Elizabeth Awori's Blog, page 2

To be home again

Today I went to the village – my father’s ancestral home. I was last here last year. I found grandpa seated on the veranda of their house. Grandma; in her green gomesi was seated on the kitchen veranda. They were both unshelling groundnuts as hens and ducks played at their feet.

As soon as she saw me, grandma, beaming with joy, tried to get up but her occasionally frail legs failed her. Normally, I would have run into her arms. But the times are far from normal. We couldn’t even shake hands. She welcomed me to sit on the mat with her. I went over to greet grandpa. He recently lost his sight due to cataracts so he depends on his wife’s sight and his other senses.

“Lwiza, thank you for coming to see us,” he said when he registered my presence. I like how he pronounces my name. It does things to my heart. It’s one of the reasons I’ve always loved the village.

As a child, the village fascinated me. From the wide variety of fruits to devour, to the way the moon shone so bright it made a torch useless, to the catchy hymns at the village church, to the many trees on which we could hang out… There was a particular tree we loved. It still stands next to the boys’ quarters. Everyone had their own branch. We would just hang out there until we were called down to eat.

While grandma went to greet mum who was unpacking, grandpa asked if Maria was part of the class that “over failed.” I laughed. He said he had heard about it on the news. I told him Maria is yet to join LDC. I didn’t tell him about how final year of law school is almost breaking her. I didn’t tell him how she misses out on all the fun moments at home because somehow, everyday is a deadline for her to beat.

We catch up a little more while unshelling groundnuts. I remember hating this as a child. I don’t know if it was because my fingers were still tender or maybe the groundnuts were too dry or not dry enough. Whatever it was, I didn’t like unshelling groundnuts. But here, with them, I find myself enjoying it.

Grandma calls my cousin Thaddeus to light the fire. He’s supposed to make tea and groundnuts for the visitors. This is what I like most about being a visitor. The chilling while food is brought to you. If I could do, I would just visit people for the rest of my life. Grandma says the people who visit you are your real people. Pesh wouldn’t agree. Even as a child, she didn’t like visitors.

They ask about Alex. They ask if he’s planning to marry soon. I laugh. Not because the question is funny but because it’s very African. When mum joins us for tea, she finds the conversation has gotten very “African.” Apparently, neighbors got into a quibble because one said the men who married his daughters were better than the ones who married the neighbor’s daughters. Apparently, the more the cows, the better the men. Anyway, the story ends with the cows being stolen.

Grandpa says that’s what happens to ungrateful people – “when God blesses you, just thank him. Don’t go looking and worrying about what others have or don’t. Just thank God for what’s on your plate.”

So… tonight I am grateful to be home again. I’m grateful to be able to drink from the wells of old wisdom. I’m grateful for my three grandparents. I’m grateful for family and friends. I’m grateful for their good health. I’m thankful the moon is out tonight and shining bright as ever. I’m also grateful Capital Fm is somehow crystal clear yet in Tororo town we can’t catch even just the s of their signal.

What are you grateful for? What’s on your plate?

lemonadE

Today, a colleague and I did a collaborative writing project with two of our literature students, one in senior 5 and the other in senior 2. There was lots of laughter, banter and silent pauses to think of one’s next line. It was the most fun I’ve had in a while.

And now….we (Fidai and Blissa) give you;

a glass of lemonade;

There she is

That pretty angel

Incredibly beautiful

Petite for my appetite

Yet bitter as wormwood

But still as sweet as honey

Bitter sweet lemonade

Confusing to the tongue

A dagger laced with wild honey

An apple covered in thorns

My heart keeps breaking

My soul wanders

My heart thunders

At the beautiful waters

As my hands tremble

Reaching out to hold you

once again.

Back as a fool, I long for you,

Innocent naive fool ,

Lost.

Hall of Fate : 2

A story is told of a chief who didn’t have a patience for time wasters. He arrived at his station an hour to the exam. He would sort examination cards and place them in order in the exam room. His invigilators would find him already placing answer booklets on desks so you can imagine his frustration when he rang the bell thirty minutes to the paper (like he’s supposed to) and students did not show up.

Source : Pixabay

When he rang it again, twenty minutes to the exam, still, no candidate appeared. Ten minutes to the paper they were seen slithering to the examination hall. Being their first paper, he thought the candidates had probably not been briefed. The invigilators checked the candidates and they got in to do their paper. Obviously, it started later than it was supposed to.

Towards the end of the paper, he reminded the candidates they had to be outside the hall at 1:30pm so they could be checked and start the paper on time. Their silence sounded like comprehension.

But, to his dismay, they showed up at 1:50pm. The invigilators were as angry as the chief. They asked the head teacher to get them sticks. He obliged. Every candidate got two strokes of the cane before getting in for the paper, and that was the last time they were late.

