with — has on the individual. These may sound metaphorical but they're more real than we know.

Recently, a cousin and friend -Charlotte, gave me a song 'Abanya Bwera' by a choir done at a wedding in Bwera, which reminded me of where my identity began. 'Bwera bwa muntu', thats the complete praise name as it was. They were singing about places and names which are still fresh in my mind - it went something like;

Kwokunaga ameisho obuseeri oreeba Rutungu, eine Nyabubaare, oreeba Wakigando eyegamiirwe Obusheeka...

It simply connotes my origins. We used to go to school in Rutungu as small children. There is a primary school there which had a pink and black uniform, where I went for my first day in school. My late uncle George Katongore's farm is still there, in Nyabubaare. My dad's farm (before moving to Kyenkwanzi) used to be not far from Nyabubaare, in a place called Rwendahi. We used to graze our cattle in the plains and bulls used to fight at the water fronts on the lake when we took them to water. Hippos used to emerge from the lake at night and move up northwards following warm winds coming from our cows -and come home to eat salt with cows. When you came out of the house on a full moon night and gazed into the kraals, you certainly saw the shinny backs of Hippos among cows. It was a spectacle. There is an impeccable story of how a Hippo charged at uncle George on one such night, and chased him into thickets, where he spent the rest of the night.

My relatives, in fact my grand and grand-grand fathers are buried in this place. It is ancestral!

The people who have settled this place are some of our closest friends and kindred.

I have gone there on two occasions in the past 2 years, for cousins' weddings. It was was like home-coming. A deep sense of mixed anxiety and foreboding came over me as we rode through the tall trees among which I was born. I wondered if they still knew me -for I used to climb them and shake their tops. We used to play a dangerous game with these trees. You would identify a young-ish tree, about 6-10 meters high and climb it. Then you'd ask a friend to cut it down while you were up in its top shoots, so that you enjoy the thrill of falling with a tree, while its soft shrubs lessened to impact on the ground. I bet those trees remembered me.

But now, much of this land has been settled by a whole different kind of people. I noticed they have cleared much of the plains to make the land comfortable for Fresian cattle which produce a lot of milk. The long horned Ankore cows are scanty in this land, nearing extinction. That is how Capitalism has taken its toll upon my people...

Kyenkwanzi Home Pictures

Some pictures of the new house at home in Kitegwa, Kyenkwanzi district

Remembering Annette Katerere

A poem for my late sister, Annette Katere Mugyenyi, who perished in a motor accident on Sunday 6th February 2011.

Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you plann'd:

Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.

From: The Prince's Progress and Other Poems, 1879

The Motorbike that killed Annette

 These pictures show the motorcycle that Annette was being carried on when the accident that took her life occurred on Queen's Way, on Sunday 6th Feb, 2011.  The pictures were taken on 7th Feb, 2011.  

But What Kind Of Woman will I marry?

One of the things that define who I am is that I take the responsibility of creating the kind of world that I want quite seriously. I am constantly engaged to bring the gap between my fantasies and my realities to a narrow straight. It is a painstakingly slow process.

What King of woman will I meet?

So, I have always wanted to do the same thing when it comes to women. It cannot be overlooked that when a man dreams about a bright future, he also dreams about a beautiful wife and children in the same picture. This feeling tends to pervade some men's worlds sometimes and they go overboard, throwing their priorities out of balance. No, that is overboard.

I have come to realise that it takes more than emotive response to our needs to bridge that gap, it takes sobriety. For one thing, women come in different variations -which tend to mean that you can ask this out, play with that one, date this one, or marry the other one. The ideal is to find one you can do all these things with, but the reality with men is that they tend to do one thing with each variation. One therefore has to analyse women variations in more details. Its worthwhile to take time to find a woman you can admire for her mere existence. This means that you have to be able to peel away at the layers of make-up, duplicity and postiche to reach the fine grain person who is real. True, I enjoy fiction, but only in movies and books. I would be completely tipped over to find it in a living person. For a man who wants to create true happiness in life, I cannot but wonder, what kind of woman? A friend once told me that asking what kind of woman a man wants is like asking what kind of wine goes with turkey. For now, i guess we can just stick with the biblical perspective, that "omukazi murungi omuhaabwa ruhanga", if you know what I mean. 

