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Lord, if you were to ever work within my means, then you would not be
God..., forgive me for alwz trying to be realistic... Lord

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A Season of Parties at Home! The Joy of Giving Away!

Barbra the beautiful bride on Dec 24th 2018 We just had a mevoluous season! Okuhingira Barbara. Then her wedding to her beloved Justus and all that comes with it. Barbra my young sister is the only girl among my mothers children. I hope this is good English. We are four boys and her. So my mother produced the five of us. My mother is a strong woman. I need to cross check this fact but I think before her early 30 years of age, she had all of us here and about. My father got her just in time. She is therefore still beautiful and energetic. You can read about her in my other pieces on my blog . Before I found Omukyara  the two: Barbra and my Mother were the only women of my life. Later on, my friend Humura joined. I now have four of them. I also have other two sisters and a brother. So add to the five I mentioned earlier on. We are a a big family. Of the women of my life, Omukyara and Humura occupy more space on my mind because they are full time partners. Now Bar...
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A proud father about his kids: Mr. Bikosa

I have not had time to write about my late father since he died. It is not that I have been too busy to do this. I write by instinct and somehow, that had not come to me until now. I will write this for myself. Then I will get another time to write another piece for my brothers and sisters, my mother, and perhaps other people. I will. There are many things to write about CHB. Most of it is fantastic stuff. See a photo of Dad and Peter here. Peter is my youngest brother. He enjoyed Dad's love. There are things any first son would write about an excellent father. I looked up to my CHB so much. I trusted him fully. I still do. In my life now after 40 years, I have not found anyone that trusted me like my father. He was so sure I was on the right track. His sort of trust in me and the rest of his children was scary. My father believed in his heart that I was an upright man. My father even boasted among his peers that we his children were cool. I listened to him many times sayin...
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Will our children learn the art of storytelling? Or is it even important that they do?

One sure thing I miss about my grandparents' lives is the stories. In fact, I often wonder whether we shall ever grasp the gem of that art. On both sides, my father's side and my mother's side, my grandparents told stories. The best of them was my grandfather, my father's father. He told stories with so much precision and gusto. There is none like him. His stories started well with a connection to the environment and nature. For example, if his story was about his day, he might begin with the *voices of the singing birds near his bedroom window*. Or they would start with the bull or cow's voice at milking time. He would go like... at dawn, I heard the birds start singing, I lifted my head a bit, I said to myself, get up and start your planned day, I said a prayer, I stepped down from my bed, it took me some time to find my walking stick, I picked up my smoking pipe. Then he would go on to speak about whom he talked to first, the details of the greeting, and what was...
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