My chief invigilator is nothing like that. He’s laid back and always smiling. He operates on the notion that if everyone does their part well, everyone goes home happy. Which we would, if we weren’t so different. I’m not saying being different is a bad thing, I like that we are all different. I enjoy our differences. We are all unique as human beings and that is reflected in how we operate as invigilators. In the end, our combined efforts are what make for a successful supervision.

Source : Pixabay

Caution : The names are not real. The people behind them are.

Usher : He teaches at the same school with the chief so he’s somewhat favored. The chief will never complain about him so he does whatever he wants. When he’s not dozing, he’s talking to the chief or anyone who will listen to his hilarious stories. He’s generally a nice guy, he just doesn’t enjoy invigilating.

Peter : He swears he’s 70 years old. Apparently he’s been teaching since 1976. You can tell from how polite he is. There’s a huge difference between the politeness of this era and the one from back then. Theirs stems from a respect for everyone, the new one is mostly necessary politeness. He refuses to sit down in all of the three hours of an exam. His generation believes rest = laziness so he overworks himself as a result. He is interested in learning new things – he asks about how other schools operate and offers a page of wisdom from his book of his experience.

Annet : She has taught for twenty years. A fact she likes to throw into every conversation. She has appointed herself assistant-chief so she barks orders at anyone in sight. She doesn’t like lazy people which is understandable since she’s not lazy herself. If she’s to offer one of the invigilators correction, she must do in the hearing of everyone else so you can “learn from this person’s mistakes.”

Ruth : The quiet one. She greets everyone and goes about her business. She doesn’t speak unless spoken to. She’s not trying to be friends with any of the invigilators. She teaches at the same school with Usher and the chief but didn’t know their names until now. She came to work, and work she will. When she’s done she’ll go back to her life.

Connie : The young one. Because everyone believes young people are generally lazy, she tries to prove them wrong. They then give her more work because she’s “still strong and energetic.” But when she gets tired, she sits until a student needs help. She makes conversations with all the invigilators to try and learn from their experiences.

Hellen : The carefree one. When the examination hall gets too hot in the afternoon she takes off her shoes and walks on barefoot. She avoids any conversation with Annet; pretends to be partially deaf. She always wants to be in the examination room closest to the dining hall because she doesn’t like to “make her stomach suffer.”

Steve : The one who’s always offering to help everyone. He probably does it out of guilt since he’s always late. He likes to sit and observe other invigilators. He’s the one who said he could tell I teach English and Literature from the way I walk. He’s a good listener and is generally full of good vibes.

Ben : He’s present but never really present. Although UNEB insists no invigilator use their phone in the examination hall, he’s always texting behind a desk. If he supervises the morning exam he most probably won’t supervise the afternoon one. Something always comes up. The only person who actually knows his name is the chief invigilator.

So… which of these invigilators do you think you are most like at your work place?

Hall of Fate : 1

I walk around the room looking for names that remind me of home. This is how I distract myself from the pain in my left knee. This is how I ignore the voices in my head.

Source : Pixabay

See; I’m invigilating national exams, UACE to be specific. The Uganda Advanced Certificate of Education exams are done after two years of A’level. They play a huge role in determining what course one gets to do at the university. This is the second time I’m supervising. The first time was last year. I mean 2019. That time I did it for the money. This time I’m also doing it for the money. You thought I’d say I’m doing it as a service to my nation? Of course I am. I’m serving my country and securing the bag; call it hitting two birds with one stone. One very looooong and tedious stone.

Sauti Sol and Burna Boy lied. Time doesn’t fly like a thief in the night. Not when you’re seated in a huge hall, with no phone, pen or paper!

Most papers last three hours. The first hour is usually fast. You pass the attendance list to the candidates while someone else walks around drawing the sitting plan. Before you know it; thirty minutes are gone.

Source : Pixabay

Then it’s just you and your thoughts. Yesterday, I thought about the student I recently found out has a crush on me. I laughed. Thank God I had a mask on so no one could see me smile sheepishly. Then I thought about the teacher I had a crush on. Oh how foolish I was! Anyway, today I thought about what it will be like when I first bump into Daniel Kaluuya. It will probably be at Berlin Fashion Week. By then I’ll be a model or an influencer for Mercedes Benz like my best friend Maps. FYI : I don’t know how to drive, I have never been on a plane, and some guy disappeared with my passport in 2019. (Story for another day)

But I think about silly things to avoid thinking about the actualities of my life; like how our bosses are considering laying off all staff, or how most of my mates are getting married east, west and center and here I am, in bed, writing a blog. Suppression is my go-to defense mechanism.

Suppression : conscious effort to put disturbing thoughts and experiences out of mind, or to control and inhibit the expression of unacceptable impulses and feelings.

