Weeping Lands, Somewhere in a Field, Ugandan Privilege
- Weeping Lands, Somewhere in a Field, Ugandan Privilege
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My Stalker. Mixed Media. ©2010 Ronex Ahimbisibwe.
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The troubles in our lands Swoop down like fish eagles Talons open on the Perplexed population.
I do not know Who has invaded whom Who seeks regional thrones I do not know which general growls Whose radio channel lies.
But I have seen Rubble cover the defenseless People blown to pieces Fingers wagging Leaders embracing People dying.
I do not know which country They defend Whose children They protect Whose markets They secure Whose radio channel lies. [End Page B-27]
Somewhere in a Field
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Collage 1. Mixed Media. ©2010 Ronex Ahimbisibwe.
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Grandfather’s bones are scattered Somewhere in a field The wind buried him. War has violated us Death is no longer sacred And life has no place for mourning.
Cousin Katende was brought back From the bloodline in a coffin We learnt about it two years late That he died and was buried. His wife and child do not know us We do not know them.
War denies us Luxury of forgetting Forces us to examine empty meaning.
We have left our homes to squirrels Conflict has removed our teeth Bruised our gums Cut out our tongues Scarred our throats.
This war is angry at us. Kneaded Into a fluffy pastry We have no breath We are left only the fire within our souls. [End Page B-29]
Ugandan Privilege
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Collage 2. Mixed Media. ©2010 Ronex Ahimbisibwe.
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Today, we talked with a friend About Ugandan privilege As I sat at my window Where I have met, numerous times before, The sun sinking into the clouds Among the canopies of green trees.
Ugandan privilege Offers me My relatives’ country homes Surrounded by the great buttressed trees of The tropical forest The dead silence of the night The spray of stars in the sky.
This country where grass carpets Everywhere Where weeds are found in every crack This country’s pineapples ooze syrup Bananas are sweeter than sugar Mango trees look burdened By the weight of their fruit This country of abundant sun and rain.
Today, I was taken by The sway of Ugandan privilege That I would shrivel inside If I suddenly was unable to Be part of the favorite neighbor’s party Or the distant cousin’s wedding And the impulsive feasts that conquer The village at the whiff of good fortune. [End Page B-31] Ugandan privilege Presents me with People at each other’s tables With each other’s joys Sharing each other’s sorrows Enjoying the town’s gossip And stopping to help a stranger.
Today, I sat with the wonders of my people And hung on to the spirit of Uganda. [End Page B-32]
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Collage 3. Mixed Media. ©2010 Ronex Ahimbisibwe.
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Susan Nalugwa Kiguli is a Ugandan poet and academic. She holds a PhD in English from The University of Leeds sponsored by the Commonwealth Scholarship Scheme. She has also held the American Council of Learned Societies/ African Humanities Fellowship, 2010–2011 and as part of the fellowship, she was a researcher in Residence at the Centre for Humanities Research at the University of Western Cape, South Africa. Her research interests fall mainly in the area of Oral and Written African Poetry, Popular Song, and Performance Theory. She is a Senior Lecturer in the Department of Literature, Makerere University, Uganda, and has served as the chairperson of FEMRITE: Uganda Women Writers’ Association.