Rogers Kalanzi a.k.a Kagurusi

Vet Centre

Of recent, a new activity has poped-up between my work and play times; namely Rogers Kalanzi. I've been having frequent meets with this guy in town and what not for the past few months nows. There is something about his character that you just cant have enough of. A few months back he installed a small network (LAN) at his office at the Vet Centre -his father's animal drug shop and veterinary medicines centre. The network helps him to run an ERP software on computers to monitor stocks and sales at the centre.

This is something I found quite brilliant, for a non IT person. I was eager to help with whatever technicalities needed. On one of the days we went shopping for Computer hardware up on Bombo road and got three high spec dell machines with flat screens, which are now operational. I have also received several calls when the software wasn't connecting to the server on any of the machines. I never saw myself doing IT support but it is worth the fun...

So between the troubleshooting and doing whatevers, we lunch out. This has actually given me another escape sequence at lunch breaks

But more importantly I've got to know Rogers Kalanzi personally, unlike before. Boy he is not bad. Focussed, ambitious, great, clear work ethic, honest, fun, etc. Ever since I walked inside the Vet-Centre, it has been hard to not go back. I'm receiving important animal health tips and tools from there as well, so I know where to consult for anything for our farm. I think I have found another friend in my cousin Rogers, teehee

At the farm, October 2010

Last Saturday I went to our small farm at Kyenda, which is right after Kiboga town, on the road to Hoima. I went with aunt Agatha, because she was headed for her kyankwanzi farm, some kilometres ahead. So she dropped me off when I reached the area and she continued.

I hadn't been at the farm in about two years, so I needed to do some auditing of activity there, especially since my brother Muheirwe, who has been staying there and taking care of the farm and cattle, has moved his cows back to Kyenkwanzi.
I headed straight to where the cows were grazing at, and found them nearby, with the children of the current manager tending to them. It was refreshing to find new Fresian cross-breeds growing up.

There are about 100 cattle here, which have primarily been the Ankore long-horned type. But for the last 3 years, our plan has been to cross-breed them into diary cattle for commercial milk production, given that the farm is right on a main road, providing ease of access to transportation.  So all the calves and heifers are cross-breeds born between long-horned mothers and a Fresian bull. The bull, I had been informed by dad when I called him the previous day, that it has grown old and is constantly sickly, so he needed to take it back to his farm in Kyenkwanzi where there is greater care under his watch, and send a younger one here -so it had been loaded onto a truck and taken back that same morning.

I did an evaluation while there, of the inputs and outputs, established costs of running the farm on monthly basis and so on, to see if I can begin to provide drugs and equipments needed there, and making sure the workers are doing everything properly. I found some gross mismanagement going on there, and had quite a discussion with the current man managing the farm, called Ninsiima, who happens to be a relative from my mom's side. He asked to come here in April and my dad allowed him.
We took the cows to water at around 2 pm and later to the spray, because they had skipped the scheduled every Saturday morning activity for Sunday, for unknown reasons. Aunt Agather called me later on at around 4 pm that she was on her way back and I should meet her at the road as agreed, and we head back. But I couldn't make it without making her wait for too long. I returned to Kampala by taxi later that evening.

So I have been visiting the Vet Centre quite frequently these days, to inquire more on drugs and their costs. I will be going back at the end of the month.

Our Heritage: The Kanyorozi subclan

Our Heritage: The Kanyorozi subclan

Last Sunday I received a call from Abel Mwine, my cousin, and he said he was at home in Kawempe with aunt Milly to visit Kaaka (grandma). I had been there and seen Kaaka myself the previous Sunday and she looked a bit old. So we agreed to meet again when everyone is not so busy and chat, its been long... Kaaka definately needs more help and care than she is getting, as Joyce told me that previous Sunday I was home. So we have to get things a bit more organised and planned...

