Covid-19 outbreak carried with it very many strange things to the earth. I was among the people that believed that anything could happen as long as one stood up firmly, chose what he was interested in and went out there in the other rare world to look for it.
It is a well-known fact that I recently resigned from hugely followed platforms that demanded that I had to appear on a daily basis at their offices to fidget with keyboards so that I could form saleable newspaper articles.
There came a time when I really thought deep within me that I had accomplished my dream of becoming one of the notable authors in the country.
It really happened according to analysts and those that know me better and had followed me since in the early miles of my career. I grew confident [almost overconfident], years deep in my career.
A man who slept on cold floors creating feared lines now began to sleep for more than eight hours at night. I wrote things with sense in them when I was homeless and going to bed hungry on a daily basis. I had become renowned now.
I had a home and a nice looking bed to lay my tired body that had tortured itself for ten years. I had married a woman that I had seen in dreams for years while at the Harvard of Africa, and had almost climbed to where I had dreamed of being when I had just began writing in the ghettos of Kampala, in a room infested with rats and cockroaches that would escape from the nearby latrines, with candles used as my only sources of light.
I had climbed up the mountain top and was ready to brag in front of enemies that I had done what my grandparents had failed to accomplish. I had won. I had tried day and night, with a purpose. People who fight with purpose win. I learnt.
I began with nothing. I knew nothing about the art of creating sweet paragraphs. Eventually, because I never gave up, the pens that I often held began bowing to the pressure that I had put on them for years. I wrote yet I couldn’t in the beginning.
The beginning of my falling was somewhere in 2020 when one of my most trusted associates and advisers Hadijjah Nakitende was diagnosed with Cancer and so was required to stay from the busy office that I often frequented.
During my visits, with purpose, I wanted to learn from Hadijjah Nakitende how she managed to lead able men and visibly arrogant women without often coercing them with large of money as allowances and salaries.
She died with her rare wisdom and secrets in her. Very many of experienced and inexperienced media proprietors will never notice where Hadijjah Nakitende’s rare qualities are hidden. They are swollen-headed and rarely listen.
I worked hard in the beginning perhaps because I had to prove someone wrong. I was sleeping rough in the streets then.
The career I adopted would win me recognition and sympathy from the hundreds of good men that I knew knew my demised father. I had to fight, tooth and nail, to bring myself from the grave where I was buried for more than two decades to where they (the Muhoozi Kainerugabas) could see me so that they could hold my hand to deliver me to the destination that I wanted to be.
I had to become a rare writer for I tried a lot and had to be. I read hundreds of books before the time for scribbling my first lines that made sense came.
It is time I revealed to the eager world that before I twinkled like a star I could knock on every difficult door to approach.
I usually frequented the NRM secretariat and met men and women who had heard of my name and had feasted on my lines for years but never knew me.
They met me and thanked me. Still I believed that I had to do more and even later in life aspire for huge political positions in this country. I thank God I got time to scribble immortal essays when I was still a young boy of less than 28 years of age. I was a free young man then, looking for important books to peruse, where to sleep and food that would keep my body alive.
There are very few things that I wanted then. I accomplished all that I wanted then. I asked for wisdom from God.
He handed it over to me. I asked God to remove the phobia of politicians that I had from me. He did. There is behavior of politicians in Uganda that I saw coming.
I, more than six years ago, wrote that we would one day have an august house full of dormant and dense men, loving money more than men. It is here finally. I said president Museveni would rule this country for more than forty years if he wanted. He is on his way to achieving that, uninterrupted. If in you is a purpose why you started something, you can never fail.
I had almost retired from full-time writing and some people were about to hear that I was among the very many people owning known businesses in the country. I am no longer homeless as I was.
I became a capable writer as I wanted. I had discovered why some people were poverty-stricken yet others owned tremendous amounts of money and fame. I knew why president Museveni chose to cling on power and why all politicians should be regarded as the same. I can tell you. I had purpose more than a decade ago.
I can now authoritatively say that there is nothing impossible to those living a purpose-driven life. I wanted to write. Practiced on a daily basis. I became one and I have lived with this skill for more than a decade now.
When SB4 media recently gave me platform to discuss daily happenings in our society so that people may be sensitized, I thought hard again and discovered that there was business abandoned when I was somewhere, back in 2020. We are back to inform you that if you don’t do, nothing happens.
No essay written in almost eight months. Nothing to add to my great collection in almost a year. Unbelievable! Forget the painful past. Chase your dreams with enthusiasm, again. I am back.