Suppression is the defense mechanism by which individuals cope with distressing mental contents by voluntarily making efforts to put them out of conscious awareness until there is an opportunity to cope adaptively with those stressors.

In 2019, I was posted to a school with 76 candidates in total so supervision was generally easier. This time, I’m in a school with 361 candidates. My feet hurt from all the walking and standing yet it’s only been two days. The second half of the second hour is when it gets busy. Candidates who have filled their first booklet raise their hands to get another, and you hurry to them. I wish life worked like that; when your account balance is running low, you just lift your hand and you get a free refill.

Sometimes two invigilators reach the candidate at the same time. As a student, I lived for such moments. Now, as a teacher, I come home with muscle pull because even when no hands are raised, I keep walking around because I’m scared if I sit down, the voices in my head will think I’m making time for them. They’ll think I want to be reminded I could be jobless soon. Like something like that can be forgotten.

ANYWAY… the most exciting thing about invigilating national exams is meeting new people. Let me tell you about the guy who said he could tell my teaching subjects just by how I walk. No…let me start with the man who’s been teaching since 1976. (This part will be out before the end of the week. Cheers! )

Happy Women’s Day

Today, the first Women’s Day message I received read “Happy Womens Day. I know you go through tough times too as a woman, but it’s really awesome you still hold your head high, have a good one” Normally, I’d want to unpack this message word for word. But today is Women’s Day; I just want to send love to women.

I send a hug

To the woman who is tired of being strong,

The one who is scared,

To the woman doing the most to be accepted,

To the woman who is underpaid,

To the one who is not paid.

I send a hug

To the woman waiting for her moment,

To the one who’s heartbroken,

To the one who just lost a loved one,

To the one who is still healing,

To the one who has been told her body is not enough,

To the one whose body is failing.

I send a hug

To the difficult woman, the one who refuses to be stepped on,

To the woman who doesn’t know her place, the one who speaks up,

I send a hug

To the woman who has had to bleed to get to where she is,

To the one who stretches her hand out to pull up other women,

To the woman who needs help but doesn’t know how to ask for it.

I send a tight hug

To the woman who’s been let down,

To the one who has given up,

I send a long hug

To the woman whose body was abused,

The one who has to see her scars daily,

I send a warm hug,

To the girl who had to grow up fast,

The one who had to take care of everyone else.

May we find soft love,

The kind that listens to us,

The kind that wipes our tears,

The kind that holds us tight,

May we find healing,

May we find peace.

Happy women’s day.

To The Boy I Love: P.S. I’ll Always Love You

Dearest babe,

I know you think calling you “babe” is cheesy but a little cheesiness never killed anyone. Anyway, babe, I hope you’re okay. I’m going to call you as soon as I’m done writing this to make sure. I’m writing with Chike’s If you no love playing in the background. You know how I like to listen to love music on Saturdays. I love that you know me really well; that the things that matter to me are somehow written in stone in your mind. You know not to call early in the morning, you know to leave me chits in “our” hoodies, you know to send me puns off twitter in the middle of the day because you know they tickle my heart. I love how my world feels with you in it. Sometimes I fear you’re too good for me. I fear you’ll wake up one day and decide you don’t want to be mine anymore.

You and I laugh when Adele’s Hello comes on. At the chorus, we smile at each other. We say we shall never have to say “hello from the other side,” that we shall always be this side, together but… But what if you grow tired of this side? What if I get bored of this side? Shall we at least stay friends? Shall we even say hello? If you were here you’d tell me to stop thinking about “such things.” I’d remind you nothing lasts forever. You’d look at me with your kind eyes, take my hands into yours, kiss me on the forehead then whisper “I’m here, you’re here, that’s all that matters.”

You always know the right thing to say. I don’t know how you manage to stay so positive. I wish I had your eyes, eyes that see the good in everything. I remember the first time those eyes looked in my direction. I was cloaked in pain. You came and sat with me. When my days were as dark as the starless night, you stayed by my side. You were a good friend. You checked on me without pestering me. To compare you to the sun would be to lie. You weren’t the sun that brought light to my world. Coming from such darkness, the sun might have blinded me. You were a candle; just the right amount of light I needed.

My dearest candle, I love you. I love how fast you think. I admire your desire to learn. When I offer you correction, you nod and ask me to explain. You listen to me. When I’m wrong, you don’t laugh at me. Unless it’s about something “silly” like which arm of the government is more corrupt. I say it’s the legislature. You say the correct answer is the whole body of the government. I enjoy your silliness. Like how when we share a boda, you never forget to tell the boda guy to ride carefully because “our children are still inside us.” How you say “don’t kill our children” with a straight face always cracks me up.