The Kanyorozi subclan

The extensive family of Mr James Kanyorozi, my paternal grand father

I'm a nut when it comes to history -it gets be a bit excited to learn what happened before me. No wonder I scored a close B in history in high school. But thats beside the point, history presents us with the most profound lessons about life in time.
So I have finally modeled the first high level diagram of  how many children my grandfather, James Kanyorozi actually left behind. This question had eluded me for so long. My parents, uncles and unties have always given me different versions on this matter. So, after extensive research, this is the best big-picture view of the number of children James had in his lifetime.
The diagram is quite huge, you need to click on it to load in a new page to see it up-close and zoom. The first level shows the women with whom he had the children, and the children he had with them are listed just below each. I tried to figure out why this man went to this extent, yet he had an official wife, my grand mother (Janet Kakatoma); all those women and children? -cutting across tribes, which was abhorrent among Bahima at that time . It is incredible.
Then I learnt the story of his father, (i.e. my grand grand father), Rasto Karayegire Rubanonzya. But this story is for another time.

James Kanyorozi and Janet Kakatooma (pet name Kaaka) are my center of interest here. Kaaka's parents were called Yosiya Rwenyumiza(her dad) and Miriam Kikeikuru (her mom).
Kanyorozi's parents were called Rasto Karayegire Rubanonzya(his dad) and Gurumu, pet named Munywaniwangye(his mom).
Further more, aunt Sister told me the name of Rasto Karayegire's father; we're now talking grand grand grand father in respect to my generation. She said his name was Baranga. His origins were in Mpororo, a county in traditional Ankore homelands. He used to invoke the phrase, as most Bahima do, "Kihanga kya batoroga". Kihanga was a place in Mpororo, apparently where many of his livestock had died from an infectious disease. He had moved away from Mpororo greatly reduced in cattle numbers. I will definitely probe this further.
For now, I have only traced our history back up to Baranga. I will also find out who Karayegire's mother's name was and probe further on these lineages. But first, let me go to bed.

I'm Compiling History

I'm having time gathering history from my aunties lately. Aunt Joyce (Sister) and Juliet Busingye are a great wealth of historical facts as regards family history, so I'm spending nights listening to them chat it away. Am not disturbing Kaaka with questions, though she'd know much more from a time before. But she wouldn't remeber much now...

I have gathered names and related background info on their family and written it in my small blue notebook, will get time and type it here. I had always wanted to know the names of my third grandfather and no one could remember the name, untill aunt Joyce came along... later

Asiimwe's wedding and my surprise meet

Not so long ago, we had another wedding in the family; this time somewhere in Kiruhuura, western Uganda. My aunties Agatha and Juliet, my dad, some cousins like Abel Mwine and myself, packed and headed west for Lt. Asiimwe Nathan Ruzaza's wedding. Asiimwe is my aunt Vangirini Mukarubani's son, with her husband Ruzaaza.

It’s a long story so I’ll jump to the action. I was in the entourage that went to pick the bride at her home the next evening. It was not very far from the groom’s home -about 45 minutes’ drive in the bushes.

I should mention here that, in the scramble for space in the limited cars, my groom cousin shoved me in one of the so packed Toyotas. I was flung among babes in a very packed Rav4 – babes in the most body hugging dresses I ever sat between. This was supposed to be a good thing -only I didn’t know a single one of their names, and we were so squeezed that to attempt turning your head even slightly 2 degrees you’d be meeting some one’s boobies! This was not someth I was prepared to do, so this become the 40 motionless minutes of my journey. When I later told some friends about my misadventure, they said I should have turned freely on both sides and dropped a few compliments..... Never mind those perverts.

So we reached. Long story short, after the speeches and all, the next activity was the Ankore norm of setting in opposition, two skilled people against each other at Okwevuga. Both sides had prepared some one to pit against the other side. The contest begun in earnest; the man from the bride’s side started off -drooping fast paced lyrics, motioning arms to this effect, saying things you’ve never heard and things you’d never remember.

Then our man took his turn, did stunts with a familiar language, stressed points with his Nkoni, and many other effects. This went on for about an hour.

I didn’t know who won, because I dint know the scoring criteria. But the man from the bride’s side had the most applauded turns. Guests enjoyed this very much. I enjoyed it too, thought I dint understand a word those men said.

The bride’s people had arranged an amazing buffet for us, and refreshments – which was where we headed afterwards. I filled my plate and joined my dad at a table somewhere. Then he gave me some startling the news;

Did you see the Mwevugi from the bride’s side? He asked. I said “yes, and I guess he kicked the ass of our guy”. Then he told me, “Ogwo niwe Shwento owohurira”. “Am sorry, what…? how….when….”

