Four days ago when I received an electronic email invitation from Violet Nantume attend the the 2nd Kampala art AUCTION ,14th at Serena hotel, I decided their and then that I would attend. then four hours to the show I am called upon to be master of ceremony.
“Were you prepared?” You may ask me “No, not really, but I don’t like turning down opportunities to have more than thirty people looking at my pretty face.” So I said I would do it, last time I was n MC was last year at KIDSCLUB KAMPALA . an organisation I volunteers at as poetry teacher to the community children. anyways. tonight was definitely not about me but the 36 artists from Uganda,Rwanda ,Kenya, DRC turkey and Belgium.
I opened the evening with a poem that i had writer one hour to the event. entering the Katonga hall at Serena hotel the venue of the auctioning, I was inspired. until not the poem is untitled like some of the art pieces that were auctioned tonight.
What stands behind you are stories
but also confusing,
to remind you,
of images you had forgotten,
of things you are yet to discover.
The art behind you,
I don’t mean to say the price but the time spent by each artist dyeing colours, painting angles and perspectives ,to share with you their dreams, hope, loss, grief and happiness,
What stands behind you ought to stand on the front wall of your living room.
Bedroom center pace
To inspire you,
But still be crystal clear.
The art pieces displayed today are not only by men
Buy also women.
All artists all visionaries.
Art is their bed winner
so may you accept their art pieces to talk to you tonight.
And as you look at the art
Think of the art
May it take you to school and back.
May it teach you and also un-teach you things you have been wrongly taught.
May your heart be stolen but also be entirely and eternally found.
I welcome you to the 2nd Kampala art auction.
TRAFFIC JAM SILENCE
“I have come to a point in my life were I ask myself , what the hell was I thinking getting involved with Mark? I don’t remember the last time we made love. It’s funny how you can recall the first time but fail to remember the last. I call that a love that’s gone sour, a love that was so eager to flee it forgot its luggage at the airport.
Long gone are the times when I knew everything about him, we used to share every little tiny detail together but not any more cause most times I feel like am in a relationship with a stranger. I can simply compare him to the guy that stops his car to give a lift to the pretty gal standing by the road side only for him to drop her off without even asking for her number. I hate arguing with him; he gives me such a terrible headache, his so annoying. Am getting fed up, I think am going to move out, give him his car back, I can come stay with you, but don’t worry it won’t be for long, I know he will come begging, wanting to have me back. Do you think that is a good idea?”
So there I was acting as a depression pillow ,quietly listening to my friend’s small talk . Personally I have met Mark and he is a charming guy, I wonder what he sees in her. Now don’t get me wrong am not being jealous but honestly specking she’s a pain in the A**. Always complaining. Telling me how am so lucky being single ‘’BITCH PLEASE’’ was my silent response.
Hearing her go on and on , I wanted to blow up, If only the cars could start moving so she could concentrate on the road and not run her mouth. today I all I needed was some traffic jam silence