Should our love fade, know I’ll always love you. I hope we stay friends (at least until you pay me what you owe.) Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten. You occasionally send me reports to proofread. I say I’m busy. You start to hype me; you swear I’m the baddest editor in these lands. I agree to proofread, mostly because I adore you. When I ask for payment, you tell me to “add it to the bride price.” We are now at 10 cows and 5 bulls. Don’t ask how I did the math. Just know you’re in debt. You know I love you; I know you know. But I believe there are debts that shouldn’t be forgiven.

Anyway;

Celebrating the month of love : Singles’ edition.

The only thing worse than being single is being constantly reminded you are single.

– Joseph Solomon

Carol texted on Friday saying she felt like having a conversation with me. Naturally, I was curious so I responded quickly. She said it had just hit her that we are the only two people from our camp group who are still not married. I laughed because it was genuinely funny. Why would she deliberately think about that? Why?

Carol and I went to prayer camp together in 2016. If you haven’t been to Kako, Masaka, know that it’s really cold. I met new people but didn’t find love like most people. I wasn’t looking for love, love was clearly not looking for me. Even those who didn’t find love on that hill have since found it elsewhere. I just hadn’t taken the time to think of it till Carol brought it up. I told her not to worry, that God will make things beautiful in his perfect time. But if we are being honest, there are days when it feels like the perfect time may never come. Take for instance the wedding wave of 2020. How did it not sweep me? I’m really light. WHY DID IT NOT CARRY ME?

Anyways, I barely think of marriage until someone brings it up.

Yesterday, TikTok brought it up. I was peacefully going by my day, eating my meatless-pilau when I felt a nudge to open the app. Like clockwork, the first video was Justin Timberlake performing his song Mirrors. I love the song, especially the chorus; it massages even the hardest parts of my heart. But what intrigued me was the caption on the video; “imagine staring at your soulmate at this part of the song during your wedding.” When I pictured it, goosebumps covered my entire body.

Seriously though; just imagine staring at your soulmate on your wedding while this song plays on mega speakers; this part –

Cause I don’t wanna lose you now

I’m lookin’ right at the other half of me

The vacancy that sat in my heart

Is a space that now you hold

Show me how to fight for love

And I’ll tell you, baby, it was easy

Coming back here to you once I figured it out

You were right here all along

When I posted the video on my WhatsApp status, Isaac commented saying I was dreaming too much. I refused to let him steal my joy so instead, I asked him to send a voice note singing the song. He has always had a beautiful voice. Then we talked about hiring his entire band to play at my wedding. He even called his manager to confirm their rates. That’s when I remembered I was still single. He joked about us getting married since we’re both single. He would obviously sing for free at the reception. Convenient, right?

I’ve been single for 716 days now. I admit some of those days have been lonely. Some of them have been painful and others have been beautiful. On some days I got desperate. Like Janette Ikz, I got tired of the wait; I took matters into my own hands and ended up with him, him who displayed the characteristics of a cheater, a liar, an abuser and a thief. So why was I surprised when he broke into my heart?

I know what it’s like to choose convenience; to get so tired of the loneliness you’ll take any kind of company. I also know the hurt that comes with that choice. I know how exhausting it is explaining to people that you’re worth more than they’re offering, more than they are willing to offer. But you stay. You break daily but you stay just because you don’t want to be single.

I’ve been there and I hope I don’t go back. I finally understand that there’s no shame in being single. You don’t get “good morning” texts, random check-in calls, gifts or anything like that but it’s okay. You’re still special. I’m still special. You don’t need to be in a relationship to be enough.

I know the pressure is getting more real now that we are in the “month of love” but let’s determine to enjoy this season of our lives. My poet friends are putting out ads to write poetry for people’s lovers. Hotels are giving out free Valentine’s getaway packages for couples. No one thinks of us singles. The world is selfish. Everyone is suddenly running a flowers and chocolate delivery business. Thank God I don’t like flowers. Why? Well, first of all; I don’t have a vase so I’m not equipped for that kind of lomansi. Secondly; I don’t like things that die when I forget about them for a day or so. I have things to do. I cannot babysit flowers. I admit they’re beautiful to look at but that’s all they’re good for.

I like gifts that last; like statement t-shirts, books and banknotes. So the plan for this month of love as a single person is to love myself a little more; to buy myself a new T-shirt and a book (Emonovate by the late Joel Benjamin Ntwatwa.) I’ll write myself a poem every once in awhile. I’ll go on ice cream dates with myself. I’ll spend more time feeding my spirit; studying The Word. Occasionally, I’ll sit with myself and just enjoy my own company; be alone with my thoughts, daydream. I’ll celebrate the small wins in life. I’ll do my best to love myself how I think I would like to be loved. I hope you; as a single person, will find ways to love on yourself.

Now more than ever, let’s resist the urge to cling onto people who don’t want us. We are worthy of reciprocated love and attention. We will wait on God’s perfect timing. And should He call us to a life of single hood, we will be content because His plans are greater than our desires and because His love is enough.