“That is Rutabyama, your mom’s brother”

I had heard that my mom has a brother called Rutabyama in stories. I had also heard from Kaaka that my mother comes from a clan called “Bene Ishe Murari”, which apparently was a furious clan at Kweshongora, Okwevuga, Okugamba n’Okukubya ente during the finer days of the Ankore kingdom. So it downed on me that this could be true, and that this could be how am meeting my uncle.

Finally, after going thru some confusing sensations, I went over to where he was standing with some people, letting them finish with their conversation. When he was alone, I came up to him and stared in his face for a full moment…looking for any trace of resemblance. I bet he thought this was some zealot stalker who was over-impressed with his Kwevuga.

The resemblance wasn’t there -until he opened his mouth to speak. I saw the unmistakable formula; a white array with no single fault, in a very black gum.

Our first ever conversation went something like;

Me: N’omanya omuntu wubarikweeta Maaga? (my mom’ other name is Margaret)

Him: Maaga oha, Nyakato?

Me: Eeeee, Nyakato.

Him: Nimumpurize, ogwo ka’aba munyanyazi!

Me: Munyanyako ogwo reero nanye ni maawe!

Him: [raising eyebrows], ori mutabani wa Mugyenyi shi? Niiwe Franka shi?

I was like yeah, nice to meet you too!

After going thru some confusing sensations, he asked how I recognized him since we’d never met. I told him that some one had shown him to me, not mentioning who. We later exchanged numbers and promised to continue to talk, said goodbyes and I left when our entourage was preparing to leave. We have since talked a couple of times.

Am trying to unravel and document some great stories for a book project for my grand kids' happy reading when I am over 100 years. Promise to live that long…

Kaaka's mom.

Miriam Kikeikuru!

Iziina eryo n’eryomukeikuru owabeire ari nyina kaaka. Ishe Kaaka bakanibamweeta Yosiya Rwenyumiza.

Omubiganiiro by’ekiro eki (08/June/2009) twagamba ahari story y’omukeikuru nyina Kaaka. Nitumanya ngu Kaaka nuwe murokore mukuru omuka y’eitu. Kwonka nawe twashanga ayine owuyabwihireho –nyina.

Oburokore bwa Kaaka bukaturuka ahari nyina, Miriam Kikeikuru. Omukeikuru ogwo akazaara omwana omwe wenka, Kaaka, oruzaaro rwabura -ahandi yarokoka.

Beiburi ye eketamuriga harubaju, ebyeshongoro byamwo bika bitamurug’ahamunwa.

History n’egira ngu iba –Yosiya Rwenyumiza, kuyarebire yarokoka, kyabateerana -akatakwenda mukazi w'omurokore. Kikeikuru yataana atyo n'eiba, yatsigaza omuburokore.
Kubwashesha, Abarokore okwo omu nkungaana zaabo bamutungira omusheija w'omurokore -, kikeikuru yashwerwa.

Emyaka kuyagyenda, omusheija ogwo yeija yaafa, yamutsiga nabaana be biyagabirwe amushangire nabo, bakuzire.

Kaaka ngu, kuyareeba nyina yaguma wenka, yayenda ngu amureete omutasye oweiba. Kubwasheesha Kaaka yashaba iba ngu amureete aho bamuziikye, Iba yeikiriza. Nikwo nyina Kaaka yeizire kutuura nabo.

Welcome Message & Signup Instructions

Welcome to our family site- Our Heritage & Living History! If you are here, it means I sent you a link invitation in your e-mail. Now, here is how you are gonna get it rolling. The Admin of the site, (that will be me for now until some one else learns how to do it) has to first send you an invitation in your e-mail, which looks something like this;

The Blogger user [BIRO] has invited you to contribute to the blog: Our Heritage & Living History.
To contribute to this blog, visit: http://www.blogger.com/i.g?inviteID=8633713969343169253&blogID=7695272157909153715

You will click the link given (do this from your email) and then follow the instructions to set up your account just like Yahoo or Google mail. The bottom line is; use your existing e-mail address to act as username and then set a password of your choice and then submit. The site will automatically send to your e-mail a message asking you to click a provided link to activate your account. When you do that, your profile is verified and set. you can then put afrinational.blogspot.com into any internet and log it to see and post stuff. 3 simple steps! Click the invitation link in your e-mail, Set your Profile, Click the activation link in your e-mail. You can now login and author to your heritage website. We will then see your name appear on the the panel on the right hand side of the website. This is a long term project - a welcome to the the Information Age. Thanx a gazillion.

Pictures From Iraq

Hi bro, ebi nibimwe ahabishishane byangye naariga kutunga enyotta!! Ebiro ebihweire nyowe namugyenziwangye tukaturi ahamurimo twakwata omuntu ayine BOMB , so the company promoted me . Now am shift leader.

Frank nyowe kunuyaa nkarokokyera kimwe ebyekikuru. Hati frank for the sake of our farmily i bage u, u could keep praising GOD at all times, so take your Bible as ur weapon. Ok goodby ... urs matsiko abel

Partyin wit the animals

Okay, you have probably gone partying and found out you are partying with the animals of the game, right? This was the case with me on Kandy's 19th birthday.

Cindy organised this one for her sister, and as luck would have it, the venue was at Good Fellas, Grand Imperial Hotel Kampala, the same hotel that hosts the Quest.net business presentations i attend on Thursdays. So I got there easily.

Cindy and Kandy were still at home dressing up, or somewhere along the road from Zzana, racing to catch up with their invited guests. A pool of seasoned party goers showed up, including three friends of mine I had invited that evening. Horrace, Uthman and Malcolm. The former two were also my OBs.

Lucy, aunt Agather's daughter was also present. When I arrived she was the only one I could recognise, I hadn't met the rest pool of girls boys before. She was already doing what the gracious host would do, tossing a smile here, shaking hands there and so on. The Cindys later arrived and things got warmer with taking of pictures, most of which are in the slide show above.
Cool music was coming from somewhere in the walls and drinks were shifting. Wines, waters, sodas, name it. Two big fat cakes were also waiting somewhere to be cut and eaten... and I was waiting for that moment!!

It so happened that rings were being formed around exclusive friends, so I hang with my friends as did the rest, sitting in groups of five, 8 etc. But the urge was there to mix up and chat with some one new. So someone would join (intrudingly) into a pool of friends and soon there would be no conversation. Malcolm was looking for a real hook that night but he got away with none. Horrace called up his gal friend and she joined us later on. A lovely gal I should add.

Serving began at around 4:00 pm or so. It wasn't a real dinner party or something but plates full of fries were passing by, chicken, goats meat, cow meat, pork, chips, tea and lots of drinks..
This is the time when Kandy got to a one by one introduction session to the people who attended her 19th. I joined working on the serving bit, passing the plates around several times so that every one had enough . Its like every one wasn't caring about time and soon were clocking mid night. Apparently aunt Agather was now calling up Lucy to know what the h*** she was still doing outside beyond mid-night, so she had to summarise.

I am rushing the party to the good parts now. Some boys had had one too many by this time, and arguments were getting louder. When the cake cutting session came, one dude gave himself the task to do so. People who were around the table noticed that he was cutting the cake more with his hands than with the knife. Another guy complained about it and tried to stop him and... the unthinkable happened! Blows were flying in the air.

After the party, that was around two o'clock, the real party animals suggested club, and me thinking it was time to go home was in for a surprise. Cindy assured me it would do me no harm to step in club for the first time. Soon we were at Rooge, I stayed in the car and all the rest went in, found it boring and came back and we drove home at four in the morning. Bye

Two Weddings same week?

The last five days have seen me attending two weddings one after another, both being of family boys bringing home new members into the family.These boys are none other than Muheirwe Simon (my half brother) and Obadia S, respectively. Muheirwe's was held on 15th January 2008, at his home Omukyenda. It was my first time to go in the entourage that picks a bride from her home, for a close family member. I arrived same day from Makerere University and found Muheirwe and his best man, midway to Kyenkwanzi. We went with my dad, a friend of my dad and my sister Kababy, they were waiting for me at a place called Omurushozi, with two cars packed by the roadside. Muheirwe's wedding was not such a big occassion thought, it was very low key.
Badiya's was on Saturday 19th January 2008, and he put up a quite function involving many people from the villages and towns around Sembabule. Relatives from Kampala, Kyenkwanzi and all over came to Badiya's wedding. He was a jolly man on that day, and the best part was when he gave his wedding speech, just motioning for his translator, saying he was a happy man and thanking all people for making it all happen...